Get Even

by McNeil,Gretchen

“See, Jez,” Amber said, “I’m not wearing any sunscreen. You know why? Because I noticed when I watched The Warriors that the women were all amazingly tan.” She had reclined the lounge so it was completely flat and lay on her stomach to work on her back tan. “As a serious actress,” Amber continued, turning her head toward them, “I think it’s important to fully embrace my character.”

  Behind her enormous sunglasses, Olivia rolled her eyes. “As a serious actress,” she said, effortlessly mimicking Amber’s tone, “I think it’s important to fully protect my skin so I don’t look like a shriveled old prune by the time I’m thirty.”

  Amber lay on her stomach for a moment longer; then, without a word, she reached out and dragged over a large umbrella, engulfing her lounge chair in its shadow.

  “It’s good to have priorities,” Jezebel said, picking up a fashion mag.

  They sunbathed in silence while Peanut prepped some nibbles in the kitchen. The conversation Olivia had overheard between Amber and Jezebel was still fresh in her mind, and she realized this might be the perfect time to do some fishing.

  “Can you believe,” Olivia began in an offhand manner, “it’s only been like four days since Ronny was killed?”

  “Three and half,” Jezebel said, flipping through an article on fall makeup trends.

  “Are you trying to ruin my Saturday?” Amber asked.

  “It just feels so strange,” Olivia continued, undaunted. “Tuesday night when we all went to sleep, we never imagined that someone we knew would be dead the next day.”

  “I didn’t know him,” Amber said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Jezebel and Amber exchange a glance. What secret were they hiding?

  “But I thought,” Olivia said, pushing herself to a sitting position, “Ronny and Rex knew each other? I heard—”

  “Snacks!” Peanut trundled out through the patio door, her arms laden with bowls and plates.

  Perfect timing as always, Peanut.

  Peanut flicked the screen closed with her big toe and waddled over to the outdoor table. “It’s Mom and Dad’s new health-food line,” she said, laying out the spread. “Rhubarb oatmeal bars, veggie bacon-wrapped Tofurky skewers, savory quinoa cakes, and kale chips.”

  Olivia scanned the plates of organic, vegan, gluten-free nibbles that were the staples of Mr. and Mrs. Dumbrowski’s fresh-food-delivery empire, and was secretly thankful she had half a pack of crumb cakes squirreled away in her bag.

  Amber leaned over the table and wrinkled her nose. “It looks like dog food. Can’t we order a pizza or something?”

  Peanut’s face fell. “Oh, I . . .” Olivia might worry about the never-ending string of bizarre diets Peanut’s mom inflicted on her only daughter, but Peanut was proud of her parents’ business.

  “I think it looks fantastic.” Olivia picked up a fake-bacon-and-Tofurky skewer and took an enthusiastic bite. “Mmmm.” She plastered a smile on her face as she forced herself to chew.

  “Why not?” Jezebel grabbed a rhubarb bar, but Amber turned up her nose.

  “At least the boys will be here soon,” she said.

  Peanut caught her breath. “The boys?”

  “Of course.” Amber readjusted her bandeau top. “What’s a pool party without boys?”

  “Pleasant?” Jezebel said.

  Peanut stared at the kale chip in her hand, then gently laid it on a napkin. She turned to the patio door and fussed with her swimsuit in the reflection, pulling at the retro polka-dot one-piece. “I wish you’d told me you’d invited them.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t even put on makeup.”

  “Lesson learned,” Amber said. “You should always put on makeup.”

  Olivia stood behind Peanut and looped her arms around her waist, squeezing her tight. “You look amazing. Kyle’s going to swallow his tongue when he sees you.”

  Peanut flashed Olivia a clandestine smile. “Thank you,” she said under her breath.

  Amber returned to her shaded lounge chair and propped it into an upright position. “Kyle’s got his eye on some junior at St. Anne’s, so you might as well let it go, PeePee.”

  Peanut shook herself free of Olivia’s embrace and raced inside the house without a word.

  “Really, Amber?” Olivia was tired of seeing Amber stomp on Peanut’s dreams. “Could you be a little less tactful?”

  “I’m trying to help her,” Amber said. “Better she gets it into her head now that Kyle’s not interested. So pathetic to see your friend chasing after a boy who doesn’t give a shit about her, don’t you think?”

  There was something sly in Amber’s tone that made Olivia question whether she was talking about Peanut and Kyle or Olivia and Donté.

  “Same way I feel when I see my friend dating a douchebag,” Olivia countered. “Unless they deserve it.”

  “What are you—”

  “Cannonball!”

  Rex tore around the side of the house in his swim trunks and leaped into the pool, hugging his knees to his chin.

  Water exploded from the pool, splattering in all directions from Rex’s impact and dousing Amber from head to toe.

  “Asshole!” Amber screamed the moment Rex’s head broke the surface of the water. “Look what you did.”

  Rex tossed his hair out of his face and freestyled to the side of the pool. “What? You’re in a swimsuit. Aren’t swimsuits supposed to get wet?”

  “Swimsuits, yes,” Amber growled. “Hair and makeup? No.”

  “Lame.” Rex hauled himself out of the pool as Kyle and Tyler dragged a cooler through the sliding door.

  “Brew!” Rex called out. “Stat.”

  Tyler tossed a can to Rex, who caught it midair like a center fielder.

  Before he could crack it open, Amber bogarted the beer from his hand. “Why yes, thank you. I’d love one.” She swiveled her hips as she returned to her lounge chair.

  “You could have asked,” Rex sneered.

  “You could have offered,” Amber said, matching his tone.

  Aha, the bickering had begun. “I’m going to check on Peanut,” Olivia said, and quickly slipped into the house.

  The bathroom door was closed, but Olivia could hear the gentle sobbing from inside. She knocked lightly. “Peanut? You okay?”

  “Yeah!” Peanut said, so overly perky it was clearly an act. “I’m fine. Just, um, fixing my makeup.”

  “You should come back out,” Olivia said. “The boys are here and . . .” Olivia paused, grasping for a ploy that might get Peanut to rejoin the party. She had to start showing Amber that the bitchy comments didn’t bother her, or Amber would never let up.

  “And?” Peanut prodded.

  Olivia swallowed. “And Kyle was asking where you were.” Okay, it was a lie, but just the white kind. The good kind.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Peanut said after a pause.

  It wasn’t always a grand DGM gesture that made a difference. Sometimes, it was the small things. Olivia smiled to herself as she padded down the hallway in her bare feet, but she stopped her in tracks as she neared the family room.

  “He’s dead,” Rex said. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

  Olivia flattened herself against the wall. Was he talking about Ronny?

  “This had better be worth it,” Amber whispered. “I want DGM fubarred, got it?”

  “Calm down,” Rex said, using that silky-smooth voice that always reminded Olivia of a serial killer.

  “What did that guy have on you anyway?” Amber asked, slyness creeping into her tone.

  “N-nothing,” Rex stuttered. Only Rex never stuttered, was never unsure of himself for a second. Whatever Ronny knew about Rex must have been epically damaging.

  “You sure about that?”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Rex said through clenched teeth. Then his voice relaxed. “You talk to Jezebel about Tuesday night?”

  “She’s on board,” Amber said. “And no, I didn’t tell her why.”

  “Good.”

&
nbsp; “But I swear to God,” Amber said, her voice steely, “if anyone finds out I was with Ronny that day, I’ll tell them—”

  “Babe,” Rex said through a laugh. “I’ve got everything under control.”

  “You’d better,” Amber pouted.

  “Listen.” Rex dropped his voice and Olivia couldn’t hear what he said. She crept to the edge of the living room and caught the last few words. “We’ll make sure DGM goes down for Ronny’s murder. I promise.”

  Thirty seconds of slobbering sounds indicated that an Amber–Rex make-out session was in full swing. Olivia was beginning to wonder how long she’d be trapped there when the patio door abruptly slid open, and Olivia heard two sets of flip-flops snapping onto the concrete outside.

  She stood in the hallway, her mind racing. Amber was with Ronny the day he was killed. Rex was plotting to make sure that DGM went down for Ronny’s murder. And Rex’s connection to Ronny made him incredibly nervous.

  Was it enough to kill for? Olivia wasn’t sure. Rex and Amber had been raised with unlimited money and freedom—they always got what they wanted when they wanted it, and that kind of arrogance and entitlement could possibly lead them to murder. A plot to frame DGM might be a stretch, but it was possible, especially if it got Ronny out of the way in the process.

  Olivia would have to keep her eyes and ears open when it came to Amber and Rex. If they did kill Ronny, there must be proof, and if she could find it, she’d exonerate DGM entirely. She cringed at the idea of buttering up Rex, and maintaining her friendship with Amber was proving more and more difficult.

  She’d just have to figure out a way.

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  TWENTY-EIGHT

  AFTER BEING SIDELINED BY THEO’S FALSE CONFESSION, Menlo PD was back in full force Monday morning. The interrogations started first period.

  Bree had just slumped into her desk when a blue-shirted ’Maine Man arrived in the room with a list of students. Unsurprisingly, she and John were at the top.

  They were herded into the teacher conference room, where each interrogee was paired with a police officer. Bree’s Grand Inquisitor looked as if she needed a second cup of coffee: she stifled a yawn as she opened her notebook to a new page and poised her pen for action. “State your name for the record.”

  “Bree Deringer.”

  “Age?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Home address?”

  Bree rattled off her address while the officer diligently transcribed the information. But she kept an eye on Father Uberti, who slowly strolled around the conference room, hands clasped behind his back, like a prison warden patrolling the cell block. The yellowish glow of the fluorescent lights in the conference room gave his skin an usual pallor, accentuating the sunken cheeks and the dark, hollow spaces below his eyes. Well, at least DGM was causing Father Uberti some sleepless nights. That was something.

  The officer finished writing down Bree’s address, then pulled a sheet of paper out from beneath the notebook and recited a prepared statement with all the enthusiasm of a DMV employee.

  “You are not being accused of a crime, and this is not a custodial interrogation. We are merely gathering information that might be relevant to the case, in regards to the victim, Ronald DeStefano. There is an interested adult present, and you may refuse to answer any questions and/or leave the interview at any time. Do you understand?”

  Bree arched her brow as she eyed the back of Father Uberti’s head. “Interested adult?”

  The officer sighed. “An interested adult is present to ensure appropriate protection of your rights as a juvenile, pursuant to California law.”

  “Oh.” She seriously doubted if old F.U. was interested in protecting the rights of any of his students. Especially not hers.

  “Do you understand?” the officer repeated.

  Bree smiled. “Sure.”

  “Nothing to be afraid of, Olivia. We’re just trying to gather as much information about Ronny DeStefano as we can, okay? We’re all on the same side here.”

  Olivia was afraid. Terrified, in fact. Why was she being questioned about Ronny’s murder? As far as school was concerned, they barely even knew each other.

  “I understand that you and Ronny had coffee last Tuesday. Is that correct?”

  Olivia was on guard in an instant. They knew about her date with Ronny? It was in a public place, so of course there were witnesses.

  Or a member of DGM had told them.

  She didn’t quite believe anyone in DGM was a snitch, but then again, why was Olivia being questioned? Someone must have tipped them off. Either way, Olivia needed to be very, very careful.

  Sergeant Callahan smiled, big and broad, and softened his eyes as he leaned in, attempting to cultivate an atmosphere of friendship and camaraderie. But his eyes were sharp and shrewd, and not the least bit friendly. His smiles and winks were an act to gain her confidence.

  Olivia was too experienced an actress to fall for affected body language. She knew exactly what he was doing.

  Two could play that game.

  She looked up at Sergeant Callahan, her eyes wide with fear, and tensed her lower lip so it quivered, as if she were desperately holding back tears, and nodded tentatively.

  “At the Coffee Clash,” she said, her voice catching. “That was the day . . . the day he . . .”

  “Don’t think about it,” Sergeant Callahan said. “I don’t want to upset you.”

  Olivia forced a weak smile.

  Sergeant Callahan poised his pen over a blank notebook page but didn’t break eye contact. “What time did you leave the Coffee Clash?”

  Olivia bit her lower lip and scrunched her brows together as if she was thinking hard. “A little after five.”

  A few deft strokes from his pen while he maintained his friendly smile. “And I understand you had an attack of some kind?”

  She and Kitty had discussed the plan so long ago, she just prayed she remembered it correctly. “Actually,” she said, dropping her voice, “I wasn’t sick at all.”

  Sergeant Callahan’s eyes grew wide in mock surprise. “You weren’t? But I have a statement from the barista at the Coffee Clash that you were doubled over in pain and had to be assisted from the café.”

  “This is embarrassing,” Olivia said. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “But Ronny was . . .” She paused and waited for Sergeant Callahan to prompt her.

  “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

  Olivia sighed. “He kept trying to grab me. He wanted me to go back to his house with him. It made me really uncomfortable.” Olivia shook her head as if trying to shake off a bad memory. “I was trying to be nice, you know? Ronny was new at school, so when he asked me out I thought I should at least have coffee with him. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so . . .”

  “So you pretended to be sick.” Sergeant Callahan looked down on his notebook while he transcribed her account of last Tuesday. Her act was working.

  “Mm-hm.”

  “And a patron at the café helped you outside, right?”

  Olivia nodded.

  “Do you know her name?”

  Olivia didn’t have time to wonder whether or not their stories would match up. She had to hope they’d be on the same page.

  “Kitty Wei.”

  Kitty swallowed and considered the question carefully. Sergeant Callahan continued to watch her, his eyes sweeping her face for any sign that she was lying. “Everyone knows Olivia Hayes,” she said simply. “She’s like the most popular girl in school.”

  “You saw that she was having an attack and you jumped in to help.” It wasn’t a question.

  “She was grabbing her stomach, low on the right side. My dad’s appendix burst six years ago and it seemed like the same kind of pain. Everyone stood around watching her, not doing anything. So I did.”

  “I see.” He wro
te something down on his notepad and looked up at her again, his pale gray eyes locked on her own. “And did you know who she was having coffee with?”

  Kitty shook her head. “I’d never met him before.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

  “What happened after you helped Olivia outside?”

  This was the tricky part. She and Olivia had agreed on a story last week, but they hadn’t gone over it since. A stupid mistake, but Kitty had to hope that Olivia remembered the original plan.

  “She seemed fine the second I drove out of the parking lot. Said she didn’t need to go to the hospital, and I drove her home instead.”

  “And she didn’t mention it to you at school the next day?”

  Oh, how little adults understood the intricacies of high school social life. “We don’t exactly hang out with the same people,” she said. Then she added, “Besides, we got the announcement about Ronny’s death first thing in the morning. That’s all anyone’s talked about since.”

  “Did you realize at some point that the guy at the Coffee Clash was the victim?”

  Kitty shook her head. “I never got a good look at him.”

  “I see.” He scribbled some more notes, then nodded to himself. “Thank you, Kitty. You’ve been very helpful.”

  But Kitty didn’t let down her guard until she stepped outside into the courtyard.

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  TWENTY-NINE

  MARGOT HAD BEEN DEBATING WHETHER OR NOT TO ASK FOR help in finding the identity of the faceless girl in the photo. Though it appeared to have no bearing on Ronny’s murder, the timing was suspect. The first envelope arrived the day Ronny’s death was announced, and though logic suggested this was simply a coincidence, Margot could not dismiss a connection out of hand. If the envelopes were somehow connected to Ronny’s murder, she needed to find out.

  She’d spent a significant amount of time trying to figure out who had taken the photo, exhausting all of her own resources, which despite her access to high-grade equipment, were relatively meager. She didn’t have the kind of freedom that would allow her to drive all over town, employing photo experts who might be able to sharpen the contrast or lighten the exposure. If she wasn’t at school, she was at home, and her leash was a short one.