Class Reunion of Murder (10 page)

“Your boyfriend has a prior.”

Her head snapped up from where it had dropped onto the desk. Jason swam into focus. “What?”

“Your boyfriend. He has an arrest record.”

“What?” Lacy said. She stifled a yawn. Jason entered the room and closed the door. He shifted Lacy aside and she sat in his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“Chester Campbell has a road rage conviction. There was a traffic jam. He lost it and beat a guy’s car with a tire iron.”

Lacy tried to picture tiny Chester attacking a car, but the image wouldn’t form. “Was it a Mini Cooper?” she asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“How else could he reach it?”

“You’re trying to make me feel better by making fun of him,” Jason said.

“I’m really not. I just can’t help myself.”

“I can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“What was to tell? I had a very one-sided crush on him. We weren’t even friends.”

“Why did you like him so much?”

“I’ve been trying hard to remember,” Lacy said. His hand eased up and began to massage the back of her neck. She closed her eyes.

“Do you, you know, still have a thing for him?”

She laughed so hard her retainer was in danger of being expelled.

“That’s not a no,” he said.

She took off her glasses and pressed her face to his neck, breathing in his scent. “You’re so delightfully odd sometimes,” she said.

There was a tap on the door and Kimber stuck her head in. “A bunch of us are heading over to Grigsby’s for some food. Are you guys in?”

“I’m in,” Lacy said. She wanted to talk to more people about Summer; she had barely scratched the surface today.

“I can only stop by for a minute before I write my report and file this paperwork,” Jason said.

Kimber entered and closed the door. “About Summer…I think the jig is up. People are starting to figure out that she was murdered.”

“What are they saying?” Jason asked. His eyes were calculating. Lacy wondered what information he knew that hadn’t yet been released about the manner of Summer’s death.

“That she was drowned,” Kimber said.

“Hmm,” Jason replied.

“Have you heard of anyone with an especially large grudge?” Lacy asked.

“Everyone,” Kimber said. “Everyone hated Summer. Well, almost everyone.” She eyed Jason with something like resentment.

“Why did you hate her?” Jason asked. “What did she do to you?”

“It wasn’t just her, but she was the ringleader. They used to leave things in my locker.”

“What kind of things?”

“Bottles of Aunt Jemima syrup, Jerry Curl, afro cream, anything they could think of to make sure I knew I was the only black kid in a hundred mile radius. They weren’t just jerks, they were racist jerks.”

Jason ran his fingers through his hair. “Geez, Kimber, why didn’t you tell somebody?”

“I didn’t know who to tell, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“For the record, I was never a part of that,” Jason said. “And if I had known, well, I was a stupid kid, but I hope I would have done something about it.”

“I know,” Kimber said. “I never thought you were a part of it. You were a nice guy,
are
a nice guy,” she amended. She clasped Lacy’s hand and pulled her up. “Now, I’m going to steal this woman away for a while. We’ll meet you there.”

“Where are you taking me?” Lacy asked. She grabbed her glasses from the desk and jammed them haphazardly on her face.

“To put you back together,” Kimber said. “No offense, but you’re sort of a mess.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Lacy said.

“There has to be something we can do about this hair,” Kimber said. She searched in Lacy’s bag and came up with a wide-tooth comb, but it immediately got stuck and lost in The Hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered as her fingers delved in the mass to try and retrieve the comb. “Okay, that’s it. I’m going in. If I don’t come out…”

“I’ll tell Andy you love him,” Lacy said.

Kimber poked the back of her head.

“I see we’re still not able to joke about your ‘secret’ feelings for Andy. Right,” Lacy said.

“Andy and I are friends,” Kimber said. “He’s a bit too pale for my taste. I want to date a mocha brother.”

“Mm, hmm,” Lacy said and winced because Kimber pulled her hair again. After some wrangling, she managed to cajole Lacy’s hair into a braid. She searched her own bags and came up with a scarf which she then tied over The Hair.

“Put these in,” she commanded as she handed Lacy a pair of large hoop earrings.

“They’re a little big for me,” Lacy said.

“Anything larger than a pinhead is a little big for you, Grandma. You dress like an old woman, a rich old woman.” She plucked at Lacy’s Gucci blouse.

“This was my grandmother’s,” Lacy said.

“I can tell. Take it off. Riley and I scoured our wardrobes and came up with something.”

“I’m not going to dress like a promiscuous teenager,” Lacy warned.

“Duly noted,” Kimber said. Her voice became muffled as she stuck her head in the closet and rooted around.

“And I can’t wear jeans. They don’t fit right.”

“You’re curvy. I get it. Take off your clothes and trust me.”

“Famous last words,” Lacy said and Kimber laughed. She emerged from the closet with a shimmery sleeveless blouse and a long peasant skirt. The bohemian look wasn’t something Lacy had ever tried before, but when she put the outfit together, she liked it. Perhaps it was time to branch out of solid colors and conservatively tailored styles a little.

“There’s more to life than oxford shirts,” Kimber said, reading her mind.

“I don’t know how to put things together very well. I’m afraid of being a fashion disaster. I stick with what I know.”

“You should ask Riley for help sometimes,” Kimber said. “She’s an untapped resource at your disposal.”

“Sounds like you and Riley have really hit it off,” Lacy said.

“Not really,” Kimber said. “She sort of tagged along after me today, which was odd. She seems a little off kilter.”

Lacy shrugged. She never had any idea what went on in Riley’s head.

“Try your contacts again,” Kimber ordered. “And take out those stupid retainers.”

“The dentist said…”

“I don’t care what the dentist said. You can put them in when we get home. Three hours without them isn’t going to kill you. Don’t be such a rule follower.”

Lacy put in her contacts. They were still itchy, but bearably so. She plucked out the retainers with a sigh of relief. The pressure hadn’t eased all day. Her head throbbed dully, but it felt better as she touched up her makeup.

Kimber stood in the doorway and watched a few minutes before sighing expressively and commandeering Lacy’s makeup. “Sometimes it’s okay to use a color other than brown,” Kimber groused as she opened Lacy’s eye shadow.

“Is there anything I’m doing that you approve of?” Lacy asked.

“No, but you must be doing something right to have captured Jason’s interest so completely. The boy is smitten. Stop smiling; you’ll mess up my line. There.”

Lacy turned to the mirror with some trepidation. With Kimber’s dark coloring and chiseled bone structure, she could wear much more dramatic hues than Lacy could pull off, but Kimber hadn’t made Lacy her replica. She had matched colors to Lacy’s ultra-pale skin and red hair, and Lacy smiled with relief and approval. “I guess there’s a reason you’re an artist,” Lacy said.

“It’s certainly not because of the money. Let’s go.” She tossed the makeup back in the bag, grabbed her car keys, and led the way out the door. Jason was already at Grigsby’s. As they entered, Lacy realized she had never been there. In high school, the popular kids had commandeered it as their hangout. Lacy had avoided it so completely that it hadn’t entered her mind to go once since she’d moved back home.

“So, this is how the other half lives,” Lacy said. It looked like a honky-tonk bar with peanut shells on the floor and a mechanical bull in the corner.

“We’re living the dream now,” Kimber said. She wrinkled her nose and stepped over a pile of crushed shells.

Jason was already there and ensconced at a table with Jill, Brady, Reed, and a handful of other popular kids from their class. The only one missing was Summer, and none of them seemed to be mourning her. Perhaps the copious amounts of empty beer glasses scattered over the table accounted for their seemingly good cheer. Jason seemed to be the only sober person in attendance. He sat sipping his club soda with a look of keen observation on his face. Lacy guessed he had initiated a conversation about Summer and was listening to see what came out of it. He glanced toward the door when she and Kimber stepped inside. Had he been watching for her? If the way he gave her a slow up and down twice over was any indication, then the answer was yes. She and Kimber made their way to a crowded table of band kids. She sat down and her phone buzzed with a text.

“Sexy gypsy. You’re killing me.”

“How’s life at the cool table?” Lacy typed.

“Great. Since you arrived, they’ve been discussing how exponentially your level of hotness has risen since high school. If I get in a brawl and lose my badge, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“As long as you’re holding me,” Lacy replied.

“Killing. Me. Come over here.”

“No. Your table is mean.”

“Your table is pretending to be walruses.”

Lacy looked up. Indeed, several at her table were barking and clapping their hands together, plastic straws hanging off their incisors. There was nothing to say about that. She changed topics. “Learning anything new about your case?”

“Everyone loved Summer. She was a queen among women.”

“How drunk are they?” Lacy asked.

“Drunk enough to hit on you and think it will work. They’re taking bets on who will be the first and how long you’ll take to cave.”

“I’m yours,” Lacy said.

“Best news I’ve heard all day,” Jason texted. “I have to go. Duty calls. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“I’m safe. No one hated me,” she said.

“It’s not hate I’m worried about. Here comes Brady. You can punch him if you want to.” Almost as soon as she finished reading the text, Brady was there, swaying over her shoulder. The smell of alcohol slapped her in the face and she tried not to gag. He wasn’t just drunk; he was sloppy drunk.

“Hey, Steele. You’re looking suddenly good. You wanna, I dunno, hook up or something?”

Lacy crossed her hands over her heart. “I didn’t know you were a poet,” she said.

Brady’s eyes crossed and he struggled to focus. “I’m not. Do you wanna dance?”

“Less than anything in the world.”

“Oh, come on,” Brady coaxed.

“Well, I’m convinced. Let’s dance.”

“Really? Okay.” He held out his hand. She stared at it.

“Go away.”

“C’mon,” he tried again.

“You have never been nice to me, ever. Why would I possibly want to dance with you now?”

“You’re not going to dance with me because I teased you in high school? That’s stupid.”

“Maybe it’s shallow, but I need some kind of outward sign that you’ve grown.”

“Like what?” he said.

“Like…” she scanned the room and paused on the mechanical bull. “Go ride that bull. If you stay on for ten seconds, I’ll dance with you.”

“Ten seconds,” he said, hitching up his pants with a sniff. “Easy.”

She watched him stumble away, confident in himself, confident that ten seconds on a bull would erase years of daily torment, and she almost felt sorry for him. Was he always so out of touch or only when he was drunk? He climbed astride the bull. It started. He screamed and clutched at it to no avail. He was tossed aside and landed hard on a heaping pile of sawdust. He stood, threw up, and passed out.

Lacy’s phone buzzed. “That’s my cruel, vindictive girl.” She turned to see Jason standing by the door. He kissed his finger and waved at her. She smiled, and he left. When she turned back around, Chester was there.

“Whoa,” she jumped. Apparently his tiny feet were good for sneaking up on people.

“So, Lacy Steele.”

“Hey, Chester,” she drawled. During all the years she had a crush on him, he hadn’t once addressed her by name, preferring instead to call her “clarinet girl.” Now he was looking at her with what she guessed to be an attempt at smolder. Unfortunately he looked more like her aunt’s bird when it was choking on seed.

“Word on the street is that you have a thing for me,” he said.

Briefly, Lacy wondered if there were street names in Oompa Loompah land. “Yeah? Where did you hear that?”

“Some cheerleader told me.”

Note to self: kill sister.
“I’m going to be honest, Chester. I had a crush on you in high school, but that was a long time ago.”

“Not so long ago. What’s changed? I’m still me; you’re still you.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t know who either one of us was back then. Now I know me, but I still don’t know you.”

“You’re like deep and stuff, Lacy,” he said.

“Not so deep. Just grown up now. I know who and what I want, and I finally have him.”

“That’s right, because I’m here,” he said.

Was he for real? “No, I was talking about someone else. I’m seeing someone.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I might be around. I’m thinking of moving back home.”

“Really? Why?” Lacy said. Was her plan to draw people back to their town working? Did he feel the vibrant downtown energy she was trying to create?

“I lost my job and my parents said I could live in their basement.”

“Oh. I live with my grandma. Sometimes being with family is nice.”

“Sometimes being with family is necessary. I need a new job. Hey, you own a hotel. I could manage it. We could see each other every day.”

Where to begin? “The hotel already has a manager. I don’t work there, and I don’t plan to own it for long. I want to sell as soon as I find an investor.”

“Oh.”

She searched about for a topic change. “The band sounded good today.” He and the other field marshals had traded off directing duties.