Class Reunion of Murder (7 page)

Jason jumped in the shallow end, ducked under the water, and came up with his arms outstretched. “Let me help you.”

She put out her hands and held onto him as she jumped, but she didn’t go under. Instead she froze with the water waist high, whimpering. “S-s-so c-cold,” she said, her teeth chattering almost too much to form words.

He tugged her toward the deep end. “Once you get your shoulders wet, it will be okay.”

“Your logic eludes me,” she said.

“Trust me,” he urged.

“You say that a lot.”

“That’s because I’m waiting for you to do it,” he said. He pulled her close, pressing her to him as his arms doubled around her. “There, isn’t that better?” They were almost in the deepest part of the pool now.

“I think I’m in over my head here,” Lacy said. Her arms eased around him.

“Me, too,” he said.

“I was talking about the water,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, me too,” he said, smiling. He leaned down and kissed her just under her jaw. She clutched him closer. “Feeling better?”

“I’m definitely warmer now.”

Abruptly, he let her go. “Good, now show me what you’ve got.”

Lacy sputtered and dog paddled to bring herself back to the surface. Jason stood by, waiting for her to complain about going under. Instead she took a breath and dove. She really did love swimming, and she was good at it. She wasn’t the fastest, but she had stamina, probably because she was so good at floating. She could tread water for hours, barely moving her arms and legs. She would never be skinny, but God had apparently decided to make up for that by bestowing her with the floating capacity of a chubby otter.

She stayed under for a long time, pushing her lungs to maximum capacity. She brushed Jason’s leg, snapped his trunks, and smiled when he jumped away. She was just getting ready to break to the surface when something tangled itself in her hair and tugged, pulling her down, down, down to the bottom of the pool.

She couldn’t get free of whatever it was, and she was starting to panic. Her air was gone. After a few seconds of fruitless struggle, she realized she could lift whatever it was and drag it with her. She pushed off the bottom and kicked hard, desperation for air giving her the strength she needed to tow whatever object was bound to her hair. She broke the surface and reached out a hand, the universal symbol for “I’m drowning.” Jason caught her hand and pulled her up.

“Lacy, don’t move,” he said.

“What is it?” she asked, alerted by his tone.

“It’s better if you don’t know. Just hold still until I untangle you. Here.” He wrapped her arms around his neck so she dangled off him like a purse on a hook and then set about untangling whatever it was from her hair.

“I don’t understand this. The pool was just cleaned, painted, and refilled. Someone must have sneaked in and dumped something last night,” she said.

“Yes, they did,” he said. His ready agreement alarmed her further. He never agreed with her so easily, even when she was clearly correct.

“Jason, what is in my hair?” she asked.

“Hold on,” he said. “Don’t look.”

She looked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something white and waxy, long and bony.
Fingers.
They were wound in her hair and attached to a body. She squeezed her eyes shut and must have made some sort of sound.

“Lacy, don’t freak,” Jason warned.

“M’kay,” she said. If she were going to date a cop, she had to keep it together. Even when a dead body was wound in her hair, even when a wet, lifeless hand dropped from her hair and curled its icy grip onto her shoulder.

“You can freak later when I can help put you back together,” Jason promised.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, congratulating herself on how normal her voice sounded. Rationally she knew the only smell in the room was the overpowering scent of chlorine, but her overactive imagination supplied the smell of rotting fresh to her impressionable nostrils. She breathed through her mouth and squinched her eyes closed. Why did the lights decide to reach full power now when there was so much she didn’t want to see?

“You’re doing great,” Jason coaxed. “Almost there. There.” With a final tug of her hair, she was free. Jason shepherded her quickly away. The sucking motion of their hasty departure caused the body to follow them a while, like Mary’s little lamb. Eventually they were far enough away that it stopped moving. Lacy dared not look at it again. Jason lifted her out of the water, practically propelling her onto the punishing concrete, but she was glad for the friction that scraped her knees and brought a sting of mental clarity. He was beside her in no time and somehow her shirt was back on and she was wrapped in a towel. He sat her on a lounge chair and knelt in front of her.

“I didn’t bring my phone, per our agreement. I need to go to the front desk and call this in. I hate to ask, but I need you to stay here with the body to make sure no one disturbs the scene.”

“I can do it,” she nodded vigorously. She vowed to be an asset and not a liability. “Are you sure she’s beyond help? Is there nothing we can do?”

“She’s been gone for hours,” Jason assured her with a squeeze of her shoulder. “I’ll hurry.” He stood and sprinted away. Lacy was left with the quiet slap of water against the edge of the pool and the sucking sound of the filter.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,
she warned herself, but her eyes traveled helplessly to the center of the pool. The body bobbed peacefully on the surface. Even though it was facedown, she had no trouble identifying the once-stylish long blond hair.
Summer Ridgefield.
Lacy shuddered. She had made an idle threat the night before, but of course she hadn’t meant it. Now Summer was dead. Was she cosmically responsible? No, of course not. She hadn’t meant the words; they had been mere frustration on her part. She would never wish anyone dead, not even Summer. What had happened to her? How had she drowned?

Summer was a social creature, one of those women who believed it was impossible to go to the bathroom by herself. It seemed unlikely that she would swim alone at night, especially because she wasn’t wearing a bathing suit. Lacy frowned at the body, perplexed. She was still wearing the same dress she had worn at the party. Why would she swim in that? As a lark, obviously, but she wouldn’t have done that alone. No one went swimming in her clothes by herself. There was always the possibility that she had fallen into the pool on accident, but why would she have come to the pool room in the first place? If she hadn’t fallen in by accident, then that left one startling possibility. Had Summer been murdered? Yes, Lacy felt certain that Summer hadn’t gone into the water of her own accord. But who would want to kill her?
Who wouldn’t,
she thought, feeling immediately guilty. A woman was dead. Couldn’t she muster one kind thought? No. Summer had been cruel and vindictive for as long as Lacy had known her. Her earliest memory dated back to second grade when she pushed Lacy down in the mud, ruining her tights on picture day. Their relationship had never advanced past that point; Summer had always been the aggressor and Lacy her hapless victim.

Now, enclosed in a room with Summer’s lifeless body, Lacy felt all the old anger and frustration drain away. Who cared that Summer had been a mean girl? She was dead; she would never get the chance to grow old or have children. In death, Lacy found that it was easy to wipe the slate clean and forgive her old tormentor. Letting go brought peace, or as much peace as she could muster when a dead body floated a few yards away. Reliving past pain made her wonder who else Summer had hurt. Had the wounds been deep enough to seek vengeance? Jason returned before she could find an answer to her question.

Lacy shot to her feet and faced him, trembling with cold and emotion. She wanted to blurt out the fact that Summer had been murdered, but then she saw his evidence bag. He had probably deduced immediately what it took her a few minutes to work out. Why else would he have had her guard the scene if he didn’t think there had been a crime?

“Hey, babe.” He set the bag on a chair and pulled out a clipboard. “I need you to fill out a statement before you go. You know the routine.” He handed her the clipboard and rifled in the bag for his camera. Lacy sat and wrote while he snapped a few dozen pictures. She was always amazed at his ability to compartmentalize things. He and Summer had been friends. Now he snapped her lifeless body without emotion, as if he didn’t know her at all.

“Done,” Lacy said after a few minutes. Outside, she heard the wail of a siren and knew the cavalry had arrived. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Do I want you to stay? Yes. I always want you nearby. Do I need you to stay for any official reason? No. Go shower and get warm. I’ll talk to you when I can.” He used one arm to draw her close and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss was filled more with comfort than romance. She smiled and patted his cheek, offering up her own reassurances.

“I guess my day off is sort of over. Sorry,” he said.

“Forget about it,” she said. “Anything I can do to help, let me know. I have to go to the dentist, and then I’ll be around.”

“Maybe I could sneak away for lunch. Actually, I’ll probably be tied up until supper.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe we could grab coffee at some point.”

“I’ll see you when I see you,” Lacy said. “I understand. Don’t worry.” She stood on her toes, kissed him, and quickly dashed out of the room before his coworkers could arrive. Not only did she not want to get in their way, she had also been avoiding Detective Arroyo since the last not-so-pleasant encounter when he threatened her life. She hadn’t told Jason all the details of what occurred when he was in the hospital, preferring instead to keep it to herself. He had to work with the detective every day. Lacy had no evidence except for her memory which meant Jason would have to choose between them. She didn’t want to make him choose, and she didn’t question her motivation. Was she being altruistic, or was she too afraid that he wouldn’t choose her? It was better not to know.

She let herself into her room, popped out her itchy contacts, and stepped into the shower. Kimber was still asleep. She took the longest, hottest shower she could stand, until her shivering gave way to raw, red skin and shrunken fingertips. The sight of her wrinkled, pruny skin was what finally compelled her to turn off the water; it was too reminiscent of the dead woman a few stories below.

When she was finished with her shower, she tried to put in her contacts to no avail. They burned. Either they had absorbed too much chlorine or her eyes were irritated from the chemicals. Instead she reached for her glasses and began a frantic search of her bag. Where was her pomade? There was one brand of hair product that worked to tame frizz. She had been using it faithfully since college. How was it possible that she had not included it in her bag? She would have to stop by her house and pick it up, but by then the damage would be done. Outside the air was thick and humid, the perfect recipe for frizz. Her hair was somewhere between straight and curly. Without the pomade, it would never behave.

She stared at herself in the mirror, scowling at her reflection. Glasses, frizzy hair, and a red, bumpy chin. If she added twenty five pounds, she could be staring at her senior picture. “Why, yes, I am dating Jason Cantor,” she whispered and then turned away with a groan. No one would ever believe her, and why should they? She could hardly believe it herself.

For once the sound of the dentist’s tool was blessed relief. The high-pitched whir was so loud and piercing that it drowned out any of Lacy’s thoughts. She was thankful for the reprieve, but it was over too soon. The dentist smoothed the rough edge of her tooth and gave her a stern look.

“Your wisdom teeth are about to erupt,” he declared.

“Will there be lava?” Lacy asked. She didn’t understand his grave tone.

“They’re pushing your teeth. Do you still wear your retainer?”

“No,” she mumbled, feeling thirteen all over again.

“Wear it until we get these teeth out, or you’ll have to get braces again,” he warned.

She had used Kimber’s car to drive to the dentist because it was on the opposite edge of town. Now she drove to her grandmother’s house and let herself in. Tosh and Riley were on the couch, making out like the world was about to end. Lacy slammed the door and they jumped apart.

“I would tell you to get a room, but you already have one at the hotel, and you’re not using it,” Lacy said. “Also, gross. What is wrong with you two?”

“I stopped in to check for some mail I was expecting,” Riley explained. “And Tosh stopped by and…wait, why am I explaining this to you? We’re married. It’s none of your business. Why do you look like you were caught in a cyclone?”

Lacy pushed the mass of frizz off her face. “I forgot my hair product. And I need my retainers, apparently.”

“Because you hatched a new plan to drive all the eligible men away like St. Patrick and the snakes of Ireland?” Riley guessed. Tosh gave her a high five for the St. Patrick reference.

Lacy ignored her, went into the bathroom, and retrieved her hair product. She kissed it and clutched it close. “Tomorrow,” she promised. There was no way she would let the anti-frizz agent out of her sight again. She also opened the medicine cabinet, rinsed her retainers, and popped them in her mouth. They hurt. Her teeth had moved more than she realized because the pressure was intense. A headache started at the base of her jaw and quickly spread to the rest of her cranium. She stuffed a couple of aspirin in her mouth and drank from the faucet to wash them down, drooling a little because of her retainers. She turned away from the mirror before she could catch sight of herself; she didn’t want to know how bad she looked.

“I need to go to work,” Tosh said as Lacy left the bathroom. He looked and sounded reluctant.

“Why don’t you tell Attila that you’re spending the day shopping for furniture with your wife,” Riley suggested.