Nixon raised a hand to silence her. “Thank you for your condolences. I’ve just been informed by Julie that Mirabelle has been given her inheritance.” The rest of the team sat forward in surprise. Nixon shifted on her feet. “This is the earliest Balancing I have ever seen. Much too early, I think, for your team. However, the Black Coat bylaws state that this is Mirabelle’s choice and not mine. Therefore, I would urge you, Mirabelle, to be patient.”
“No.” Mirabelle stood, her eyes filled with defiance. “If it’s not your choice, then I will choose to do it now. I’m not meaning to be disrespectful, but this is something I’ve been waiting ten years for. I will not wait a minute longer than I have to.”
Nixon shook her head. “I believe that’s a mistake, but it’s still your mistake to make. Just make sure you take the entire team.” Her eyes met Thea’s as she turned around with a sigh. “Now go mingle. I’ll not have my team out here looking like the reject table at a high school.”
Casey waved her arms around. “Um, hello—we are the reject team and this is our table.” Thea thought she saw a ghost of a smile on Nixon’s face, but then she turned to go, with an order. “I’ll not ask again. Mingle or leave.”
The team looked at one another, no need to even speak.
Casey tossed her car keys in the air. “Let’s go hang at Mirabelle’s and get slushies.”
“Beatrice?” The sharp voice caught them by surprise. The team turned. Julie Westing stood before them, statuesque, her eyes on Bea. She didn’t seem to even notice the other team members. “Hello, Beatrice, I’m Julie. I’m one of the luminaries—” She stopped midsentence, blinking. “No, I’m sorry. That’s not right. I’m the luminary.” For a moment, Thea thought she saw a sliver of humanity in this woman, but then it was gone, just like Nixon’s smile. “I would be delighted if you would come have a drink with me.”
Bea fidgeted nervously. “Well, actually, we were just about to leave.”
“I’m sure they won’t mind.” Julie’s eyes met Thea’s. “If your team leader says it’s okay.”
Thea knew better than to object. “Of course that’s fine.” She turned to face Julie. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Westing.” Sorry, Bea.
Julie raised her chin, and her eyes went cold. “Thank you for your condolences, Miss Soloman.” She put a hand on Bea’s back. “Now, if you come with me, I’ll show you the best seat in the Haunt. It’s my favorite place to sit and think.” Bea gave the girls a desperate look before disappearing back into the thick crowd of Black Coats now filtering out into the yard.
Mirabelle watched her go. “What’s so great about Bea?”
Casey shot her an annoyed look. “Do you really have to ask?”
Thea was standing still, watching Julie turn Bea around like a prized pony in front of some Black Coats alumni. “She is very important to them.”
“But us, too,” piped up Louise. “She’s a part of Team Banner.”
Probably not for long, Thea noted silently. That was the last thing her team needed to hear right now. The sun was high in the sky, another scorching day on its way, and Thea felt a bead of sweat drop down her neck. “Let’s head out.”
Something about this funeral was making her very uncomfortable. Where would Robin’s body go? Why was Nixon so stressed? They piled into Mirabelle’s car. Bea’s empty seat stared up at Thea as Casey turned the car out onto the gravel roads surrounding Mademoiselle Corday.
“Who wants to go really, really fast?” she whispered.
“Me,” said Thea, leaning against the seat. “Let’s fly.”
The car shot forward with a roar. Thea looked out the window just in time to see a flash of black dart through the woods—a blur, something moving between the trees, something dangerously swift. She leaned her damp forehead against the window to see more clearly. It was Sahil, running through the woods. He was racing as though he could outrun his sadness, as if grief wasn’t chasing him like a hungry animal. She pressed her hand up against the window, feeling empathy wash over her. She knew that feeling all too well, and sadly she knew the truth: grief would run him down every time.
Nineteen
Wednesday came too quickly, and Thea found herself walking as slowly as possible to her locker after her late-morning chemistry class. Normally, she anticipated the rush of administering justice, but something about Mirabelle’s Balancing was making her uncomfortable. She was quietly switching her books in the locker when she felt arms wrap around her waist. “You better be my boyfriend, otherwise . . .”
She heard Drew chuckle behind her. “And what if it wasn’t?”
Thea spun around, her lips against his ear. “I would slam my head backward into your nose, stunning you. Then I would spin around, knee you in the junk, slam your head against my knee, and throw you on the ground. Then I would put my foot on your neck to keep you down.”
“Uhhh.” Drew stepped backward, his hands in the air. “That’s more than a little terrifying. Are you a serial killer in your free time?”
Thea shrugged, though she was smiling. “I don’t know, I always thought Dexter was on the right side of things.”
Drew shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah, vigilante justice isn’t justice, though.” He said it so easily that she felt his words bruise her like a plum.
This conversation was on the verge of getting messy quickly, so Thea leaned forward. “It’s a good thing I like your arms around me, that’s all I’m saying.” That wasn’t a lie.
“No kidding, psycho. Hey, I have something for you.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiled.
“So because a guy at my dad’s old work got food poisoning”—he raised his hands with a woot-woot and Thea burst out laughing—“my dad has two Andrew Bird tickets for tonight and get this: they’re going to have an ice-cream-waffle food truck there. Thea. Ice cream waffles. Are you hearing me?”
Thea’s mouth opened and shut. “I can’t. I have . . .”
Drew raised his eyebrow. “I’m sure you can miss one day of house restoration for this amazing date.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Hot fudge on a waffle, Thea. You are coming with me.”
Thea took a long look at his face, realizing that this might be a make-or-break moment for their relationship. He had been patient with her chaotic schedule and broken dates so far, but she could see that it was wearing on him. “Okay, yes. I’ll see what I can do. I have to rearrange some things. Can I at least meet you at the concert to give me more time?”
“Yes! Absolutely.” Drew hugged her with a delirious grin and spun her around. “It’s a date. Music and waffles and you. A man could not ask for more, truly.”
Thea laughed in spite of her growing panic. “If I’m going, I’m getting extra sprinkles. You should know I have a thing for rainbow sprinkles.”
“Yeah, you will!” Drew high-fived her and then kissed her hard on the lips. Thea’s heart tilted and spun, realizing what had been sneaking up on her; Drew made her so happy. His excitement about life was contagious, and he looked at her differently from how anyone ever had. It was as though he reflected her own light back to her. It was extraordinary.
“I need to let my friends know. Can you send me the concert info?” she asked.
Drew gently took his fingers and trailed them up her neck, lifting her chin. “Yes. You have made me very happy today.” He kissed her softly, the tip of his tongue trailing gently along her bottom lip before whispering across her mouth, “Maybe it’s the waffles, though. I can’t tell.”
“Take it down a notch, you two. You’re not getting married.” Mr. Parrot passed by them in the hallway, a reprimanding look on his face in response to their PDA. They pulled back from each other.
“That guy.” Drew shook his head. “I’m going to put a dead fish in his radiator before I graduate.”
“You will do no such thing.” Thea waited until the teacher turned the corner and kissed Drew on the cheek. “Okay, I got to run. But I’ll see you tonight.”
Drew rai
sed his eyebrows. “Thea, wear something . . .” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence. “That can get hot fudge on it.”
Her smile dazzled every person she passed on her way to the door. Once she got into her car she whipped out her phone, texting the team that Mirabelle’s inheritance was going to need to start early—in fact, it needed to start pretty much now. They would all be skipping the remainder of school today. Everyone seemed okay with that.
Since Mademoiselle Corday was out of the way, they decided to meet at a park near Marc Mitzi’s house in one of Austin’s older neighborhoods. The houses were tiny and crammed together, which would be an issue for their exposure if this was the sort of neighborhood where people cared about that sort of thing. Luckily, it was not. Mirabelle sat bursting with nervous energy in the front seat, Marc’s file spilling out over her lap. There was a small window when Marc would be home—from two thirty to five in the afternoon.
Casey drummed on the dashboard. “Are we sure we want this to be a Code Evening?”
Thea looked squarely at Mirabelle. “I don’t know. And I still don’t think you should come inside with us.”
“Like hell I’m not.” Mirabelle’s eyes flashed angrily. “Thea, are you going to stay in the car when we go find Natalie’s killer?”
Thea let out a long breath, her chest tightening at the prospect. “No.”
Mirabelle crossed her arms. “That’s what I thought. Also, if anyone asks me again, I swear to God, I will punch them in the face.”
No one asked again. At 1:45 p.m., Casey pulled the car into the small alleyway behind Marc’s house. They silently climbed out of the car and made their way up to his back gate. With a hoist from Bea, Thea reached over and unlocked the gate, and they filtered into his backyard. It was surprisingly nice for the neighborhood it was in, with a trim lawn and flowering bushes lining the fence. Thea motioned them forward, and the girls moved quickly to the back of the house. Thea knelt at the back door and pulled a crowbar out of her backpack. “Move aside, ladies,” she whispered.
“No need.” Bea grinned. She pushed the door inward with a creak. “It’s open.”
Casey shook her head. “People are ridiculously trusting.”
With Mirabelle in the lead, they made their way inside. Thea was the last one in, shutting and locking the door behind them. The back door opened up into a galley kitchen, cluttered but clean. Within seconds, Mirabelle was walking near the sink, her fingertips trailing over plates and forks, her eyes red.
“He eats here.” She turned to the team. “He gets to eat, every day. He gets to laugh and have dinner and watch TV, and my parents don’t. Just because he felt like having a drink that night.” No one said anything.
They all jumped when a car door slammed outside. “Shit! He’s home early!” Thea looked around the kitchen. “Everyone in the back bedroom! Now!”
They moved down the hallway, shutting the door halfway behind them. Thea looked around the room. It was basic: a bed, a dresser, and not much more. There was a framed picture on the wall of a misty forest scene, and a Dallas Cowboys hat hung on the bedpost. Thea, however, became fixated on another item: a well-loved stuffed unicorn with tattered wings was propped up against a pillow.
“Stay here!” she ordered, and darted out of the bedroom, making her way down the short hallway. She threw open a door—a bathroom. The next door was a closet. Finally, she flung open the last door, hoping to find storage or perhaps a rack of dead bodies, anything other than what she was seeing. There was a bunk bed in the kids’ room. The decor indicated that a boy and a girl shared the room; a Frozen comforter was crumpled on the floor alongside a heap of giant Transformer action figures. Kids’ drawings covered a small table where untouched goldfish crackers sat in a bowl. No, no, no . . . This was wrong; it was all wrong. Thea rushed back up the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind her. Team Banner looked at her with alarm. “We have to leave. He has children! We can’t be here!”
Mirabelle suddenly pushed Thea up against the wall, her arm pressed against her neck. God, she was strong. “He killed my parents!” she hissed at Thea.
“Mirabelle.” Casey was looking over at the dresser, where, in a framed picture, two kids leaned against their dad. They had fishing poles in their hands and toothless grins on their faces. “We can’t. What if the kids are with him?”
“They won’t be! The luminaries would never have given us his address if that was the case.” Louise looked around the room. “He’s divorced. Nobody else’s clothes are in the closet.”
The garage door began closing. Thea made the call. “We need more time to figure this out. We can’t do this inheritance right now.”
“I’m not leaving!” Mirabelle shoved Thea sideways as she shot toward the door, but Louise blocked her with an outstretched arm and spun her around so that she was caught in a headlock.
“Mirabelle. Take just a minute! Calm down!” whispered Louise. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Let me go, you don’t know! You don’t know how it feels.”
Thea bent over to look in Mirabelle’s eyes. “I do know. We all know. Mirabelle, it seems like maybe he has his life together! What else could we ask for?”
“Justice?” whimpered Mirabelle, losing her composure. “For my parents.”
Casey’s voice rose from the corner of the room. “He’s a dad.”
“So was Raphael Amadoor.” Mirabelle hiccupped, and Louise loosened her grip.
“That was different,” Thea hissed.
“Is that up to you to make that call?” Mirabelle snapped. “Is it you who gets to decide?”
This was getting murkier by the second.
“No. Yes. I don’t know exactly, but what I do know is that we can’t do this right now,” Thea said, taking Mirabelle’s shaking hands into her own. “We have to leave. Let’s take some time and decide together what to do about this.”
Mirabelle nodded. “Fine.” She took a breath. “I’m okay.”
Thea made her way over to the window. “Good. I think we can just leap out of here, really quick. Mirabelle, go first.”
But Mirabelle was spinning now, her fist landing squarely across Louise’s jaw, her strong body pushing past Casey, who went flying into the closet. Bea leaped for her, but it was too late.
“Mirabelle, stop!” Thea yelled, but by the time the words escaped her mouth, Mirabelle was out the door and down the hallway. Thea flew after her, skidding into the hall and running to the back door. She turned into the kitchen. Oh God.
Marc Mitzi was standing at the kitchen counter. The bag of groceries he had been carrying had been dropped at his feet, and peaches rolled to a stop on the tile. Both of his hands were out in front of him and his voice was shaking. “Calm down. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
Mirabelle loomed in front of him, her impassioned figure trembling. She was bigger than he was, and she was pointing a large kitchen knife in his direction. Thea slowly walked into the kitchen behind Mirabelle. Marc’s lip quivered when he saw her. “Please don’t hurt me. I have two children.”
“That’s rich!” sputtered Mirabelle, waving the knife as she spoke. “Are you worried about them being orphans?”
Marc stepped backward as Mirabelle took a step toward him. “Yes.”
Mirabelle’s eyes widened and pure fury crossed her face. “Well, you made an orphan of me!” she screamed, flinging herself at Marc with the knife outstretched. Thea lunged forward and caught Mirabelle around the waist, flinging her against the table. Together they bounced hard off the back of a chair and spun to the floor. The knife skittered across the tile. Marc picked it up and stepped toward them.
Thea held out her hand in surrender. “She’s okay. Mirabelle, you’re okay.”
Mirabelle was sobbing now on the floor, her anger dissolving into desperation as she deflated in Thea’s arms.
“You killed my parents. You took them from me,” she wailed.
Marc’s expr
ession changed from fear to shock as he looked down at her with disbelief. “Mirabelle . . . Watts?”
Mirabelle raised her head. “You know me?”
Marc dropped a trembling hand. “I think about you every day.”
Thea sat back on her knees. The rest of Team Banner, she knew, waited silently in the hallway to see what happened. She stared down at Mirabelle. “Can I let you up? Are you going to do something stupid?”
Mirabelle shook her head. “No.”
Thea reached out to Marc. “Give me the knife.” It wasn’t a request, and he swiftly obeyed. Thea stood and watched as Mirabelle curled her body up from the ground. Thea tossed the knife out the back door.
After a second, Marc reached forward and took Mirabelle’s elbow. “Here. Come sit in here.” Mirabelle simply nodded, letting Marc Mitzi lead her into the living room, where she sank into a comfortable recliner. “I’ll get you some tea.” He gestured to Thea. “You?”
“No, thank you,” Thea said.
“I’d like tea.” Casey’s voice was sharp, and Marc leaped backward as the rest of Team Banner stepped into the room.
“Oh God, there’s more of you. Y’all are really here to kill me, aren’t you?”
“No.” Thea shook her head. “We’re not. We’re just friends with Mirabelle.”
He raised an eyebrow. “She must have good friends, who would break into a house with her.”
Louise raised her chin. “She has good reason to hurt you, you know.”
Marc shook his head as he reached for the kettle, his voice achingly sad. “I know it. What kind of tea would you like, Mirabelle?”
Mirabelle’s exhausted voice drifted in from the living room. “Any kind.”
“That leaves me too many options.” Marc opened a cabinet to reveal what was easily thirty tea boxes. “Since I don’t drink anymore—” He gestured to the cabinet. “I need options. You could say that I’ve become a tea snob.” As he reached for a lemon ginger, Thea noticed the tremor in his hands. Marc Mitzi is still very scared.
After settling a tea bag into a red mug, Marc turned to Thea. “Do you think I could talk to her?”
The Black Coats Page 16