In the Pines

by Laura Lascarso

  “And what did you do after practice?” I asked him.

  “Me?” Coach’s eyebrows rose. His demeanor switched entirely, and his cocky attitude crumbled. I supposed whoever interviewed him from GPD didn’t think to ask him that. They probably needed a motive to suspect a teacher, but to me everyone who had regular contact with Mason could be harboring ill will.

  “Well, I… um. I waited for everyone to finish up. Then I… I went over to Gainesville High and checked out the meet they had going on there. To see how the competition was faring.”

  Was it just me, or had Coach Gundry broken out in a sweat?

  “What time did you leave here?” I asked.

  “Well, I guess… I don’t really know.”

  That tipped me off. Coach Gundry wore a wristwatch and a stopwatch. If you were even a second late to his class, he sent you to the in-school suspension room. When we ran our timed miles, he told me to shave twenty-five seconds off my time if I wanted an A. He paid attention to clocks.

  “Can you estimate?”

  “Well, the meet started at seven.”

  “And what time did you leave here to go to it?”

  “Around then, I guess. Meets like that usually last about two hours, so I must have gotten home around nine or nine thirty.”

  “And who won?”

  Coach’s eyebrows raised and his mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “The meet?” I supplied.

  “Columbia,” Coach said. It sounded like a guess.

  “By how much?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I’ve been in a bit of a shock since Mason’s… death.”

  “He was murdered,” Dare cut in, his eyes like knives.

  “Yeah. Yes, he was.” Coach swallowed tightly and looked down at his hands.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” I asked. “About Mason or the day he was murdered?”

  Coach shook his head slowly and wouldn’t meet our eyes. He seemed ashamed. But why?

  I made a note to myself to check with GHS’s wrestling coach to confirm Coach Gundry was there. It didn’t sit right with me, but Coach had no motive as far as I knew. He clearly prided himself in his record of state championships, so why would he do anything to harm one of his most promising wrestlers?

  Peter Orr, on the other hand….

  I thanked Coach Gundry for his time, and then Dare and I waited outside the locker room, where the wrestling team was finishing up showering and changing. Dare wanted to march right in there and demand an audience with Peter straightaway, but I suggested we wait until he was clothed. I didn’t enter the boys’ locker room without good reason.

  “Coach was lying about something,” Dare said to me.

  I nodded. “I got that feeling too.” I didn’t mention it to Dare, but I kind of always got the feeling Coach was hiding something.

  “He’s always tried to control Mason,” Dare said, kneading his fist with his hand.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our sophomore year, Mason had a growth spurt over the summer and moved up a weight class. Coach already had a senior in that weight class who was an all-state wrestler—Tyler Kim—so he put Mason on this eating plan that was superstrict so he could drop back down to his former weight. Mason was running the track every day too. I didn’t like what it was doing to him. That deprivation, it was making him crazy. But he told me not to interfere.”

  “That must have hurt your feelings.” I supposed there weren’t many aspects of Mason’s life that Dare wasn’t involved in. I recalled my mom’s theory of separation and individuation. How can you judge if a relationship, or more specifically a twinship, is normal?

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t healthy. It’s always been that way, though. Mason has his wrestling, and I have theater.”

  “Has he ever tried to interfere with theater?”

  “I took up smoking for a while—everyone in drama smokes. I don’t know why. It made my voice a little more sultry, you know? I thought it was sexy. Anyway, Mason hated it. It was a thing for a while. And then I quit. For him. Which is why this drug thing really pisses me off.” He banged his closed fist against a locker, then doubled over and cradled it with his other hand.

  “Any new sensations? Invincibility, perhaps?”

  He snorted. “I’m angry, and I want to punch something, but I don’t think it’s the drugs.”

  Peter Orr exited the locker room and headed in our direction. We stood in the pathway to the parking lot, our hands clasped in front of us like two gangsters from a mafia movie.

  “You want me to take this one solo?” I asked Dare.

  “No, definitely not. I want to hear what Pete has to say.”

  Peter looked up from his phone and saw the two of us, shifted his duffel bag strap on his shoulder, and headed in our direction.

  “Hey, Dare.” He dropped the bag by his feet. It sounded heavy. “I still can’t believe it. Mason, man. Jesus H. Christ.”

  I studied Peter’s face. Even though he said the words, something about it felt wooden. Either he was especially stoic, or he didn’t much care for Mason Chalmers. It looked like Peter was about to reach for Dare, but then thought better of it. Dare was glaring at him, nostrils already flaring. There was definite acrimony between them, and I wasn’t sure if it was a jealousy thing, or if Dare had good reason to dislike Peter. I’d never had much cause to interact with Peter Orr myself. He always seemed like just another jock to me.

  “We wanted to talk to you about practice on Friday,” I said to Peter. “You got a minute?”

  “Sure.” He nodded to a couple of the other wrestlers who had stopped and were waiting for him at the door. “I’ll catch up.” Peter looked at me and waited. I had the distinct feeling he was sizing me up. He was powerfully built and had a lot of experience grappling 200-pound men. Mason would be a daunting opponent, but not indomitable, especially if he was caught off guard.

  “Coach Gundry said you and Mason had a match on Friday to see who would enter into the tournament for the 195 weight class.”

  Peter rubbed a thick hand through his short hair. “Yeah, Mason came back from summer all beastly. Must have gained ten pounds, all muscle. He didn’t just beat me in points; he pinned me.”

  “That must have been a blow to your ego,” Dare said scornfully.

  Peter either didn’t notice Dare’s insult or he ignored it. “Coach thought I’d have better luck dropping back down to 182.”

  “That’s a big drop,” I said. “Was it your idea or Coach’s?”

  Peter’s head wobbled. “I suppose it was a meeting of the minds. I wasn’t too excited about it, though. I had to start running that night.”

  “Where’d you run?”

  “Outside, on the track.”

  I reviewed the layout of our high school in my mind. From the track you could see the student parking lot where Mason’s truck was parked. “Did you see Mason leave?”

  Peter shrugged. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “Did you see anyone mess with Mason’s truck?” I asked.

  Peter shook his head. “Like I said, I was focused on making weight.”

  I couldn’t prove what Peter did or didn’t see. I decided to switch tacks. “I heard Mason went to Café Risqué a few times this summer with someone from the wrestling team. Was that you?”

  Peter stole a glance at Dare, then looked down as though he was ashamed. Color flared across his face and made his freckles more prominent. “Yeah, we went there a few times to burn off steam.”

  “Was Mason in a relationship with any of the dancers?”

  Peter looked at me like he couldn’t believe my suggestion. “Um, no. We got a couple of lap dances. We weren’t making any proposals, though. They weren’t exactly the kind of girls you wanted to take home to meet the family.”

  I really didn’t like this kid.

  “So you guys just went there for lap dances and left?”

  “That and their
tits and grits. The food’s not bad, actually. Pretty cheap too.”

  Another stolen glance at Dare. For whatever reason Peter cared what Dare thought of him. Dare only glared at him with a stormy expression.

  I didn’t believe Peter and Mason went there for the cuisine. “There’s a Denny’s down the road if you’re looking for a cheap, greasy breakfast. Why make the drive?”

  “Because the waitresses at Café Risqué are buck naked? Mason thought I was wound too tight—hell, he was probably right. It started as a dare, and then we had fun, so we decided to go again. It wasn’t anything, though.”

  “Mason never told me about it,” Dare said bitterly.

  Peter shot him a look. “Come on, Dare. Really?”

  “What? He used to tell me everything.”

  “You both kept secrets. Don’t act so innocent.”

  This time Dare was the one who looked ashamed. The two of them had an interesting dynamic, and I intended to pick it apart later.

  “Do you know if Mason was taking any kind of drugs?” I asked Peter.

  Peter leveled his gaze at me, then said very carefully, “I don’t know anything about that.”

  He’s lying.

  “Did Mason have a fake ID?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and I turned eighteen earlier this summer, so we were good to go.”

  “You were held back?” I didn’t know that.

  “I wasn’t held back. I started kindergarten late. My parents thought I needed another year to mature.” Peter, irritated now, glanced down at his watch. “Is there anything else? I have someplace I need to be.”

  “Where were you between seven and nine on Friday night?” Dare asked, still with the same defiant look on his face.

  Peter narrowed his eyes at Dare. His expression quickly turned hostile, and I didn’t like the menace rolling off him like a sour musk. “What, am I a suspect now, Dare?” he asked with condescension.

  “Where were you, Pete?” Dare asked again, not backing down in the least.

  “I was here.” He motioned toward the track. “Sweating my ass off to make weight.”

  “With Mason gone, it looks like you won’t have to make weight anymore,” I said.

  Peter looked at me, and I saw something dark and disturbing flicker in his eyes, and then, like a light winking out, it was gone. “I’d never hurt Mason or any of my other teammates. Cutting weight is a matter of pride for us. If you can’t lose ten pounds in a week, then you aren’t worth your salt as a wrestler. Besides, Mason was like a brother to me.”

  “Mason is my brother,” Dare said. His lips curled in a vicious snarl. His fists were clenched at his sides. He looked like he wanted to deck him.

  “How many laps did you run Friday night?” I asked Peter, trying to cut the tension between them.

  Peter’s head swiveled to mine. “A lot,” he said, only I noticed a slight hesitation when he answered me.

  “Don’t you keep track of these sorts of things? Isn’t that part of counting calories, knowing how far you ran?”

  “I ran until I couldn’t anymore. And here’s a tip, Dick Tracy. Go ask Ms. Sparrow where she was Friday night. I saw her and Mason arguing during lunch last week, and it looked pretty heated to me.”

  Peter picked up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. His bodily presence was intimidating, and it wasn’t just his size. He blasted the door open with one hand and stalked across the track toward the parking lot. I made note of the make and model of his car. I’d look for it when I got my hands on those surveillance tapes.

  “God, he pisses me off,” Dare said, wiping his mouth viciously. His countenance was so completely different from the polite schoolboy vibe he usually gave off.

  “I noticed.” Something about Peter Orr was off, and he certainly wasn’t going to win Mr. Congeniality in any beauty pageants, but that alone didn’t make him a killer. “The two of you have history?” I asked Dare.

  Dare’s answers had always come easily, but now he hesitated.

  “Not really.”

  Not really was somewhere between a “no” and a “yes,” and not exactly easy to decipher. “It could help my investigation to know whatever grudge Peter might have had against you or Mason.”

  “It was nothing. Just a stupid prank Mason pulled last year, and Pete got over it. Look, I really don’t want to talk about it, Charlie. I’m sorry.”

  He seemed really distressed by it. My sympathy for Dare’s state of mind won out over my propensity to dig like a dachshund until the truth was exposed. I resolved to let it go… for now.

  “Do you know anything about an argument with Ms. Sparrow?”

  Dare shook his head. “No, but I’m not really that surprised. She’s made it her personal quest to slander our family.”

  “I’ll pay her a visit tomorrow during lunch. In the meantime there’s someone else I want to talk to.”

  “Daniela?” Dare asked, and I nodded. “Then let’s go to the mall.”

  Chapter 8

  DANIELA WORKED at the BeautyCare makeup counter at Oaks Mall. As Dare described it to me on the way over, a BeautyCare consultant gives makeovers to mall customers and then tries to sell them the cosmetics that led to their transformation. Dare had bought coverup and eyeliner pencil after his makeover with Daniela—for the stage, he insisted, even though I didn’t comment either way—and assorted cleansers and moisturizers since then. Dare spoke highly of her work. While I found Daniela’s expertise interesting, what I was more interested in was her and Mason’s relationship as Dare had observed it over the last eighteen months the two of them were together.

  “We hated each other in the beginning,” Dare said, speaking of his own relationship with Daniela. “I’m superpossessive of Mason, and she was the first serious girlfriend he’s ever had.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I mean, her devotion to him was just….” Dare gestured with one hand. “Have you ever been to a wrestling tournament, Charlie?” I shook my head. “Well, I’ve got to tell you, they’re straight-up boring. I mean, even with music and a book and games… they take forever, and then it’s only like, five minutes when Mason would actually be wrestling. Daniela went to all of his meets last year. All of them. And for the ones I went to, we got to talking. She comes off as this superbitchy femme fatale, but underneath her crusty exterior, she’s actually very soft and gooey.”

  I recalled Coach Gundry’s recollection of what Mason said after their fight, that it would take more than flowers to make up for whatever he’d done this time.

  “Did Mason buy Daniela presents when they got into fights?”

  “Yeah, it was kind of a cop-out if you ask me, but it seemed to work on her. Mason hates it when people are mad at him.”

  Dare was still speaking about his brother in the present tense, but I wasn’t going to correct him.

  “How did he make it up to you?” I asked.

  Dare glanced over at me. Perhaps my question was too personal. “He’d mope around and act pitiful until I forgave him. Or he’d pester me to do something with him, like batting cages. God, he loved the batting cages.” Dare bit down on his thumbnail. “What I wouldn’t give to see his stupid puppy-dog face right now.”

  I let it rest there for a moment.

  “Do you think it’s strange that Daniela’s missing school but still coming to work?” I asked Dare.

  “Not really. Her mom lost her job last year and her dad has health issues, so they really need her paycheck. She almost had to quit cheerleading to work more hours, but Mason talked her out of it.”

  “Was Mason giving her money to subsidize her work?”

  Dare considered it. “Maybe. That sounds like something he’d do.”

  If so, that meant a breakup would mean more than just hurt feelings—it meant a loss of income for Daniela.

  “Didn’t you both just come into some money?”

  Dare slumped back into his seat. “Mason did, but not me. According to my parents,
I still have some growing up to do.”

  A gloomy mood settled over the cabin of my car. Mason’s death meant Dare was the only heir to the Chalmerses’s land holdings along with the family’s contract with Nestlé. With an uneasy feeling, I thought People have killed for less.

  I parked the car, which roused Dare from his somber mood. “Follow me,” he said.

  Strolling through Oaks Mall with a tall, handsome man at my side made me wish we were there under different circumstances. Even in his current state of despair, Dare turned heads. Most women checked him out openly, and several men on the sly. His face was made for the movie screen. Or politics. Tall men had a real advantage.

  We found Daniela in the center atrium, where the four quadrants of the mall intersected like a cross. BeautyCare had prime real estate with a circular shape that allowed for six makeover stations to be filled at any given time. Daniela herself was with a customer, a twentysomething woman who was getting wingtips on her eyelids with an eyelining pen. The work took a steady hand, and Daniela’s attention didn’t waver in the least. When she’d finished, the woman’s eyes were perfectly symmetrical. Daniela handed her the mirror.

  “Oooh, I love it,” she said. Daniela managed a weak smile. The woman wanted to purchase the pen she’d been using. Daniela suggested a packaged set that included the mascara as well, along with BeautyCare’s trademarked formula makeup remover. The woman agreed, and Daniela rang her up at the register. I admired Daniela’s salesmanship. I’d always thought of her as just another social-climbing cheerleader, but finding out she was the sole income earner for her family made me feel bad for dismissing her so easily.

  How many people had done the same to me over the years—written me off as just another egghead? It wasn’t cool how we all let our reputations speak for us or relied on what other people said rather than take the time to meet a person and find out for ourselves what they’re all about. I needed to get better at that. And quit assuming everybody hated me.

  “I wish every sale was that easy,” Daniela said when the woman was out of earshot. She wiped her hands on her green BeautyCare apron and held out her arms to Dare. “Come here, you.” Her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. She looked very vulnerable and not at all like that brazen girl who less than a week ago claimed Mason as her own in the crowded high school gymnasium. Dare gave her a hug, stooping down to account for the height difference. Daniela squeezed him tightly and seemed to have a true affection for him. Her tears made smoky stains on his white T-shirt, and she apologized for it. She used a napkin to blot at her eyes in order to prevent her mascara from running even more.