Chapter 2 #2
“Are you a basketball player?” I ask. I’ve worked on one of their games but haven’t interacted with the entire team at this point.
Maybe he’s one I don’t recognize. As a sports reporter, that’s a bad sign.
But seeing as how I’ve only been in Utah for two weeks, I can give myself some grace.
I’ll have to study up on the teams a little better when I get back tonight.
Back to what? The morgue that is my apartment?
He and Clark laugh until Clark is slapping his leg. Did I miss something?
I glance up at the rearview mirror, and Jessa catches my eye for a second and shakes her head. “Burton is Clark’s teammate.”
And then I feel like an idiot. “That’s right. You already said that. Sorry, I’m just a little airheaded right now.”
Not that I know a lot about lacrosse, but this guy must be at least six inches taller than Clark. He’d be an excellent hockey player for sure.
“How did Jessa wrangle you to come to this brainstorming session?” Burton asks, looking a little more comfortable now that he’s moved his legs.
He’s only an inch or two from my own, and I try to scoot over, giving him as much room as possible.
Usually the backseat of a compact car is just right, but Burton makes it feel like a shoebox.
“She asked nicely,” I say, giving him a small grin. “And I’m glad she did. I think there’s something dead in my apartment.”
I did not mean to say that out loud. My filter is officially gone. Okay, I’m not good at lying, and obviously pushing this issue to the back of my mind only makes me focus on it more.
All eyes turn to me as we make it to the first stoplight.
“Like what?” Clark asks.
How do I salvage this situation? “I don’t know. It was dark. But it stinks like a mixture of garbage and vomit.”
“That’s quite the combination,” Jessa says, wrinkling her nose.
Burton shakes his head. “There’s something dead in your apartment, and you’re here? Let’s go back and see what it is.” His eyes light up, and his smile turns devious.
Shaking my head, I say, “Not a good idea. It’s in my roommate’s room.”
“You can’t live there if you don’t know what’s going on, right?” Clark asks. “What if you die in your sleep?”
That’s not a visual I need to add to this situation. “The last thing I want to do is go back there and see what it is.”
“But you said you only saw it in the dark, right? Maybe you just need to turn a light on?” Jessa asks, turning on her blinker when the light changes to green.
Shaking my head, I say, “Let’s just brainstorm. When are you thinking of doing the event?”
Clark shakes his head and claps his hands together. “There’s no way I can worry about a fan event when we could solve a possible crime and keep you safe. All we need is a dog who eats Scooby Snacks, and we could have our own television series.”
“Let’s solve this mystery first, and then we can go from there,” Jessa says, her tone making it seem like the practical thing to do. She turns the wheel so we’re back on the road close to my apartment.
My stomach tightens. How did this go from a casual workday to wondering if I’ve been sleeping in the room next to a murderer for the last week? Maybe I should move back in with Grammie and Grandpa.
Okay, so I’ve been hooked on some of the older mystery movies lately, but I haven’t had a problem with it twisting my real life, until now. Unless it’s not twisting.
I get out of the car once Jessa parks. She, Clark, and I wait as Burton practically unfolds himself out of the backseat. If I wasn’t so worried about what we’ll find upstairs, I might’ve laughed.
I lead the way up to the second floor and stick the key into the lock on the second try. If only my hand would stop trembling. I’ve seen a lot in my life, and I’m usually more composed than this, which is part of being a sideline reporter. I have to be ready for anything, which I usually am.
“You’re right, it smells like something died in here,” Clark says, pinching his nose.
“It’s over here on the left,” I say, walking over one step at a time as if whatever I saw in the room is going to come out and attack us.
Before I get to the door, I stop, frozen in place.
“Is this the one?” Burton asks, pointing to the door.
I barely nod before he twists the handle and pushes it open. He hits his hand against the wall a few times, feeling for the light. Jessa gags, and the smell finally knocks me back next to the bathroom.
“Well, you were right about there being something dead,” Clark says, his voice nasally. I take a step forward to see that he’s still pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
“What is it?” I ask, covering my own nose as I walk closer.
Burton is holding the white sheet in his hand. And under it, on the ground, is the body of a large animal. I’m not exactly sure what until I see a deer head in the corner, its glassy eye staring at me.
“The smell must be this solution,” Burton says, uncovering a small bowl and jerking back quickly. “Gross.”
“What are you doing in my room?” a voice says behind me.
I turn to see Chandie’s furious expression. “I’m so sorry, Chandie. We couldn’t figure out what the smell was when I got home, and they were helping me track it down.”
“Please get out,” she says in a firm tone. “That’s a school assignment, and I don’t want to fail.”
“What are you studying?” Burton asks on his way out of the room. Jessa looks nearly green by the time we’re in the hallway.
“Taxidermy. You didn’t touch anything, did you?” Chandie asks, her eyes going wide as she storms into the room, spinning to check.
We all shake our heads in unison.
“Good. If I ever find any of you in my room again, I’ll call the police.”
Message received.
“Sorry about that,” I say, but Chandie slams the door in my face.
Burton walks over and opens the apartment door. “Maybe we should leave this open when we leave. This place needs to be aired out.”
“Clark, I need you to drive,” Jessa says, handing him the keys. “Burton, sit up front so I don’t have to hear you complaining about your leg room.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wrapping an arm around Jessa’s back as we walk down the stairs.
“She gets nauseous with foul smells,” Clark says, pulling her to his side and giving her a kiss on the head.
“I’ll be okay. I’d just rather focus on breathing than throwing up while driving. The cleanup would be horrible.”
“How about we brainstorm over food?” Clark says with a grin.
Burton nods. “I’m game.”
“After what we just saw?” I say, pointing back to my apartment.
“At least your roommate is stuffing dead things rather than doing the killing,” Burton says with a shrug. He looks like he’s trying to keep a smile from forming, and the tone of his voice makes it hard for me to keep a straight face.
“I could eat,” Clark says.
“There’s a little diner I know close to here,” Burton says as we pile into the car.
He looks a lot more comfortable in the front seat.
I’m not sure if the entire situation has bonded us in a way that most traumatic things tend to do, or if I should feel like an idiot for thinking a deer was a dead body. Then again, Chandie was very vague about her job when she interviewed me to be her roommate.
“Are you going to be okay living there?” Jessa asks. She’s got her head leaned back against the seat and looks less green at this point.
“In my apartment?” I say, trying to understand what she’s asking me.
“Yeah, I mean, are you worried about her taking a scalpel to you in the night?”
“I wasn’t until you just mentioned it,” I say, swallowing hard.
Chandie wouldn’t do that, would she? Then again, I don’t know her that well. I’ve lived there for seven days, and even that seems like a gamble at this point.
“I have an extra room if you want it. Just holler and we’ll make the guys move you in one afternoon.”
I give her a small smile. “That’s the only apartment I could really afford when I moved back, so I’m just hoping it’ll be okay until I can save up enough to move again.”
Jessa gives me a small smile. “I bet living with me would be cheaper. Think about it.”
I nod, overwhelmed with how many things have happened over the last hour.
I’ve been trying to be grateful that I’m able to live this close to the city.
My grandparents live on a lot of land thirty minutes to the west of where I am now, which was hard that first week back in Utah because we had late games and early events to get to. And without my car made it even harder.
At least if I lived with Jessa, I’d know I wouldn’t die. Probably.
Or would I be in a similar situation because I don’t know Jessa that well either?
Then again, she’s more into hashtags and reels than deadly weapons.
We get to the diner, and it’s a cute 50s style one, with black-and-white checkered tile flooring and sparkly red booths.
The server takes us to a table near the back of the restaurant, and I’m not sure what to do as far as sitting. I only know Jessa, but she’s got her boyfriend. If I sit next to Burton, this will feel like a double date. But I can always just chalk it up to our “brainstorming session.”
Even if this counted as a date, Laney Zelinski has only ever had two second dates.
Well, not intentionally.
There was the time my grandparents set me up with a guy, then forgot that they’d already had him over for dinner, inviting him again a month later. Things didn’t go well at the first dinner, so I’m amazed he came back again. Unless he forgot about the first time too.
Then again, some people can’t turn down a free meal.
The second time I had a second date was my ex-boyfriend, Tim the Tool, as I’ve called him for a while.
I got a Hey Girl message and then went down the Tinder rabbit hole.
I didn’t realize it was possible to be dating or talking to twenty-five girls at the same time.
But maybe I was too busy to see the signs earlier.
I’ve been lost in my mind for too long because I blink and the three of them are already seated at the table, looking at me expectantly.
“Are you okay?” Jessa asks.
I push out a smile and wave a hand through the air. “So good.”
So much for those lessons on keeping my composure. Then again, I’ve been through a lot today.
They look at me as I take a seat on the very end of the bench, leaving at least eight inches between me and Burton.
“Let’s order and then we can talk about the event, sound good?” Clark asks, sliding a menu to Jessa.
“Perfect,” Burton says. “You’re paying for this, right, Clark? I mean, we’re all here because of you.” He grins, and Clark laughs.
“That’s true. I’ll pay, but you’ll have to earn it. Give me all the ideas to make this the best kickoff party ever.”
Obviously, I don’t know these people well enough to know if they’re kidding, but I focus on the menu, finally getting my appetite back.
I’m not sure whether to be excited about this night’s trajectory or worry about what awaits me at my apartment.