I Spy Dead People (20 page)

"Mind your own business."

But her obstruction of justice is also annoying as all heck. "You're always in my room. You are my business."

I put the bag back and continue my search.

"She wrote to Eli a lot," Shayla says.

I drop the pair of black strappy sandals and lean against the doorframe. "Love letters?"

"I guess. She keeps asking him to email her back. She needs to talk to him. She's angry and wants to know who he was kissing."

"Eli told me he wasn't into her. It was all one-sided."

Shayla nods. "Looks like it from these emails."

"What about April? She and Linzy had a falling out, but neither…um, but April won't talk to me."

"I'm not exactly sure. I overheard Linzy yelling on the phone, a few days before she…you know. When she hung up, she said it was April but didn't want to talk about it."

So Shayla has no idea. Darn.

She clicks on the keys, and I turn back to the closet.

On the top shelf, beside more purses and a couple of stuffed giraffes, is a shoe box. That's promising. I take it down. It contains articles about Linzy. Reviews, comments from message boards all printed out, but a few are from TV Guide and other magazines. They're all negative. Why would she save the ugly ones?

She's sitting under the dresses, between the black strappy sandals and a pair of light blue wedges.

"Why?" I ask, holding up a few of the print-outs.

She shrugs. "It's the only way to get better. You read how you suck, and you don't do that anymore."

I don't believe her. If that's true then why not just read them and move on? Why print them out and save them in a box in your closet? It's as if she held onto them to torture herself. Maybe she's not as confident as she appears.

I put the box back in its place and run my hand along the rest of the shelf. Being five-two makes it beyond difficult, so I step out and grab the vanity stool.

Shayla watches me. "Who are you talking to in there?"

I'm so startled by the question I nearly drop the stool. "The seven dwarfs. Doc says hi. Who do you think? Myself."

I hurry back into my sanctuary and take a deep breath. I need to start being more careful. Up on the stool, I notice something wedged into the far corner.

"You should get down from there," Linzy says. "You don't want to fall and hurt yourself. My parents will kill you."

I don't want to reply, in case Shayla hears, but Linzy won't deter me. "You know I'll find something."

When she doesn't respond, I know it'll be juicy.

"Seriously," Linzy shrieks. "Get down."

I stare at her and hesitate. The thought of her pushing the stool out from under me crosses my mind, but I'm so excited about revealing this mystery that I'm practically drooling.

A bang echoes from the bedroom. I look over my shoulder and see Shayla frowning.

The laptop is shut. She must've slammed down the lid. "This is useless. It only confirms my sister's a bitch, with no life, no friends."

"Ouch," I call out. "That's rude."

Shayla jumps off the bed and stands in the doorway. "You don't know the crap I had to deal with. Her constant snooping through my things. She always talked about my shortcomings in front of my friends and Troy. She lived to embarrass me."

Shortcomings? Now that's a conversation I'd love to have with Linzy.

"You know, some of my friends have sisters. They have fun together, laugh, share secrets, hang out. Why did I have one who hated me?"

"Oh please, Shay. You're such a drama queen. She should've went into acting rather than dancing," Linzy shouts. "She has it easy. Mom and Dad love her."

"It sounds like you two didn't know what the other was feeling." Wait, when did I become the mediator?

Shayla crosses her arm over her chest. "What do you mean?"

I jump off the stool and sit on it. This may take a while. "Well, Linzy probably thinks you had it easy. That your parents favor you."

"That's right. You tell her," Linzy says.

Shayla scoffs. "Oh please. You'd have to be blind to think that."

"She got the bigger bedroom," Linzy says.

I repeat this.

Shayla rolls her eyes. "I'm the oldest. I was in that room before she was even considered."

Oh, yeah, I hadn't thought of that. I raise a brow in Linzy's direction, hoping Shayla won't notice.

"Well what about the time Mom went to her dance practice rather than take me to an audition?"

I clear my throat. "Were there ever times your Mom went with you to dance rather than to an audition or something?"

Shayla thinks. "Yeah, once a couple of years ago. Linzy missed an audition, but that wasn't because Mom preferred to be with me. Linzy had the flu."

"I could've made it and still dazzled them," Linzy yells.

"The truth is, Linzy never appreciated all she had. She assumed Mom and Dad would support her career, and they did. Do you know how many times I looked out at the audience during a recital and saw only Dad because Mom was in New York with my sister?"

"That sucks. But at least he was there, no?"

She shrugs. "That's not the point."

"Oh, please. The only reason Mom was with me was because she had to be. I'm a minor and needed adult supervision. She could've hired someone, but that would take money out of her pocket."

I glare at Linzy. I don't know Mrs. Quinn, but I can't believe a mother can be so cruel. Then again, my own abandoned me. Maybe she was cruel, and I just don't remember.

"The worse part," Shayla says, "is that of all the people in the world I would've wanted to see in the audience, it was Linzy. I would've loved to have that bond with her." Her voice cracks.

She turns away and goes to a section of the bedroom I can't see.

"She doesn't hate you," I whisper.

When Linzy follows her sister into the bedroom, I get back up on the stool.

I reach for the object in the corner. My fingers graze it. I lean to the side on my tip-toes and pray the stool doesn't slip out beneath my feet. I grab the corner of the bag and yank it forward. Back on the ground, I set the heavy bag on the stool and pull open the drawstring. I reach in and pull out a twenty dollar bill.

Cool. I love when I take out last year's jacket or an old pair of pants and find money I forgot I had.

Peering into the bag, it seems to be filled with paper or…more money? I carry the bag into the bedroom. "Look what I found."

Shayla's dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue at the vanity. She comes over.

I turn the bag upside down and wads of cash fall out.

We stare at one another in amazement.

"That looks like hundreds, thousands," Shayla says.

Linzy's by her door. She disappears, obviously not wanting to answer any questions.

"Maybe this is what she's earned from the soap," I say, but don't people put their money in a bank?

Shayla shakes her head. "No. Since Linzy's underage, that money goes into a special account. Mom and Dad are only allowed to spend a small amount for her personal needs, like new head shots and stuff. Linzy always complained that she should have her own money."

Then where the heck did this come from?

 

The money totals eight-thousand, seven hundred and forty dollars, in twenties and fifties. We put it back and run over to my house, with Linzy's laptop, as Mr. and Mrs. Quinn pull into their driveway. I shut the door and ask Shayla, "Are they going to wonder where you are?"

"No. I just hope they didn't see me run in here."

Wow, they must really hate me.

"Dad, I'm back. Shayla and I are going up to my room, okay?" I shout through his door.

Suddenly it slides open and he says, "Okay. I need to run out. I shouldn't be long." He smiles, kisses my forehead, and leaves through the garage door.

He's been going out a lot more than usual. He must really like Bridget.

I give his office a second look but decide to go up. There will be time to snoop later, when I'm alone and after dealing with Linzy. Her death is way more important than some old photographer.

Shayla and I settle on my bed and open the laptop. The emails were a bust, but Shayla's now searching through all the other files, looking for a clue about the money.

I excuse myself and walk through the house, looking for Linzy, but she's not visible. Is she still back at her place? I turn to head upstairs, and there are three, loud, urgent knocks at the door. I flinch and hesitate. Is it Shayla's parents?

I peek through the small side window and see Troy. My pulse rises. What's he doing here? I open the door and smile. "Hi."

He pushes past me, while glancing over his shoulder. His forehead is shiny and his breathing irregular.

"What's wrong?" I ask, pulling him in further and pushing the door shut.

"I got it. Oh crap, I got it." He holds up his hand. He clenches a stack of papers so hard that they're crinkled and bent. He's pumped, his eyes darting back and forth, his voice higher pitched than normal, and he looks like he's just run a marathon.

His enthusiasm, or maybe it's fear, is contagious, and I can't wait to learn what he's talking about. "What is it?"

He hands me the papers. "Autopsy on Linzy."

Oh crap is right. My mouth hangs open, and I look down at the sheets. The light is too dim to read anything. "Come on. Shayla's upstairs."

We run to my room. Shayla looks up, wide-eyed. "What's up?"

I return to my spot on the bed and try to focus.

Troy paces my room. "I was in Mom's office, and she had to take a private call. She took her cell into the hall and shut the door behind her. It was the perfect moment. I couldn't pass it up."

He stops long enough to give us a poignant look, then continues. "Linzy's file was on top of her desk."

"Are these the actual reports?" I ask.

He frowns and shakes his head repeatedly. "No. She has a copier in her office. A small one. Can you believe that? Her call lasted so long I was able to copy the file."

I lean up against the pillows and flip through the pages. There's the autopsy report, a toxicology report, notes, photos of the crime scene, witness testimonies, and other pages that aren't labeled. "You got everything."

"That's what I said. I copied the whole file."

Shayla grabs the stack. "Give me that. She was my sister."

I try to snatch it back, but she tightens her grip. "One you hated."

She won't let go, and I'm afraid she'll tear them, so I loosen my grip.

"I didn't hate her. She was just a pain in my side, like you."

"At least give me some. You can't read them all at one time, selfish."

She glares my way but opens her fingers so several end pages fall onto my comforter. The top one is a photo of Linzy's naked, dead body.

We both gasp.

The copy is black and white but the contrast of her complexion to her hair shows how pale she was. Her eyes are shut, her lip is cracked, and her choker looks weird, disfigured, and muted. Troy must've messed it up when he copied the picture.

She was dressed in the river, so this has to be before the medical examiner performed the autopsy. She must've been so cold. That's stupid, Piper. She was dead. She didn't feel the temperature.

Tears gather in my eyes, squeeze at the corners, blurring my vision. I'm not a big crier, usually, and I've never felt moved by a photo, so why now?

"Why's everyone so gloomy?" Linzy's voice sounds.

I look around and watch her appear on my dresser. "Geez, it's like a funeral in here." She giggles.

My throat tightens, and it's hard to swallow. I cover the photos with my pillow. "I don't want to look at these now."

Troy's brows shoot up. "What? I thought this would help."

"It does. It's just a lot and kind of grim." I glance at Linzy. "So I need to look at it in pieces, ya know?"

Linzy hops off the dresser and walks to her sister's side.

"Yeah, I hear you," Troy says.

Shayla tilts her head back and sighs. "I don't need to read this."

Linzy bends down and stares at the page. Something on it makes her gasp.

Shayla lifts the pillow and adds her pages to the stack.

Linzy's eyes widen. She backs away from the bed, through my desk, until she's at the wall.

Shayla stands. "I didn't understand why Mom had the casket closed. I mean, they use makeup and make them look normal, but I'm glad now that she chose that. I want to remember Linzy in full diva mode. Not dead."

No one says anything. Even Linzy looks stunned.

Shayla finally breaks the silence. "I should go. Can I leave that here for a bit?" She points to Linzy's laptop.

"Sure, but why?"

"If my folks see me walk into the house with it, they'll wonder why. I don't want to add any more grief. They barely speak to me as is."

I nod, feeling sucker-punched for the umpteenth time today.

She heads to my door and looks back to Troy. "You're staying?"

Troy glances at me, perhaps looking for an answer.

I don't want him to leave, but Dad may be back soon. "My dad…"

It's all I have to say. His eyes widen, and he nods. "Yeah."

I walk them down. On the front porch, I step out and close the door behind me. That way if Dad pulls in while I'm saying good-bye, I can pretend Troy never entered the house.

Shayla walks to the sidewalk then glances back and gives us a nod. She runs across to her house and goes around to her backyard.

"You'll let me know what the papers say, right?" Troy asks.

"You didn't read them?"

"Some." He looks down and kicks at the air. "This is new to me. I wasn't ready for some of it. Does that make me a coward?"

I touch his arm. "Not at all. It makes you human."

He looks into my eyes and smiles. It's gentle and warm and makes me wonder all over again how he feels about me. It never feels like the right time to bring up the non-kiss.

"To be honest, I've looked at a bunch of Dad's photos, but this one seems different."

He nods. "'Cause I knew her. I've eaten dinner across the table from her. I've given her rides to the mall. She's watched movies with me and Shayla."