We Know It Was You Page 13

  DENY TAPE NO TAPE

  She tucked the note into her sleeve and looked up. “Sorry! Coke makes me spazzy. What were you saying?”

  Detective Disco was looking at her. “I was saying, can you tell me about this video?”

  “Right. Well, Gerard’s a nutcase,” she said, feeling her cheeks get hot. “I mean, who throws a Coke? Like you said.” Get it together, she commanded herself.

  “Not your first nutcase though,” Detective Disco said. His lip twitched.

  Virginia stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  He held up a piece of paper. It was a crappy photocopy of a legal document with the Florida state seal. It was stamped DEFENDANT’S COPY.

  Virginia squinted at it. “What is that?”

  The detective’s eyebrow raised. “Your name’s on it. You should know.”

  “My name?” She scanned the page looking for it, but the print was small and the ink was smudged. Was this some kind of trick? To psych her out?

  “Anyway!” The detective slapped the paper facedown on the table and slid it away. “Can you tell me about this little club you’re in? This little mysterious club?”

  “Mystery Club,” Virginia corrected. “We study mystery solving.”

  “What kinds of mysteries?”

  “Um, existential mysteries. The mystery of life. The mystery of death.”

  “Hm. Interesting. Cute.”

  Virginia smiled cutely.

  “Well tell me, Virginia, does your club ever dabble in more concrete stuff? You know, real whodunits?”

  “Not really. Mostly it’s like . . . whodunit . . . in your soul.” Oh my God, she thought, hoping she didn’t sound as stupid as she felt.

  “So no tape, then,” he said, not a question.

  Virginia shook her head. It was easier to lie knowing that Benny had lied too, and that he must have lied pretty well or they wouldn’t have let him leave. They would have charged him with withholding evidence or something.

  “Honestly, Gerard is a freak. I wouldn’t believe anything he says.”

  “Hm. Is that your opinion? Your teen detective opinion?”

  Virginia frowned, annoyed that he was treating her like a child all of a sudden. She wanted to go back to their flirty Coke banter. “Yes,” she said in a flat voice.

  “Well, okay then!” he said abruptly. “That’s all I need from you, Miss Teen Detective! We know where to find you if we have any more questions.”

  Virginia stood up, checking to make sure Benny’s note hadn’t dropped out of her sleeve. The detective was watching her, making her self-conscious. “Um, can I ask you something? One detective to another?” She was trying to be flirtatious again.

  “Sure,” he said, not looking at her but at a form he was filling out.

  “Why is Gerard being arrested?”

  The detective looked up. “Well, he tried to punch me, for one thing.”

  “Oh, Gerard tries to punch everyone,” Virginia said. “That doesn’t mean he’s dangerous, does it?”

  The detective looked at her. “Isn’t that exactly what it means?”

  “Well, no,” Virginia said. “He’s weak. His punches don’t have any power.”

  “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that he keeps trying.”

  “Oh . . .” Virginia smoothed her skirt down and started to leave.

  “Hey, don’t forget your Coke now.”

  Virginia looked at it. She didn’t really want it anymore. She only liked the first few sips of Coke, when it was super cold and fresh and the carbonation sparkled. But she didn’t want to offend Detective Disco, so she turned back. And as she reached for it, she saw the detective’s eyes drop to the floor.

  Immediately she knew what had happened. She dove down and spotted the little slip of paper that had escaped her sleeve and fallen, faceup, onto the floor. She slammed her hand down on it, covering the words, and looked up at the detective to see if he’d read it.

  It didn’t take a second look to be certain that he had.

  The cafeteria, 12:35 p.m.

  Benny sat alone at a table for six, staring at his lunch tray. Every day he ate a turkey sandwich with two cartons of orange juice. But now he couldn’t stop thinking about what Virginia had said about all the sugar in juice and how you may as well drink a soda. He turned the carton over and read the nutrition facts label: thirty-five grams of sugar. Was that a lot? He checked the Coke can Detective Disco had given him: thirty-nine grams. So Virginia was right—you may as well drink a soda.

  “Can we have this table?” Two tall boys and their girlfriends appeared, hovering with their trays. It was the third time someone had asked for Benny’s table.

  “Um, I’m waiting for someone,” he said, looking down.

  “Well can’t you wait over there?” Winn Davis, obviously the leader, pointed to a smaller, two-person table across the room.

  “I’m afraid not,” Benny said, feeling awkward and flushed. He knew he was being rude, taking up an entire table and refusing to move. But this particular seat had a view of the library doors, and he needed to stay put so he could wait for Virginia to come out. Why is she taking so long? he thought, trying to contain his growing panic. Detective Disco had only questioned him for ten minutes, but Virginia had been in there for half an hour.

  “It’s just that, there are four of us, and only one of you,” Corny said. Her voice was tiny and sweet and plaintive but carried the harsh underlying message: And we’re better than you.

  “You’re welcome to join me,” he offered. Corny and Winn and their friends looked from Benny to the empty seats, obviously debating whether it was worth being able to sit together if it meant they had to sit with him, too. Finally Winn set his tray down, and the rest followed. They started talking about some “crazy” thing Trevor Cheek had done at a party last week, ignoring Benny. Corny flashed her twinkling smile at him a few times, but other than that, they pretended he wasn’t there. Benny sipped the rest of his Coke, now lukewarm and flat.

  “Sweetie, you’re spilling.”

  “No I’m not.”

  Winn was trying to drink his orange juice, but it kept dribbling down his chin.

  “Stop making a mess!” Corny said, giggling and dabbing his face with a napkin.

  Benny felt someone looking at him. He’d always been good at feeling people’s eyes on him, maybe because it hardly ever happened. If you were someone like Brittany or Corny, someone people stared at all the time, you probably became desensitized to it. He turned in his seat, careful to look away from the library doors for only a second so he wouldn’t miss Virginia coming out. It was Zaire Bollo, sitting alone two tables away. She was eating a baked potato in front of a large stack of books. Zaire always carried her books around like that—she was one of those people who never used their lockers. Her eyes glanced from Benny to Winn, who had just dribbled more juice down his shirt.

  “You did it again!” Corny squealed.

  “Okay, whatever, so what,” Winn was saying, sounding annoyed.

  Benny looked away from Zaire and continued to concentrate on the library doors. He was so anxious, and wanted Virginia to appear so badly, it was almost like he could smell her, that overly florid punch of rose and musk. He inhaled. It really was uncanny. He could have sworn it was Virginia. Were olfactory hallucinations a thing? He sniffed a few more times. Then he realized it wasn’t a hallucination—it was Corny.

  “Are you wearing perfume?” he asked without thinking.

  Everyone at the table stared at him. Benny felt his face going red.

  “I am, actually!” Corny exclaimed, obviously trying to pretend it was normal for Benny to attempt to talk to them. “You’re such a sweetie to notice. Winn bought it for me; isn’t he the best?”

  Winn gave a tight smile, and Benny nodded at him idiotically. Winn sure is the best!

  After an awkward interval, Benny went back to staring at the library doors, and the others went back to ignoring him. At one o’clock the bell r
ang. It was the usual routine of everyone groaning and picking up their trays and feeling depressed that lunch was already over. But Benny didn’t move. He continued to stare at the doors, waiting for Virginia to come out. The second bell rang; classes were starting. Finally a janitor asked him to leave so he could wipe down the table. Benny dumped his tray, keeping his eyes on the library doors. Not that his vigilance was rewarded; it was five and a half hours before Virginia came out.

  The Boarders, 5:30 p.m.

  The room had been ransacked.

  The drawers were flung open, their contents strewn across the floor. The bed had been unmade and the sheets tossed in a tangled heap on the floor. Every book had been opened, shaken out, and dumped in a mess of cracked spines and bent-up pages. Virginia stood in the doorway, her mouth hanging open.

  “Oh my God.”

  A lady officer with a severe ponytail and a pantsuit noticed Virginia standing there and handed her a clipboard. “This is a list of everything we’re taking in for evidence. Please look it over and sign here.”

  Virginia scanned the list. It was a bunch of stuff she didn’t even care about, like her organizer and assignment books. So Benny was right. The police were morons.

  “Wait, you’re taking my candy stash?” Virginia said.

  “I’m taking whatever’s in this Amazing Box of Secrets.”

  “Oh my God, I made that in, like, seventh grade. It’s just Snickers bars and collages of Christian Bale.”

  The officer shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  “Come on, just let me keep one Snickers,” Virginia demanded. She was starving because Detective Disco had made her miss lunch. And she knew for a fact there was nothing in the common-room refrigerator except condiments and a gross old fruitcake Mrs. Morehouse had gotten for the September birthdays knowing she’d be the only one who’d eat it.

  “Sorry,” she said, sounding totally not sorry.

  Virginia frowned, handing back the clipboard. “Don’t you get a headache wearing your ponytail that tight?”

  The officer checked the signature. “I get a headache being around teenage girls who wear too much perfume. We’ll call you in seventy-two hours to arrange for the return of your belongings. Here’s my number if you have any questions. Thank you for your cooperation.” She walked out into the hall, carrying a plastic bag of Virginia’s stuff.

  “Um, excuse me. Does someone want to clean this up?” Virginia called after her.

  “Not my job,” the lady said back.

  “Well whose job is it?” Virginia yelled. But the officer just strode down the hall, leaving her alone with the mess.

  6:00 p.m.

  “Hello?”

  Benny heard a muffled moan. The room was such a disaster, it took a second for him to realize Virginia was lying in the middle of the bed, facedown in a pile of clothes.

  “Whoa, what happened in here?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I screwed up,” Virginia said, her voice barely audible. “I dropped your note and Detective Funkytown saw it.”

  “WHAT?”

  “So he made me wait with him in the library for hours while they searched my room. It was so boring!”

  “They—they can’t do that!” Benny shouted. “They need a warrant!”

  “That’s what I said, but he said they didn’t, because I live on school property.”

  “So you have no rights? That’s preposterous!”

  “Ugh, stop shouting. I have a headache.” She burrowed her face deeper into the pile of clothes.

  “So they have the video now,” Benny said. Damn it, Virginia. He should never have let her keep that flash drive. He’d thought it was smarter to leave it with her than keep it himself. As the president of Mystery Club he attracted attention, while no one would suspect dotty Virginia Leeds of harboring important evidence. But that same dottiness made Virginia a liability. She was impulsive and careless, and if her file was any indication, there was a lot about her that Benny didn’t know. From now on Benny would do everything himself, and that included custodianship of all case-related materials. Virginia could stay in the club, but he wasn’t giving her any more responsibilities. He was trying to come up with a tactful way to tell her this when Virginia said:

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Not in a caustic way, exactly, but more like she was genuinely asking.

  “You’re not stupid,” Benny said generously. “It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault for being disorganized, and for not predicting that Gerard would inform the police about the tape.”

  Virginia rolled onto her back. “No, I mean, you must think I’m stupid if you think I’d keep the video in my room. I assumed you thought I was smart, or else you wouldn’t have let me join Mystery Club.”

  “Uh . . .” Benny didn’t know what to say. Did Virginia think she’d been specially selected from an eager and highly qualified bunch of candidates? The truth was that Benny would have let anyone join Mystery Club—he didn’t believe in excluding people. But no one except Virginia had been interested, which he obviously couldn’t tell her now without insulting her.

  “Wait,” he said. “So they don’t have the video?”

  “I have a hiding place. We all have hiding places.”

  We all have hiding places. It was kind of deep and ironic, Benny thought, Virginia saying it in this raided room with her stuff everywhere.

  “Gottfried keeps cigarettes above the rafters. Piper keeps condoms in a pineapple can in the pantry. Everyone has shit everywhere.”

  Everyone has shit everywhere. Benny was so excited all of a sudden, everything she said sounded profound and miraculous. The video was safe? Virginia maybe actually kind of knew what she was doing?

  “Show me,” he said.

  Virginia sat up. Without looking at him, she walked out of the room, down the hall, and into the empty common room. She flicked off the lights. It was surprisingly dark—every day the sun set a little earlier than it had the day before.

  “I turn the lights out in case someone sees through the window.”

  “Smart,” Benny said, hoping he sounded impressed but not too impressed. He was embarrassed for being so condescending earlier, but he didn’t want to go overboard sucking up to her to make up for it.

  In the darkness he watched Virginia hoist herself up on the countertop, and then crawl onto the refrigerator.

  Not the ceiling tiles, please not the ceiling tiles, Benny thought, starting to lose faith again. Ceiling tiles were pretty much the most obvious hiding place ever to be discovered by man.

  “It’s disgusting up here,” Virginia was saying. “It’s like twenty years of grime.” Benny could see her dim outline reaching behind the refrigerator. “For a while I kept it in my pocket,” she whispered. “But that seemed dumb. The cables back here are covered in duct tape, so I just picked a spot.”

  Benny heard tape ripping, and Virginia passed him the drive. Her hand felt greasy and dirty, and the drive was cold in her palm.

  “That’s a great spot,” he said. “Really.”

  “Do I get a merit badge?” Virginia asked. He couldn’t see her face, so he couldn’t tell if she was trying to make him feel bad, or if she was just joking. “Do you want to keep it at your house?”

  “No,” Benny said. “Keep it here. They might search me next.”

  Then there were footsteps coming up the walk toward the Boarders. “Put it back, put it back,” Benny said quickly.

  Virginia scrambled around, then hopped from the refrigerator with a thud. Just then the lights flicked on. Benny whirled around. Zaire Bollo was standing in the doorway.

  “Well. Hello.” She was carrying a Whole Foods bag and smirking, like she was certain she’d just caught them making out in the dark.

  “Hi, Zaire,” Virginia said, walking to the sink to wash her hands. She glanced at Benny as if to say, Say something.

  “Uh . . . you have a car?” he asked.

  “Hm?” Zaire said, still standing in the doorway. Then she
looked down at her shopping bag. “Oh no. I begged Mrs. Morehouse to drive me.”

  Virginia whispered, “Is she here?”

  “No, she went home, thank God.”

  Benny didn’t know exactly what the deal was with Mrs. Morehouse, except that she was universally loathed.

  “Her car smelled like unwashed hair,” Zaire was saying. “And would you believe she hit me up for petrol? God. But I just can’t live without mozzarella di bufala. Here, try some.” Zaire thrust a pinch of white cheese in Benny’s face. He ate it.

  “Awesome,” he said. Awesome? he thought, horrified. Since when do I say “awesome”?

  Virginia burst out laughing. “Mozzarella di bufala is the awesomest!” She was laughing so hard she grabbed the counter, evidently to keep from falling over. Benny stared at the floor. Why did she have to make everything so awkward?

  Virginia stopped laughing eventually, and Benny caught her eyeing Zaire’s food.

  “Want one?” Zaire offered, holding up a beautiful-looking tomato. “It’s heirloom.”

  Virginia considered it. She was obviously hungry, but Benny noticed her chin was tilted slightly away from Zaire, exerting a tiny physical resistance. Virginia doesn’t like her, Benny realized.

  “Don’t ruin your appetite,” he said, lightly brushing Virginia’s hand away from the tomato. “We’re going out, remember?”

  Virginia looked at him. “We are?”

  “Yeah, come on.”

  “Mom picking you up?” Zaire asked, still smirking as she began slicing the tomato.

  Neither of them answered. Benny walked out the door, and Virginia followed him. Outside, the sky was violet and the air was cool and brisk. They were ambling. Virginia seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

  “We’re not really going out,” Virginia said finally, with just the smallest trace of a question left in her voice.

  Benny shrugged awkwardly. “Uh, well . . .”

  “Not that I care. It’s just that I’m starving. I have to organize my life, you know? I have to know whether I’m going out, or whether I have to make my own plans.”