by Jack Parker
"I count eight," Kelly announced. "Travis, Tony, and Gracie's accidents would be pretty hard for him to set up."
"Well, if something's going on, it does sound like Jake's involved," Shawna admitted. "But then it could just as well be someone who, for some reason, has it out for his girlfriends."
"That's if anything's really going on," Cheryl said. "Though I do think now that you should tell Lt. Freeman about the pills in Amy's backpack.
CHAPTER 18
Ken was on the way to speak to someone that might possibly know something about a death that might or might not be murder. There'd been no suicide note but the evidence so far couldn't rule it out. The one thing he did know was that it wasn't an accident; no one accidentally puts a gun to their head and pulls the trigger. The victim wasn't into drugs, either using or selling; and, at least on the surface, he'd appeared to be an upstanding and reasonably successful citizen.
It was Ken's job to dig below the surface to determine the reality of that appearance. Had the man, for instance, been desperate for money? Desperate enough that suicide could have seemed the only way out? Or he made a plan to get the money; a plan that had somehow gone horribly wrong? He sighed and turned the car's heater up a notch. Then in an attempt to put it out of his mind for a few minutes he turned on the radio. A classical station seemed appropriately soothing and he hummed along with the music.
Naturally someone chose that moment to call him, the silly trill of the ring-tone clashing with the radio.
"Lieutenant Freeman," he answered brusquely.
"Hi, Ken! It's Gracie."
"Oh, hi, Kiddo," he said. "Before you ask, I don't have anything new on either the teacher or your friend that ate the cyanide."
"I'm sorry, did I call at a bad time?" she asked contritely.
Ken sighed again. "No, I'm sorry, Gracie. It's just that I've got a doozie of a case and I was hoping that it would stew in the back of my mind and I'd get an idea."
"Anything I can help with?" she asked.
"Thanks, but not yet. I'm still checking things out. What's on your mind?"
"Don't know if you've heard, but there was a car wreck Friday night, out on the state highway," she said.
"Oh, yeah, the girl died, didn't she? Did you know her?" he asked.
"Yes, I did. I know the girl that caused the wreck, too."
"Geez, I'm sorry, Gracie. I hate to say this, but that one's on my list, too. She – what's her name?"
"Meaghan Pruitt was the girl who died, Amy Jones was the one who hit the car," Gracie supplied.
"Yeah, Amy Jones. Anyway she admitted she bumped her friend's car from behind, and we're considering charging her with manslaughter."
"Because Meaghan died in the wreck," Gracie stated.
"'Fraid so," Ken said. "But I won't know until I look into it a little more. Do you know something about it that I should know?"
"Maybe," Gracie hedged. "Cheryl saw a big bottle of pain pills in Amy's backpack that afternoon. The prescription was for her mother."
"And you're thinking maybe she'd taken some that night and that contributed to her hitting the other girl's car," Ken spelled it out.
"Yeah, I am," Gracie said. "I guess that'll make things worse for Amy."
"It would if I could prove it," Ken told her. "But it's been too long. Even if she tested positive right this very second it doesn't mean she would have on Friday night."
"So you're not interested?"
"Sorry, but no," Ken said. "I do appreciate your telling me, I know it's not easy to rat out a friend. I'll let you know what I decide about the charges. Oh, and there's one more thing you should know. But if my Captain finds out I told you I'll be in deep doo-doo."
"Ken, you know I won't tell. Well, maybe Kelly, but he can keep his mouth shut," Gracie promised.
"Gracie, I'm not kidding. You'll tell your two girlfriends, I know you. I mean it, this isn't the kind of thing that needs to get out." Ken's voice was unaccustomedly gruff.
"Okay, I understand."
"The young girl who died was pregnant," he said.
"Meaghan? Pregnant?" Gracie could hardly believe her ears. "I'd heard a rumor, but I thought it was just someone saying nasty things after she'd died." Even as she spoke her mind began recalling little hints that told her it was indeed true. Meaghan hadn't been feeling well and had thrown up, apparently several times. She had a sudden mental picture of Meaghan standing by the bathroom sink, turning that little silver purity ring around and around on her finger. Gracie just hadn't wanted to believe it of Meaghan.
"It's true," Ken assured her. "Her parents didn't want to believe it, either. In fact they didn't even want to bother with a paternity test. They convinced themselves that she must've been raped and was afraid to tell them."
"If that was the case then wouldn't they want to know who'd done it?" Gracie asked. "So he could be punished," she added.
"I think they just don't want their daughter's reputation sullied, especially since she's gone now," Ken said.
"I'm pretty sure I know who the father is," Gracie said. "Jake Salazar."
"Salazar?" Ken asked in surprise. "The jock who'd been sleeping with the teacher the day she died?"
"One and the same," Gracie said. "And that brings up another thing I wanted to tell you about."
"I already know he'd been fiddling with her car that day," he said. "It's one of the things I was going to look into, but now I'll bump it up to the top of my list."
"It's not just that," Gracie began. "Jake dates a lot of girls, and several of them have been having accidents lately."
"Like what kind of accidents?" Ken asked.
"Andrea and the cyanide," she replied. "And Mrs. Lane, of course. The others haven't been serious: a lot of falls, a school desk that magically fell apart, and a lot of flat tires from some nails on the road by the school."
"In other words, normal things," Ken said. "Even if they all happened to the girls this guy dates, it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Though I will say he seems to get around."
Gracie gave a short laugh. "That's what my Mom says, too. About the accidents, not Jake. It just seems weird to me that so many of his girlfriends have been having accidents."
"And you think he's doing it to them on purpose," Ken said, teasing. "Listen to your mother, Kiddo. You're making mountains out of mole hills."
It was Gracie's turn to sigh loudly. "All right, maybe I am. Well, good luck with your doozie, talk to you later. Bye."
When Kelly, Shawna, and Cheryl made it back to Gracie's room after their various bathroom breaks and trips to the kitchen for snacks and drinks they found her flopped disconsolately on one of the bean bags.
"I was right before; Ken's not the least bit interested in Amy's pills." Gracie said.
"Well, it was worth a try," Cheryl insisted. "I guess I understand. It's like the drunk who takes a nip in front of the cop; there's no way to prove he hadn't been stone cold sober before he was stopped."
Gracie nodded. "Ken did say he's considering charging Amy with manslaughter. Even she admits it was her fault."
"Wow, that's serious," Shawna said. "You said 'considering', what does that mean?"
"It means he thinks it's an accident and he'll look at the two cars and the police and weather reports, and probably check out the scene before he decides if there's enough evidence to show she was negligent," Kelly told them. "I'd bet he'll ask her about the pills, even though he told you he didn't care."
Gracie nodded her head, but kept her gaze glued to the purple carpet in front of her.
Shawna patted Gracie's shoulder and said, "Don't worry about it. You tried, that's all that counts."
Gracie looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "There's something else – and this time I gotta swear you guys to secrecy or Ken will kill me."
"You know we won't tell a soul," Cheryl said in a serious voice.
"I swear," Kelly said simply.
"Me, too," Shawna said. "Uh, I swear. There, is that of
ficial enough?"
"This isn't like hearing that Jake was sleeping with Maggie. This is really serious. I'd hate for this to get out and ruin someone's reputation," Gracie told them.
The three of them just looked at her; waiting for her to speak, though Cheryl did make beckoning motions with her hands as if to hurry her.
"Meaghan was pregnant," she said.
"Meaghan?" Shawna squeaked in astonishment.
"She was always the 'good girl', with that purity ring and all," Cheryl said, just as shocked.
"Wow!" was all Kelly had to say.
"So you see, even though it's true, we wouldn't want it to get around," Gracie was practically begging. "I'd heard rumors, I overheard Jennifer and Allison talking about it on my way out of the building this afternoon. But come to think of it, Allison didn't seem to believe it."
"Gracie, it's one thing not to blab it around; but I don't want to have to lie," Shawna said.
"So if anyone says anything to you just tell 'em it's a crappy thing to be saying about someone who's dead," Cheryl advised. "That way you don't have to admit to knowing anything."
Shawna considered the idea. "Right. It is true as far as it goes but why would anyone think I might know anything about it?"
"Are you kidding?" Kelly asked. "Everyone knows we're Gracie's best friends and that Gracie's pals with the lieutenant. They'd naturally assume that he's told her everything, and she's told us."
"Oh, yeah," Shawna said.
"I don't suppose your good pal told you who the father was?" Cheryl asked.
"I don't think he cares and her parents didn't even want to know," Gracie said. She made a wry face. "He says they think she must've been raped but they're so emotional over her death that they don't want to deal with that."
"That's because they can't admit to themselves that their darling little girl would actually go out and have sex," Cheryl commented.
Shawna looked thoughtful. "I can see that, in a weird kind of way. They can pretend she was blameless and refuse to deal with the whole thing on the grounds that it doesn't matter anymore. Still, you'd think the lieutenant would want to know as part of his investigation."
"I doubt he thinks it has any bearing on the wreck. But I told him that Jake was probably the father, and it would certainly give him motive to get rid of Meaghan."
"He might start caring if he finds anything wrong with Meaghan's car," Kelly said.
"In the meantime we're the only ones who seem to think there's anything the least bit suspicious about it," Gracie said rather glumly.
"Did you tell him about all the accidents?" Cheryl asked.
Gracie offered a sheepish grin. "Yes, but other than the two deaths and Andrea's cyanide he blew those right off." She sighed, and shrugged. "Guess I can't really blame him. On the surface it sounds silly to say Jake's going around trying to get rid of girlfriends."
"On that note, is everyone ready to go to Meaghan's wake?" Kelly asked.
"She's not Catholic," Cheryl sniped.
Kelly grinned at her. "Same thing, whatever you want to call it. We're there to remember her life."
"I've never seen so many people crying in my life!" Shawna remarked after the four of them were safely seated in Kelly's car and driving away from the pizza parlor.
"Didn't stop 'em from eating," Cheryl commented.
"They acted like it was some kind of sin to be laughing," Shawna said.
"That's really kinda normal," Gracie said. "I felt that way after my father died. You feel so sad and also you think everyone expects you to be sad. But part of remembering someone is thinking about the good times; it helps you accept the loss, knowing you'll always have the happy memories. But you do feel guilty about it at first."
"Most of those kids didn't even know Meaghan all that well," Shawna continued as if Gracie hadn't spoken. "Why would they cry over her now?"
"Maybe because they were scared and didn't know what else to do," Kelly suggested.
"Scared?" Shawna asked.
"My dad calls it feeling bullet-proof," Kelly explained. "He accuses me of that all the time. He says we're young and haven't seen all the really bad things that can happen so we're not scared of anything. But now we've all seen someone we know die, and it's scary thinking it could happen to us."
"That, and they're all thinking of all the mean things they ever said to her, or about her," Cheryl said. "They're telling themselves they wouldn't have done that if they'd only known she was going to die."
"You think they're afraid of Divine retribution?" Kelly asked, jokingly.
"I think Amy is," Cheryl said seriously. "I think she must've told everyone there just how terribly sorry she is."
"She probably really is sorry," Shawna said. "Did you see how white she turned when she was asked to take the card to the Pruitts? She was bawling about how she couldn't possibly face them, positively freaked-out about it."
"I wouldn't want to have to face them either, if I were in her shoes," Gracie said.
"So naturally you jump up and volunteer to deliver the card yourself," Cheryl accused.
"I'm not in Amy's shoes!" Gracie retorted. "Besides, it was a lovely gesture; everyone signed the card and I'm sure her parents will be touched to have it."
Cheryl rolled her eyes. "All of Meaghan's dear friends," she quoted in parody of Mrs. Pruitt.
"Okay, maybe she goes a little overboard," Gracie said. "But she means well. We don't have to stay long."
CHAPTER 19
When the group arrived at the Pruitt's house they found it overflowing with mourners. They were mostly women, and they all looked alike, dressed in their Sunday best as if it were important that they get all dolled up for the occasion. Cynthia Pruitt was hunched into a large armchair, sobbing hopelessly. A coffee table had been pulled up to the chair, its surface covered with pictures of Meaghan from birth to present. Steve Pruitt was nowhere to be seen.
The other women wouldn't let Gracie and her friends close to Mrs. Pruitt, as if they feared the young people would upset her. Which is probably true, Gracie thought. The women led them to the dining room where the table was laid out with all kinds of casseroles, sandwich-makings, and desserts. An industrial-sized coffee urn bubbled softly at one end. When they protested that they'd already eaten, the guardian-women insisted they have a slice of pie. Gracie, who could usually eat at any time of day, found she had no appetite under the circumstances. She could hear muted bass laughter from a room at the back of the house; the menfolk must have congregated in a den, or someplace away from all the hovering too-helpful women.
Gracie picked at her pie and wondered what to do. No one said anything as they ate. Shawna looked properly respectful, but Cheryl was starting to fidget and Kelly looked downright bored. Having noticed that her friends' plates were empty she suddenly stood up and dumped her half-eaten pie into the trashcan.
"Thank you so much for the pie," she told one of the women. "It's so very kind of you to help like this." Privately she felt her smile was obviously saccharine, but the woman didn't seem to notice.
"The good Lord put us on this Earth to help each other in time of need," the woman twittered. "And He surely knows this family needs help right now. Thank you all so much for coming."
Gracie recognized a dismissal when she heard one, but didn't let it faze her. "Of course. Now, I'll just pop in to say a few words to Mrs. Pruitt, and then we'll leave."
She turned on her heel and began striding purposefully toward the living room with the church-lady following in her wake, protesting that Cynthia mustn't be disturbed. Gracie ignored her and so did Shawna, Cheryl, and Kelly. Gently she pushed her way between two women so she could get close to Cynthia's chair. The other three hung back.
"Mrs. Pruitt, I'm Gracie Greene. We met…the other night." Inwardly she winced at the hesitation and what it implied, but Cynthia didn't seem to notice.
"Yes, Dear, I do seem to remember you." She closed her eyes briefly and fresh tears ran down her face.
Impulsively Gracie reached out and took Cynthia's hand, squeezing it with the strength of emotion and compassion. "I'm so very sorry about Meaghan," she said, and felt tears of her own forming.
"Thank you," Cynthia said in a hoarse voice as she extricated her hand to reach for a fresh tissue.
Gracie sniffled, and pulled the card from her purse, handed it to Cynthia. "All of her friends at school will miss her greatly, and we wanted you to know how much she meant to us."
Cynthia opened the card and looked at all the scrawled signatures and sentiments. A hush settled over the room as if everyone were afraid of the woman's possible reaction. Though she dabbed at another tear trickling down her cheek, Cynthia smiled. "It warms my heart to know so many young people cared about Meaghan." She slipped the card into her Bible. "I'm going to keep this right here, so I can look at it anytime and know how blessed she was to have such good friends. She never did like that car, you know; she was talking about selling it."
"Yes, I know," Gracie muttered, unsure quite how to respond.
"It's so easy to think that if she had sold it none of this would've happened," Cynthia went on. "But of course that's silly. It wasn't the car's fault."
"No, Ma'am," Gracie said.
"You know, it was the funniest thing," Cynthia said. Her voice quavered a bit and her eyes had a faraway look; in her grief she'd come to the stage of rambling about whatever stray thought relating to her daughter came to mind. "That morning I thought I'd lost her extra key. To the car; I kept it on one of those valet things, you know, that you can detach easily. That way if she lost hers, or locked herself out, then she could come get the duplicate."
Gracie nodded, though she had no idea why Cynthia was saying this. She did, however, understand what 'that' day meant; Friday morning. She glanced behind her to appeal to her friends for help but they just shrugged, as puzzled as Gracie was.
Cynthia shrugged her shoulders and smiled wanly at her own failing. "But I must've just overlooked it somehow, because the next day when Barbara took me home there it was on my key ring when I unlocked the front door."