In Cassie's Corner

by Mayer, Dale

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Aric sputtered, sitting up indignantly. "We didn’t have nothing to do with that."

  "Yeah, like I’m going to believe a thief like you." Cassie snorted in disgust, her eye on the other two exchanging silent looks. "You’re such a tool, Aric. Your friends are going to ruin your life and you don’t even see it coming." Cassie stood up, dumped the rest of her muffin on the table in front of them, spreading the coffee puddle further. She bent down and shoved her face in Dory’s. "I haven’t spoken to the cops – yet. However stay the hell away from me or I will. Friends of Todd’s or not. He didn’t deserve to die like that. You don’t scare me."

  She stood up and strode off.

  "She's fucking nuts, man. We had nothing to do with Todd’s death."

  "What’s her deal anyway? She’s totally flipped."

  Their words followed her down the corridor.

  Cassie hoped they’d had nothing to do with the accident. The truth was, they did scare her, but she wasn’t about to let them threaten her. Losers.

  ***

  Gerome Magnusson frowned. There was no evidence to that Todd Spence had company in the vehicle at the time of the accident. There was circumstantial evidence Todd had been drinking at the time. He didn’t have a tox report on his desk to prove it. Except if he had been drunk, could he have climbed out of the vehicle on his own? Drunks led charmed lives and the alcohol often blunted their pain. But as injured as he was? And if he’d made it that far, couldn’t he have made it up the hill?

  Opening the file in front of him, he searched for the coroner’s report. No tox screens had come back yet. Todd had come in reeking. Everyone knew Todd; knew his father. The case was supposed to be simple. Open and shut. Todd had been literally doused in alcohol, his hair, his clothing, even inside his mouth. This wasn’t just simple case of a broken bottle, its contents spread everywhere.

  He’d sustained multiple fractures. Several ribs, femur, dislocated shoulder and a skull fracture.

  Gerome closed his eyes and tried to put himself in that vehicle with those injuries. Could he have gotten himself out? The leg had broken above the knee joint. The broken ribs would have been painful but they wouldn’t have incapacitated him. Now the skull fracture was iffy. So was the collarbone – for climbing anyway. With only one of these injuries on its own it could be possible. Together though, that was a different story. Still, he’d seen some pretty big miracles happen when people fought for survival.

  They’d assumed the boy had been thrown out during the somersaulting motion of the vehicle as it went down the hill. He sat back and considered that for a moment. If that had been the cause, surely he’d have been thrown out somewhere along the path and not at the bottom where the vehicle had come to its final resting place. Not to mention the position in which he’d been found. Todd had been found on his back, arms and legs straight – as if laid out.

  That's what was wrong. Would this kid have gotten into that position on his own? It would be the first time he'd heard of such a thing happening.

  People did survive a hell of a lot – especially when panic drove them to superhuman efforts. Todd had been a healthy active young man and he’d been one of only two men to die on that corner.

  He frowned. That’s what that young girl had said. What was her name again? He clicked on her email, ignoring the eighteen others waiting for his attention. Cassie Merchant. Right. She’d suggested that Todd might not have been the driver, but she didn’t have any suggestion as to why not when she’d said he never let anyone else drive his car. Yet the kids Todd was with on the last night said Todd had always been the designated driver. He frowned, remembering what another group of kids had said.

  They’d made Todd seem like a split personality. Doing drugs and alcohol all the time. A high school bad boy who would not have graduated, no matter what he’d told everyone else.

  That he could check out, unfortunately not until Monday. He’d attended the funeral, unsurprised by the small turnout. Todd hadn’t been great friends with anyone except Cassie. He’d been friendly with many, only that wasn’t the same thing.

  The cell phone, if Todd had it sitting beside him in the vehicle or in a holder on the dash – and not in his pocket – would have burned to a crisp in the inferno. Although, there should have been some sign of it. The vehicle hadn’t been moved until mid-morning on the next day. They didn’t exactly have the same services that any big city would have. Besides, the case had looked to be straight forward.

  He had to admit, though, he liked things to go that way. Only Cassie had stirred up a pile of doubts.

  Her last email was a concern, though. She thought there was a potential witness to the accident, or at least very close after.

  He knew Martha and Peter Cunningham pretty well. If they’d seen something important, they’d have come forward. Cassie said they’d never heard back from Peter and she wanted to find out for sure. She planned on talking to Martha herself.

  Martha was dying, and Peter wouldn’t take kindly to anyone bothering her. They valued their privacy – and then some.

  With a disgusted sigh, he reached for the phone. "I’d better nip this one in the bud before she goes and brings on more trouble."

  ***

  Jessie hated this part. He’d decided to do this and he would, but, damn it, he didn’t want to. Visiting his father was at the bottom of the things in life he enjoyed. Still if his mother didn’t have Todd’s cell phone and the deputy and the coroner’s office didn’t, then the only place left, if it was going to be found, was at his dad’s house. Personally, he didn’t see it surviving the crash-and-burn of the accident. That brought him to the other reason he didn’t want to do this. It was a waste of time.

  Cassie wouldn’t lay off though. If there were a cell phone to find, she wanted to make sure it was found. She had a point. There'd be a record of any incoming and outgoing calls. The police could get that if they wanted to. Although there were considerations to be made about budgets and costs in doing something like that. Especially when the sheriff was likely to close this one quickly, given the people involved. Without Deputy Magnusson’s involvement, the file would have been slammed shut already.

  Finding the phone just made sense.

  Jessie knocked on the front door of his dad’s duplex, noting his old man’s rusted-out pickup parked in the carport, full of cans and bags. What a pigsty. Still, this had been Todd’s life not his. He frowned at that thought as he pounded on the door again. Had Todd liked his life or hated it? Had he wanted to live with Mom? Jessie knew he’d have hated living with his alcoholic-bum-of-a-father. And Todd had been a chip of the old block.

  Or had he?

  Was he as guilty as everyone else of believing that Todd could never be anything except a younger clone of his derelict parent? Did that imply Jessie would have the same problem? Was there no choice in life? He hated to think that he’d been letting his mother’s fear-based opinions get to him.

  She’d suddenly gone on this binge of believing Jessie needed his father in his life, needed a strong man to shake him in the opposite direction that his brother had gone. Illogical and stupid. As if having Dad around had helped Todd? Not. His mother hoped Dad would quit drinking so he could be there for Jessie.

  He pounded the door again. This time it opened under the force of his fist. As usual, his father hadn’t bothered to lock up. Jessie stuck his head inside. "Hello?" He peered around the door. "Dad, are you home?"

  There was no answer. Jessie hated the hollowness, the cold atmosphere that lived here. Every time he came, the emptiness of the place creeped him out – even when his father was home. His father’s soul was as empty as the bottles strewn around the house. It didn’t matter where you looked, the bottom of a bottle stared back at you. His mom might be right, thinking that he could benefit from having a father around. She was wrong in thinking this one was the right one.

  Jessie walked through the kitchen and into the living room. He stoppe
d at the archway and stared. The house couldn’t be called clean the last few times he’d been here, although there’d often been evidence that someone had tried to tame the chaos. No such attempt had been made recently. Newspapers, clothing and remnants of old food decorated the place – with empty bottles as permanent fixtures. And boy was it heavily decorated.

  Taking a couple of more steps inside the room, stepping around pizza boxes and Chinese takeout cartons, Jessie peered into the gloomy interior. A heavy snuffle startled him. He peered over the back of the couch. His father was sleeping off his latest drunk – if the size of the bottle cemetery heaped at his side was any indication.

  A soundless whistle escaped at the sheer volume of alcohol consumed. This man could do some serious drinking. Jessie tried to search the living room for the phone, only there was too much stuff to move. He gave a cursory look through the kitchen before going upstairs to his brother’s room. How long had it been since he'd been in here last? At least a year. Maybe two or three even.

  This had to be the cleanest room in the house. Jessie slouched against the doorjamb and surveyed the room. A single bed, computer, dresser and night table. Not a whole lot of personality with its bare walls in plain white and no curtain covering the window. A window that stood wide open. Though fresh air was nice, this was beyond that. Had his dad been in here since Todd's death?

  It hurt to look at his brother's room. So at odds with the rest of the house and with the impression his brother gave out. A front? Was this cold empty room more indicative of who his brother really was? Lonely. Needing to be in control and careful with his things. That fit with Cassie’s comments. Maybe, she had known his brother better than anyone. Especially him.

  Not wanting to be in the house when his father woke up, Jessie quickly opened a few dresser drawers and searched the night table. Nothing. Not that he’d expected anything. Todd, like every other teenager Jessie knew, used to have the cell phone implanted somewhere on his body. Jessie had the same problem. He checked his cell phone every few minutes like every other teen he knew.

  Cassie was right again. That cell phone would have been on Todd. Not loose on the seat beside him. Not in a holder on the dash. That wasn’t Todd’s style. It would have been in Todd’s pocket. Todd’s pants pocket. No teenager would keep his cell phone in a shirt pocket. A jacket pocket maybe, a hoodie pocket for sure, but not a shirt pocket.

  Todd had to have had it on him when he was killed. If it hadn’t burned in the crash, been lost at the accident site, turned up at the morgue, been placed with his personal belongings, or to be found at his house – and sure, he’d have to ask his dad when he sobered up – the only other option he could think of was that someone had taken it.

  Whoever did it had to have been there at the time of Todd’s death – or right after. That meant someone who’d seen the accident or had been walking along the highway or – and this was starting to look more likely – had been in the car with his brother.

  However, just because someone may have picked up Todd’s phone didn’t mean they’d had anything to do with the accident. There could have been a passerby who’d helped Todd out of the vehicle, then tried to use his cell phone to call in the accident. Had Todd’s wallet been on him? Money?

  Jessie frowned as he stared around his brother’s sparsly finished bedroom. If someone had emptied his pockets, would the cops know? Would they have even looked? Todd had been through a horrible accident. Who’d have even considered if something had been stolen? Everything else had burned. No evidence. No proof.

  If he’d seen an accident, what would he do? Go down and see if he could help. Call the cops, and if he didn’t have a phone, check to see if the injured guy did. Make the call…and then what? Would he really have tried to wrestle the phone back into the prone man’s pocket? Not likely. More likely, he'd have tossed it on the ground beside the man or hung onto it, thinking to pass it on later.

  Maybe the police had traced the phone number and seen if it had been used since. He smacked his head with his hand. Why didn’t he just call the damn phone and see if someone answered. Cassie said she’d done that many times already.

  Had she lately?

  He pulled out his cell phone, only to realize he didn’t have his brother’s number. Still he had Cassie’s. Quickly he texted her, asking her to call his brother’s phone so he could see if it was at his dad’s house. After a minute he put his phone on vibrate and texted, asking her to confirm when she’d done it. His phone vibrated before he could send the text. "Cassie?"

  "Yes. I’ll call Todd’s number now. Stay there and listen for the ring – it’s a Star Wars theme."

  His phone went dead. Jessie looked at the silent grave-of-a-room for several minutes and then headed out of the house. He didn’t want to wake his father. The phone wasn’t here, because there’d been no call. At the kitchen, he stopped and waited only there was still no ringing phone. It wasn’t here.

  With his phone still on vibrate, he waited until Cassie called him, then exited out the back door before answering. "Cassie, what did you find out?"

  Cassie’s excitement raced through the phone. "A woman answered. She said I had a wrong number and hung up. But at least we know his phone is out there. Someone has it." She was almost shrieking at the end.

  Jessie held the phone slightly away from his ear, grinning. "That’s great news. Did you happen to recognize her voice?"

  More subdued, Cassie responded, "No. Honestly, she sounded kind of old, crotchety, you know."

  Old. That threw him. "Maybe Todd lost it before the accident. Is that possible?"

  Cassie considered the question, then said, "I can ask his friends, those he was with that night. He’d have had his phone then."

  "Do you have their numbers?"

  "Some, but I’ll ask them in person, at school tomorrow."

  "At least we know it didn’t burn up in the fire. Cassie, did Todd carry a lot of money around on him?"

  "What do you mean by a lot? He didn’t blow wads of money, but he always had some cash."

  "I just wondered if someone went down to the accident, saw Todd lying there and checked him over, maybe even went through his wallet and snatched his cell phone…"

  "Ughh. That’s a horrible thought."

  "It could be innocent. Maybe they used his cell phone to call for help. My mom has his wallet and I remember her looking at it and saying ‘typical.’ When I asked her what she meant, she said that she never let me run around without at least a twenty in my pocket."

  "Todd usually had cash for coffee or lunch."

  "Hmmm. It might be nothing, but if you’re talking to his friends, find out if they’d ordered pizza or something. Todd might have picked up the tab. The phone and money thing are just bugging me." Jessie looked up. He had to cross the road, walk a couple more blocks then he’d be home. "Let’s talk tomorrow, Cassie. I’ve got to go."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Cassie didn’t sleep well. An uneasy silent truce was in effect between her and her parents. Totally weird. They acted as if nothing had happened. Parents.

  Early Monday, Penny texted, asking to twin their clothing. Cassie agreed, hoping it would put her in a better mood. They’d chosen blue and black, so Cassie took pains with her appearance and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. Penny would do the same.

  She was running late, so skipped breakfast, grabbed a granola bar and raced out of the house. Penny met her half way to school.

  The two girls grinned at each other. "Perfect way to start a boring day."

  "True. So how come you wouldn’t go out with us on Saturday?"

  Cassie rolled her eyes and explained about her parents having sprung the shrink on her.

  "They didn’t? Without talking to you first?" Penny was horrified. "How could they do that?"

  "The element of surprise." The two girls shook their heads, groaning at the stupidity of parents. At the school gates, Goth Dory waited for Cassie.

  "Penny, go on ahead,
" Dory said.

  "Hell no. If you’ve got something to say to Cassie you can say it in front of me, too." Penny glared at the gangly girl, who was wearing her usual black from head to toe.

  Dory stuck her chin out to stare Penny down before glancing over at Cassie. "I have something to say about Todd, but I won’t speak if she’s here."

  Taking her measure, and deciding to talking to her alone, Cassie turned to Penny. "Please. Just go up and wait on the stairs for me. I won’t be long."

  Penny opened her mouth, took a good look at Cassie’s face then turned and brushed past them. Several steps past, she slowed uncertainly and twisted to look back, with a questioning expression on her face. Cassie gave her tiny smile, an encouraging nod. Penny frowned, tilted her head toward Dory and mouthed, "Be careful."