Higher Learning (The Charlie Davies Mysteries Book 4)

by Clare Kauter

  Seriously? There wasn’t even any dip on the tray! Not snacks, unless you were Adam Baxter, although even he could put away a decent amount of wine given the chance. I wasn’t usually a heavy drinker – or much of a drinker at all – but in the absence of snacks and drug dealers, I was going to need something to get me through the party. Not that I would’ve taken the drugs – it was just that at least if they were here, everything wouldn’t feel so pointless. Maybe I could fake an illness, or sever a limb, or –

  The doorbell sounded and Mrs Bales headed downstairs to answer it.

  “I invited a couple of the boys,” said Chelsea.

  Finally, something interesting was about to happen. Did ‘the boys’ mean the dealers? Please please please –

  No such luck. Apparently ‘the boys’ were Lachlan and a couple of his friends whose names I didn’t know. I didn’t think it was possible, but it now seemed like the night might drag on even longer.

  Lachlan sat down next to me and started telling me some sports story I probably could have understood if I cared enough to listen, but Chelsea cut him off. “Don’t bother, Lachlan,” she said. “Charlotte’s not interested in you. She’s got someone else.”

  His friends laughed at him and a couple of the girls – including Abhati – gave me quizzical looks. “Something you haven’t told me?” Abhati asked, looking fake-scandalised.

  I shrugged. “I have a boyfriend. He doesn’t go to our school though, so none of you guys will know him.”

  “Sounds like he doesn’t exist,” said one of Chelsea’s minions.

  “I’ve met him,” said Chelsea, shooting a withering glare at the minion, who shrunk back into her shell thereafter. “Anyway, who wants to play some Twister?”

  I bailed out, citing a rolled ankle. It wasn’t a total lie – I’d hurt it jumping off the chair at Will’s place – but the real truth was that playing Twister with a bunch of high schoolers seemed at best creepy and at worst illegal. That thought reminded me of Elliot, and I decided that in order to make tonight less pointless, I should ask more questions about him.

  First up, I questioned Abhati.

  “Hey, you know Mr Bicknell?” I asked. She nodded. “What do you think about him?”

  Frowning, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I just got a bit of a weird vibe from him, and I heard some things.”

  She shook her head. “He seems OK to me. He tutors me, actually.”

  I frowned. “Really? But you’re not even in his class.”

  “Yeah, outside of school. He comes to my house.”

  “And he’s never done anything weird?”

  She shook her head. “No. My parents are always there when he comes over, though, so he wouldn’t. Why? Did he do something weird around you?”

  I shook my head. “No. Probably just my imagination,” I said.

  He’d never tried anything with Abhati, but with her parents around that was no surprise. It didn’t confirm or deny what Chelsea had told me about Gabby. I decided I’d better hang around and see if I could talk to Chelsea alone again.

  The boys stayed for a couple of games of Twister before leaving to go to a party that I suspected was more like what I had expected this one to be. Once they were gone, we got to work on the facemasks and brainstormed cheers for the sports season. I single-handedly finished the entire platter of carrots and celery and despite questioning everyone I could, I hadn’t found out any more about Elliot. Someone suggested putting on a movie.

  “How about Easy A?” I suggested. It was the only movie that came to mind with a storyline that I thought might prompt talk about Elliot. And, you know, it’s just a great movie.

  We all huddled together with blankets and settled down for a (snackless) movie screening. No one was impelled to tell me about Elliot during the movie, and when it was over I was too focused on getting someone to feed me to ask any questions.

  “Eat,” I said to Abhati, barely strong enough to form words. “Need food. Carbs. Fat. Sugar. Now.”

  She laughed. “Chelsea’s got hummus and bread downstairs. Do you want me to get you some?”

  I nodded. “Please. I’d get it myself, but I think I’ve wasted away from going so long without eating.”

  She left the room and returned a few minutes later with bread, dip and a jar of olives. “You’ve got another visitor, Chels,” Abhati said as she walked in.

  Glancing behind her, I could see a guy standing in the doorway. It was him – the guy from the picture Jared had sent me, one of the guys I’d seen in the park. My number one suspect. Excellent – I had snacks now and if I could just get him to sell me some meth, tonight would be perfect. (That came out a little weird, but you get what I mean.)

  “Oh, hi Greg!” said Chelsea. “I, uh, didn’t know you’d be coming over.”

  Greg smiled. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you were having a party. I just wanted to hang out.”

  Oh, how touching. The drug dealer was in love with the cheerleader. I wondered what his relationship had been like with Gabby. I formulated a plan. Well, not exactly a plan. It was more like a half-baked idea, but it was better than nothing. Potentially. I needed to get him alone. The second he left the room to get a drink or something, I’d offer to give him a hand and then bail him up in the hallway and confront him with what I knew.

  After waiting for what seemed like forever, he finally stood up.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announced.

  “I’ll give you a hand with that,” I said, jumping to my feet. I didn’t realise what I’d said until a bit too late.

  “What?” he said, while everyone else gave me confused and mildly disgusted looks.

  “You said you were going to get drinks for everyone, right?” I said, feigning confusion.

  “Uh, no, I –”

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  I grabbed him by the arm and led him outside before turning him to face me.

  “I need something and I think you can get it for me,” I said.

  “You think wrong,” he replied and then tried to step away.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “And unless you want me to tell Chelsea about your little Dungeons and Dragons habit, you’d better stop and talk to me.”

  His face went as white as a sheet.

  “How...” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. No one will believe you.”

  I took out my phone and showed him the picture. “Oh, I think they will.”

  “How did you get that?” he demanded.

  “I have a friend who goes there,” I said.

  He frowned. “You mean that kid who was asking me about buying shit? That slimy little –”

  “Don’t get so stressed out, buddy,” I said. “He told me he’d bumped into you and I asked him to check what your prices were.”

  He folded his arms. “You seem a little too nosy for your own good.”

  I shrugged. “I’m desperate. No one here seems to know where I can get shit from. I thought Gerongate was meant to have a drug problem. That’s one of the main reasons I was looking forward to moving here. If it does, though, it’s hidden really well.”

  “Look, I don’t sell to schoolkids,” he said. “And I don’t know anyone who does who isn’t already locked up.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, really,” he said. “It might surprise you to know, but I do have a moral code.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “You’re just worried that after what happened to the other girl the cops will find you out.”

  “I didn’t sell to her either,” he hissed. “We don’t do business with kids.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that a dealer won’t sell to certain people on moral grounds? Money’s money, man.”

  “Fine,” he hissed. “We don’t sell to kids because they aren’t smart enough to keep their mouths shut if they get caught, and if they squeal, no one wants to be the person who has to punish them for ratting us out.
”

  “Right. So you don’t want to bash high school kids.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not good karma.”

  He was making eye contact and as far as I could tell, he wasn’t lying.

  “And you reckon no one will sell to me?”

  “No one.”

  “Then how did that other girl get her hands on –”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s nothing to do with us.”

  I let him go to the bathroom and went downstairs to grab the bottle of pineapple juice and the Brita jug from the fridge. Mrs Bales was sitting at the dining table, watching me like a hawk. Chelsea and Abhati entered the kitchen moments after I did.

  “You were taking ages, so we decided to come and check on you,” Chelsea said.

  I must have taken longer with Greg than I thought.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said.

  “She only just got here,” said Mrs Bales.

  “I went to the bathroom before I came down,” I lied.

  “Oh, OK,” said Abhati. “Well, we were thinking of running through a new cheer sequence.”

  “Are you the captain now, Abhati?” asked Mrs Bales, glaring at her.

  Abhati turned red and shrunk back. “No, I just –”

  “Abhati would make an amazing captain,” Chelsea said. “I was surprised when they gave it to me. Abhati’s a way better cheerleader than I am.”

  Abhati blushed at the compliment. It was true – she was amazing. She was strong and never screwed up (unlike yours truly). It was nice of Chelsea to acknowledge her, but Chelsea’s mum looked pissed.

  “Alright, girls,” she said through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you head upstairs and I’ll bring some food up for you?”

  “Yes, that sounds amazing,” I said. Sure, I’d eaten some bread and dip, but that hadn’t quite slaked my hunger. I needed more. My stomach was a bottomless pit.

  The rest of the night was uneventful. Greg left early and then we just ran through a couple of cheers and watched more movies. I kept Tim updated, not that there was much to tell him. Everyone assumed I was texting my boyfriend. Just in case one of them got hold of my phone, I kept the messages pretty bland and added kisses at the end of every text. Tim found it hilarious, and kept texting me back calling me ‘baby’ and ‘bae’.

  The next morning, I was going to ask Tim to come and get me, but Abhati needed someone to give her a lift home and if someone was getting me, I’d have to get them to take her too or it would look weird. I thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to introduce her to Tim in case she saw him around the school, so that option was out. Chelsea was already giving four other girls a lift home, so she couldn’t take us.

  “Chelsea has her licence?” I whispered to Abhati.

  “Yeah. And her own car.”

  I frowned, confused. “But isn’t she only sixteen?”

  “She’s seventeen,” Abhati explained. “Her mum held her back for a year so she’d get ahead in her classes.”

  Wow, her mum was even pushier than I’d thought. It was a wonder Chelsea had turned out as normal as she had.

  “It’s OK, Abhati,” said Mrs Bales, interrupting our chat. “I’ll drive you home. Do you need a lift too, Charlotte?”

  “Uh...” What had brought on this sudden act of kindness? She probably just wanted to get us out of her house ASAP, I decided. I wanted to say no, but Abhati sent me a pleading look. She was terrified to be left alone with Chelsea’s mother. I didn’t blame her. “Sure,” I said, and Abhati smiled gratefully at me.

  As we headed for the car, I wondered what address I should give. I couldn’t take her to my actual home address. It was in too nice an area for my backstory. I could take her to my parents’ house, but I wasn’t sure how I’d explain the situation to my mother. Plus, if she was in the front yard gardening, as she often was, she might blow my cover by calling me Charlie or referring to me as her daughter or something when I was meant to be living with my aunt.

  So where?

  I decided to give her directions to Will’s house. Chelsea had seen me not far from there, so it wouldn’t seem odd if her mum commented on where I lived. She dropped Abhati off first and I was left to awkwardly converse with her.

  “So...” I said.

  “Don’t feel the need to speak to me,” replied Mrs Bales. What a charmer. It appeared that I’d finally met someone with fewer social skills than me. I did as she said and remained quiet as she drove me to Will’s. I thanked her and got out of the car, powerwalking away as fast as I could. That woman was truly terrifying.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When I arrived back home, I started my homework. About ten seconds in I decided that solving the case before tomorrow would be easier than attempting to decipher these maths problems, so I sat down on my bed, pulled out my laptop (my good one, not the crappy one I had for school) and opened up a new document. I titled it ‘Drug Dealer Whodunnit’ and set about writing a list of all suspects.

  Number one was Mucus – after attempting that maths homework a moment earlier I’d decided that she had no qualms about ruining people’s lives for money. Not to mention that weird moment when she’d tried to stop me from getting on the cheer team, which was essentially attempting to impede the investigation. She was a teacher so she had access to the students. Beyond that I didn’t have much.

  Suspect two was Greg. He was definitely mixed up in drugs, but if he was dealing to Gabby, why had he refused to sell anything to Jared and me? There was a chance he was suspicious of me, but if he knew who I was would he really keep quiet about it? Maybe he just didn’t deal to people he didn’t know well. He was still a good suspect, and probably the most likely.

  And lastly we had Elliot, who was suspected of trying to sleep with the girl who died. After a quick message to Tim, I was able to confirm that Elliot was the one who’d found drugs in that other cheerleader’s bag. He could have planted them there for some reason. (Even if the Gabby thing wasn’t true, he was still clearly wired wrong – why was he going through his female students’ bathroom bags?) He could easily have found out how to make meth. Maybe he was using his chemistry powers for evil. If history was anything to go by, Elliot was the most likely suspect. After all, I was currently the only housemate who didn’t have an ex who was responsible for killing people.

  I sighed and slumped back in my chair. Nothing had come into focus while I was working on the case. If I didn’t come up with something soon I was going to have to attempt my maths homework again. I groaned aloud. My phone rang and I answered it hastily. Anything to get out of maths.

  “Hey Timmy,” I said, wondering why he was calling me instead of just continuing our text conversation. “What’s up?”

  He exhaled. “I’ve got some bad news, honey.”

  The tone of his voice made my heart sink. Had Adam found out about Jared? Or about Chelsea seeing me and James kiss? “Am I fired?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “It’s – it’s your friend, Abhati.”

  “What about her?” I said, my brow creasing with worry.

  “She’s in hospital.”

  What? “But – but I saw her a couple of hours ago and she was fine,” I said. “What happened?”

  He hesitated.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “She overdosed,” he said. “On meth. She had a heart attack.”

  “What?” I was more than a little taken aback. “That doesn’t make any sense. She wouldn’t –”

  “Honey, you met her four days ago,” Tim said gently. “It’s not your fault that you didn’t know she was –”

  “Is she OK?”

  He paused. “She’s alive,” he said. “But she’s not in a good way.”

  “I need to see her,” I said, my mind racing.

  “I’ll come and get you,” he said. “You at your place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you in ten.”

  I hung up, numb and confused. This didn’t make any sense. Abhati on meth?
She hadn’t so much as drunk coffee in front of me, and yet she’d overdosed on hard-core drugs? I mean, when Will had overdosed it had been a shock, but I’d known he smoked weed so the heroin hadn’t seemed like so much of a stretch. Abhati doing drugs was just so outside of what I expected that it seemed impossible.

  When Tim arrived, I voiced my concerns.

  “She just wouldn’t do drugs, Tim.”

  “That’s what everyone said about the other girl, too.”

  “Exactly!” I said. “What if someone gave them the drugs intentionally? Could someone have tried to make them overdose?”

  “You think someone is killing off cheerleaders?” Tim said incredulously.

  “Maybe,” I replied, although now that I’d said it aloud it didn’t seem so likely.

  “Honey, I accept that it’s a possibility, but it’s a lot more likely that the girls took the drugs themselves. She could have got the drugs from the guy at the party last night, right?”

  I shrugged. “I guess, but he was adamant that they don’t sell to high school kids.”

  “You believed him?”

  “Well, he didn’t sell to me. Why would he have sold to her?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a good lead, Charlie,” said Tim. “Even if you think it’s unlikely, we’ve got to check him out.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  Frowning, I tried to remember if Abhati and Greg had ever been alone together. They had, I realised. When Greg had first arrived, Abhati was downstairs fetching me snacks. She could have gotten her hands on the drugs then. Damn it. Had Abhati tricked me into thinking she was someone completely different from who she was? I didn’t even know anymore.

  We pulled up in the hospital parking lot and went inside. Every nurse we passed on the way in asked what I’d done to myself and I had to repeatedly explain that I was just here visiting. I didn’t blame them for assuming I was injured, though. Over the years I’d spent just about as much time inside hospital as out. (I really am very clumsy.)

  When we reached Abhati’s room, she was inside, asleep, with her parents.

  “They were out doing the grocery shopping and when they came back they found her collapsed on the ground,” Tim said as we stood outside, watching them through the windows like stalkers.