I Spy Dead People (32 page)

  I had no clue who Spence Wiggins was, but I didn't tell her that.  For all I knew the guy sat at the same lunch table as us every freaking day.  “Right.  Spence.  I've only been in the lobby.  It's pretty fancy.” 

“You have no clue who Spence is, do you?”

Crap.  Clearly she already knew me too well, which felt dangerous.  “Not completely,” I hedged.

“He's that guy I dated at the beginning of the year.”

Whew.  I didn't feel too bad.  I'd barely known her then, and Metro High was massive.  Our class had a good seven hundred people in it.  “Oh right, him.”  For some reason I'd been certain that guy's name was Stewie.  Go figure.

“Anyway, whatever.  He lived there for like a year.  It's totally posh.  Ridiculous.  They won't let you in without, like, written permission.  Anyway, why do you want to call Harrison?”

“I told you, I need to ask him something.” 

“Out?”

It took me a second to figure out what she meant.  “No, not out.  Why is everything about dating to you?  I just need to ask him about something he told me yesterday.”

“Harrison is cute enough.  And his dad is Van Poe.  That's all you really need to know.”  What she meant was Harrison's dad was Van, and that made him cute enough.  “How'd you find out he lives across the street?”

Lying came so easily to me it was almost pathetic.  But I couldn't give away Harrison's secrets.  That would be totally uncool of me.  “I ran into him on the sidewalk.  We talked for a few minutes, and I found out he lives across the street.  It was pretty uneventful actually.  Do you have his number or not?”

Sam caught on to the fact that I was getting impatient, but that made her more suspicious of my motives.  “Okay, okay.  I'm dying to know what you're going to ask him, though.”

“I lost something,” I lied again.  “I was hoping maybe I left it behind on the sidewalk.”

“Oh.”  Disappointment rang clear in her voice.  “Well, tell him I said hi.”

“Sure.”  Because they were such good friends before this moment, on account of the fact she'd known exactly who I was referring to. 

Sam rattled off the number, and I said goodbye.  I didn't bother to write the number down.  As aforementioned, like Sam with most people's names, I always remember numbers. 

I spent an hour debating whether or not offering Harrison my help would be getting too involved.  I had standards of staying out of other people's business to maintain. 

And I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted from him or what I was willing to offer.  I just knew he needed help that I was in the position to give.  I also knew I needed money, something he was in the position to give.

I dialed, hung up, and then dialed again.  I wasn't nervous.  But I wasn't sure I'd made the right choice, either.  Before I could hang up again, someone picked up the line.  “Hello?” 

It was a woman.  No one I knew.  I hadn't realized Van Poe was married.  I'd simply assumed that, like everyone else in Hollywood, he was divorced.  “Can I…is Harrison there?”

I hated when I sounded stupid.  I wanted to launch into an explanation of why I was calling and that I wasn't trying to pick up on Harrison, but anything I said would only make it worse.  So I just clamped my jaw and waited. 

“Why you want him?”  Her accent was heavily Asian, maybe Japanese though I wasn't entirely sure, and her usage of the English language suggested she hadn't been here long.  “Who are you?”

“We're lab partners at school.  My name is Talia.  Jones.”

“You stay.  I get him.”  

Like I was going to hang up now.  I already felt curiously like I'd been grilled by the woman when she hadn't spoken but two lines to me.  It was her tone of voice, like I was some slutty girl after her son. 

“Hello?” 

“I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday.”

“Talia?” 

Okay, he hadn't been told who I was, despite the fact the woman had asked.  “Yeah.  I think…I think I can help you.”

 

THE TELL-TALE CON

 

 

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