CHAPTER 43 JESSALYN
JESSALYN
“He’s back.”
No, not Justin. On Wednesday morning, he was still in jail, and I felt sick over it.
“Who’s back?” I asked Sophy.
“The loan shark.” She spoke in a whisper. “You said to call if he came, and…well, he’s in the hallway. I saw him through the window, and then there was a knock at the door.”
“Did you answer it?”
“No! Should I? I’m hiding behind the couch.”
“No, don’t. Hold on, I’ll check with Ari.”
Shiro was whining, and I let him outside for what must have been the tenth time today.
The peach cobbler had made him squicky, and I’d had to hose the lawn twice already.
At least he hadn’t pooped on the carpet.
Dawson had gone to pick up extra Lysol and paper towels while Violet joined a conference call with her agent in Hollywood.
She’d have to fly back to California soon, and I was dreading it.
Ari was still watching the surveillance tape. She’d eaten an entire peach pie for breakfast, and she’d drunk so much coffee that her blood had to be ninety percent caffeine.
“I don’t know if it matters anymore, but the debt collector showed up at Sophy’s apartment again.”
“Today?” she asked.
“Yup. He’s still there, and Sophy sounds pretty scared. What should I tell her?”
“Tell her I’m on my way.”
“You’re going over there?”
“Someone needs to set him straight and send him after Saige instead of Sophy.”
“And you’re that person?”
She pulled a face. “That depends. I’ll start by finding out who we’re dealing with, and to do that, I need his licence plate.
If he’s working for a bona fide collection agency, he should be adhering to the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act, which means we can file a complaint with the Attorney General’s Office if he breaches the rules. ”
“What if he isn’t bona fide?”
“I’ll follow him and see where he’s staying.”
“Be careful.”
“I always am.”
“Ari’s on her way,” I told Sophy as Ari grabbed her key and headed out the back door. Her car was parked in Marion’s driveway too. “She’s going to follow the guy and try to find out who he is. I’m so, so sorry about Amie.”
“And I’m sorry about Justin.” Sophy gave a quiet sniffle. “I wasn’t even sure whether to call you, but I said I would, so…”
“I really appreciate it. Justin being arrested is all a big misunderstanding—he has so many people giving him alibis, but the police still won’t let him go.”
“Maybe they know something you don’t?”
Or maybe they were just being pig-headed because they didn’t want to admit they were wrong. Looking at you, Special Agent Rimer.
“I’m not sure they know what they’re doing. I mean, they’ve lost Amie’s body.”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t seen the news?”
“No? They were sensationalising everything and telling so many lies about Amie, I couldn’t watch anymore. How can the police lose a body? That’s a joke, right?”
“They might have just…I don’t know…made some kind of administrative mix-up?”
“Oh my goodness. Why can’t these people get it right? They said it was a family matter when Saige stole Amie’s money, and they didn’t care when she went missing, and now they can’t find her freaking body? I want a refund on my tax dollars.”
“Shh, keep your voice down.”
“Right.” Now Sophy was whispering again. “Saige came here with her parents, and she was eyeing up Amie’s jewellery, so I hid it in my room. I’m not trying to steal it or anything; I just didn’t want Saige to take it. But now Amie’s gone, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe hold on to it for now?”
“What about the rest of her stuff? I can’t afford to keep the apartment on my own, but I can’t throw out her belongings. I’m not sure I’ll even make the rent this month because I took unpaid sick days.”
“Could you speak with her parents?”
“Is it too soon? Like, would that be insensitive?”
“Are you able to wait a day or two? They might be tied up with the body issue at the moment.” I opened the back door and called Shiro. “And you have more than a week before the end of the month.”
“I guess.”
If Justin were here, he would offer to help with the rent. Perhaps I could speak with Brax? Or if Sophy set up a fundraiser…
“Have you tried starting a JustFundIt page?”
If I weren’t avoiding social media, I could have shared it.
Saylor said the comments on my videos had turned into a war zone, true-crime fans versus cooking fans, and I’d considered deleting the whole damn channel.
But Violet promised it would all blow over.
She’d been there, done that, survived the shitstorm.
Justin would get released, people would realise they’d been wrong about him, and I could carry on baking cookies.
I called Shiro again. Where was he? Tell me he wasn’t pooping in the swimming pool…
“It just seems so…so insensitive. I mean, Amie’s dead, and I’m asking for rent money?”
“People won’t think that.” Dammit, I’d have to go outside and find him, and it was raining again. I borrowed one of Justin’s coats from the mudroom and put on a pair of sneakers. “Fundraisers are a part of life now, aren’t they?”
“Oh, hell. He just knocked again.”
“Stay still. He doesn’t know you’re there, and he’ll give up eventually.”
“What if he breaks in?”
A week ago, I would have told her to call the police right away, but would they help? They seemed too busy arresting the wrong man and ignoring evidence these days.
“Do you have pepper spray? Shiro! Sorry, my dog won’t come in from the yard.”
“In my purse.”
“Get it. But don’t spray Ari when she gets there.”
“I won’t, I swear. How long will she take?”
“Ten minutes? She already left, and— Oh, shit.”
“What? What happened?”
The back gate was open. Ari must not have closed it properly when she left, and now Shiro had gone on a doggie adventure. I heard barking in the distance.
“My dog got out of the yard.” I’d been holding it together, but this was the last freaking straw. My eyes began to prickle because did anything else want to go wrong this week? “The gate was left open, and he hasn’t been walked enough lately. He probably saw a squirrel.”
Crap, what if he chased a horse? Would folks be out riding in this weather?
“When I was eight, our cavadoodle escaped and got hit by a car.”
Gee, thanks, that made me feel so much better.
“Shiro! Come!” At least most of the podcasters had slithered back under their rocks, or gone down to the courthouse, or whatever. “I’m glad I didn’t put the peach cobbler in the oven yet.”
“You made peach cobbler? My grandma used to make that.”
“We have so many peaches that I’m making peach everything right now.”
“Are peaches in season? I thought that was fall?”
“Our neighbour went to the grocery store and—” A twig cracked behind me, and I froze.
“Hello, Jessalyn.”
My blood ran cold at the sound of his voice, and the phone slipped out of my hand.
Oh, fuck.