Prepped to Kill

by M. Lee Prescott

  CHAPTER 49

  Some days doom is thick enough to taste it. Doom had nearly choked me in the hours before my sister, Annie, and I discovered our mother, dead in the front hall closet, gun at her side. I hadn’t been able to speak that day at school and had received so many reprimands I’d lost count. By the time we made our way up our front walkway and opened the door, my throat had closed and I was gasping for air. In the silent hall, the acrid smell of gunpowder greeted us and led us right to her.

  As I walked back, empty stomached, from dinner Friday night, the same choking sense of doom seized my throat. As I neared the dorm, Livie and Missy appeared at the front door. One look at Missy’s face and I knew something was wrong.

  “Can I speak to you? It’s important.” As others filed by us and headed inside, she turned to Livie. Alone, if you don’t mind, Livie.”

  “Sure,” Livie said, skipping inside and leaving us alone on the front porch.

  “Come on in, then.” I said, moving for the door.

  “No, not here.” She took hold of my arm and pulled me down the front walk toward the street.

  “Missy, I really shouldn’t leave the dorm.”

  “Just a little way,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the building’s second floor windows.

  When we had moved out of sight of Round House, I stopped. “Missy, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Livie. There’s something weird about her. I mean, she’s been really nice the past few days, offering to walk me all over the place. I feel kind of sorry for her, you know? We haven’t always been very nice to her. Her roommate Betty’s okay, but Livie, I don’t know. She gives people the creeps.”

  “She’s lonely, Missy,”

  “I know, and I’ve been trying to be nice to her. To let her know how grateful I am. That’s why she started telling me things, because she wants to be my friend. But it’s getting really creepy. She knows stuff. All kinds of stuff about you and Carolyn and Jared, Mr. Phelps and even Mr. Petty. Why, she even said you and him were having a thing. I don’t believe her, of course, but she swears it’s true. Says she has ways to find out everyone’s secrets. To prove it, she told me about a night when Carolyn and I were planning a trip together and the way she described it, it was as if she had been in the room. She was close to Carolyn, like I was, but it’s the kind of stuff I don’t think Carolyn would’ve told her, you know?”

  Unfortunately, I did, remembering Fred Draper’s words from the morning. Bugs, indeed. “Listen, Missy. I have a favor to ask you. If it makes you uncomfortable, just say no and I’ll ask one of the other girls.”

  I explained what I needed her to do and she agreed. Ten minutes later, Livie was upstairs playing cards with Diana, Maisie and Missy, while I tiptoed up to the second floor and slipped into her room. It was unlocked. I crept in and closed the door.

  The room looked pretty much the way it had a few days earlier when I had helped her review for chemistry—a pile of clothes on the floor, several scatter rugs here and there. The rugs were placed at strategic intervals, I decided, as I lifted them one by one and pried tissue from each of the holes. When I had completed my survey, I moved from hole to hole, peering down into my apartment. Except for the kitchen and the bathroom, it was possible to view every nook and cranny of Carolyn Santos’s apartment from one of the peepholes.

  Sickened, I sank down on the bed, head between my knees, not sure whether to cry or vomit. If I had not been bending over, I would never have spotted the shredded catalogue hidden under the desk. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered, reaching down, pulling it out, knowing without looking what I would find.

  As I leafed through the catalogue, photocopied scraps of headless bodies fell to the floor. There I was, 40 years ago, all but my head, wearing my favorite striped turtleneck. Then there were other bits of photocopies, Dinny’s tie and jacket, disembodied pieces of photographs and discarded pages of computer print with big block lettering.

  If only she had been neater, I thought sadly, or used Photoshop and the computer for her unsettling missives. But of course, Livie was begging to be caught. That much was obvious. Some detective I was. What about Betty, the roommate? Had she been in on this, too?

  I was in the midst of collecting the evidence when she opened the door. She stared for a few seconds, then turned and ran. I chased her out of the dorm and down the street. She was a quick little thing, but she was wearing flip-flops while I was in running shoes. I caught her at the corner and grabbed her before she could cross the street. “Livie, it’s okay.” I held her trembling body, arms tight around her. Of course, it wasn’t, but what else was there to say? We stood on the sidewalk for a long time, pitiful sobs wracking her thin, bird-like frame. Finally, she calmed a little, after I promised to do everything I could to help her straighten things out.

  I had no choice. I had to tell Dinny. I phoned and he was on the doorstep in less than five minutes. We sat in my apartment as Livie poured out her story, dry-eyed after the first few minutes, I noticed. According to Livie, Betty, the roommate, had known nothing about any of it, the peepholes, the letters, none of it. I found that hard to believe, but kept my opinions to myself. At the conclusion of the confession, Dinny departed to confer with Brooke Richards. An hour later, he returned. Livie would go home in the morning. After summer counseling and support, they would evaluate her status in August and consider readmission.

  Livie’s grandmother, who looked to be about my age, came to collect her Saturday at noon. She seemed a kindly soul, perplexed and distressed about her granddaughter’s behavior. When the car was packed, I asked to speak to Livie alone. Leaving her grandmother in the driveway, we walked back to the apartment. “You gonna be okay?”

  “Sure, Granny’s cool. I’m hoping I can stay with her.”

  “Livie, why did you do it?”

  “I’m good at it. That’s why. I’m invisible, doncha see? People don’t know I’m there. I’d be a great detective, wouldn’t I? When I get older, maybe I can come work for you.”

  I smiled, scribbling my phone number and email address on a Post-it. “Give me a call if you want to talk, okay? I’ll be home Sunday night.”

  “Ricky…it wasn’t about you—the letter I sent to Mrs. Petty, I mean. I wish I hadn’t sent that one, but she’s such an old witch.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. You did me a favor.”

  “I did? How?”

  “I’ll tell you when you’re older. Now scoot, your grandmother’s waiting.” I hugged her goodbye and waved as they drove off.

  CHAPTER 50

  That afternoon I called Vinnie. I got his answering machine, but the sound of his voice was comforting. I left him a message, telling him I would be home the following afternoon.

  Dinny called and invited me to dinner, but I declined. Rolly and I had already made plans and I had had enough headmaster hand-wringing for one day. As I walked back to Round House at around nine fifteen I wondered how much Livie had seen. When I met Kathy, Diana and Maisie in the hall, I expressed surprise that Missy was not with them.

  Diana’s face fell. “There was a message here when we got back. A message from you to meet her up at the gym.”

  “At the gym? On a Saturday night?”

  “She was all excited. Thought you might wanna work out. We offered to come but she dissed us, you know?”

  “Hey,” Kathy said, the light bulb going on. “Why are you here, if she’s up there?”

  “Note? What note? I didn’t leave a note,” I screamed, running into the apartment to dial Dinny’s number. No answer. Damn, where was the friggin’ phone book? Movers, I guessed. I turned to the trio staring at my frantic behavior. “Directory? Who has one? Any of you?” All three nodded. “Go quick—call security and tell them to meet me at the gym. Then call Mr. Petty, Mr. Richards, Mr. Naylor, anyone you can reach. Tell them all to go to the gym now. Tell them it’s an emergency.”

  I stumbled down the back steps, flung the gate open and raced up the hill. I prayed I
would get there in time. As I neared the gym, I slowed up, watchful, listening for sounds around me. From a distance, I heard the muffled hum of a motor as a garage door slid into place. As I followed the sound, I realized it came from the direction of Rolly’s house, knowing at once where he had taken her. At the corner of Rolly’s yard, I skirted the grape arbor and crept along the side of the Quonset hut.

  I tried the side door, but it was locked, so I began inching my way around to the front of the garage. I had almost reached the main door when he grabbed me from behind. I struggled, kicking and scratching as he slapped a gauzy rag over my mouth and nose, the sickening smell of chloroform gagging me.

  I elbowed and jabbed, but he was too strong and I soon grew light-headed. I was slipping away. Just before losing consciousness, I reached back and grabbed the only thing I knew would slow him down. He cried out in pain and released me. Sucking in air, I stumbled across the gravel drive, trying to reach the garage door, but he had recovered now and threw his body over mine, stuffing the rag into my mouth.

  A voice shouted from far away as the sound of a garage door opening rumbled behind us. “Let go of her, Gerry.”

  “Dinny,” I murmured, before everything went black.

  I woke on a hospital gurney. Missy Franklin lay beside me on an adjacent gurney. “Hello, there. Welcome back.” Rolly held my hand and Missy’s. “You two ladies gave this old man quite a scare.”

  CHAPTER 51

  The new housemother, Helen Rollins, blew in Sunday morning, and I packed my things up as she moved her own in. I was still woozy and not ready for a long drive, so I spent Sunday night at Rolly’s. Sunday evening, I ate dinner at Friends Hall, saying my goodbyes to the students. I also thought it would be the housemotherly thing to do to introduce Helen Rollins at dinner. A horsey individual with a warm, robust personality, I gave her a day, maybe two, before the shenanigans started.

  Helen and I ate dinner with Missy and her gang. Rafe Langdon joined us as well. We avoided mention of Livie or the murders, although I could not help but think of how much Livie would have enjoyed this meal, all of us together. Typical adolescents—they had moved on and were chatting about graduation, as if the past two weeks had been nothing but a bad dream. We parted at the door, the girls giving me a hug, Rafe, a handshake. As I turned to go, Missy split from the others and ran after me.

  “I just wanted to say thanks, Ricky. For everything.”

  “All in a day’s work for us housemothers.”

  “I would never have guessed it was Mr. Weinstein, not in a million years.”

  I nodded.

  “Can I call you sometime, when I get to Brown? I heard you gave Livie your number and I wondered if—”

  “Of course. I’ll email it to you as soon as I get home.”

  We hugged and she ran off to join the pack waiting for her at the crest of the hill.

  The next morning, Rolly and I ate breakfast together before his first class. As I thanked him, I wondered aloud when I would see him again.

  “Don’t wait too long, my dear. God willing, I’ll be around for your fiftieth, but after that, who knows?”

  “You know, I’m only two hours away. You could come and visit me.”

  “What a novel idea.”

  “I’m right on the water.”

  “I might just take you up on it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Pointing at the ceiling, he asked, “Is everything square with the man upstairs?”

  I laughed. “I don’t believe he’ll be upstairs much longer. They seem to be working it out.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he whispered, winking. “She spent the night last week.”

  “How cozy.”

  “Uh-oh, did I hit a nerve?”

  “No, I’m fine. They’re meant for each other. I’m happy for him, really.” Who am I meant for? I thought, hugging Rolly. I watched as he made his way slowly across campus toward the classroom building. Then I threw my bag in the car and I walked the short distance to Willard House.

  Nancy greeted me warmly. “I’m glad to see you looking so well, Ms. Steele. Go right in. He’s expecting you.”

  Dinny was on the phone when I stepped in. He quickly extracted himself from the conversation and rounded the desk to take my hands. “Are you all right?”

  “Never better.”

  “Heading home?”

  “Yup.”

  “Sit for a few minutes, will you? Can I have Nancy bring you something?”

  “No, thanks.” I sat on the edge of the couch, Dinny beside me.

  “What’s happened to Gerry?”

  “Still in custody. He’s asked an attorney from Boston to come, a family friend. Should be arriving today.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “No, but I don’t expect he will.”

  “Does anyone know why he killed Jared?”

  “Blackmail. According to Hope, Jared had been blackmailing Gerry for six months. I’m not sure he intended to kill Jared. Then, Jared confronted him after he left you the other night, saying he knew that Gerry had killed Carolyn. I guess something must have snapped. That’s what the police think, anyway.”

  “Seems incredibly stupid to me. Why would Gerry kill Carolyn in the first place?”

  “Gerry was one of the few people on campus who didn’t know Carolyn was gay. When he came back after their weekend together and bragged to Jared, Jared told him about Carolyn’s bisexuality. When Gerry confronted Carolyn and she confirmed it, he exploded. When I spoke to her in private, your Livie described a blowup at the apartment where Gerry threatened Carolyn with all kinds of nonsense. Knowing Carolyn, she probably just laughed. I guess the anger and embarrassment never quite went away.”

  “So pointless. But I don’t understand the blackmail. What did Jared have on Gerry? Surely not the one-night stand with Carolyn?”

  “There’s more, I’m ‘fraid. The police searched Gerry’s apartment. They’ve also checked his bank statements. Apparently, Gerry was our thief. He’s been selling the missing science equipment to buy expensive gifts for Wendy. I don’t know how Jared discovered it, but he did. Gerry seemed to be leading a bit of a double life.” Don’t we all? I thought. “Must have been awful for him, and so unnecessary. The gifts, I mean. From what I’ve observed, Wendy’s crazy about him. I don’t think she gave two hoots about whether he had money or not.”

  “What about Carolyn’s computer and cell phone? Did they find them?”

  He nodded. “In his apartment, hidden in a closet. Apparently, she had them with her when he attacked her. Not sure why he didn’t just leave them with her, but maybe he panicked.”

  “Or thought there was something incriminating in her files.”

  “Maybe,” he said absently, gazing out the window. “Do you know that he had the nerve to file an insurance claim of three thousand dollars on an old beat-up microscope from his college days? They found that at the back of a closet, too.”

  “Sentimental, maybe?”

  “Used the insurance money as a down payment on Wendy’s engagement ring.” He rose, retrieving a long envelope from his desk. “Speaking of payments, here you are.”

  Opening the flap, I spied the check for five thousand dollars. “Thanks. This will come in handy when I get home.”

  He smiled, a crooked, weary smile. “You earned every penny.”

  “And how are you doing? Do you think the school will weather the storm?”

  “I expect so. Graduation will take everyone’s mind off all this, at least. The Board’s been incredibly supportive.”

  “You seem to be patching things up on the home front.”

  “Sort of. Yes, I think it’s working out. I hope it works out.”

  “Well, I’ve got to be on my way. Home is calling.”

  “Ricky, wait. I want to tell you something, I—”

  Like a traffic cop’s, my hand shot up. “No speeches, please. Truthfully, I was flattered by the attention. After all,
how often do you get to live out your adolescent fantasies? Take care of yourself, Dinny, and go home, before you get into any more trouble.”

  He laughed, moving closer, bending to kiss my cheek. “Drive carefully and don’t be a stranger. Let us know what you’re up to.”

  I laughed, hugging him. “You’ll have to wait for the next issue of The Wheel.”

  “What’s it gonna be next year, international spy?”

  “You never know.”

  As I drove along the Mass. Pike, I thought about the past week and wondered if I had finally succeeded in exorcising the Whitley demons, not to mention a few closer to home.

  When I pulled into the driveway, my house’s weathered exterior looked so achingly familiar and comfortable that tears sprang to my eyes. After throwing down my bags and fussing over a scratching, hissing Beaky, I phoned my father’s office. He answered.

  “Dad?”

  “Ricky, hello. You’re back?”

  “Just got in.”

  “I’m glad you’re all right. Dinny called and filled me in.” Of course he did, I thought, unsure of how to continue. “I’m so glad you called, darling. Rita and I would love to have you for dinner this week, any night that suits you.”

  “Can we meet for lunch instead, just the two of us?”

  “Of course. How about tomorrow, around one?”

  “Suits me.”

  “The usual place?”

  “Yup.”

  “See you at Duffy’s, then, one tomorrow.”

  “Yup.”

  “Ricky, I’m proud of you, darling.”

  “Thanks, Dad. See you tomorrow.”

  As I hung up, I wondered how to go about obtaining a private investigator’s license. It couldn’t be too difficult, I mused, already picturing the stenciled black lettering on my studio door, Steele Investigations. I decided I might give it a try. After all, how hard could it be?

  ***