10 Ollie
Ollie
Ollie pushes the rolling bulletin board down the street.
He thought about getting a smaller one to hang on the wall, but he assumes that when the Strongs told him he could make the guest room “his space,” they didn’t mean holes in the walls or that impossible-to-take-down sticky stuff.
Besides, this way, if he needs to, he can flip it around so people don’t see it, or roll it somewhere else.
The office-supply store didn’t have red string, but the Strongs have a crafting closet, and he bets he can find some in there, and they said, Feel free to use anything.
The space is so inspiring. And right now, Ollie is feeling very inspired.
It’s probably indicative of something, his excitement over seeing a man’s head blown off, the urge to solve this mystery.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that he never really finishes anything anymore, and with a mystery, there’s always a solid end point, a check on the list, a culprit unmasked.
Maybe it has something to do with his dad.
He can think about that later. After he’s solved the case.
He finds red string in the crafting closet and brings it to his room with the bulletin board and some sticky notes and thumb tacks he bought.
He wonders if he should feel more…something.
Shaken? Brandon seemed shaken. But Ollie was mostly worried about the dogs.
He hopes they don’t have any trauma. The dead guy was dead.
There was nothing to be done about that.
But the dogs were all freaking out. There was no time to be shaken.
And now, as he thinks back on it, the sound of the skull cracking, the blood on the street, the weirdly sweet metallic smell, it doesn’t bother him.
It’s more like remembering a movie. A movie where he’s the detective.
He starts writing down what he knows: Jon, the address, the phone.
He constructs a timeline, best as he can remember it: Jon checked in, checked out early; they went to the address; the man died; they collected the dogs, went back; the body was gone.
How long was that? The meetup was at two, and it’s six now.
It took them a while to catch the dogs and then longer before Nicole showed up, and then they went back to the body, talked, and Ollie went shopping and came back.
So five? Four thirty? He’s not sure. The edible has mostly worn off now, but it makes remembering what happened while he was on it a lot harder (he really needs to put those aside, stick to the gentler ones, especially if he’s working the case).
He’d make a good detective, he thinks, standing back to stare at his work.
This is a good start. In fact, all four of them together would make a great detective agency: Nicole could handle the legal stuff, Ian’s stalking skills could find anyone and have apparently led them into some light hacking skills, and Brandon’s taste in men would ensure a never-ending supply of clients—plus he’s good with handling people, always sees the good in them.
It’s why he falls in love so often. Ollie would be the detective though.
He thinks that might be something he could be good at.
Well, he’ll find out, anyway. But if he is, maybe they could do it together—that could be their thing: one big gay detective agency.
And then they’d see each other more than once a week, have time to talk about things, real things again.
He’s getting ahead of himself. He still has no idea what’s going on (timeline or no) and there’s no next episode coming, like on a podcast. He’ll have to go figure things out himself.
But first he should try to see if what he does know points him anywhere.
And there’s always one person he loves to unpack those podcasts with. He pops in an earbud and dials.
“Oliver! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Wait, wait, the gals and I were just drinking margaritas and playing never have I ever. These ladies, let me tell you, are prudes. You know it’s true, Steph!” she shouts to someone, then laughs.
Ollie laughs with her. Mom’s retirement community sounds pretty wild. It’s part of the reason he doesn’t visit much and instead she comes into the city. If he goes there, he’s afraid of what he might find out about her.
“We were just finishing up anyway though—let me go outside so we can talk. Bye, ladies! It’s my son on the phone!
See you tomorrow!” Ollie can hear other women saying goodbye and shouting, “Tell that good-looking son of yours hello!” and laughing.
He wonders how much they know about him.
“Okay, Ollie, it’s quieter now. Did you call because you listened to the last episode?
I think it was the sister. I thought maybe it was the mom because of her prescription, but after they revealed she’d lied about her piccolo lessons, I think definitely the sister.
The timeline works now—she could easily have driven out to meet Kaylee at the lake, not knowing Sarabeth was going to be there, too, and drugged Kaylee with their mom’s medicine, then, suddenly caught by Sarabeth, run her over with Kaylee’s car before dumping everything in the lake and fleeing.
” His mom talks in a fast excited hush, words blurring together, but Ollie understands it all perfectly. They have these chats every week.
“I think the same! Unless the piccolo teacher was lying about her not showing up for the lesson—he had been Kaylee’s teacher, too, and Kaylee had said she’d had a fling with an older man in high school.”
“Oh, I forgot about the friend saying that. That’s a good point. Plus, we’re only four episodes in! They must have at least eight more big twists.”
“Oh, at least.” Ollie flops down on the mattress, staring at his bulletin board.
Pete leaps up onto the bed next to him, walks in a circle a few times, and then settles into a bun.
“So…” he says cautiously, wondering how to get his mother’s opinion on his new case.
Nicole said not to talk about it. So he won’t (not for real anyway).
“I was thinking of doing my own podcast.”
“Oh, Ollie, how wonderful! You’d be great at it.”
“Thank you. But I need to solve an unsolved case first, right?” He looks across at the bulletin board. An unknown case, really.
“Well, sure. You know, my friend Margaret, she says that her daughter’s friend’s aunt disappeared, and no one ever found her. People say she ran off with another woman, but no one could prove it. Or so I heard. You want me to get her name?”
“No, no, I found a case. These two guys said they saw a guy get shot, but when they went back, no body.”
His mother gasps with excitement. “Oh, that’s a good one, Ollie. What happened next?”
Ollie stares wide-eyed at the bulletin board. “…I don’t know yet.”
“Well, you’ve gotta find out!” She sounds so excited, like it’s already a real podcast and it just ended on a cliffhanger.
“Yeah, but I don’t know where to start.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know where to start? Of course you do! You talk to the witnesses, you go to the police for their report, and then you talk to local businesses to see if they recorded anything, just like in the podcasts.”
Local cameras—that’s a good idea. He should have thought of that (he was kind of stoned, but still).
“I know, I just don’t know how to…”
“You go and you ask, honey! You make a list, and then you go and do it. Oh, I’m so happy you’re doing something.”
“I do stuff,” Ollie says, voice too defensive, like he’s a small child (he’s her child, but still, he’s an adult now, right?). “I dog walk.”
“I know, I know, honey, but I mean something for you.”
“Oh.”
“You just haven’t seemed too excited about anything lately. Haven’t…taken much initiative. Which is fine! You can’t force it. I’m just excited you found something.”
“Well…maybe. I still need to do it.”
“You will,” she says confidently. He can hear her unlocking the door to her little condo on campus in the background.
“I’ll start finding you recording equipment so you can do it well.
You want good sound quality; I hate those podcasts where everyone sounds mealy-mouthed.
This one isn’t in the Appalachians, is it? Those accents—”
“No, it’s local.”
“Great! Oh, this will be fun. I’ll be your producer. Oh, or maybe your cohost. Does that sound fun?”
“Yeah,” Ollie says, suddenly drowning in his mother’s plans.
“You sound worried. Are you worried?”
“No, no.”
She pauses, and he can see her pursing her lips. “Is this bringing up stuff about your father?” she asks, her voice softer, more nervous.
“No, Mom,” he says quickly.
“All right!” She bounces immediately back to excited. “Well, get to work. I’ll start reading microphone reviews.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, honey.”
Ollie clicks off the phone, still staring at the bulletin board. He tears his eyes away and goes over to the little Tupperware of edibles he put in the nightstand drawer. Pete looks up as he pops it open.
“I know, I should focus. But one more won’t hurt.”
***
e new edible hasn’t even kicked in by the time he gets back to the street where the man got shot.
Pete walks a little slower as they approach it, then pees against a hydrant.
Ollie is pretty sure this is a bad idea—returning to the scene of the crime.
But he’s not the criminal, and they did it once already.
Though Nicole told them to lie low, and this probably isn’t that, but what is, really? Staying inside? He has dogs to walk.