The Girl Is Murder (25 page)

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d told me that he and Uncle Adam had kissed and made up. By catching me off guard, he gave me no time for a lie, which I’m sure he knew. “I went to Chapin.”

“Why?”

“To see Grace.”

Mrs. Mrozenski, hearing the fuss caused by the two men with the heavy safe, appeared in the parlor doorway and watched the scene.

“And you had to cut class to do this?” said Pop.

“I was afraid if I waited until after, I’d miss her.”

One of the men in the office cursed as the unforgiving steel box landed on his foot. Pop tossed a look their way, then redirected his attention to me.

He took in what I’d said and rolled it about his head. “I thought we agreed you’d stay on the Lower East Side.”

Oh no. I’d blown it and for no good reason. After all, Grace had called me and told me everything. There’d been no need for me to follow her and Jo. “I know, but it was important. She got bad news. About her father.” I couldn’t believe I’d chosen that as my cover story. What was wrong with me? “He’s missing in action.”

He frowned and I waited for him to point out the holes in my story. How did I hear about Grace’s dad? If she was so upset, why was she in school? But he didn’t point out any of my inconsistencies. I wish he would’ve. Maybe then I could stop myself from digging a deeper hole.

“They were having a vigil after school yesterday for him and all the other relatives of students who were missing, injured, or killed. I wanted to show my support.”

“Then you ask for permission to do so.”

“I tried to. I called before I went. Ask Mrs. Mrozenski.” My eyes flashed toward the older woman and I pleaded with every ounce of my being that she’d confirm my story.

“Did Iris call here yesterday afternoon?” Pop asked.

She left my gaze and latched onto Pop’s. “Yes. She ask for you, but you were gone. I tell her it was all right to be late but to be home by supper. When I think you be home, too.” There was an undercurrent to her words that Pop couldn’t have missed: maybe if you hadn’t been out drinking, you could’ve talked to your daughter and told her this was a bad idea. “She come home, just like she said.” Unlike her father, whose expected arrival time had passed with nary a word.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have skipped. That was a stupid decision.”

“School comes first,” he said.

“You go to the principal,” said Mrs. Mrozenski. “You tell them you play hooky.”

A thought occurred to me: the only way the office would’ve known that I was missing was through the attendance records. Pearl hadn’t helped me like she’d said she would.

I guess I knew who my real friends were.

“You don’t need to do that,” said Pop. “I told them you came home sick yesterday. Being new, you didn’t realize you were supposed to report to the office before leaving.”

“Thanks.”

“Mr. Anderson? Is this where you want it?” One of the men stood in the office doorway, pointing toward the open closet.

“It looks great. Thanks.”

While they continued talking, I followed Mrs. Mrozenski into the kitchen. “Thank you,” I told her.

“I don’t lie for you.”

“I won’t ask you to do it again.”

“No, I don’t
lie
for you.”

It took me a minute to register what she was saying. What she meant was she’d stuck to the letter of the truth in what she’d told Pop. I had called. I had said I’d be late. Fortunately, he’d never asked her if I’d told her why.

“Be a good girl, Iris. Okay?”

I promised her that I would.

CHAPTER

18

POP SPENT MOST OF THE AFTERNOON behind the closed office door, presumably shifting what had once been in the cabinet into the safe. I watched the door like a hawk, promising myself that as soon as he opened it, I would tell him the truth about everything: why I’d gone to Chapin, how the break-in might have been my fault, my connection to Tom Barney. But as the afternoon wore on and the door remained shut, my courage dwindled. I finally decided to go to him.

“Can I come in?” I asked him after I knocked.

“Sure.” He was behind the desk examining a stack of papers. I couldn’t tell if it was Tom’s file or someone else’s.

“Did you figure out if anything was missing?” I asked.

“No. I should’ve made an inventory of the file contents. I’ll know better next time.”

I chewed on my lip as I pondered how to proceed. “Were there a lot of case files in there?”

“No, just one.”

Either he was only working on the Barney case or none of his other cases were important enough to keep under lock and key. “Are you close to solving it?” I asked.

“Close to closing it. The clients called and told me they don’t want me to proceed any further.”

“Why?”

“They’re pretty sure the missing person is missing by choice and they don’t want to spend any more money tracking him down.” That had to be Mr. Barney talking. I couldn’t imagine Mrs. Barney agreeing to halt things until Tom was home safe.

“Do you agree?” I asked.

“I might’ve until the break-in. Now I’m not sure what to think.”

“Did you tell them about it?” I asked.

“Yes. They’ve agreed to give me until Monday. If I come up with something, I get paid for my time; if I don’t, we call it a wash.”

I couldn’t believe Pop had agreed to that. All that work he’d done and he was just going to walk away empty-handed?

“It’s a goodwill gesture,” he told me. “I’d rather have them happy than telling everyone who will listen that I took their money and left them with nothing to show for it.”

“Maybe you’ll solve it,” I said. I needed to tell him what I knew. And I would tell him, in five, four, three, two—

“This isn’t something you need to worry about, Iris. Mrs. Mrozenski isn’t going to throw us out on the street. I promise.”

He shifted the paperwork in front of him and knocked a second stack of paper with his elbow. It slid off the desk and scattered across the floor.

He cursed beneath his breath and surveyed the mess like a climber facing a mountain.

“Let me help,” I said. I kneeled and began cleaning up the mess. As I pushed the paper into a stack, Tom’s name leaped out at me. I recognized Pop’s notes and the inventory of what had been in the locker. Everything seemed to be present and accounted for … except for the note that mentioned 240 Houston Street.

I double-checked the stack and surveyed the floor beneath his desk. The note was definitely missing.

“Thanks,” he told me as I returned the files to him.

“Anytime,” I replied.

I GOT TO SCHOOL EARLY the next day and immediately went to the newspaper room. Paul was there, but Pearl wasn’t. In her place was Denise Halloway, the girl he’d been with at the Jive Hive, struggling to type up hand-scrawled notes with one finger.

“Where’s Pearl?” I asked them as I entered the room. Denise shrugged and looked toward Paul. He was going through another batch of photos, a dust pen clenched between his fingers, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth as he readied himself to wet the tip.

“She said she had better things to do than help me. And right before our deadline, too.”

“Any idea where she’s doing these better things?”

He shrugged and flipped to the next picture. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

I shifted my weight from side to side as I debated what to do next. “How’s the Jive Hive?”

“Hopping. You thinking about coming out again?”

“Maybe.” A theory was bubbling to the surface. Maybe the note in the locker had been from Josephine. Perhaps she had lured Tom to Houston Street to do whatever she had done to him. “I heard about another hangout: 240 Houston Street. You ever been there?”

Paul frowned. “Are you serious?”

Uh-oh. What had I stepped in? “Why?”

“Um, it’s not a hangout, Iris. It’s a place for girls who are
in trouble.
”

I had no trouble understanding what
in trouble
meant this time.

I stammered an excuse that I must’ve heard the address wrong and left them to their work. While I mulled over why Tom would have that address in his locker, I prowled the halls, looking for Pearl’s short, dumpy form. What classes did she have? I’d never asked her. All I knew was that she worked in the office during her study hall.

I didn’t find her. Instead, I went to Personal Hygiene and then to each subsequent subject, staying after class each time to find out what I’d missed the day before and what I needed to do to catch up.

At lunch I looked for Pearl at her usual table, but didn’t see her there. She had to be hiding. She must’ve known I’d be furious about the attendance thing. I was about to give up my search and join the Rainbows at their table when I realized Pearl had been right in front of me the entire time. She was sitting between Suze and Rhona.

How had that happened? Had Suze seen her sitting alone the day before and invited her to join them?

I walked, tentatively, toward the table. I tried to lock eyes with Benny, but he was deep in conversation with Maria. That was okay. I’d talk to him later. “Hi, Pearl,” I said to her. She looked up at me with cold, uninterested eyes. That wasn’t the only thing that was different about her. She was wearing a sweater that day that turned her soft, overly padded body into gentle, feminine curves. A scarf was knotted at her neck, in the same style that Rhona wore hers.

“Oh, hi,” she said, like I was someone she hadn’t seen for a while that she didn’t immediately recognize.

I turned to Suze and smiled. “Hey, Joe, whaddya know?” She didn’t meet my gaze. Her eyes drifted to the scarred tabletop, where one student after another had carved their initials into the wood. “Mind if I join you?”

“You better scat, pussycat,” said Rhona. “There’s no room for you here.”

“Seriously?” I said.

“You either leave, or we make you leave,” said Dino.

“Find the door, drizzle puss,” said Maria. She tossed a glance Benny’s way. His eyes, like Suze’s, were locked downward.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on? Suze? Benny?”

“Don’t make me make you leave, little girl,” said Rhona. “Dig?”

I was completely taken aback. What had happened in the twenty-four hours since I’d been gone? I wanted to ask, but—boy, howdy—the way Rhona was glaring at me made it clear that if I didn’t leave immediately I’d be suffering from a lot more than sore feelings.

I backed away from the table, humiliated. On Monday, everything had been fine. Suze had been concerned about me, about how upset I’d been by Mrs. Dunwitty’s gossip, but I’d assured her I’d put all that behind me. Dino had opened up to me about Tommy. Benny had squeezed my hand and asked me how long I was grounded for. And now not one of them wanted anything to do with me.

Pearl. Pearl must’ve done something. Telling Pop I wasn’t with her and then reporting my absence was only the first of the things she planned to do to sabotage me. Rhona was right—she was evil.

The afternoon passed in a bitter haze. I desperately wanted to leave school, go home, and sulk and ponder, but my promise to Pop that I wouldn’t skip class hung heavily over my head, especially now that I knew any move I made would be carefully monitored.

Two thousand hours later, four o’clock arrived and with it the final bell of the day. I gathered my books and started the long walk home. To add insult to injury, a cold heavy rain began and I had nothing aside from my light mackintosh to protect me. I thought about ducking underneath an awning to wait it out, but I was so desperate to get home that I slogged through the downpour, willing to face the humiliation of looking like a drowned rat if it meant I could hide out in my bedroom a little sooner. I was only a block away from home when a sound interrupted the torrential rush of water. What I thought was a hiss was actually my name.

I turned and found Pearl running to catch up to me. She’d had the good sense to bring an umbrella to school, and the combination of being dry and better dressed made her look almost pretty.

“There you are,” she said as she arrived at my side. “I’ve been trying to find you since final bell. You’re soaked.”

You don’t say,
I almost said, but that would’ve required my speaking to her.

“Here,” she said, stretching the umbrella out so it covered both of us. “It’s big enough for two.”

“Keep it to yourself. What do you want?”

She looked taken aback, which was pretty funny, considering. “To talk to you. To make sure you’re okay. I heard you were sick.”

“Just to my stomach. I’ve got to go.” I stepped back into the rain, instantly regretting my decision. Had it gotten colder? At this rate, I really was going to be ill.

“Iris—wait.”

“For what?”

“I need to talk to you. About the Rainbows. Can we go someplace dry? Like maybe your house?”

We were almost there. If I didn’t give her a chance to say her piece, I’d wonder about it all night. “Fine,” I said.

I refused her umbrella’s shelter the whole way there. Unfortunately, the rain picked up, not only giving me a thorough soaking, but making it impossible for her to know that I was still giving her the cold shoulder and deliberately choosing not to speak. We arrived at the Orchard Street house and I let us in. As Pearl shook out her umbrella and left it on the stoop, I kicked off my ruined shoes and entered the parlor.

“You should change,” said Pearl.

“I’m fine.” I slumped onto the sofa and wrapped the afghan around me. A fire crackled in the hearth, setting the room aglow with reds and oranges. “So what did you want to tell me?”

“I messed up.” She took a seat in the rocker, and her eyes danced around the room. Unlike Grace, she didn’t judge her surroundings. If anything, she seemed delighted in their familiarity. “We have a table just like this,” she said, her hand stroking the wooden cocktail table beside her. Her fingers traced the edge of the lace doily at its center like it was a childhood dress she hadn’t seen in years.

“You are home, Iris,” said Mrs. Mrozenski as she entered the room. She took in the state of my hair and clothes and jumped. “You are soaked.”