Morgan glanced at me. “Even then,” she said. “It matters to me, Colin. It should matter to you, too.”
Colin was silent for a few moments. Then he turned the key in the ignition. “Where do we start?” he said.
I started with directory assistance and got connected to Aaron Arthurs’s home phone. His mother answered.
“I’m sorry, Aaron isn’t here,” she said.
When I asked when she expected him, she offered me his cell number.
“Pen and paper,” I said, fumbling in my purse. Morgan found a pen and handed it to me. I snatched up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor of Colin’s car and scrawled the number that Aaron’s mother gave me. Then she said, “If he doesn’t answer, it’s probably because he’s at his club.”
“Club?”
“His games club. They have a place over a butcher’s store. It’s cold and it smells, but they don’t seem to care. They’re always wrapped up in their games. They turn their phones off.” She told me where the club was, and I scrawled that down, too.
When I told Morgan and Colin what I had found out, Morgan said, “Let’s try the club first. I’d rather surprise him. That will give him less chance to make up any excuses. Or to dodge us.”
I nodded.
“I’ll take you there,” Colin said.
Aaron definitely looked surprised when Morgan, Colin, and I walked into the room above a butcher shop that was, as advertised, cold and smelly. The rest of the room’s occupants, all of them crowded around small tables on which were game boards and cards, looked equally startled to see strangers in their clubhouse.
“What are they playing?” Morgan said. She peered at the nearest games table.
“Some kind of role-playing game, I think,” I said. For some reason, role-playing was hugely popular with guys like Aaron.
One of the players glowered at us.
“We’re here to see Aaron,” I said, my voice loud enough for Aaron to hear me.
Aaron stood up slowly and came over to the door. He looked apprehensively at Colin, who towered above him. Then he turned to me.
“We want to talk to you about Sean,” I said.
“What’s there to talk about?” He sounded cocky until he remembered that Sean’s brother was standing right there. “I mean, the cops caught the guy who did it, right?”
“But they didn’t catch the guy who trashed Sean’s locker,” I said.
Aaron laughed.
“What does that have to do with anything? He’s dead.” He glanced at Colin. “No offense.” He turned back to me. “I mean, at this point, who cares about his locker?”
“The police will care,” I said, “if it turns out whoever trashed his locker was angry enough to want him dead.” I stared him right in the eye. “Were you, Aaron?”
“Was I what?”
“Angry enough to want Sean dead?”
“What? You think I trashed Sean’s locker?” His eyes shifted to Morgan. “You told Dormer that your ex-boyfriend did it. You made a big deal about it.”
“Billy didn’t kill Sean,” I said.
“Well, neither did I. Besides, the lock was cut off with a bolt-cutter. I didn’t need a bolt-cutter to get into Sean’s locker. I had the combination.”
“Right,” Morgan said. “Because you and Sean were such good friends—even though he made fun of you all the time.”
Aaron’s face turned red.
“You knew that, right?” Morgan said. “You can’t believe the things he used to say about you to his buddies.”
“Sean thought you were a geek,” I said. “He made fun of you all the time. So why were you helping him cheat?”
Aaron glanced over his shoulder at his friends. They were all staring at us now.
“Can we step outside?” he said.
We moved into the hall. Aaron closed the door behind us.
I repeated my question.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aaron said.
“Really?” I held out the sheaf of e-mails that I had printed at Sean’s house. “This last one sounds kind of threatening. I’m guessing that you weren’t helping him out of the goodness of your heart.”
Aaron glanced at the e-mail. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
I read the e-mail out loud: “‘Now you’re on your own. I hope you fail every subject and lose your scholarship, you miserable creep.’ It’s dated two days before Sean’s locker was trashed.” I turned to Morgan and Colin. “What do you think?”
“I think we should take these e-mails to Mr. Dormer,” Morgan said. “I think we should also tell him that Aaron is the one who broke into Sean’s locker, shredded all of his notebooks and papers, and destroyed his flash drive.”
“I already told you I didn’t do that,” Aaron said. “I had his locker combination. He gave it to me. If I wanted to get into his locker, all I had to do was open the lock.”
“That’s why you used a bolt-cutter,” I said. “Sean knew you had his combination. I bet he let you have it so that you could leave his assignments for him—the ones that he had to copy out, like math homework. You’d leave it in the locker, right?” I held out another e-mail to prove it. “If someone had just opened his locker and destroyed everything, you’d have been the prime suspect. So you broke in instead.”
“Yeah,” Morgan said, her tone pure acid. “You knew Billy would be blamed.”
“Why’d you do it?” I said. “Why did you trash Sean’s stuff?”
Colin took a menacing step toward him. Aaron cringed.
“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t,” he said.
“Then who did?”
“Sean.”
“Right,” Morgan said. “Sean trashed his own locker.” She shook her head.
“He did,” Aaron said. “You have to believe me.”
“Why would Sean do something so stupid?” Morgan said.
“Because I told him I wasn’t going to help him anymore. And because I didn’t do the project he was supposed to hand in that day.”
“You’re lying,” Colin said.
“Are you saying that Sean messed up his own locker because you didn’t do a project for him?” I said.
“He didn’t want to get in trouble,” Aaron said. “Mr. Bruce made it pretty clear how he’d deal with late assignments.”
I knew Mr. Bruce. He had a reputation. He did not tolerate tardiness. What Aaron was saying kind of made sense. I turned to Morgan. “That’s why Sean lied about his computer. He said he didn’t store assignments on it because his brothers kept screwing around with it. But that’s not true.” I glanced at Aaron. “Sean was trying to buy time.”
“Yeah,” Morgan said bitterly. “Time for me to do the work for him instead.”
“He came up to me later that day and threatened me,” Aaron said.
“Threatened you?”
“Is that why you killed him?” Morgan said. Colin took another step toward Aaron, who scuttled backward until he was plastered against the wall.
“I didn’t kill him,” he wailed.
“How did he threaten you?” I said. “What did he say?”
“That if I didn’t do what I was told, he’d turn me in for helping him cheat.”
“But that would hurt him just as much.”
Aaron hung his head. “I did more than just doing homework for him,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“The more I did for him, the more demanding he got. He also got lazy. He didn’t want to have to study at all.”
I remembered that Aaron had been startled when I’d walked in on him in the copy room at school. He had tried to hide what he was copying. Aaron was in the office all the time. He helped his mother after hours. He even did troubleshooting on the computer system from time to time.
“What else were you doing for him, Aaron?”
Aaron refused to look at me.
“Tell us, Aaron, or I’ll go straight to Mr. Dormer on Monday and tell him everyt
hing I know. Then I’ll go to the police. I hope you have an alibi for the night Sean was killed.”
Aaron’s face went white. “Okay,” he said. He drew in a deep breath. “My mother does a lot of photocopying for teachers.”
“That photocopying includes tests, doesn’t it?” I said softly.
Aaron nodded again. “I’m not in any of Sean’s classes. We don’t even have any of the same teachers. So ...”
“So nobody would suspect you of helping him cheat,” I said.
He nodded.
“Sean had an e-mail from me about what I was doing,” he said. “I actually offered to help him. I was flattered. He came up to me in the hall about a year ago and started talking to me.” Tamara had told me that she had stopped helping Sean at about the same time. “He said he had some questions about physics and he asked me for help. He was really nice—you know, friendly, funny. Then, during the summer, he got me a job at the same place he worked, at one of those big hardware stores. We hung out together at lunch. When school started again, he told me he was worried about his grades. He asked me to tutor him. He offered to pay, but I said no, I didn’t mind helping. I felt lucky—I’d be helping Sean Sloane!”
“So what happened?” I said. “Why did you stop?”
“At first it seemed like he really wanted to learn. Then he started skipping tutoring sessions—he said he had to practice. He also started bossing me around. He wasn’t friendly anymore. And when I told him, forget it, I wasn’t going to help him anymore, he told me I couldn’t do that without getting myself into big trouble. He’d saved all my e-mails. He said he’d get into trouble, too, but probably not as much as me. After all, I had offered to help him. It always came out that way. He never asked—he always got me to offer.”
“But you did try to stop,” I said.
“Because I almost got caught. Mr. Dormer walked in on me in the copy room, just like you did. It really scared me—I told Sean I was through. That’s when he trashed his own locker. He was furious. He told me he was going to admit he’d been accepting my help. He was going to say that he’d just found out that I was stealing tests for him—that he didn’t know before, that he had no idea I was using actual test papers. He said they’d believe him, not me. He said people would wonder how long I had been cheating for, whether I’d really earned my grades.” His eyes were watery. “Sean was going to turn me in. There was nothing I could do ...”
“Except kill him,” Morgan said.
“Except do what he wanted me to do,” Aaron said. “I had to. He only had a couple more months in high school. So I caved. It was the only thing I could do.”
“Where were you between ten and midnight the night Sean was murdered?” I said.
“At home.”
“Right,” Morgan said. “I don’t suppose you have any witnesses?”
“No.”
Morgan snorted. “That’s a pretty weak alibi.”
“Your parents weren’t around?” I said.
Aaron shook his head. “They were out of town. My dad was at a convention. My mother went with him.”
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“Not living at home. My older brother’s a grad student.”
“Come on,” Morgan said. “Let’s call that detective.”
“Come on. Look at me,” Aaron said. “Do you think I’d have a chance against Sean?” Aaron was short, slight, and mousy-looking. It was hard to imagine that he could get the better of Sean physically.
“Sean was killed by a blow from behind,” I said. “Whoever did it must have surprised him. You could have done that.” Anyone angry enough could have picked up that piece of pipe. But that didn’t mean just anyone would if given the chance. I looked at Aaron. He was trembling.
“I didn’t kill him,” he said.
“What kind of car do you drive?” I said.
“Car?” Aaron looked confused. “I don’t have a car. I don’t even have a driver’s license.”
I studied him for a few moments more. I could picture a lot of things, but I couldn’t picture him killing Sean.
“Come on,” I said to Morgan.
“Wait,” Aaron said, his voice shrill. “Are you going to call the cops on me? I know what I did was wrong. But I didn’t kill him. I swear I didn’t. But he’s dead—”
Colin made a menacing rumble. Aaron shrank back.
“If you call the police, I’ll have to tell them Sean was cheating. His mom will find out. You don’t want that, do you? It will only hurt her.”
“Not to mention that it’ll kill your chances at getting into college,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
We left the club and went back to the car. Morgan got into the backseat and crossed her arms over her chest. Colin climbed in beside her. With a sigh, I got into the front passenger seat and turned to look at her. She scowled at me.
“You don’t think he did it, do you?” she said.
“No,” I said. “Look at him, Morgan. He’s not the type.”
“He had a motive.”
“All he wants is get into Harvard or Yale or someplace like that.”
“He doesn’t have an alibi.”
“That’s another thing,” I said. “He’s a smart guy, Morgan. Don’t you think if he killed someone, he’d come up with an alibi?”
“So what are you saying?” she said. “He didn’t do it. Jon didn’t do it. Tamara didn’t do it. Who does that leave? Are you saying it was Billy?”
“Of course not.” I dug in my pocket for my phone. The paper that I had written Aaron’s cell number on fell out. I picked it up. Uh-oh. It wasn’t a piece of scrap paper. I had written on the back of a letter. I skimmed it.
“Well, now what?” Morgan said impatiently.
“I’m going to call my mom. She’ll know if the police have talked to Wayne. Or if they talked to Billy again.”
“Wayne?” Colin said. “What does Wayne have to do with this?”
I told him what I knew: Billy had seen Wayne’s car in the parking lot when he left the arena, but Wayne had told me he’d gone right home after seeing Billy.
“You think Wayne killed Sean?” Morgan said.
“That’s crazy,” Colin said.
“Everything’s crazy,” Morgan said. “It’s crazy that Sean is dead. It’s crazy that he was such a jerk. It’s crazy that the police think that Billy did it. I wish I’d never talked to Sean.” She got out of the car and slammed the door behind her.
Poor Morgan. She seemed to have given up hope. I couldn’t blame her. We were getting nowhere.
Colin scrambled out after her. As I reached for the door handle to follow them, my phone rang.
It was Billy.
“Are you okay?” I said. “Where are you?”
“W
here do you think I am?” Billy said. He sounded tired. “Your mom was just here with that detective. She arranged for them to let me call you. Can you come see me again, Robyn? Can you bring Morgan?”
“Charlie Hart was there?” I said. That was good. “What did he want?”
“He asked me about the car I saw in the parking lot when I left the arena. But I don’t think he believed me.”
“Did he say anything to you about the head janitor?”
“No.” I wasn’t surprised. Cops never talk about things like that. Especially not with someone they consider a suspect. “Why? What about him?”
“The janitor told me he left right after he saw you go into the arena. He said he went home. But you told me you saw his car in the parking lot. So that means he lied to me. I called Charlie Hart and told him. He said he’d look into it.”
“So that’s why he was here,” Billy said. “He asked me about the car and why I hadn’t mentioned it any of the times I talked to him.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t know it was important. They told me someone saw me go into the arena. I saw the janitor�
��I spoke to him—so I knew who they meant. They didn’t make a big deal about whether he saw me leave, so I didn’t either.”
“Did Detective Hart say anything today about whether he saw you leave?”
“He didn’t say anything.” There was an edge to his voice. “He just asked me to describe the car. So I did. And I could see right away that he didn’t believe me.”
I wondered why Charlie Hart wouldn’t have believed him. Unless ...
“What exactly did you tell him, Billy?”
“What does it matter?”
“Come on, Billy.”
“That it was a dark-colored car, but I couldn’t tell exactly what color. It was parked at the far end of the parking lot. Not under a light or anything.”
“Dark-colored?” I said. Wayne drove a white Camaro—I’d had no trouble making out the color when Morgan and I had gone to the arena the night before. “Are you sure?”
“I know what I saw, Robyn.”
“Did you see the license plate? Even part of it?”
“No.”
“Do you remember anything else about it?”
“You sound like that cop,” he said irritably.
The driver’s-side door opened.
“Billy, the car you saw wasn’t Wayne’s,” I said. “It belonged to someone else. Maybe someone who went into the arena right after you left.”
“Well, tell that to your detective friend, because he didn’t believe a word I said.”
Colin climbed in behind the wheel. I glanced around. Morgan was nowhere in sight.
“What else do you remember about the car, Billy?” I said.
“Nothing. If I’d known it was going to be important, I would have memorized every detail. But it was just a car.”
I glanced out the window again. Where was Morgan?
“Think, Billy. Can you tell me anything else about the car you saw? Anything at all?”
“It was dark, Robyn.” There was a long pause at the other end of the line. “I think maybe there was a flag or something on the back of it.”
“What do you mean, a flag?”
“I don’t know. There was something sticking up from the back. A flag.”
“From the back?” I said slowly. “Maybe from a rear window?”
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