I Spy Dead People (10 page)

It's Linzy.

 

All my life Dad's dealt with the dead. I've seen death certificates, pictures of murder scenes, and corpses. Each year my life has been consumed with one person's death. One full school grade. This year is supposed to be about Cameron and his embezzling accountant. Not a fourteen-year-old actress. Not someone I've seen walking around and live across from. The deaths have always been in the past, old news. Not current. And definitely not in the flesh.

I've never seen a dead body in person before.

I'm seated sideways on the back seat of Chief Williams' car. The door is open, and my feet are on the ground. I refuse to look at them, don't want to think about Linzy's long, dark hair twirled around them.

This area of the river is mobbed with police, paramedics, and watchers. The cops have roped off the area with that yellow police tape, and a few officers stand behind it, making sure no one crosses over.

After I stopped hyperventilating, I wanted to text Kinley first, but it didn't seem like the right thing to do, so I called 911. I also called Dad. He's talking with the chief now. They're huddled a few feet away. Kinley and Troy are behind the tape with the rest of the town. I caught a glimpse of the Abbotts rushing toward their daughter. I hope I didn't get her in trouble.

The medical examiner arrived a few minutes ago, and he's down by the water's edge with Linzy's body. They pulled her out immediately, so the water wouldn't wash her away. I've been trying to listen to what's being said around me. I flipped off Emotional Piper and am in PI Piper mode. It makes it all less nauseating.

Dad and the chief stop talking and walk to her car. She gets into the back seat, beside me, while Dad stays outside and stands by the hood. I swing my feet in, turning toward the chief, but leave my door open.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, Piper," she says.

I nod, shudder, and nod again, trying not to re-imagine it, but of course Linzy's bloated face resurfaces to the front of my mind. Luckily it was dark, so I didn't get that long or good of a look, which makes me a hypocrite. How can I be a PI or any kind of detective if I can't visually examine a dead body? That was my moment, and I blew it. And on top of it, I screamed. Like one of those damsels in the movies. Thankfully no one was around to hear me.

"I need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?" Chief Williams asks.

I glance to Dad, who gives me a weak smile. "I've already told what happened to the two police officers who arrived first. Do I have to say it all again?"

She places her hand on mine. It's warm and comforting, and it helps me to stop shivering. Some. "Please. It would help so much if I can hear all the details firsthand."

I take a deep breath. "Okay." It's not like I have a choice, and I really want to help. I feel a bit responsible, although I'm not sure why. And as far as I know, I'm the last person who saw Linzy alive.

"So tell me why you were over here, away from the crowd and Troy and Kinley."

Oh crap. I forgot all about that, and now I have to tell her?

I look down at the seat. Floodlights that the cops assembled cast a block of light over our hands. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." Her answer isn't mean, but it's firm and startles me a bit. This isn't just telling something embarrassing to a mom, she's the freaking Chief of Detectives. It's a huge deal.

"Well, I needed a minute to myself." There. That's not so bad.

"Why? Did you and Kinley or Troy have an argument?"

Damn. Of course she'd push further. I should've seen that coming.

"No. I just…" I glance up at her. "It's hard to say."

"I need you to try harder, Piper."

But I don't want to. I feel my nose get that tingly feeling when I'm about to cry, and I really don't want to do that now either.

After a few seconds of silence, she says, "Right now, all I know is that you are the last person to see Linzy alive. You say she talked to someone in a car then walked off. No one, not her family, her best friend, or her co-workers saw her that night or since. And now you are the one who discovers her body. Do you understand how that looks?"

No, I don't understand. I look into her eyes, but it's too dark to really see them. Her mouth is set into a grim line, and while her touch is gentle, the rest of her seems tense. I repeat her words in my head. It's as if she's saying I had something to do with Linzy's death.

Ohmigod.

I widen my eyes. "No, I didn't kill her. Was she killed? She didn't just drown? Ohmigod."

The chief grips my arm and squeezes gently. "Take a breath, and tell me what happened."

I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Dad must've noticed the chief handling me, or my outburst, because he leans forward, ready to pounce on us. "What's going on?" he shouts.

Chief Williams holds up an index finger to him. To me she says, "Would you rather he sit with us?"

I shake my head. "No."

She leans back and yells through the window to Dad that everything is fine.

I give him a fake smile to calm him down. The last thing I want is for Dad to overhear what I'm about to say.

She gives me her attention. "Okay, so why did you walk off?"

"I got confused. I thought Troy was going to kiss me. He was so close. So I leaned forward to kiss him, and he pulled away. I jumped up and ran off because I made a huge butt out of myself. I was mortified and wanted a minute alone." The words tumble from my mouth. I'd never make a good criminal.

She smirks. "Is that all?"

I can't tell if she's asking if there's more to tell or if she's totally invalidating my feelings. Either way, I say, "Yes. You won't tell my dad that part, will you? Please." I'm completely prepared to beg.

"No, I won't tell, but he'll probably ask."

Oh, he'll definitely ask, which means I'll have to lie. As awful as that sounds, it's the only way to save my future social life.

"Okay, so you ran off…then what?"

I tell her about texting Kinley and standing at the water's edge and all the deets up to and including seeing Linzy and dialing 911.

She listens hard and interrupts to ask little questions, like "Did you see anyone else in the area?" But I don't know more than what I tell her. Then I run out of details, and she's quiet.

She pats my hand. "Thank you, Piper. If I have any more questions, I'll let you know. You can go home now."

I smile. Please don't have any more.

She starts to get out of the car and looks back. "I don't think Troy or anyone your age should get serious so young, but just so you know, boys are sometimes clueless and act dumb. I hope you won't throw away a friendship over it."

Then she steps out of the car and walks to Dad.

I lean my head against the back of the seat. I don't want to see Troy right away. I'm not sure I can survive the humiliation. But I definitely want him as a friend. I just hope he feels the same.

My stomach rumbles with guilt that I'm thinking about boys and kisses and my mortification when a girl is dead.

 

* * *

 

On the drive home, my thoughts travel to Vincent and Mom, but mostly my brother. I was four when he died. Did I go to his funeral and see his dead body? Was there an open casket or closed? I ask Dad.

He glances at me then back to the road. "Yes, you were there for the funeral, but not at the wake. That's where he was laid out and everyone went up to him to say their good-byes."

I imagine a room full of people dressed in black crying over his small body. That had to suck. "Why wasn't I there?"

"Your mom and I thought it would be too hard for you. You didn't understand that he was gone for good. An older cousin watched you and a couple of other cousins your age."

"I remember Mom crying all the time."

He nods but doesn't say anything. I watch his Adam's Apple push out then back in.

"Is it still hard?"

"You never get over losing a child." His voice is tight.

"I feel bad for the Quinns."

He pulls into our driveway, turns off the motor, and squeezes my hand. "Me too, sweetie."

We sit there in silence for several minutes. I want to ask why Mom left. Again. But I want the real, nitty, gritty reason and not the polite version Dad's told me every other time I've asked. "She couldn't deal with losing your brother."

Yeah, I know that has to be true. But there's something in the way he says it, the look of guilt or fear that clouds his face. And then there's the time I overheard one of my great-aunts say to another, "Maybe Vinnie should've taken her to a shrink."

Did Mom have a nervous breakdown, and that's why Dad never talks about that time, her, or my brother? I glance at him, the questions on my tongue, but when I notice the tenseness in his jaw, I chicken out and clamp my mouth shut. Part of me is afraid of his answers. Sometimes the fantasy is better than the reality.

Simultaneously Dad and I get out and walk to our front door. While Dad unlocks it, I glance at the Quinn house. It's dark, no lights on. In fact, the entire block is quiet. It feels as if no one is home in any house, although there are cars in most of the driveways, including Kinley's. When I get upstairs I'll text her.

Dad doesn't immediately go into his office. He stands in the foyer, playing with his keys. "Are you hungry? I think there's leftover pizza."

I shake my head. I have no interest in food. "I'm just tired."

He pulls me into his arms and rests his chin on the top of my head. "I love you, honey."

"I love you too, Dad." His shirt muffles my words.

"I'm glad you're okay."

I tighten my arms around him. "Yep."

"I'm sorry you had to see Linzy like that."

Bloated, frozen, and deformed looking? Yeah, me too.

He kisses my head. "Get a good night sleep."

"You too. Don't stay up late. You need your beauty sleep." I pull back and smile.

He chuckles, and I head up.

At the top of the stairs, I listen to his office door slide shut, then step into my room and flick the wall switch. The bedside lamp snaps on, and I gasp.

Lying on my bed is Linzy.

 

Her dark hair sprawls across my pillows like tendrils, and I immediately think of Ursula from
The Little Mermaid
, except Linzy's not voluptuous or purple. Although there is a blue-tinge around her lips and fingernails.

She's wearing the yellow, floral mini skirt and white top. From this distance I can see little white holes along the shirt's ruffled collar. I think they're called eyelets. A thin, white belt wraps around her waist and a beige fabric choker circles her neck. It has an old-fashioned, oval cameo at the center, which lies flat against her throat. For some reason she's barefoot. She's perfected the old Hollywood glam look with soft red lipstick, thick black eyeliner, and long, fake lashes.

It was dark at the river, but she's dressed exactly the same as she was there and the night I followed her. Her skin is pale, but she's no longer wet, as if someone dried her off and placed her on my bed.

This is a joke, a dream. I'm seeing things, and I've officially lost my mind, but I don't think insanity runs in the family. I open my mouth to call Dad, and her eyes open. I scream, and she bolts up, which makes me scream again.

"Why are you yelling?" A scowl covers her face.

"Piper?" Dad shouts. His heavy footsteps race upstairs. He turns the corner, into my room, and plows into me.

I stumble forward and crash onto my bed, right beside her.

"What's wrong?" His eyes are wide. Color has seeped from his face, but he's not nearly as pale as Linzy.

I look from him to her. Isn't it obvious?

He looks around the room and straight at Linzy twice, but he isn't reacting to the dead-live girl on my bed. "What happened?"

"It's Linzy." My skin breaks out with dread-filled goose bumps.

Linzy scoots off my bed and stands before Dad. She raises her arms and waves them in his face.

He doesn't react. In fact, he seems to look through her. "What about her?"

She turns her head toward me. "He can't see me."

She drops her arms then plops back onto my bed. "You couldn't see me before today either."

Before today? What the heck is going on?

I'm not stupid. On some level I get it, but it hasn't fully seeped in yet, and a huge part of me wants to deny, deny, deny.

Dad runs a hand through his hair. He pulls so hard, I see parts of his scalp. "I know this is tough on you. It's why I keep you out of my office. Death is difficult to process."

It would be a lot easier if the corpse wasn't talking to me.

"Maybe Chief Williams knows of a good grief counselor."

He wants to send me to a shrink? "Dad, I don't need a therapist."

Linzy rolls her eyes. "My dad tried sending my sister to one once. Mom had a fit. 'We can't tarnish Linzy's reputation'. As if that wouldn't come back to haunt me. He's so clueless." She laughs. "Haunt me." And she laughs harder.

I scoff. "Wow, selfish much?"

She quirks an eyebrow and examines her French manicure.

Dad scoffs. "How am I being selfish?"

Oops. I scramble for a convincible lie. "I'm just joking."

Linzy smirks. "Yeah, he'll buy that one."

"How is calling your father selfish a joke?"

I grab his arm and turn him toward my door. "It's from a show. You wouldn't understand. Sorry I worried you, Dad. I'm fine. You can go back to work now."

"But you screamed."

"Yeah, I saw a spider. It crawled back out the window though. False alarm."

Linzy chuckles.

He stops in the hall and pulls me into a hug. "You're not usually afraid of bugs. You sure you're okay?"

"Yep, fine." I say into his chest. "Just frazzled and need sleep."

He kisses the top of my head. "Okay. Don't worry about getting up early tomorrow."

"I won't."

He heads to the top of the stairs, and I shut my door.

"He's suffocating," Linzy says with a dramatic breath.

I wait until I hear his footsteps hit the last step and walk into his office. "No, he's not. It's called caring about someone. Don't your folks dote over you?"