Higher Learning

by Clare Kauter

  “Oh, of course,” she said. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “But I – I already asked,” I said, frowning. “Why are you dragging this out so much? Just give me the details and then murder me.”

  “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are, because someone else stole their glasses and now they’re getting a splitting headache, so thanks for that, Margaret.”

  She paused. “My name isn’t Margaret.”

  “Really?” I said. “You seem like a Margaret. Susan?”

  “No, it’s not Susan either,” she said indignantly.

  “Sheryl? Beatrice?”

  “Please stop.”

  “Then tell me what it is.”

  “No! It’s Mrs Bales to you.”

  I rolled my eyes. My useless, useless eyes. Why hadn’t I kept my contacts in tonight? Well, to be fair I hadn’t expected to be kidnapped by a murderer. In fact, in this case I hadn’t even been sure there was a murderer. “I’m not calling you Mrs Bales. You and I both know you’re divorced and besides, I think Margaret suits you. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  Sure, she might be the murderer in this situation, but I could certainly annoy someone to death.

  “Fine,” she said. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to die.”

  “So are you,” I said. “Well done on stating the obvious.”

  “You’re going to die tonight!”

  “Not if you don’t hurry up and explain your diabolical plot,” I replied. “You’ve been rabbiting on for so long that the sun will probably be up in a minute.”

  “I have not! Now shut up or I’ll just kill you without explaining anything.”

  I shut up. She didn’t say anything. “Oh, come on, Margaret! I just shut up. Why aren’t you explaining what’s going on yet?”

  “I wasn’t sure that you’d shut up properly.”

  I groaned. “You’re not very good at this evil mastermind thing, are you?”

  “I’m better than average at it!” she said.

  “Debateable,” I replied. “So far you haven’t even made it into the top five list of people who’ve tried to kill me.”

  “Then let me explain my plan!” she cried.

  “Hurry up and tell me already!”

  “I killed that brat Gabrielle!”

  “Yeah, I figured,” I said.

  “I did it in a clever way!”

  “Sure you did.”

  “I did!” she said. “No one even realised it was a murder.”

  I nodded. “That’s true. OK, one point in your favour. Did you just give her the drugs and tell her to take more than she was meant to?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. That would have been way too dicey. What if she didn’t take enough? What if she changed her mind and decided to turn me in?”

  That made sense. “So how?”

  When she spoke, I could hear the smile in her voice, even if I couldn’t see it. “I tied her up, just like I’ve done to you, and injected her in the crook of her arm.”

  I frowned. “You can inject meth?” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s pretty simple. I just dissolved it in alcohol first. You can find that information very easily online.”

  “Yes, I’d imagine you could, but my search history is already weird enough. I’m probably on a hundred government watch lists already. I don’t want to add to it.” I’d googled plenty of weird stuff for my other cases, and in hindsight I probably should have decided to learn a bit more about meth before going undercover to try and bust a dealer, but oh well. It looked like I’d cracked it now.

  “Anyway, I killed Gabby and dumped her in that park. And I injected that Indian girl, too. Of course, I’m going to have to visit her in hospital to finish that one off, but never mind. For now, I’ll settle for you.”

  A thought occurred to me. “How did you find me? I wasn’t even...” I nodded slowly. “That’s why you offered to drive me and Abhati home yesterday. So you could find out where we lived.”

  Argh, why hadn’t I just gone back to my own house tonight? If I hadn’t been such a wuss and gone to Will’s, I’d be safe in bed right now, asleep. This was probably karma for breaking into his house and betraying his trust.

  “You set that fire alarm off, I assume?”

  She clapped gleefully. “I did! Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

  I sighed. Even I had to admit that it was a pretty good plan.

  “But why?” I said. “Why are you killing people? I mean, OK, I’m very annoying. It’s not really a surprise that you’d want to kill me. But Abhati is lovely! What has she ever done to you?”

  “She was trying to show my daughter up at cheerleading!” she cried. “She was trying to take over as captain!”

  My jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious.”

  “What?”

  “That is the most pathetic motive for murder that I’ve ever encountered,” I said, disgusted. “You killed two people and you’re about to kill a third because you want your daughter to be cheer captain? Come on. It’s just high school. Like it even matters.”

  “The high school years are the best years of your life!”

  I snorted. “Yeah, right. Especially when your mum murders all your friends because she wants you to be cheer captain.”

  “I was always second best in my cheer squad when I was at school,” she said, her voice wobbling. Seriously? She was tearing up over that?

  I shrugged. “Maybe you should have trained more.”

  “I trained every day!” she hissed. “But the teachers loved that prissy, perfect captain. She made my life hell.”

  “She bullied you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right,” I said slowly. “I can see why you’re saying school is the best time of your life.”

  “It is! And it would have been perfect without her.”

  I frowned. “I’m sorry, are you forgetting maths class and detention and assignments and exams?”

  “You’re too young to know.”

  “I promise you, school isn’t the best time of anyone’s life unless they’re a total loser.” I paused. “So yeah, maybe it was fun for you.”

  “You little bitch,” she snapped. “You swan into Gerongate High and try to take the captain’s position from my Chelsea –”

  “Not true,” I said. “I definitely didn’t ‘swan’ in. It was more like a resigned trudge.”

  “Shut up!”

  But I didn’t shut up. “Where did you get the drugs from?”

  “I saw Chelsea’s friend Greg hanging around Green Meadow Park one day and caught him trying to sell to someone,” she said. “So I bought the drugs from him and blackmailed him into silence.”

  “Did he know what you were using them for?”

  She scoffed. “I very much doubt that, darling.”

  I nodded. “So was it you who planted drugs in the other cheerleader’s bag and got her kicked out of school?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But instead of making Chelsea captain after that, they chose Gabby. So I had to punish her.”

  “Honestly – and I’m not just saying this – I think you might just be the craziest psychopath who’s ever tried to murder me. What a shitty motive. Are you trying to be a bad mother?”

  While we were speaking, I’d been wriggling my wrists and ankles, trying to loosen the tape she’d used to bind me to the chair. Margaret clearly hadn’t had older brothers as a child, or she would have known that she hadn’t used nearly enough tape to hold me securely. This was a stretchable amount of tape. Sure, it was a little more than my brother used to use when he tied me up at home so I’d stop annoying him, but I wasn’t seven anymore. I had upper body strength these days. Not a lot, but I was hoping it was enough. The pressure I was putting on my ankle restraints seemed to be stretching them too. Plus Margaret had the heater in the corner – which I could see it glowing red – turned up way too high, which was making me sweat and caus
ing the tape to lose its stickiness. There was a chance I could break free. Now I just had to figure out where the exit was and how I could possibly escape the room without being able to see anything other than vague, blurry outlines of the things around me.

  “High school is the best time of your life,” Margaret said indignantly. “When you leave, you’ll see.”

  “Oh, I already left school, and if my boss wasn’t paying me good money, there is no chance I would ever have come back.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. I could hear concern in her voice.

  “Oh, Margaret,” I said, “I’m a PI.”

  She burst out laughing. “My goodness, couldn’t you have thought of a better story than that?” she said through fits of giggles. “OK, now hold still so I can give you your medicine.”

  Oh, crap. I’d assumed she’d been preparing the meth cocktail as we’d been speaking, but I hadn’t been able to see properly and I’d thought I had a bit more time. She began to approach me. Gritting my teeth, I steeled myself for what was coming. It was now or never. I ripped my arms away from the chair and twisted them. The tape stretched and I managed to free myself without waxing too much of my hair off thanks to my sweaty forearms. (Sexy, I know.)

  “What the –” said Margaret, but I cut her off. With a punch to the face.

  While she was whining and grabbing her nose, I freed myself from the leg restraints and stood. And then promptly fell over. I couldn’t see a thing. I clambered around, stumbling and tripping over everything. There was a loud bang as I kicked what seemed to be an empty paint tin, then another bang and a wail as it connected with some part of Margaret. I lost my balance and reached out for the wall to steady myself, hearing a beep and then a mechanical whirring noise. I’d somehow managed to bump into the control panel for the garage door. Blind luck, some would call it. I could see it move so I stumbled over to the gap, crawling under when it was barely wide enough for me to fit through. Once I’d made it outside, I began to run down the street. I went for the middle of the road, since I figured there’d be fewer obstacles there.

  I only fell twice on the way to the road, and I kept running in blind panic (ha) once I got there. I was hoping that any car that came along would see me and brake rather than run me over. Despite the small head start I had over Margaret, and even though I was probably in better shape, without my glasses I was at a distinct disadvantage. Not to mention the fact that my feet were in bandages.

  “Get back here!” cried a voice from far too close behind me. Margaret was catching up. Jesus, what now? I knew I could run faster than I was currently, but that would exponentially increase the chances of me falling and injuring myself even further. I wasn’t the best at staying upright during the daytime when I was wearing glasses, so these circumstances were far from ideal. Not to mention the BANDAGES ON MY FUCKING FEET.

  A car rounded the corner up ahead and I waved my arms wildly, trying to flag it down. The car slowed and pulled up in front of me and I ran to it.

  “Charlotte?” came the voice from inside.

  “Chelsea?” I replied.

  “Come back here!” screamed Margaret from behind me.

  I opened the back door and jumped into the car. “Chelsea, you need to get me out of here right now,” I said. “Please!”

  She was leaning forward, staring out the front windscreen.

  “Is that my mum?”

  “Yes, and she’s crazy! Chelsea, lock the doors and drive away now.”

  She tilted her head up and although I couldn’t see clearly, I got the feeling she was studying me in the rear-view mirror. “What are you talking about?”

  “Please, Chelsea!” I pleaded. “Your mum killed Gabby and tried to kill Abhati, and now she’s trying to kill me!”

  Only once it came out of my mouth did I realise how insane I sounded. I tried again.

  “Chels, I’m not a student,” I said. “I was undercover at the school. James McKenzie’s a cop. We were trying to find out who the dealer was, only it turns out that your mum was buying drugs from Greg and injecting your friends so that you’d be cheer captain.”

  Chelsea was silent. “Seriously? Is that the best story you can come up with?”

  “Drive me to the police station!” I cried. “James is there. The cops will back me up. If I’m lying, you can tell your mum I was acting crazy so you drove me there because you were worried about me.”

  She paused for a second. Her mum was nearly at the car by now.

  “Chelsea!” screamed Margaret.

  Chelsea hit the lock and put the car in gear. “Charlotte, I really hope you’re telling the truth!” she said. Then she hit the accelerator and screeched past her mother. “Although I’m annoyed at you for pretending to be my friend.”

  “Call me Charlie,” I said. “And I wasn’t pretending. I really do like you.”

  “Even after my mum apparently tried to kill you?”

  I shrugged. “I know better than anyone that you shouldn’t judge someone based on their parents,” I said. “Your mum isn’t that much crazier than mine; she’s just more hands on.”

  “Um, how do I get to the police station?” Chelsea asked. “Also, did my mum do that to your face?”

  “Oh, no. That was Elliot. Mr Bicknell.”

  “What?” she said, confused. “You call him Elliot?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I knew him when I went to school. We dated for a while.”

  “You dated him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gross,” she said, sounding truly disgusted. Which was understandable.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “He’s repulsive. I was young and stupid.”

  “Still unacceptable.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Mostly I just try and block it out of my memory,” I said. “I feel really weird sitting in the back here. Like you’re my chauffeur.”

  “Speaking of which, you’d better start giving me directions.” She checked her rear-view mirror. “Shit! She’s following us!”

  “What?” I said, and turned around to look out the back window. There wasn’t much point seeing as I couldn’t really make anything out, but from the bright blur I gathered that there was another car drawing closer to us.

  “She’s going kind of fast,” said Chelsea. “I think she’s going to –”

  BANG. Margaret rammed us with her bull-bar and our car veered off to the side, jostling us around.

  “Jesus, she’s fucking mental!” I said. “Does she not know she’s ramming her daughter’s car?”

  “OK, Charlotte – Charlie – I believe you!” Chelsea screamed. “My mum’s gone crazy!”

  “Turn left up here!” I ordered.

  Chelsea spun the wheel and we swung around the corner. Margaret overshot and had to reverse to make the turn, so we managed to gain a small lead.

  “Chelsea, I don’t mean to pressure you, but you need to drive faster!”

  “But – but –” Chelsea sounded confused. “But why is she trying to hit us? Does she not realise that I’m driving?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea! Rather than rationalise it, maybe we should just focus on getting the fuck away from her.”

  “Where do I go?”

  I gave her more directions as Margaret gained on us. What the hell was she hoping to do? Run us off the road and make it look like an accident? We must have been caught on at least three cameras by now. I was starting to think that whole ‘murdering for my daughter’ thing was a cover and that she just liked killing people.

  Chelsea accelerated more to try and outrun her crazy mum, who nudged our tail a couple of times. Where was highway patrol when you needed them? They were always out booking people over nothing and when you were finally being chased down by a crazed psychopath they were nowhere to be seen. Luckily we weren’t too far from the police station by now.

  Suddenly a thought occurred to me. “Chelsea, do you have Mr McKenzie’s number in your phone?” I asked.

  “
Yeah, why?” she asked. “Oh, right – he’s a cop!”

  She told Siri to call James and put the call on speakerphone.

  “Chelsea?” James said when he answered. “What’s up?”

  “James, it’s me!” I said. “Chelsea’s mum is a psycho kidnapping murderer and she stole my glasses!”

  “Charlie!” James said. “Where are you? We’ve been looking for you for over an hour! Are you OK?”

  “Of course I’m not OK!” I screamed. “This is the second time I’ve had to run away from an attacker tonight! Not to mention barefoot and in the freezing cold! And I can’t see a thing!”

  “Where are you?”

  “Chelsea and I are driving to the police station now, but Mrs Bales is chasing us in her car and she keeps ramming us!”

  He paused. “Are you serious?”

  “Would I be making stuff up right now, James?” I screamed. “Would I? Do you really think –”

  “Alright, Charlie,” he said. “There’s no need to freak out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course, how UNREASONABLE of me to freak out at a moment like this!”

  “Come on,” he said. “This isn’t even close to the first person who’s tried to kill you.”

  “What is he talking about?” Chelsea asked.

  I sighed and said, “I have a tendency to annoy people.”

  “That’s kind of an understatement, sweetie,” said James.

  “James McKenzie, now is not the time to antagonise me!”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Where are you now? Are you close?”

  “Yes, we’re –”

  Margaret barged our car again, harder this time, and the vehicle spun out of control. Chelsea and I screamed as we slid off the side of the road and hit a pole. Chelsea tried to put the car in reverse and back out, but it wouldn’t move.

  “Charlie?” James said, now sounding panicked. “Are you OK? Where are you? We’re coming to get you!”

  “We’re a block away – George Street,” I said. “Hurry!” Looking out the back window, I could see Margaret’s silhouette getting out of her car. “Chelsea, don’t freak out or anything, but can you tell me if your mum is carrying a syringe?”