10
Lunch Plans Down The Drain
That morning Clare was quick to turn the TV off. There had been a news reporter speaking about Vivian’s death. She said the only evidence on her body was two bruise-like marks and that the only lead police had was Mr. Jones—who was now missing after suspiciously fleeing the scene before the cops came.
“Sorry again about last night Mom,” Kate said.
“You have no idea what kind of things ran through my mind. You could have at least called me instead of worrying me sick,” Clare said as her head was buried in a pillow on the couch.
Even though it was early, Clare had already had a few shots trying to cope with reality. Kate took advantage of it and made up lies about why they left the night before. Her favorite was that she thought she had left the stove on. Clare was too, well...everything to care. She never had this many emotions stirring inside of her—her friend was gone after seeing her one-day. The alcohol had been helping, though. She didn’t drink that much, but when it was time, it was time.
“As long as it doesn’t happen again. We have to be extra careful now.”
“You’re right. I’ll be careful when I’m out with Michelle and them,” Kate said as she grabbed her purse and headed towards the door.
Clare called her name.
“You already have plans?” she said.
“It’s just lunch. Can I not go or something?” Kate said.
Kate was always sympathetic and nice to her mother, but had to get her way. Sometimes she looked at Clare not as a mother but as a roadblock for fun.
Her mother nodded but told her she’d call if she hadn’t heard from Kate after a while. Clare was trying her best—it wasn’t easy with everything going on. She remained on the couch, still thinking about Vivian. It wasn’t like they were twins—if anything they were complete opposites—but they did have a special friendship, even if it didn’t seem like it.
“Hey, Mom,” Charlie said.
“You don’t have plans to, do you?” she asked.
“I don't really feel like going out,” Charlie said, knowing that he didn’t have anyone to meet or anywhere to go.
Charlie tended to his room. He heard something outside his window. Reporters pounded the house of the strange man he had seen at the party. For a second he wondered if the mystery was over and they were arresting him for killing Vivian, but there were no police. Charlie kept staring and grabbed a notepad.
“Thank you,” Kate said to the waitress as she handed her the raspberry lemonade.
Along with Kate were Michelle, Ashley, and Sydney—Kate’s best friends. Michelle was the leader of the group, even though none of them would admit it. She pushed the others to do things they would never do alone, like make out with boys they just met or steal a pack of gum—petty, silly things, but the girls obeyed.
“My mom told me about Mrs. Jones this morning,” Michelle said, unrolling the black napkin and sticking her fork into her salad.
“You were at the party, though. Didn’t you already know?”
“I didn’t hear. I left the party a little early—when I said I needed to pee.”
She winked at the girls.
“I went back to Noel’s house. I did get the best pictures at the party though—Mrs. Jones looked beautiful.”
Ashley, who wore a blue hoodie and had dirty blonde hair, turned to Kate.
“Speaking of being MIA, where were you after Ms. Jones left?”
Kate’s face began to blush. She looked down and crunched her lettuce, digging her fork into the plate.
“I wasn't feeling so good.”
“Maybe it was that toxin Ms. Jones drank,” she said.
Kate let go of the fork.
“Toxin?”
“Relax, it was a joke. You can’t say the punch didn’t taste like crap. But seriously, what do you think happened to her?”
The waitress brought the girls’ entrees. They quieted as she set down the hot plates in front of them.
Kate shook her head and Michelle interrupted, “Hey Kate, you think I could borrow those hot earrings you had on last night sometime?”
There was so much that happened Kate had no idea what earring she wore.
“You know, the red ones?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, sure,” Kate said.
After a few minutes the girls placed their napkins over their almost-empty plates. Sydney spent most of the time on her phone, and only talked when the subject wasn’t on Vivian.
“I’m going to the bathroom. Who’s coming with?” Michelle asked.
Each girl followed, Kate going last, and adjusted their shirts and make-up in the mirror. Michelle put a toothbrush in Kate’s hand.
“Well don’t just sit there.”
Kate gripped the toothbrush, and placed it back in her hands.
“I’m done with that, Michelle,” she said.
“Funny because last time I checked you were the one that got us all to do it in the first place. Look at you, practically torturing those jeans of yours. Come on, Kate.”
Kate couldn’t help but believe all of Michelle’s words. She raised her arm and took the brush from Michelle.
“That’s my girl,” she said.
11
Dull Memory, Sharp Evidence
Even when reporters left the man’s house, Charlie continued watching. He stared at the window for, well, nothing in particular—anything that might lead him to a clue. He couldn’t think straight knowing he may be framed for not only Vivian’s murder but Mr. Jones’ as well—the police could be there any minute for all he knew. He closed the curtain and set down his pencil, taking a break. He heard the doorbell. Was he about to get arrested? He jumped back on his bed, opened the curtain again, but couldn’t see any car parked—but the view from his window was partially blocked from the outside corner of the house. He took a breath, and went for the doorbell. He opened it, staring at the ground.
“Charlie?” a voice said.
He looked up, recognizing it—it was Kate.
He sighed and motioned for her to come in.
“Hey, sorry,” he said, his heart still beating.
“What have you been up to?” Kate asked.
“We need to talk.”
As they headed towards Charlie’s room, they met Clare.
“Vivian's mother called— she needs some help with...everything. I would take CJ but I don't want to wake him up. Would you watch him for a while?”
Her voice was soft and Kate was surprised she wasn’t mad about not calling her at lunch.
Kate nodded with a smile, and heard her mother’s high heels stomp to the front door. Little did she know her mother had different plans.
“I’ve been thinking, and watching outside all day for clues or leads of any kind,” Charlie said, sounding as much like a detective as he could.
Kate crossed her arms across her chest and chuckled.
“You think you’re going to be able to gather clues looking out of a window in broad daylight?”
Charlie tossed his notepad on his desk, suddenly realizing how foolish that may have sounded. Kate glanced at the notes.
“No offense, but I don’t think a few houses being approached by reporters and counting how many times a car left a house is much to go off of, Charlie,” Kate added.
“You’re right, I just don’t know what to do at this point. I can’t stop thinking what might happen if that lady tells someone what she saw,” Charlie said.
“I wanted to talk to you about that. There’s only one way to find out.”
Charlie gave her a confused, frightened look as he predicted what she might say.
“We go and find out for ourselves,” she said.
Charlie threw several excuses, but Kate grabbed her shoes.
“Come on,” she said.
“We can’t leave CJ.”
“He’s asleep. It will only take a few minutes. We’ll be fine,” she said before tying her neon-blue Nike sneakers and open
ed the front door, making sure it wouldn’t wake CJ.
They approached the house and stepped up several creaky porch-steps. Charlie looked at his watch, making sure he kept track of how long they were gone for. Kate knocked on the heavy door, and waited. Charlie’s hands began to sweat thinking about how this would play out—they didn’t even have a plan for how they would talk to her.
“Hi Ms.—”
“—Meredith,” the woman said, scratching her neck.
The first thing he noticed was the pearl necklace she wore.
“Right. Well I’m sure you remember but I’m Kate, and this is Charlie.”
“I remember you guys. What do you want?”
The words coming out of her mouth sounded bitter, but something about the way she said them sounded genuine—almost friendly, in an odd way—and not as fake as she sounded last night. Maybe she did just feel lonely and was trying to make conversation with them—but why just them? They hadn’t seen her talking to anyone else.
“Well, we were wondering if we could come in and talk to you for a few minutes,” Kate said, picking at her nails.
Charlie stayed quiet, thinking. A faint smile formed on Meredith’s face, and she motioned for them to come in. Had she, forgotten about last night? Maybe she only saw them coming from the backyard heading inside—and nothing else. Still, she could tell the cops that they left the party early, but then again, she left early too. He looked back at his watch. One minute felt like forever; he hoped CJ was still asleep.
“Well, honey of course. But I was just on my way to water those plants I got in the backyard before I forget again—I've got the memory of a squirrel. Only got room in my mind to remember the really important stuff, you know?”
Kate gave her a nervous laugh, probably thinking the same thing as Charlie.
“You can come in if you don't mind waiting a few minutes,” she said.
“Sounds great,” Kate said with a smile.
The woman walked outside towards the backyard.
Charlie could tell Kate was thinking the same thing: did Meredith forget about what she had seen?
Either way, it felt weird for them to be in the house without the woman there. It was so...quiet. Charlie watched as Kate found her way to the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I just want a drink,” she said, almost snapping at him.
She opened the black refrigerator door and eyed a glass Coke bottle. She reached for it and struggled to open it.
“Maybe you should wait until she comes back in,” Charlie said, looking out the nearest window.
“Relax,” she said, looking for a bottle-opener. She tried several cabinets—first seeing one filled with plates, the next with silverware. The third; however, was more interesting.
“Charlie, come see this,” she said.
Still looking over his shoulder out the window, he followed to see Kate pulling out a knife from one of the cabinets.
“Kate, what are you doing?” he asked.
She motioned for him to move closer to her and she pointed something out on the knife: the initials VJ.
Clare sat at a dark brown dining room table across from a familiar face—for her. It was the man Charlie had seen at the party, who had given him a strange look—and the man who was at the top of Charlie’s suspect list. Meredith may have seen Charlie and Kate kill a man, but all his theories about Vivian came back to that man—for now. There was just something weird about him for Charlie.
“Victor, you’re acting crazy. Reporters have been pounding everyone,” Clare said, taking a sip from her glass.
“Not everyone,” the man said.
Clare bit her lip.
“How do you think it looks when I’m the only one missing from the time she fell Clare?”
“You weren’t.” Clare replied.
She told him about Kate and Charlie, and admitted they had not yet been questioned or pounded by the news or anything.
“That’s because you’ve got such good kids. Nobody would ever accuse them,” Victor said.
Clare sighed and stared at the table.
“Yeah, they're more good than I am alright. I still need to tell them everything. How am I supposed to after all of this though?
Victor got up and put his hand on Clare’s shoulder.
“Look at me. Everything will be fine, okay? They'll catch whoever is out there, and everything will go back to the way it was before.”
Clare grabbed his hand and wrapped it around to the other shoulder.
“I wish it was that simple.”
Charlie stared at the knife in Kate’s hand.
“You’re thinking the same thing as me, right?” Kate asked.
Vivian Jones, Charlie thought as he looked at the letters once more. Somehow this seemed too convenient: had they already found out who killed Vivian?
“It’s definitely not hers, but why would she have Vivian’s knife?” Charlie asked.
“Maybe she took it as a souvenir after she killed her.”
“Come on, Kate. There is no evidence that proves a knife killed her—remember what Mr. Jones said?”
Then again, Mr. Jones hadn’t seemed like the most trustworthy—or sane—person around.
“First of all, let's not bring him up at all...”
Before she could finish, Charlie interrupted.
“She’s coming!” Charlie said after seeing Meredith place down a hose out of the window.
“What should we do with this?”
“We take it,” Kate said.
She saw the expression on Charlie’s face that looked like she had said something crazier than Mr. Jones might have.
“This could potentially be evidence. Charlie, we could be the ones to solve this.”
Charlie rolled his eyes—he wasn’t convinced.
“She's going to see it's gone. And don't you think if she somehow killed her with this knife she would hide it better than in the cabinet?”
Since it was a good point and a flaw in Kate’s thinking—she ignored the comment and wrapped the weapon in napkins and placed it in her purse. They heard the doorknob twist as they ran back to the living room.
“Sorry for holding you guys up!”
“Not a problem,” Charlie said, finally talking to her.
Kate showed the Coke bottle to her.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she said.
The woman shrugged and smiled.
“Well I guess we should talk about whatever you kids came here to,” she said.
She motioned for them to sit down and they sunk into a leather, expensive-looking couch. Kate started the conversation.
“You said you had a bad memory, but you remembered our names and everything at the party.”
“Well I said I remember the important things, didn't I?” she said back to her.
“Sorry, we are just having trouble remembering meeting you.”
When she said this, Meredith sat back and slouched down into the plush cushion.
“Well with all that you two have been through I'm sure your memory is a little hazy.”
Meredith almost looked offended that they had not recognized her. After a small pause, Charlie joined the conversation.
“Do you have any family?”
Meredith chuckled by this. “Hardly. Not like yours, that’s for sure. But I'm all alone in this house.”
Her eyes caught Kate’s purse, which she held close to her, almost like she was protecting it.
“That's a very pretty purse you have there.”
She reached out and touched the soft leather, stroking it.
“Oh, thank you,” Kate said as she gently pulled it back to her as Meredith nearly grabbed it. Kate reached out her phone.
“I'm so sorry. We were supposed to be home a long time ago. Our mom is really upset. We'll have to finish this up later, if that's okay?”
At once she backed off of the purse and looked up at Kate. “Of course. Well it was good to see y
ou kids again,” she said, walking them out.
“You too,” Charlie said softly.
The two walked out, shutting the door behind them. Meredith's smile continued for several more seconds, and she walked in the direction of a hallway at the corner of the room.
“What nice, innocent kids. I don't know what you see in them. They don't look like they could hurt a fly, and they can't take the blame for their family. Whatever you've already done, I don’t know—but please, just don't hurt them, all right? She said across the still, tranquil house. There was no reply.
12
Busted
“I can't believe you did all of that, Kate. Instead of asking her about seeing us you stole a possible murder weapon! Did you ever think you could be accused if someone sees you with that?”
“Did what Charlie? Solve Vivian’s murder? We are going to be heroes. People will love us. As far as seeing us goes, I think she answered that for us——she hardly remembers anything! If we go back you can ask her if she saw us.”
Kate kept her purse glued against her hip and moved a piece of hair from her eyes.
“I don't feel like a hero, I feel like a thief.”
“Would you calm down? I’m the one who took it. We just have to figure out how to prove she killed her, and do it fast before she can get us arrested.”
“We can’t just give it to the police. Since it probably didn’t kill her, it would hurt us more than it would help,” Charlie said.
Kate was going to add something else, but her attention was towards their front door—which they saw was open.
“Did mom beat us home?” Kate asked.
The two walked into the house. Charlie pushed the door back.
“Mom?” Charlie said.
They noticed how quiet CJ was.
“Told you it was okay leaving him here,” Kate said.
Charlie didn’t say anything. Why had the door been opened?
He looked at the kitchen countertop, seeing the red house key sitting there.
The Girl That Was Obsessed With Murder Page 4