Chapter 33 #3
Andrea rubs her temples, knowing how hard it is to share this story; however, Mairead is unaware of my struggles.
“A gas line exploded next to my house when I was around five. I was in the hospital for a while; fortunate to be alive, but not everything healed. They said I have noise-induced hearing loss from the blast. I've been wearing hearing aids since.”
Mairead taps her chin, still sitting in the paisley print chair. Leaning forward, she grabs the armrests of her seat, her face a mask of concentration. “Explosives are the worst!” She declares, enunciating each syllable. “I’m more of a knife girl myself.”
Andrea and I make eye contact with the same perplexing expression. Did she really just say that, and are we actually stuck in a room with her for the next hour?
While the candy works its magic, I tell myself this little outing is for a reason. Pushing down my past, I focus on the present. What I need to gain and how Mairead might have insight.
“Your aid thingies are so cute! Do they come in different colors?” Mairead stands and begins flipping through pages of a book she pulled from the shelf.
“Umm, thank you? I suppose they come in different styles, depending on your needs.”
She pushes the book back onto the shelf and begins checking underneath tables and chairs, for what I’m not sure.
Andrea sticks out her tongue, tilts her head to the side, then swirls her finger next to her ear, as to indicate she’s crazy; while Mairead is poised under an end table.
She pops up suddenly. “Okay, we have less than an hour! Let’s figure out who killed Mr. Callaway!”
Andrea’s palm hits her forehead so loudly; it echoes through the room.
“Let’s find clues,” I announce, trying to run interference before Andrea voices what her face already says.
We spend the next thirty minutes checking every possible nook and cranny of the mock office set.
We’ve found a skeleton key, a letter from Mr. Callaway to a “Mr. Simmons,” and a cipher to decode some kind of message.
Checking the handout again, I notice that we’re locked in one of the most challenging rooms in the establishment.
Five lightbulbs across the top, indicating it’s the hardest.
Great… I can’t even figure out where to write the one and zeros on my W-2 form, but I’m supposed to figure out some theoretical plot before the city is blown up? Andrea and I study the letter we found, paired with the cipher, but came up short.
Mairead on the other hand hasn’t given up looking for secrets and finds a hidden compartment within the office desk, which we previously missed.
She holds up a black and white photo, displaying a bunch of gentlemen in business suits.
“I am having such a good time!” She proclaims, but in the blink of an eye, her lighthearted tone turns cold.
“I never expected that finding my mother’s actual murderer would be such fun,” she says plainly.
Did she just say murderer? Andrea and I share a mutual gaze. Okay, I heard it correctly. Arming my lungs with air, I ask Mairead the most obvious thing. “Did someone kill your mom?”
“Yup,” she says with a pop of the p. She grabs a magnifying glass off the desk as she studies the monochrome photo.
Suddenly, standing ramrod straight with the lens in front of her eye, she declares, “Let’s solve that mystery instead!
” Mairead gingerly sits down at the desk and shuffles some papers around, tapping the stack on its end, to collect them into one neat pile.
“Where were you on the night of December the 31st, three years ago?”
Wait! What? “Mairead—” I don’t know how to answer this. Although, I knew exactly what I was doing around that time. Unintentionally, I become defensive. “Are you for real right now?” It comes out more derisive.
“Answer the question!” She holds the glass to the other eye with all the severity of an alley cat, who spots an unsuspecting bird within reach.
Okay, fine. I don’t have anything to hide from the obviously delusional girl. “Probably mourning my brother. He died only days before.”
She sets the prop down loudly. “I know!”
My eyes try to find my roommate, but she’s no longer in the same place. Instead, Andrea is edging around the perimeter of the room, ever so slowly. Maybe she’s trying to find a way out. Do we need to get out?
I focus on Mairead, trying to rationalize what to say next. “What do you mean, you know?”
Her bottom lip juts out, and she blows one of the red curls from her eyes.
“I mean, I know, that your brother died. I understand. No one wants their family to die… but someone killed my mother and I’m 100% sure your family is to blame!
” Now Mairead stands from the desk, looking as if she’s ready to pounce.
Andrea’s now by the only exit, pulling something from her pocket before positioning her front toward us. She appears to be fiddling with the door lock behind her back. Keeping my eyes trained on Mairead, I try to defuse this unfathomable situation.
“My family? My family are nobodies…they didn’t kill anybody. My parents are glorified real estate agents, while my uncle is an investor.” This whole conversation is unhinged, but I keep my tone calm and my words concise.
She throws back her head, laughing maniacally. At first, it’s a high pitch chuckle, eventually morphing into a low sorrowful groan. “Nobodies? You naive storybook princess, they’ve left you in the dark, haven’t they?”
Wow… maybe Mairead is one of those people who get angry when they drink.
I can’t help wondering if the liquid courage that everyone flocks to consume each night is more of a filter remover.
How easy things could be if everyone was simply more forthcoming.
Is it really so hard for others to come clean without a catalyst?
Where has the light-hearted girl gone, who easily befriended me when she started working at Star Mart? What changed? This person before me is cold, calculated, and seeking vengeance for a murder I had no part in.
Why didn’t I let Andrea know that Mairead was Eamon’s sister? Well, probably because I knew how she would react. She already didn’t like Eamon, why would she have less concern for his sister. Fuck. I was more worried about my friend than myself.
Just the same, I empathize with Mairead… so consumed by grief, she’s become disconnected, even paranoid.
Something twirls in her fingers that catches the light. It’s iridescent and long. A letter opener perhaps?
Mairead is focused solely on me, paying Andrea no mind. My roommate remains steadfast; her shoulders rise and fall as she works. Can she pick locks?
“Daddy and I agree… you're the reason mother is dead! You’re only still breathing because my brother thought he could get information. He had this stupid notion that we could get answers without anyone getting hurt… but I’m done waiting! His time is up.”
I hear a faint metal on metal click, just as a slice of fluorescent light pours into the dimly lit room.
Without delay Andrea moves, grabbing me by the shirt and dragging me into the hall. She slams the door behind us.
The distant sound of Mairead’s wild laughter is unsettling.
All at once, the door starts vibrating, likely banging from the other side.
Andrea and I take off down the hall, away from the worst escape room of all time.
The street is now illuminated by yellow streetlights.
Straight away, I find the nearest trash reciprocal and regurgitate all the skittles, tacos, and tequila that was left inside me.
Andrea holds my hair while rubbing quick circles on my back. I need a moment, but she knows better. “We have to go,” she rushes out… “now!”
We practically sprinted the whole way home from downtown. Despite the wintry temperatures, we both have a fine sheen of sweat on our brows.
Andrea fixes us both a cup full of water with baking soda, then procures charcoal tablets from bathroom medicine cabinet.
After we’ve both hydrated and regained a normal heart rate, she pulls out the whiteboard and uncaps a pink marker. “Who is Mairead?!” It’s not a polite question; it’s an accusatory one, filled with hurt and mistrust.
Shit. I rub my fingers along the cord edging of the last couch pillow in the apartment. Taking a large breath prior to letting it all out in one go. “She’s Eamon’s sister.”
The marker in her hand falls to the ground. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I told you Eamon was dangerous… why would his sister be any different?! For fuck’s sake, Cindel!”
She paces the room, while running both hands through her shiny silver strands. She looks spent.
This is all my fault. I put my roommate, my best friend, in harm's way, all because I wanted information that could potentially help me figure out what happened to my brother. I’m such an idiot.
I can’t operate on hunches. What if Eamon was lying about knowing my brother, and it was all a facade, just to get close to me?
Eventually, Andrea scribbles Mairead’s name on the white board, just beneath Eamon’s, with the words “Crazy Red-headed sister,” below.
I can’t help but pick at the edges of my nails while Andrea stands back, surveying the board. I almost rather her yell than be unnervingly quiet.
“Could that stalker of yours be the one responsible for Mary’s death?”
Abandoning my tender nail bed, I stare up into my roommate’s frustrated face.
“No.” This I was sure of, with every bone in my body.
“He’s trying to help. He’s the one that told me to search for something Theo left behind.
” I sigh as I glance down to the floor. Wait.
I look back to my roommate. “How did you know Eamon and Mairead’s mother was named Mary? ”