The Girl Next Door

by Lisa Aurello

  “That’s not how it works, Melanie. If there’s a whisper of impropriety of any kind—and that would include a conflict of interest—it can hurt the case one way or another. We try not to provide any reason whatsoever that might lead to a mistrial. It has to be clean all the way…”

  Rob paused when another patron got too close to their table, waiting until the guy passed by. As he did, he took a long look at Mel. The stranger’s appreciation didn’t escape Rob’s notice. “I guess I have to hope you don’t meet some tall, dark, and handsome stranger in the interim while the trial works its way through the court.”

  “Stranger than you?” She grimaced. “Not likely. And ditto, by the way. How do I know you won’t be swept off your rubber soles by some big-breasted blond paralegal tilting over the keyboard in the prosecutor’s office?”

  His laugh emerged as something between a snort and a bark. “We’ll just have to have faith, I suppose,” he said lightly but then sniped, “just remember that I’m not the one choosing Jane over you.”

  “No, because Jane isn’t your friend… and you’re not the only person that she has on her side in the whole entire world. And it’s really unfair of you to say that, Rob, and you know it. I’m in no way putting Jane over you. I’m refusing to abandon my friend. I would like very much to keep you. You’re the one insisting that we can’t see each other.”

  He filled his cheeks with air and blew the breath out noisily. “What can I do? Jeopardize the entire case? I can’t do that, Melanie—you know I can’t.”

  “I get your circumstances, Rob. It’s just that I happen to believe that Jane is innocent and to abandon her in her hour of extreme and dire need would be just…” She searched for the right word. “… unconscionable. Not to mention this all coming on the heels of a nightmarish car accident in which she almost died. It’s unimaginable.”

  “Yeah, well she should’ve thought of that before she took out a hit on the guy next door’s wife.”

  Seemed like his petulance was giving way to anger again. Mel narrowed her eyes—fuck this, she thought. “She didn’t… and I’d wager a year’s salary on that conviction.”

  “Well, I’m wagering my salary on the conviction the prosecutor will be getting in court.” Abruptly, he stood up, scooped up his paper plate made transparent with grease, and plopped his napkin on top. “See you around, Mel. Hope she’s worth it.”

  Melanie watched him toss his garbage and stalk out of the pizza joint and let her face drop into her hands. She was going to miss the stupid ass.

  But she knew she was right and Rob was wrong to ask that of her. And Jane’s reality was so much worse, it wasn’t even funny.

  How could she not help her? For fuck’s sake, why bother having friends if you’re not going to be there for each other when desperately needed? Melanie knew she had to support Jane, but she wasn’t sure of the best way. Visiting hours were from one until nine so she had plenty of time to see her, but she wanted to get there as soon as possible so Jane didn’t feel all alone. Once she spoke with Jane, she’d figure out where she could do the most to help.

  Mel unhooked her handbag from the chair back and slipped into her coat. The dank gray day matched her mood as she leaned her shoulder on the heavy glass door and headed out into the misty afternoon.

  She sat on the worn plastic chair, her eyes darting around the room. As soon as she caught anyone’s eye, she’d avert hers immediately. Mel had never been inside a prison before and Rikers was a notorious one. Though she wasn’t up on prison etiquette, common sense told her it probably wasn’t a good idea to stare at anyone or even to get caught looking.

  She’d been instructed about the dress code for visitors when she called, so she’d been careful to wear a conservative outfit. She wore her navy peacoat over it. Some of the women on line with her to enter were pulled off and not allowed in because of their attire. Mel watched one woman sob because she’d come so far to visit her son and then wasn’t allowed in.

  Waiting for Jane to be brought to the visitor’s room, Mel tried to occupy her mind with details. The cinderblock walls were two-tone: a very pale snot-green on top and a clashing hunter green on the bottom. The chairs were plastic and the tables were low, like coffee-table height. There were a few items for babies and children in the corner—booster seats and the like. Overall, the environment was depressing as hell.

  Four minutes later, Jane appeared in the doorway, escorted by a female guard a head taller than she was. She looked so pale and tiny that Melanie almost didn’t recognize her. Her heart jolted in her chest at seeing her friend faring so poorly after she’d already had so much grief in her life of late.

  “Hi, honey. How are you?” she asked as Jane approached the table where Mel sat.

  She seated herself across from Mel and lifted her swollen eyes, welling with fresh tears. “Mel, they think I’m a killer. I can’t even defend myself because I can’t remember a thing about any of it.”

  “I know, Jane. It’s a lousy situation. Have you had any memory recall lately?”

  The younger woman shook her head. “Old stuff, yeah, lots of it. But not recent… and not for the lack of trying. But nothing much. Just minor details… but who knows? Maybe they might help the investigation since one involves driving—maybe on that day? I’m not sure and I don’t even have my journal to write them down as they come back to me. Do you think you might be able to get it and overnight it to me, or something? I don’t want you to have to come all the way back here. I don’t even know how long I’ll have to stay in this pit. My father is arranging for an attorney. Hopefully, I can get out tonight, but I don’t want to go home. Not right away. I’m scared to.”

  “Of course, I’ll get it for you. I can get it tomorrow after work but I probably can’t come back until Monday. You won’t have to stay that long, will you?”

  Jane tried to smile but it fell short into a grimace. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here or even if they’ll give me bail. I don’t know anything. But there are no visitors allowed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Can you overnight it to me here possibly? I’m so sorry I’ve been such a burden on you recently, Mel, what with the car accident and now this.”

  “Stop it. None of it is your fault, Jane. It’s fine.”

  “Did Fitzgibbons give you any details?”

  Mel shook her head—she didn’t know what would be all right to repeat. “You need a good lawyer. Have you phoned your parents?”

  “Yes. My mother is mortified that my reputation is shredded.” She choked on a sob. “She doesn’t give a damn that I’m here in this rank jail, terrified out of my wits, and surrounded by scary criminals.” She whispered the last part, peering around anxiously.

  “Are they coming, your parents?”

  Jane looked up at her, her eyes bloodshot and swollen. “I really don’t know. She said she’d cover some of my legal fees. Whoopee. What a great mother, right? I don’t even need her damn money, but that’s all that’s on offer, apparently.” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “God, I really hit the jackpot when it came to parents,” she said, sniffling and looking around for a tissue but finding none.

  “Have you talked to any lawyer yet?”

  Her face twisted. “No. My father has. The attorney he called is coming to see me this evening. I’m hoping whoever it is will get me bail so at least I can go home. I’ve been here almost two days.”

  “Is he a good attorney?”

  “He’s my father’s friend. They—his firm—normally don’t handle criminal law but he said if he couldn’t take the case, he’d recommend someone who could. He should be here by six, he said. I’m hoping I can leave with him.” She wiped her nose with her hand. “But I don’t think that’s possible. I think I have to wait to be arraigned. The arraignment is supposed to be tomorrow morning. So maybe then.”

  Melanie nodded, hitching her shoulders. The room felt so cold despite it being filled with people. “Jane, listen to me. You need a t
op criminal attorney—these charges are serious. You need one of the best.” She leaned in a little closer. “Do not settle, do you hear me?” She waited until Jane looked her in the eye and nodded in assent. “God, I wish you could remember more about the time around your accident. I mean, you must have told someone where you were going that day.”

  “If I did, I don’t remember. God, it’s so frustrating, Mel. I just want to jump up and down and scream.”

  “I know it is, Jane. I wish I could do more to help…” She tapped her foot as she searched her brain for ideas. “Hey, what about a hypnotist?”

  Jane looked skeptical. “I suppose I could try it—it might help jog my memory. I don’t know… Mel, you have to get Fitzgibbons in here to speak with me. Maybe he could make sense of these little details that I’ve been recalling. They might be important.”

  Mel tried to steer the conversation away from Rob. “What details? Tell me some of them.”

  “They make no sense. Making fudge with some man, car keys on a sterling Tiffany key ring, driving to meet up with a scary suicide blonde with mirror sunglasses…”

  “Suicide blonde?”

  The question elicited the tiniest of grins from Jane. “Dyed by her own hand. Never heard that one?”

  “No,” she said, chuckling.

  “Detective Fitzgibbons might help piece them together. Maybe he has information that neither of us have, you know?”

  Mel nodded miserably, knowing that he would never do it. But she couldn’t deny Jane that hope she saw spring to her eyes. “I’ll try, Jane. But if not, tell your attorney.”

  “But my attorney won’t be a detective, Melanie. Detectives are supposed to solve crimes and yours is the lead one on this case.”

  Mel’s eyes were glued to the table, her fingers making invisible swirls and figure eights on the beige surface. “He’s not mine, but yeah, OK. I’ll try to talk to him as soon as I leave here. But he probably can’t meet with you anymore because of conflict of interest…” She dragged her gaze up to Jane and saw the feeble light fade from her friend’s eyes and hurriedly said, “We’ll see. Meantime, how are you?”

  “How do you think?” Her bottom lip began to quiver. “I’m in prison, Mel. Rikers. For a crime that I’m pretty sure I didn’t commit.”

  Entirely ineffectual is how Melanie felt before leaving Jane. The poor girl desperately needed a strong advocate and had none. Only her very inadequate friend from work stood between her and ruin. Jane desperately needed someone on her side who could actually make things happen. Mel’s mind went immediately to Detective Rob Fitzgibbons who had refused to help. Mel knew he was in a difficult position but she wanted him to do the right thing and that was to keep an open mind.

  Mel had almost no doubts about Jane. But when someone like a cop tells you with authority and near-absolute certainty that another person is guilty of a crime, you can’t help but pay some attention. Mel felt as if she knew Jane pretty well and with ninety-five percent of her brain and all of her heart knew Jane wasn’t a killer. Knew it.

  Still there was a tiny itch at her peace of mind. That niggling five percent of doubt, sowed with determination by one hottie cop. Could it be true? Those expensive fuck-me Louboutins in Jane’s closet were so out of character for her. Mel should just ask Jane about them. For all she knew, they didn’t even belong to Jane. Maybe someone gave them to her.

  Jane also owned a lot of expensive and erotic lingerie. Those point to sex, ergo, a man being in the picture regularly. Yet no man had come forth. If he wasn’t Mason Caldwell, why not?

  And the fact that there was a huge cash withdrawal from Jane’s bank account. What did she do with all that money? If it was a purchase… why cash?

  According to Rob, there was even more damning evidence that he couldn’t share with her. But from what he did confide, it almost seemed to Mel that someone was trying to set up Jane. It was all too pat for Mel’s comfort—the high school crush, the real estate purchase, the cash withdrawal, the photo found with Jane’s fingerprints. If Jane was guilty as charged, she was the worst criminal ever, leaving a sticky trail of crumbs following her.

  The thing was—Jane wasn’t dumb; she was smart. Why would a smart woman be such a dumb murderer?

  Friday was slow and Melanie felt like she was clawing her way around in a thick fog. Instead of leaving at four, as was her plan, she told her colleagues that she was feeling off—the truth actually—and she got out of there at one, heading straight to Jane’s house in Riverdale to get the journal. The train ride was uneventful and in less than thirty minutes she was walking the two blocks to the townhome. On the way, she passed the tiny café where Jane had taken her for brunch all those weeks—and a lifetime—ago. In their little kiosk, Mel saw the local paper.

  On the front page, the headline screamed Revenge of the Nerd and featured an awful photo of Jane right next to it. The publication painted Jane as the fat, ugly girl who pined after the popular handsome jock for years until finally snapping and having his glamorous wife killed. Mel leaned in and read the first few lines. Ugh. It said that in her deranged mind, he’d become interested in her once he was single again and they’d live happily ever after.

  Mel fervently hoped that Jane hadn’t seen it. The newspaper had printed two photos of Jane, probably from the high school yearbook. Neither was very flattering—naturally. The one published of Mason Caldwell was of him in his football jersey, holding the football and grinning at the camera, looking like a million bucks.

  Life just wasn’t fair.

  “What the fuck?” she muttered aloud when she approached Jane’s house. A makeshift memorial had been created at the foot of the Caldwell driveway, filled with plush dog toys and flowers. Immediately adjacent to it was Jane’s property and her driveway was smeared with broken eggs, shaving cream, and shards of glass from broken bottles. Worse, there was neon pink paint sprayed in words going across the asphalt, up her walk, and on the white door.

  Murderer. Slut. Killer.

  Must have just happened, Mel reasoned, since this wasn’t the type of neighborhood where they’d tolerate this kind of thing. Riverdale was well tended and moneyed—sidewalk memorials and vandalism didn’t quite fit in with the climbing ivy and bluestone.

  Only three days since her arrest and Jane was already tried and convicted in the court of public opinion. As Mel walked up to the door, someone shouted to her. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll steer clear from that house. People not so happy it belongs to a killer.”

  Melanie turned slowly toward the voice, her pulse accelerating. The man was large and formidable, full-sleeve tattoos running up both his forearms—as much as she could see with the sleeves of his leather jacket pushed up. “I’m a realtor, sir. We’ll be listing this home in coming weeks. Do you live around here?” She knew he didn’t.

  He trained beady gray eyes on her. “No, I don’t live around here, matter of fact. I don’t know any of these people either,” he admitted, gesturing up and down the block, “but a little old lady that I do work for lives right up the street and she’s been real upset since this poor lady was gunned down, ya know? So I’m lookin’ out for her interests, you might say.” His shiny bald head, attached to rolls of neck fat, swiveled around as he scanned the immediate area before returning his attention to her.

  Mel nodded in a sympathetic manner, she hoped. “Understood. I just need to have a look around, maybe take a few quick shots of the interior. Thanks for keeping an eye out, though.”

  After studying her for a long minute, he said in a warning tone, “You take care now.”

  As she started to leave, he piped up again. “Why two real estate agents in one day anyway?”

  Mel’s back went stiff. “Another realtor was here?”

  He grinned, revealing crooked, stained teeth. “Yep, but not as pretty as you. That one was a little rough looking. You know, been around the block a few times.”

  “Older you mean?”

  He spit on the grou
nd to the right of his feet. “Nah, just used up. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your business.”

  Once the door was closed behind her, Mel leaned back and took a deep breath. What the hell was that all about outside? This area was exclusive and people who looked like Slash out there didn’t belong. And who was that other person pretending to be a realtor? As far as Melanie knew, Jane had no plans to list the place and besides, if that sleazeball out there thought the woman was rough looking, Mel was guessing she wasn’t a realtor of high-end homes. Maybe she was a reporter looking for a scoop? Unfortunately, Jane would probably have to list the house at some point soon if she was going to be demonized as it appeared was happening.

  But why did Jane warrant all of this attention? People get arrested all the time, and some are even innocent. Poor girl just couldn’t catch a break.

  Pushing off the door, Melanie went in search of the journal in question. Jane wasn’t sure where it would be but thought the bedroom a good place to start, so that’s where Mel headed.

  Creaking the door open slowly, she peered inside. It was just as Jane left it—as if she’d stepped into the shower a moment ago. Her pajamas were strewn across the bed and a towel was hooked on one of the iron posts of the old-fashioned-style four-poster. Clearly, Jane hadn’t known what was coming to get her.

  While searching for the journal, she came upon a box of books and papers and couldn’t resist. She could justify her snooping by saying it was within the realm of possibility that Jane tossed her journal in with the books. Mixed in with some papers was a class photo from either middle or high school. Mel scrutinized the picture, looking for Jane. She finally found her in the top row looking entirely pissed off. The photo was not flattering in any way and it looked like Jane went to zero trouble to look good for it. Mel understood why.

  She continued to rummage through the paperwork. Near the bottom she found a photo of a slender woman, nearly nude, in high heels and a skimpy camisole and panties. It looked like a Victoria’s Secret photo. The woman’s face was turned away from the camera. Mel stared at it for a long time. Could it be Jane? It looked like it could be… but no, Jane had only just recently lost the weight. Before that she’d been heavy. Besides, Jane was not the type to dress in skimpy lingerie and allow someone to take photos of her. Mel just couldn’t see it.