Don't Forget to Breathe (19 page)

“When did you plan on telling me?” I responded in wide -eyed wonder.

“Cool idea, huh?” His head joggled, and his eyebrows arched over the rim of his glasses.

My mouth parted to deride him in public, but Marcy interjected, “That
is
a cool idea. Why didn’t we think of that?” Her hand then covered Becket’s which was now clutching the table. “See, Becket, I told you that Henry and Leo were hooking up.”

“No we’re not,” I said, shaking my head and set Marcy straight. “Henry and I are
not
hooking up.”

“The two of you hang twenty-four-seven. We all assumed you’re together. You’re so
perfect
for each other.” Marcy cast Becket a clever, lipless grin, proof I was lying.

“Henry, I hope you’re done with that doughnut because I’m going home.” The shoddy day was getting shoddier, and the legs of my chair chafed the tile as I stood.

Marcy’s comment gifted Henry with a jolly expression which bugged me even more. He issued Becket an, ‘
I told you so
,’ leer. I restrained my will power not to smack the jolliness from his ruddy face. I turned and stormed from Earl’s.

Once in the car, I gave him a scathing look.

“I said that to yank Marcy and Becket’s chain.” A mischievous snicker jumbled from his chest.

“Not funny. I’d never spend a night with you and certainly not in that haunted house.”

“Thanks for sticking a knife through my heart.” The snickering died in his throat. “I think Marcy’s right. We are perfect for each other.”

“Not in this lifetime.” I’d struck a nerve. Henry’s expression turned ruthless, his nostrils flared and his skin rucked up around his lips.

He drilled the car in gear and tires smoked on the stony lot. Pebbles hurtled, bouncing off Earl’s brick wall and rebounded onto the car sounding like the ting of bullets riddling metal.

Henry zoomed around Terrace Circle. The car tilted on its axis, I thought for sure we were going to crash into the village gazebo. My fingers dug into the vinyl seat, a measure of pure survival.

“Slow down,” I yelped.

The car whizzed by Westgate Boulevard. “I want you to take me home.”

He averted his head from the road to me, his eyes fierce. “I didn’t think you were a gullible girl. But you’re just like all the rest of them.”

“Henry James, what are you talking about? And slow down before you get a speeding ticket.” The car slowed and I breathed easier.

“You’re a sucker for Kane’s looks. He’s a player.”

“A player?”

“He’s one of those guys that likes to have more than one girl at a time. I see how much you idolize him.”

“I don’t
idolize
, Becket.” I tugged the collar of my jacket to hug my neck. “I don’t know him that well.”

“I’m not ignorant.” He browsed the palm of his hand along the steering wheel. “I’ve learned enough about this stinking village in one month than you’ll ever know. You’re a dope, Leo. Kane’s humping Marcy and has you waiting in the wings.” He hesitated, throwing me a repugnant glance. “Unless you’ve already—you and Kane?”

“Henry, you’re so sick. Even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” I didn’t appreciate his smack talk. “Just take me home.”

“I want to check something out at the mansion.”

“Henry, it’s late.” I thumped the vinyl seat with my fist. “You promised I’d only be gone for an hour, and it’s past that now.”

“Appease me…please.” He prevailed, course-plotting onto Lucien Court. “It’ll only take a minute.” Feeling like a kidnap victim, I wanted to jump from the moving car. Then he stupefied me by saying, “Your mom’s picture is back.” Parking, he leapt out.

Hooked like a stagnant fish, I trotted after him. The place was much easier to get in since the police dislodged the bolted chain. Henry removed a flashlight from somewhere, like he’d charted this little investigation from the moment he called.

“Why didn’t you just bring me here right away if you’d known about her picture reappearing. Why take the long route to Earl’s?”

“Before I called, I was driving around and saw Kane and Marcy. I wanted you to see them together, with your own eyes.”

Was I supposed to be grateful
?

We climbed the all-too-familiar staircase and it groaned under our footsteps like it rejected our presence. My body jolted with the ring of my cell. I fished in my pocket and read the caller name. I glanced at Henry who’d seen his name. His lips twisted. I muted Becket’s call, and continued onward.

Hearing a ghostly wail, I froze.

“It’s the wind,” he whispered and linked his arm through mine.

A dark movement caught my eye. “That’s not the wind.” Henry hacked the light into the extended hallway. Running footsteps and a thud like a hand banged the wall. “Let’s get out of here. The ghosts are restless.”

“Not until you see this.” He persisted and manipulated an anchoring hold, redirecting us into the shadows.

“Aren’t we going to the attic?”

“No, it’s not there.”

The flashlight scarcely made an impression into the windowless hallway, and exerting it like a machete, chopped through pesky cobwebs. He stopped at a hefty, six-paneled doorframe. “I could’ve sworn I blocked this door open with a pillow before I left,” he whispered more to himself than to me. “It’s in here.” The door squeaked as Henry flashed the light into the room.

A gargantuan canopied bed commandeered the bedroom, flaunting inlaid carvings on the four pillars, headboard and matching armoire stood on the far wall. Henry pulled me farther into the room and centered the light on Mom’s picture. There it was—relocated.

“Since we’re here, we can make use of the bed.” Before I had a chance to digest his intent, his arms fastened around me and his mouth suppressed my gripes. Taking me for a body ride, he scuttled backwards to the canopied bed.

As soon as his grip slackened, I seethed, “I’m going to punch the daylights out of you!”—and shoved him off.

Henry laughed and loped like a gazelle onto the bed. He compressed the mattress, inviting me to join him. “Spring loaded for lots of pounding. Let’s try it out.”

“Is this your idea of a come on? Did you hang the picture in here?”

“No, it wasn’t me, but you can coax it out of me.”

“You dung heap. It’s been you all along hasn’t it?”

“
I said no
. C’mere. Lay with me and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Go eff yourself.” I booted the bed frame with my sneaker.

“That hurt.” He acted mopey. “I knew it had to be here somewhere.”

Suspicious, I searched his face for the lie. “Why didn’t Dyl tear this place apart?”

“How do we know he didn’t?” he said and cradled his hands under his head.

“A trap to cull out the murderer?” Warming up, I unbuttoned my jacket. “Do you think so?”

“It wouldn’t prove who killed your mom.” He looked content on the bed. “An admirer could’ve put it here, someone like Kane.”

“What makes you say that?”

He snicker-snorted. “You’d be shocked what I dug up on him.”

“Put it to rest. Becket and my mother—No way.” I rubbed an itch on the side of my nose. “But, you might be on the right track. Why would the killer memorialize her like this?”

“A real sicko, that’s who.”

“Detective Dyl thinks her killer is connected to Dave and Skip.”

“He told you that?” Henry rolled to the border of the mattress.

“He said it was confidential. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

“I’m like your best friend. Best friends kind of confide in one another.” He looked testy. “I bet you told Nona.”

I didn’t want to argue. “Let’s get out of here. Something’s not kosher. I’m going to call the detective and tell him what we found.”

“He might think we planted it here.”

“Oh-h, I never thought of that.”

Suddenly, the hefty, six-paneled door slammed shut.

Henry bounced off the bed. “Who’s out there?” He shined the flashlight on the door.

Neither one of us moved, though, my body jiggled like a bowl full of jelly.

“Probably a draft,” he whispered.

“It’d be some draft to heave that door.” I thought of hiding underneath the bed. “I think someone’s in here. Those were real footsteps we heard earlier.”

“Whoever it is doesn’t want to hurt us.” The beam of light juddered on the door, Henry’s hand was trembling.

“What makes you say that?” My voice wavered. “I feel pretty vulnerable right now, like a sitting dead duck.”

“He shut us in to make a getaway, probably.”

“If you’re right,”—sounding inconclusive—“we wait here.” We stood like perpetual statues, though, Henry ruined the stillness.

“He has to be gone.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The guy would have to be a bumbling cripple not to be gone by now. Let’s go.”

“He could be hiding in any one of the dozen rooms.”

“If he’s hiding, then he’s not after us. We’ll run. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry,” I stated, “even if Lucien and Monique get in my face, I’m breezing right through them.” Creeping like conjoined Siamese twins; Henry broke the seal of the door. Together, we peeked around the frame, and he shone the light along the pitch dark passage.

Utilizing his arm like a crowbar, Henry applied leverage to dislocate my clinging body. He pushed me into the hall.

“Run,” he said in a hush.

“Are you shitting me?” I gaped, feeling like the sacrificial lamb.

“You go first,” he said, “and I’ll follow.” He shone the light on my face, exposed and at risk for anyone to see.

“Why should I go first?”

“I have your back.”

“Fine.” My hand darted, robbing him of the flashlight. “I’ll take this.” And I took off like my life depended on the sixty-second dash. If only Star Hallow’s track and field coach could see me now, soaring over the stairs. I didn’t slow until I skittered beside the car.

A chuckle split my mouth as Henry implemented a windmill finish, his arms oscillating. He plowed into the hood of the car and his glasses slid to the tip of his nose.

“Hilarious,” he wheezed, winded. “Get in.”

When I arrived home the lights were off and Dad wasn’t on the couch. His bedroom door was shut, and more than likely he’d checked my room and discovered I wasn’t home.

I interred the past hours into the recesses of my cranium while toiling over homework and studied for the upcoming science test. During my session, three times I keyed in Nona’s number and three times I hesitated. If Nona was having relationship problems with Reggie, we could discuss it in the morning along with my newest adventure.

I hated lying in bed exhuming memories that streamed through my brain like a percolating tempest. There had been someone in the mansion tonight, Mom’s killer. I was sure of it. Wired and bewildered about life, I sprung up. My arms knotted as I plodded into the bathroom and downed a prescribed sleeping pill. Waiting for it to kick in I foraged through my closet searching for a dress to wear for the dance. Hooking onto the jumper I’d worn for Becket, I ripped it from the hanger, dropped it on the floor and gave it a good kick.

My head felt soupy with revolving thoughts of Becket’s jeweled eyes and his tasty kisses. I ditched the dress notion and burrowed under the covers, sinking into a timeless abyss—

I surpassed a warren of rooms until a faint glow seeped beneath a six-panel door. It parted to reveal a canopy bed hosting two canoodling bodies. Pale-golden locks and a muscled back drew my eyes downward to a rumpled sheet draping Becket’s hips. Lustful giggles resounded, Marcy’s raven hair flowing on a white pillowcase. I gasped and Becket twisted to look at me. He offered a beguiling smile and extended his arm.

My eyelids shuttered open and Henry’s words— “
He’s a player.
”— curdled my insides.

I’d risen after Dad’s exodus for work. He did leave a squiggly note on the table. It read:
Made an appointment with Dr. Mathias. With the anniversary coming up, it’s necessary
.
You’re not handing it well, kid
.

Miffed, I tore the paper into strips.

While drinking my orange juice a text jingled. Nona was waiting in the driveway. Flying out the door and into the car, I said, “How’d you luck out with your mom’s car today?” Nona was readjusting the driver’s side seat.

“I asked nicely and she said yes.
And—
” She held up a piece of paper. “A note from Mom to mollify Zweigler or piss her off.”

“Aw-w-esome.” We clapped a high-five. “Now we won’t have to suffer with Marcy and Blair in the school van.”

“You got that right. Is it alright if Grace comes with us?” She checked the rear view mirror, switching lanes to make the left hand turn toward the high school. “She’s had it with our exalted captain. We’ll all be happy to see them graduate.”

“Definitely.”

Nona grinned. “Mom left me with a full tank of gas. I promised to fill it up, though.”

“You didn’t show her your purchases, did you?”

Her attractive features contorted. “Are you kidding? She’d kill me.” In Nona fashion, she changed the subject. “I’m looking forward to getting spruced-up for the dance. What are you wearing?”

“I scrounged though my closet last night and got depressed. I’m not that thrilled. Actually I wish I wasn’t going.”

“I don’t blame you. You should’ve never told Henry you’d go with him. You’d be excited if it was Becket.”

“Are you sure”—cagily broaching—“that Becket isn’t more involved with Marcy?”

Her head shot in my direction, brow collected. “Not by what Reggie tells me. I think he’d know. Don’t you?”

I wrinkled my nose, unconvinced after that disgusting dream. “Remember when you said Becket was one of those love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guys?”

“You’re hedging at something,” she inferred. “Out with it. What’s tumbling around in that head of yours?”

“Do you think I’m next on his list of conquests after he’s done playing with Marcy?” I would’ve preferred a rapid response, but she hesitated. “You do—don’t you!”

She squirmed somewhat. “If I didn’t have Reggie, I’d shove you so fast you’d hit the pavement, and grab onto Becket for all it’s worth.”

“For all it’s worth?” My fingers danced unevenly on the seat. “Like a one nighter.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She banked into the school lot. “He’s dated mostly older girls that graduated and moved onto college.”

My fingers stilled. “Yeah, more experienced girls.”

“There were a few scandalous rumors.” She giggled. “Do you remember?”

“Like getting wasted and waking up naked with Joyce Winters on the football field,” I said. “Or when he climbed to the top of the rollercoaster in the middle of the night to prove he wasn’t scared of heights, and then—”

“Okay, okay, that was a long time ago,” Nona said. “So Becket’s not a perfect angel. Reggie says he’s a good guy and I believe him.”

“So you asked Reggie for Becket’s credentials?”

“Yes—for my
best friend
.” She looked earnest. “Leo, I basically did.”

Hours later, I roamed from class to class always on the lookout for that tall head of sleek hair. Not Becket, but the obnoxious Marcy strutted into view. “Hey, Leo. I put a good word in for you. Mrs. Zweigler said you can participate in the pep rally today and we’re riding together in the school’s van to Kensington.”

Like I really cared. “Thanks. But I’m hitching a ride with Nona.”

“Mrs. Zwiegler won’t like that,” her tone caustic. “We’re supposed to go in the van. School rules.”

“Nona will clear it with Zwiegler, I’m sure.”

“Is it true?” she spouted, veering off the main path of discussion. “Are you and Henry really staying at the mansion tomorrow night? I’ve only been in there once and it kind of freaked me out.”

Whether it was pure envy or downright stubbornness, I said, “Marcy, no matter what I say, you’ll twist my words to suit your goals.”

“You’re a meany today.” She twiddled with a corner of a purple folder she was holding. “It really is a good idea.” Her eyes turned up at the borders. “All those bedrooms. We could each have our own room for the night.”

“I thought you were staying at the Hyatt Regency?”

“That’s the plan. But we could only afford two rooms, and there’s like eight of us going. We have to double up on the beds.” Acting pious didn’t bode well on her. “A little uncomfortable, if you know what I mean.” The end of school bell trilled.

“Saved by the bell,” I said. “We’d better get ready for the rally.” My stomach turned to rot wondering about Becket and Marcy.

Relief was infectious as Grace, Nona and I happily pranced to the car after an entertaining, kickass pep rally. What took us by surprise was a beefy, squat man decked in a tweed sports coat waddling from out of nowhere. “Are you Leocadia Nelson?”

“Who wants to know?” I asked and kept walking.

“I’m Carm Castellano. I’m a reporter for the Gazette.” He unleashed his reporters badge in my face like he was a FBI agent. “I have some questions for you.”

“Like what?” Startling and reminiscent from a year ago.

He huffed striving to keep up with me. “Detective Mark Dyl is concentrating on the David Galbraith and Skipper Townsend murder case. Does it upset you that your own mother’s murder has yet to be resolved?”

Coming to an abrupt halt, I stared at the man with a bad comb-over. “That’s a no-brainer, Mister.” I watched Nona and Grace getting into the car without me.

“And did you know there is a connection to your mother’s murder and these two?” Beady eyes stared from a plump, perspiring face.

“How do you know that?” The detective had been adamant that I didn’t tell a soul, but I had snitched to one person.

“So you are aware?” He was jotting words in a spiral notepad. “And were you also aware there is a possibility of two accomplices in both crimes? It’s been leaked to the press that two incongruent prints had been determined at the scenes.”