by Laney Monday
“A scholarship?”
“Yes. I’ve been working at the Cherry Bowl, saving up money for college.”
“He’s going to get it,” Lourdes said. “He’s going to go to PLU and be a nurse,” Lourdes said proudly.
“PLU?”
“It’s a small private University not far from here. They have a good nursing program and it’s close enough Carlos can still live with me and save money on housing.”
“When will I get another opportunity like this? Even if I can reschedule the interview, if my name ends up in the news, what then? How long will it take to clear me? Who will want to give me a scholarship? They’ll give it to one of the other three.”
“There are only three applicants?”
“No, there were hundreds, but Carlos made it to the final three. See, Brenna? He is so smart. He should be a nurse and make our mama proud.”
“Two days,” I said. “I’ll give it my best. I’ll try to come up with the murderer before then. But on Saturday, you need to call the police and tell them, or I will.”
I couldn’t help thinking back to the first time I found myself looking at the residents of Bonney Bay as potential murder suspects. When Carlos told me about Ellison Baxter, he’d revealed a surprisingly bitter side to himself. Was Carlos really innocent? Or was he really, really clever? He could be manipulating me, trying to get me to lead Will and the rest of the Bonney Bay PD in the wrong direction. What about motive? It kept nagging at me. He had to have a motive. Why would anyone choose Carlos to frame if he didn’t have one? Unless Carlos was telling the truth, and he was right about not being framed, too.
#
Blythe pulled a fresh batch of cupcakes out of the oven and slid the pan onto the cooling rack. “Last batch!” she announced.
We’d started baking during our dinner break, after the campers went home and before evening classes started. Well, Blythe had started baking and I’d ordered pizza and gotten the frosting and cupcake toppings ready. It was eleven o’clock, and our kitchen counters were covered with trays of cupcakes in various states of cooling, frosting, and sprinkling. I shook some patriotic sprinkles onto the last one on my tray, then grabbed my third cupcake and collapsed on the couch.
“Brenna! We’re not done yet.”
“I know. I just need a break.” A break from this whole murder mess. I pulled back the cupcake paper and took a big bite. My favorite was yellow cake with chocolate frosting, but this confetti cake with vanilla wasn’t bad.
The coffee table was covered with little rolls of paper, tied with red and blue ribbon, each with a lollipop stuck in the knot. I pushed some of them aside with my foot. The flyers, each tied up with a candy bribe, contained coupons for discounts on our next summer camp session as well as our regular evening classes.
Hopefully this float thing paid off for our business. And hopefully I survived the summer. Running our own business was no joke. Neither was working twelve-hour days all summer long. I loved the kids, but I admit, I was starting to feel a little stuck.
“The kids are going to love these,” Blythe said from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I said through a mouthful of cake. “And we can use them to bribe them to get the parade routine down. A cupcake before we start, and another one once they get it right.”
“That,”—she waved a spatula covered with blue frosting at me—,“is a great idea.”
I smiled smugly. We only had two days with the kids before the holiday. We’d decided to make the tomorrow an all-day party and rehearsal for the parade. Blythe had two cheers planned for our Battlers, plus a simple dance routine, while I had planned a series of throws some of the older kids would do on the flatbed truck. A few of the kids in our evening classes weren’t a part of the day camp, so we’d practice separately with them tonight. Hopefully we’d be able to throw them all together the morning before the parade and not have total chaos.
And hopefully I could figure out who killed Millie before it was too late for Carlos, and without ruining Will’s investigation. Not to mention, before Blythe caught on to what I was doing and tried to stop me.
16
Come on, Brenna. Wake up. I pulled on running shorts and a sweatshirt. It was early, and early mornings were almost always cold here. I hadn’t slept very well last night, and getting up at six felt like it was going to kill me.
“What are you doing?” Blythe turned over in bed. She reached for her phone and checked the time. “Why are you up so early?”
“I really need a jog.” That was true. It was a relief not to have to endure the rigorous training required of an Olympic athlete anymore, but my body craved more activity than I was getting. But that was only half the truth. A simple internet search had turned up Hayley's address.
I had two days to find the real killer before Carlos told the police about his missing uniform. The best suspect I could think of right now was Hayley Radiguet. How was I going to get any information from Hayley? I didn’t even know what she looked like. But I had to find her somehow. And last night, I’d decided I’d go for a morning jog and start with Hayley's house.
I jogged about a mile up the hill above the bay to Seacrest Drive and started looking for house numbers. I was looking for 107, and the odd numbers were across the street. At first I couldn’t find 107 because there was a medium-sized rental box truck was parked right between 105 and 109. I crossed the street, pretending to be absorbed in the non-existent music coming through my ear buds. Once I was on the sidewalk in front of the moving truck, I saw the little house, tucked down a bit, below the street and the sidewalk. The terrain in Bonney Bay was all extremely uneven.
The front door was wide open and a recliner sat on the tiny bit of grass that passed for a lawn. Stacks of boxes flanked it. Hmm. Hayley was moving? Maybe she’d landed a new job out of town.
“Can I help you?”
I jumped a little, then turned around with a smile and took out one of my ear buds. “Sorry, what was that?”
A young woman stood in the open door of the truck. She pushed a box in further with her foot. Her toes were perfectly manicured and her brand new denim shorts and baseball tee had an intentional I’m moving casual look. “I said, can I help you.” Her tone was sharp and her smile managed to come across as mean.
I desperately groped for an answer. I spotted some fliers in a clear plastic holder on a post right next to the front walk. “Oh! I just noticed this house is for rent. Are you the owner?”
“Yeah. Are you interested?”
“I don’t know. Can I have a look around inside?”
Hayley hesitated. I knew she was a little annoyed at my timing, but she forced a smile that was clearly trying to be friendly this time. She must really need the money. “I’ll show you around real quick.”
“Great!”
There was no use trying to hide who I was. I figured Hayley would see me around town again, if she didn’t recognize me already. So I held out my hand. “Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Brenna Battle.”
Her nose crinkled slightly and the corners of her mouth twisted just a little bit with distaste. “I know. I saw you on the news. I’m Hayley Radiguet.”
“Great!” I said, much too enthusiastically. Okay, so sometimes I come off a little like a nineteen-fifties sitcom actress When I’m trying to hide how I truly feel. Especially when how I truly feel is like ripping someone’s head off.
“I thought you lived in Miss Ruth’s old apartment.”
“I do. With my sister.” I shrugged as though to say, Sisters. You know how it is. God help me if Hayley started a rumor about this and it got back to Blythe. It wasn’t always easy living with her, but I loved her dearly and I had no desire to move out.
“So, it looks like your tenant is moving out,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from me and Blythe.
“No, I’m moving out. Moving in with a friend, actually. I was living here, but I decided to rent it out.”
A friend? Who was this f
riend? A boyfriend, maybe? We maneuvered around boxes and into the entryway.
“As you can see, this is the living room.” Hayley approached sliding glass doors and pointed outside. The front yard is small, but there’s a really nice deck out back and a good-sized backyard. Perfect for parties.”
The pang of sadness was unmistakable. Hayley stared wistfully out back for a moment. Yes, my gut was telling me this was not a happy move. I could almost feel sorry for Hayley and all the parties—if what Amy told me was accurate—she wouldn’t be able to host anymore with her cool but shallow friends. I was dying to find out who those friends were and whether they might know anything that would implicate or vindicate Hayley.
As we moved from room to room, I looked around for any clues as to what kind of hobbies Hayley might have, who she might spend her time around. Who I could wheedle some information out of.
“So, are you leaving Bonney Bay?” I asked.
“No, I grew up here.” She said it with such determination, even stubbornness.
What was she thinking? They can’t make me leave my home town? Again, I felt myself starting to sympathize with Hayley. She had a kind of fighting spirit. I shook my head. I was probably reading too much into this. Reading too much of myself into this. Maybe Blythe, with her readiness to see the good in people, was rubbing off on me. Unless…what if there was more to Hayley's motive than anger over being fired?
“Where are you moving to?”
“You know, I really need to finish packing.”
“Oh. Of course. Thanks for showing me around.” I followed Hayley back out. I wanted to push more, to find out where she was going to be living, but I couldn’t afford to have her thinking I was snooping around. Especially if, you know, she was a murderer.
17
The next morning, we had the kids do judo until lunch time. I tried to get Allen and Holden to practice their falls some more, but they ended up doing front-pulls most of the time. Toward the end of the morning session, I explained to them that there were only twenty minutes left ’til lunch, and all the kids who worked hard and listened were getting cupcakes. I made it clear that there would be no cupcakes for them unless they stayed on task and were respectful from now until the end of lunch.
That bought us twenty minutes of relative peace. There was no food-throwing at lunch, just a few displays of A.B.C. (Already Been Chewed) food and some excessive burping.
Once we had the kids all amped up on cupcakes, we lined them up to practice their parade dance. Blythe slipped right back into cheerleader mode. And I do mean, literally, cheerleader. She’d always cheered me on and encouraged me in judo, but she’d also spent three years on the Alta Vista High varsity cheer team. I let Blythe stick with the pom-poms while I choreographed the series of throws the kids would do on the flatbed truck behind the dancing Battlers.
I had Anthony and Charles paired up, along with Sammi and Katie. Our dancers were positioned in front of the mat.
“Okay, everybody. Remember, that’s the truck.” Blythe pointed to the mat, and the kids nodded. “When the truck stops, I’ll give you the signal, and the first song will start. We have to synchronize. The most dramatic throws right when the music crescendos and we jump up in the air!”
That sounded difficult, if not impossible, but Blythe was really getting into this. What can I say? I like to see my sister happy. “Okay,” I told Katie and Sammi. “Don’t throw that last harai goshi until I give you a thumbs-up.”
“Okay,” the girls agreed.
Blythe turned on the music and the kids started their routine, following along with Blythe. All except Holden and Allen. Holden kept bursting into flurries of kicking and punching. Allen just stood there with his arms crossed. I grabbed the whistle around my neck and blew it. Blythe cut the music.
“Holden, Allen, we’re a team,” I said. “If you don’t want to be part of the team for this, that’s fine. You can sit over there on the side and watch.”
“I wanna be in the parade,” Holden whined.
“Well, I don’t!” Allen said. “This is stupid, and I’m telling my mom.”
“Yeah, this is stupid!” Holden chimed in.
“Okay, off to the side then, both of you,” Blythe said.
That was easier said than done. The boys kept running through our carefully lined-up Battlers. Holden came darting onto the mat, right toward my kids, who were mid-throw. I caught his ankle with my foot and gently pulled up, foot-sweeping him before he could run into them. I caught him on the way down so he wouldn’t fall hard, flat on his back.
“Whaa!” he cried as one of his flip-flops flew off.
The other kids snickered. Allen, whom he’d been chasing, laughed out loud. I let Holden drop onto his bottom.
“Holden, you know you’re not supposed to be on the mat with your shoes.” I shook my head scoldingly.
Holden sat against the wall next to Allen the rest of the time and pouted.
#
After the campers left for the day, I told Blythe I was going out for a little while. I put on my running clothes and got in my truck. I had to find out where Hayley was moving to. It shouldn’t be too hard. All I had to do was drive around town until I saw that moving van. Hers had a picture of Wyoming on the side. How many of those could there be in Bonney Bay at one time?
As I started the engine, I couldn’t help thinking about Will. It felt awful, knowing what Carlos had told me, keeping it a secret. Maybe Will had made some headway in the case. Hopefully in a direction that led away from Carlos. I texted Will. “How’s it going?”
“OK. You know I can’t discuss the case with you, Brenna.”
“I know.”
How did he know that was what was on my mind? I guess I could’ve played it off, acted as if I was really just inquiring about his well-being. But I couldn’t lie to him outright. What I was already doing was bad enough.
“Gotta go,” I texted back.
I was just going to have to do my own investigating. I cared about Will, I really did. But I cared about justice, too. Seeing the right people freed and the right people made to pay was more important than anyone’s feelings. Even more important than Will’s feelings for me, and what my “meddling” might do to change them. That thought gave me an awful knot in my stomach. How did this happen? How did I get to this point again, where I cared so much about what a man thought? And that’s exactly why I have to do this. I can’t make a decision like this based on what some guy thinks. Even if he’s gorgeous and kind and an incredible kisser.
Stop! Just stop it, Brenna.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Will. Couldn’t stop feeling something for him that went far beyond friendship or even attraction. Something so scary I didn’t really dare think it.
Love.
Could that really be what I felt for Will? Already? My heart said yes.
I drove up and down the streets of Bonney Bay for a good twenty minutes. I was just starting to think this was one of the dumbest things I’d tried to do, give up, and go home, when I pulled up to a stop sign and a moving truck rolled into the intersection and turned right in front of me. As it turned, I caught a glimpse of the picture of Wyoming.
I turned after the truck and followed it. After a few turns, it was clear we were headed out of town. But Hayley had said she wasn’t leaving Bonney Bay. What if the driver of that truck wasn’t Hayley or a friend helping her move at all? What if I was following the wrong truck?
But the driver’s face appeared in the mirror as she looked back and squinted at me suspiciously. Yep, it was Hayley. And I was busted. Great. I smiled, waved, and tried to look casual. What could I do, except try to play it off? Hayley didn’t smile or wave back. Maybe I’d gotten lucky and she hadn’t recognized me. Or she wasn’t buying my attempt to make it seem like a coincidence that I was right behind her, going the same direction at every turn. I really needed to work on this following thing.
Hayley pulled into the Salty Grove Apartments,
and I kept going past them. I took the long way home rather than risk her seeing me turn around and drive by the entrance. Okay, now I knew where Hayley had moved to—at least, which apartment complex. But couldn’t do any more tonight. I was going to be late for evening classes. Blythe would kill me if I left her to deal with the four, five, and six-year-olds by herself.
18
I tightened my laces and took off, my royal blue running shoes flashing along the pavement. I kept my face down, shielded by the brim of a black baseball cap. I’d decided to go with the “casual jogger” look instead of “black ops.” I figured this apartment building on the outskirts of town was a little less small town in feel and a little more likely to have wary residents on the lookout for crime. I even wore a shirt with thin, reflective stripes on the back to avert suspicion. I was pretty proud of myself for thinking of that one. It was a lightweight, wind-breaker-like shell. Underneath it was a much more stealth-friendly black T-shirt.
In the Salty Grove parking lot, I found Hayley's car parked next to an empty spot with A-29 painted in the middle. The other spots around it were full. It was impossible to see the pattern and figure out whether Hayley's spot was one number higher or one number lower. I got down on my stomach with my phone and keys in my hand and shined my phone’s light under the car. If anyone questioned me, I’d say I dropped my keys and they fell down there. I made out a distinct 30. Okay, A-30 it was.
I jogged around building A until I saw number 30. It was on the second floor. Well, that certainly wasn’t going to make snooping any easier…unless…all the second floor apartments had balconies. I jogged around a corner, slid into the shadows, and peeled off the reflective shell. I stuffed it behind a bush. The evening air felt good and cool on my bare arms. I was right next to the apartment below Hayley's. Instead of a balcony, the first floor apartments had sliding glass doors that opened onto patios. Her downstairs neighbor left the glass doors open and the screen shut. I could hear some kind of sitcom playing on the TV