The Skeleton Haunts a House (23 page)

I
was never sure which lever Deborah had used to get Oscar to help: the opportunity to repay our discretion in regards to him being the ninja, a chance to show up the “real cops,” or the hint that she might not be unwilling to go out with him. Whatever the reason, him being there meant the police showed up with admirable speed, and they listened to our explanations with a lot less skepticism than they might have had otherwise. With so many witnesses, they had to arrest Alexis.

The charge was going to be police obstruction or lying to the police or whatever applied when somebody framed another person for murder, but everybody seemed pretty sure that that was just a preliminary for the murder charge to come. Which caused considerable cheer. I joined in as best I could and ate my share of Stewpot's special party cupcakes, but my heart wasn't in it. That was part of the reason I begged off from spending a little quiet time with Brownie for a special celebration for two. The other part was knowing that Sid was waiting in the duffel bag.

So I smiled, gave Brownie a pretty decent kiss, and drove my parents and Madison home. Sid bounced out of the bag for more congratulations, and my parents even joined in on the resulting dance party. We kept it short because it was a school night for Madison and a work night for me.

I'd thought I was faking my happiness pretty well, but Sid can see through me almost as well as I can see through him, and he pulled me up to the attic for a chat.

“So, high five for another successful case?”

I obliged.

“You call that a high five? More like a low one and a half. What's wrong?”

“I don't know, Sid. It just doesn't feel finished. What if Alexis didn't kill Kendall after all?”

“Do you think that story about the gloves being mailed to her could be true?”

“I admit it sounds phony, but she sounded sincere. Rude and awful, but sincere. You're better than I am with voices. Did you think she was telling the truth?”

He hesitated, but finally nodded. “I hate to say this, but either she was telling the truth or she is the best liar in the world. Besides, the way she reacted when Brownie tried to pretend he'd seen her the night of the murder makes no sense if she was the killer.”

“I think she was expecting ‘Scooby' to blackmail her for planting evidence, not for killing Kendall.”

“If Alexis didn't kill Kendall, then who did?”

“I have no idea. I'm too tired to even think straight.”

“Buck up, Georgia. If nothing else, we've cleared Linda. Louis said she'll be out of jail by morning. And that'll make Roxanne happy, or at least less of a pain. That's good, right?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and managed to muster up enough of a smile to reassure him. It just didn't last long enough to reassure me.

T
he next morning I kept up the pretense of satisfied delight for the benefit of my parents and Madison, but stayed away from the adjunct office because I knew news about the night's adventures would have spread and I didn't want to deal with Sara Weiss and her gossip mania. I wasn't really up for talking to Brownie or Charles, either, so I decided to go home after my third class. Nobody was likely to show up for office hours on a lovely Friday afternoon anyway, especially not when it was the final weekend of the Halloween Howl.

My cell phone rang as I was driving home.

“Hello?”

“Georgia, this is Oscar. I thought you'd want to know that Linda Zaharee has been released, and Alexis Primo has been charged with tampering with evidence and whatever else they can pin on her.”

“What about the murder?”

“Yeah, about that. You know how she said she got the bloody gloves in the mail? She actually produced the box
they were mailed in. Stains on the box prove the gloves were placed in the box while the blood was wet, and the box was postmarked the Saturday of the murder.”

“She could have mailed them to herself.”

“We thought of that, but we did some checking on the package.”

“We?”

“The real cops let me sit in.”

“Good for you.”

“Anyway, the package was mailed from the self-service machine at the Elm Street post office, and the time stamp is seven o'clock.”

“Before the body was found?”

“That's right. Nadine Seger and Vanessa Yount swear Alexis was with them at that time, and before you say they could be lying, we've got outside verification from some people they were talking to at that time. Alexis did not mail that package.”

“I don't suppose postage was paid for with a credit card.”

“No such luck.”

“Any security cameras at the post office?”

“The sender was in costume, including a mask. Would you believe it was Batman?”

“Was there a Batman in the haunt?”

“According to your sister and several scare actors, a number of Batmen went through McHades. Apparently it's a hot costume this year.”

“What if Batman was Alexis's confederate? She could have passed the gloves on to him as soon as she left the haunt and then—” I sighed. “Sorry, I'll stop. Alexis didn't kill Kendall, did she?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“Coccyx!”

“Beg pardon?”

“Sorry, I'm just frustrated. Thanks for letting me know, Oscar.”

Mom and Phil's car was missing from the driveway when I got home, which was a relief. I didn't want to give them the bad news right away. There was no escaping telling Sid, though, so after a quick dog-patting break, I trudged up to his room.

As soon as he saw me, he said, “Don't say it. I can tell from the way you're walking. Alexis didn't kill Kendall.”

“No.”

“And we have no idea who did.”

“No.”

“And you need a hug.”

“Yes.”

Sid really is a good hugger, despite his lack of padding, and this time I think he needed the hug as much as I did.

“On the good side,” he said, “we have one less suspect.”

“I'm not entirely comforted by that.”

“Take what you can get.”

“All right, then, we can eliminate two other suspects while we're at it: Nadine and Vanessa. They all alibi one another.”

“Good. Are we still assuming the cops would have found any viable motives among Kendall's family and boyfriend?”

“I think we have to.”

“And are we still thinking there's a connection with the Devil's Divas?”

“There has to be, Sid. Kendall never did anything else to make somebody want to kill her.”

“The problem is that the cops have the Diva data now, so they'll be all over that.”

“Maybe not. They probably have to jump through legal hoops to get access to the information.”

“You're right! We've still got the edge—I've got a list of the Divas' victims for the past year. If I correlate those with
the people who were at the haunt . . . First things first. I'm going to need a new spreadsheet.”

He started tapping energetically.

First things first . . . “Sid, if you were trying to make amends to people you'd harmed, who would you go to first? The oldest or the most recent?”

“Why?”

“Kendall went after Madison after she stopped harassing Linda. But she never apologized to Madison, which means she wasn't starting with her most recent victims.”

“So you think she started at the beginning of her reign of terror, not the end? That would mean there are people out there to whom she has already confessed, and so I should be looking for earlier victims. That makes sense.”

“Can I help?”

“I wouldn't mind your company.”

“Sure. It's the least I can do.” I looked over his shoulder as he scrolled through posts and put names into his spreadsheet.

One post was nothing but the names of the Divas and numbers. “What's this?”

He looked disgusted. “You remember how I said the Divas were keeping score? This is their running tally for how much pain they caused their victims. Getting somebody upset enough to reply counted as a point, with another point if the person tried to troll back, blocked them, or reported them to Facebook. For people they saw in person, they scored for causing major change in behavior like screwing up grades; getting kicked off a sports team; or fighting with a friend, teacher, or significant other. And get this! They got twenty points if a victim came to one of the Divas and confided that she was being bullied.”

“That's just evil.”

“They spent an inordinate amount of time arguing over
points. Did crying in class count more than crying during lunch? Did failing an exam count for more than just failing a normal test or a quiz?”

“Why is Kendall's score so much higher?” It was almost a hundred points higher than Alexis's, who was in second place.

“I wondered about that, too. I can't see that she bullied any worse or more often than the others, but I saw a couple of references to her ‘big score,' so she must have really gotten to one of her victims. Maybe somebody flunked out completely or left town.”

He kept working, and I thought about all the essays my students had written about the effects of bullying. I'd read examples of everything the Divas had scored for, and worse. “Sid, what about suicide? An awful lot of teen suicides are caused by bullying, and I bet the Divas would give Kendall a lot of points for that.”

“Sacrum, Georgia! Even if Kendall was trying to reform, she couldn't ever make amends for that. What could she do? Apologize to a tombstone?”

“She could apologize to somebody's family. Maybe that was who she spoke to first—not the oldest victim or the most recent, but the one she hurt the most. What if that person's family wasn't willing to accept her apology?”

“I'll keep looking.”

While he scrolled, I continued to make connections. “Remember how the crew was talking about the haunt really being haunted?”

“I didn't mean to scare everybody.”

“It's not your fault—they was nervous that night. Besides, I'd heard them talking about the place being haunted before. Somebody claimed there had been a suicide in the building.”

“None of the McQuaids committed suicide. I checked.”

“Did you check to see if anybody else killed himself there?”

“I never thought of that. Let me see what I can find. Search terms ‘suicide' and ‘McQuaid.'”

He started typing so quickly that he forgot to muffle the sound of bone against key, going from screen to screen faster than I could read. “Found it! A suicide six years ago. No, false alarm. A Pennycross student hanged herself, but she wasn't at McQuaid when it happened. She was at home.”

“Why did that show up in your search?”

“Hang on.” He winced. “Strike that. Okay, now I see. The victim's body was discovered by a McQuaid student.”

“So is the victim connected to any of our zillion suspects?”

“Her name was . . .” His eyes widened impossibly. “Oh, my spine and femur. The victim was Doreen Beale.”

“Beale?”

“And her body was discovered by her sister: Roxanne Beale.”

“O
ur Roxanne Beale? Why did I never hear about this?”

“Where were you living six years ago?”

“Umm . . . Okay, I don't remember offhand, but wherever it was, it wasn't Pennycross. And if I had heard, it probably wouldn't have meant anything because I didn't know Roxanne then.”

“Right. I didn't find a lot of hits for the story, so I guess it wasn't considered that big a deal. I know I never heard anything about it.”

“Unless the victim is a celebrity or it takes place in public, a suicide doesn't get that much attention. What happened?”

“Hold on, I'm reading. Okay, high school student Doreen Beale, parents thought she'd been a little glum but chalked it up to teenage angst—”

“It says that?”

“Not in so many words, just that they didn't think her moodiness was that serious. Doreen was supposed to meet her sister Roxanne at the movies, but Roxanne was late. When
Roxanne finally arrived, she assumed Doreen was somewhere in the theater and took a seat in the back to watch the rest of the movie. She couldn't find Doreen afterward, and she didn't answer her cell phone, so Roxanne went home to see if she was there. That's when she found Doreen hanging in her closet. There was a note, which referred to nobody liking her. As a contributing factor, when the police looked at the e-mails on her computer, it turned out that she'd been bullied online. There were messages calling her a nerd, a geek, ugly, fat, and stupid. They said she ought to kill herself and make the world a better place. The cyberbully was never found, but I think we both know who it must have been.”

“No wonder Kendall was the reigning champion. She convinced somebody to commit suicide. Then years later, she tried to apologize.”

“I can't even picture that. ‘Sorry I caused your sister's death.' Or maybe she went to their parents instead, which is even worse.” He shuddered noisily. “Remind me why we care about Kendall's murder?”

“It's getting hard for me, too, Sid, but she did seem to be trying to change. And let's not forget that Roxanne was willing to let Linda suffer, so I'm not giving her a pass.”

“Right. So how did Roxanne know Kendall was going to McHades?”

“She could have called to find out when Kendall was going to be in town so they could talk in person. It would be natural to ask what she'd be doing while she was here, and McHades would be the perfect place. Roxanne has been on campus for over a decade, and probably went through McHades multiple times over the years and could easily have had an opportunity to get a key to the building.”

Sid took over. “So she went in beforehand to scope the place out, and got the bat and gloves ready. Then, on the night of the murder, she dressed as Batman to conceal her face and
even make it fuzzy whether it was a man or a woman. She waited until she saw Kendall and the other Divas getting in line, then got right behind them so she'd be in the same group or the next one. How did she know Kendall was afraid of zombies?”

“That may have just been luck. Maybe her original idea was to club Kendall out in the open, thinking nobody would pay attention in the middle of all the zombies running around. Or maybe she planned to get her in that hallway between the detention hall and the zombie party and then escape through the passages. But when Kendall was so scared she backed up against the curtain, that was the perfect opportunity. Afterward, Roxanne left the bat but took the gloves to mail to Alexis.”

“Do you think Kendall told her about the other Divas?”

“Either she did or Roxanne figured it out herself. We don't have to work out every detail this time, Sid. We're telling the police everything we know and letting them take over. Agreed?”

“Agreed. We're not taking any chances with her.”

“I just want to tell Mom first. I don't know when she's coming back—”

“She and your father are back. I heard them come in while I was typing.”

“Then let's get this over with. Mom's going to be so upset that she's been working with a murderer. I'm creeped out just knowing she's been in our house.”

“Yeah, that's too much Halloween for me.”

“Give me a couple of minutes' head start and I'll make sure the drapes are all drawn.”

It turned out to be a good thing that I went down first. Roxanne Beale was sitting at my dining room table, right next to my mother.