Literally Offed

by Eryn Scott

  Dylan narrowed his eyes. “I think I deserve to ask a few questions, first.”

  I could feel Alex adjust his position in his seat next to me. Chloe had warned us Dylan would be different, but I guess neither of us had expected the cagey attitude we were getting at the moment. From the way he pulled in a long breath, I could tell Alex was about to say something intense and cop-level authoritative.

  Placing a hand on my boyfriend’s arm, I smiled at Dylan. “You sure you don’t want to get something to drink first?” I asked, holding mine up as a display. “Nate makes a mean frap.”

  Dylan scanned the menu hanging above the counter. “Uh, yeah. I’ll grab something, sure.”

  As soon as he was gone, I leaned over and whispered, “How much can we tell him? Legally?”

  Alex pressed his lips together, tight. “We shouldn’t say anything about the way James died or the journal he left behind, but other than that, everyone will know soon enough James has been killed.”

  I nodded, hoping sharing that fact might help us answer his questions, the first of which I anticipated would be, “Why do you suddenly care about this?”

  “I’d like to share as little as we can, though,” Alex said.

  “Of course.” I dipped my chin seriously as if it weren’t my usual modus operandi to blurt out information about cases and sometimes even accusations.

  A few moments later, Dylan settled back into his chair with his own frap in hand. His friend had settled at a small two-top next to us, and he pulled out a paperback, opening it to a page in the center. Focusing back on Dylan, I beamed at the fact he’d taken my suggestion. Okay, I thought. This guy may be a bit salty, but I can get through to him.

  “Which one did you get?” I asked, holding my own frap to my lips and taking a satisfying sip.

  Dylan squinted one eye. “Uh, something with peppermint, I think.”

  “The Thin Mint?” I let out a little gasp. Nate’s Girl-Scout-cookie-inspired frap had a homemade peppermint simple syrup as well as real pieces of the cookies inside. I leaned forward as he took his first sip. Then his eyes lit up, lips pulling into the first smile I’d seen him make.

  “If we’re done discussing drinks…” Alex said, looking from Dylan to me.

  “Right, your questions.” I pushed my shoulders back, ready.

  Dylan licked his lips. “Why now? If you believe Chloe and me, why did it take you so long to contact us?”

  Glancing at Alex, I tipped my head in his direction, letting him take the lead on this.

  “We only realized the frat was around this weekend, through… other means. Chloe’s blog confirmed our suspicions.”

  I bit my lip, impressed with Alex’s ability to say something without really saying anything.

  “You working with them?” Dylan fired his second question at us right away.

  His question reminded me about my father, about how it was possible he had been one of them, working with them. A terrible, tightness crept up my throat. I noticed that his friend glanced up from his book for a brief second, telling me he was definitely listening in.

  Deciding to take the lead on this one, I shook my head fervently. “Absolutely not,” I croaked around the unanswered questions closing around my throat. “We want them to answer for the people they’ve hurt.”

  Ironically—despite his frosty beverage—Dylan seemed to thaw a little at my statement. He took another sip of his frap.

  “Any more questions?” Alex asked.

  Dylan shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll let you know. For now, you can ask a few.”

  “How well did you get to know them?” Alex asked, not wasting a moment.

  “Pretty well. Rush week was almost over when I had the accident, so I’d spent a lot of time with them by the end.”

  Scrunching one eye, I was about to argue that taking a dozen shots—or however many the guy had to have consumed in order to give himself alcohol poisoning—was rarely an accident, but I kept my mouth shut. We needed Dylan’s information if we had any hope of narrowing down our list of secret-frat suspects.

  “Did you notice any problems between group members?” Alex asked. “Any fighting?”

  Pulling in a deep breath, Dylan tipped his head to the left as he looked up at the ceiling. “Uh, yeah. A heck of a lot of it, actually.”

  I scooted closer, sipping on my frap with a renewed gusto.

  “The president, James, pretty much pissed people off like it was his job.”

  “The other guys didn’t like him?” Alex took my cue and leaned forward, too, lowering his voice.

  “I wouldn’t say that. It was more like the guy was Caesar or something. They spent half their time worshiping him and the other half all mad about how bossy he was being. I could totally see them stabbing him in the back if they got the chance, but then they would hold a funeral for the guy right after they killed him talking about what a great man he was. You know.”

  My shoulders scrunched up in excitement and I glanced at Alex.

  “Uh oh,” he said. “You did it now. Mentioning Shakespeare around this one usually earns you a lengthy literary discussion, complete with quotes.”

  Placing a hand over my chest, I feigned a pained look of surprise. “Et tu, Alex?”

  He laughed and said, “See?”

  Dylan, whom I was quickly warming to, laughed as well. If he only knew how right he was about James’s tragic end.

  “Anyone stand out as a Brutus?” I asked.

  “Of course. In the same position, too.” Dylan took another drink of his frap. “Matt, his right hand man or vice president seemed to get in a fight with James every time we all got together. And when he wasn’t fighting with the guy, he was talking about him behind his back, telling the other guys he would make a much better president.”

  Alex’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. “Did anyone talk about James wanting to move the frat to Southern Washington University?”

  “Yep. James was trying to convince everyone it was a good idea. They’ve got a Greek system down there, so he thought it would be better for the TriAlphas than trying to remain underground. He was sick of hiding, wanted to be a part of something he could brag about, I think.”

  I sighed, knowing that sentiment could very well be why he was now dead. “Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this,” I said, quoting Thoreau.

  Dylan’s friend shifted in his seat.

  Alex shook his head. “Can’t we be done with Thoreau?”

  “Oh god, yeah,” Dylan said. “Thoreau was all those guys talked about. Except James. He didn’t seem as mad about the guy or his book as the rest of them. Told me he thought the guy was a quack.”

  “Odd that the leader of the organization would be openly critical of the person they mirrored most of their beliefs around,” I said, feeling confusion catch in the creases between my eyebrows. It didn’t sound like the James I knew from the pages of his journal.

  “Yeah. Well, I don’t think moving the frat was the only change James wanted to make.” Dylan lifted one shoulder then let it drop.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Got the impression James wanted a more quintessential fraternity experience, is all. He’s the first one to involve hazing in the rushing process.”

  “So Matt seemed particularly violent toward James,” Alex mused. “Anyone else?”

  “I heard some stuff about a few alumnus being pretty vocal against the move.” Dylan stopped, narrowing his eyes as he thought. “They almost seemed to care more than current members.”

  “Loyalty is a pretty good motive,” I mumbled, thinking of my father. If he really was a member, he hid it well. And if all of them were that good at concealing their involvement, there could be any number of past members out there.

  Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Motive for what?” He sat up. “What’s this all about anyway?”

  I could see the muscles in Alex’s jaw cl
ench tight. Crap. I wasn’t supposed to say anything if we could avoid it. I must’ve gotten caught up in thoughts about Dad and hadn’t realized what I was saying.

  “There’s been a death in the group,” Alex said reluctantly.

  At this, Dylan’s friend closed his book and turned toward us.

  Blinking, Dylan let out a whoosh of breath. He met his friend’s surprised gaze, then looked back at us. “They had another rush this soon? During the summer?” He sighed. “I guess my group was too much of a disappointment.”

  Wrinkling my nose, I looked away, not wanting to give anything else away.

  But I needn’t have worried, because Alex said, “Not another rush. One of the standing members was murdered.”

  Eyes wide, Dylan sat forward. “No way. They offed one of their own?”

  The fact that he’d jumped to the conclusion that one of the frat members had to be to blame if another one had died didn’t escape me, but I decided to tuck it away for now.

  “Literally,” I said. When Dylan glanced at me in question, I added, “They were off in the woods when said offing happened.” I turned my attention to Dylan’s friend. “You can join us, you know.”

  The guy was leaning so much that I was afraid his chair was going to topple right over.

  His cheeks reddened and he smiled nervously. “Sorry.” He stood, moving his stuff to our table. “I’m Liam, Dylan’s roommate. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I’ve just heard all about these guys…”

  Dylan nodded. “Now your questions make a lot more sense. You’re trying to figure out who did it.” After a second, the understanding left his face, replaced with scrunched confusion. “Wait, why are you guys involved?”

  “We were camping next to them when it happened,” Alex said. “And this one has a bit of a Nancy Drew complex.” He jabbed a thumb in my direction, chuckling to show he was teasing.

  “Plus,” I said, shooting Alex a fake scowl, “there’s a completely incompetent sheriff dealing with the case, and we don’t trust him to investigate.”

  Dylan exhaled. “Got it. Well, be careful.” His gaze landed on me for a moment. “Especially you.” When I twisted my mouth into a confused frown, he elaborated. “James has a thing for redheads. He’ll definitely notice you if you’re snooping around.”

  I remembered back to our first day at the campsite, when James had winked at me. My stomach churned and I realized all too late that I’d given something away.

  Dylan blinked. “No way. So they really did stab Caesar?” He exhaled a quick, humorless laugh. “Man, I guess it’s not really a surprise, but… wow.”

  His redhead comment made me think about the journal note about Kevin and James fighting over the same girl. “What about Kevin? You think he could’ve done it?” I asked Dylan. I knew Kevin was definitely taller than James, so it was very unlikely that he was the killer, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

  “No.” He cut the air with one hand. “He was totally a Mark Antony. They got in fights now and then, but he would never have done anything to hurt James. At least from what I could see.” He shifted his feet on the tiled floor of the coffee shop. “No, if James is dead, your man is undoubtedly Matt. He’s your Brutus, for sure.”

  Going over Chloe’s article in my head, I thought of one more thing I wanted to ask Dylan about. “When you were hanging out with them, did any of them talk about Ethan Emsworth? I know Chloe had stipulated that Ethan may have been involved with the fraternity when he passed aw—”

  Interrupting me, Dylan shook his head and said, “Look, as interested as I am in seeing these guys suffer, I told myself I wouldn’t let them ruin any more of my days. I think I’ve had enough.” His cagey attitude from earlier returned.

  Alex and I glanced at each other as Liam and Dylan moved to leave.

  “Just one more thing,” Alex said, his words causing Dylan to stop. “Where were you this weekend?”

  Dylan cocked an eyebrow at the question for a moment. “You ask Chloe the same question?” he asked.

  Alex sat in silence, watching him. When Dylan seemed to understand Alex wasn’t going to answer that question, his eyes flashed over to Liam and they shared a quick look I couldn’t read. Then, just when I thought he was going to tell Alex to go shove it, he cleared his throat and answered, “Liam and I were at our apartment the whole weekend, playing video games.”

  Alex looked to Liam, who dipped his chin in confirmation.

  “The whole weekend?” Alex asked.

  “Uh, yeah. All of it.” Liam cleared his throat.

  Dylan laughed. “You know how Black Ops can be.” The roommates high-fived and it was apparent from the look on my boyfriend’s face that no, he didn’t.

  With a sigh, Alex waved them off. We sat in silence as they left.

  Once they were out the door, however, my attention flew to Alex. “Well, that seems to fit with what Chloe told us.”

  Running his palm over the stubble on his chin, he narrowed his eyes.

  “What? You think he’s lying?” I asked, feeling like there was definitely something off about his alibi.

  “Someone is.”

  13

  Alex dropped me off at the apartment after our meeting with Dylan with promises to talk with his father about the possibility of Dylan’s alibi being… off. He was also going to ask the detective whether or not there was enough evidence to bring in Matt for questioning.

  “It’s a sensitive matter since this is technically still in Sheriff Langley’s hands. Dad will know the questions to ask and how to handle it,” Alex assured me when I asked why I couldn’t be a part of it. “Plus, he’s at the station right now, so we have to wait until he gets home. I was going to fit in a quick run in the meantime, if you want to come with.”

  My nose wrinkled up instinctually. “A run? Uh… maybe I’ll see what Liv is up to.” I kissed him and scrambled out of the truck toward the apartment before I was roped into doing any exercise.

  Alex laughed and put his hand up in a wave as he pulled away.

  I dug out my keys and headed inside. I could do with some girl time, anyway.

  The only girl inside was Hamburger—happy to see me but, admittedly, not the best conversationalist. After kissing, hugging, patting, and playing a bit of tug of war, I pulled out my phone and texted Liv.

  Where you at?

  She responded right away.

  Grammar much, English major?

  I scoffed before typing, Uh… on vacation.

  She sent back a smiley face and then added, At the campus library.

  Workaholic, I typed back, knowing it had to be why she was there. She worked in the business office on campus, and I knew if she went in on a day off, they would give her a hard time. Before I could respond, telling her I was coming to join her, she sent another message.

  Oh. Guess who’s back in town? A moment later, a picture came through, obviously sneakily snapped over the top of her book. It was Kevin from the TriAlphas with his arm wrapped around a pretty young woman.

  Wow, I think I’ve really underestimated these frat guys’ commitment to the written word. Between their obsession with Thoreau, to Dylan’s use of Julius Caesar analogies, and now Kevin hanging out in the library before the quarter even started, I had to admit they were seeming like a downright scholarly bunch.

  Uh. Well, they just went back to Small, Dark, and Red, so I’m not sure it’s the written word he’s after, Liv responded.

  Small, Dark, and Red—as I liked to refer to the secluded two-seater in the back corner of the library because of its diminutive lamp with a sexy red shade—was a known make-out spot. In fact, it had been the place Alex and I had first kissed almost two years earlier, when we were still figuring out our feelings toward each other.

  I named all of the sitting areas in the library based on the unique lamp which resided there. In fact, from the picture she sent me, I could tell Liv was sitting in Fringy Pink, a leather chaise-type lounge with a pink, fringe-hemmed lamp standing guard.
It was the perfect summer reading spot because it was situated right next to a tall window looking out on a beautiful red-budded rhododendron. The perfect mix of sun and shade.

  Make room in Fringy Pink for me. I’m on my way!

  Liv responded with a thumbs-up. I took Hammy on a short walk, then grabbed my father’s copy of Walden—having pulled it from the box yesterday before I’d left the bookshop—and headed to the library.

  It was only a five-minute walk from our place, so I arrived before I could work up a sweat in the midmorning sunshine. Before going to Fringy Pink to meet up with Liv, I skirted through the aisles of books and made my way silently back toward Small, Dark, and Red. I slowed my feet as I approached, the sound of sniffling stopping me completely a few feet from the edge of the row so I was just out of their line of sight.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” a young woman said, her voice wobbly with tears. “We only just started dating.”

  Dating? Had this girl been James’s girlfriend?

  “I know. It’s surreal. I keep expecting him to show up,” Kevin said. There was a shuffling of fabric as if he was moving, probably moving closer given their location. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll make it through this, together.”

  Yeah, it sounded like Kevin was putting the moves on her.

  “We’re having a little get-together tomorrow night at the house. You should come. I’ll text you the details. And if we don’t answer the front door…” Kevin whispered the rest, so I couldn’t hear.

  Peeking in between the tops of books and the shelf, I tried to get a look at the couple, but all I could see was long, auburn hair. Dylan’s comment about James’s interest in redheads this morning jumped into my mind.

  “Will Matt be there?” she asked after a few moments and a sniffle.

  Kevin scoffed. “Psh. I don’t know. The jerk was gone all last night, didn’t return any of our calls.”

  “Kev, that’s not good.”

  I heard the rustle of clothing and then Kevin said, “Don’t you worry about him, beautiful. Honestly, we’re better off without Matt. I’m still not convinced he isn’t the reason James is gone.”

  She gasped. “That’s an awful thing to say!”