Chapter 36
If my podcasts have taught me anything, it’s that anyone can be a murderer and not just the bro who’s a dead ringer for Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.
They can be any race or religion. Rich or poor.
It’s just like in my cab. It’s impossible to discern the good passengers from the bad ones on appearances alone, unless, of course, they’re already super drunk.
I stare at the screen and rub my eyes. The name on the screen is Charlie Hall.
The head of Green World. I scan the rest of the names just to be sure.
It’s no mistake. The sales associate steps out to take a call, and I start snapping photos like an unhinged paparazzo of sales receipts and whatever other paperwork is associated with these sales.
I hate doing exactly what I was told not to do, but this is just too important.
“Do you think it’s another Charlie Hall?” I say, mouth agape, as soon as we’re hurried out of the Rolex store by the helpful, nameless employee. It’s a dumb question. The night is chilly, and I hug my jacket around myself tightly. “Charlie Hall tried to kill Amaya on the street in broad daylight?”
“Wait…” I’m slowly trying to piece things together in my head. “I’m not sure that could have been Charlie in the Magnus Mouse costume—that guy didn’t seem as tall as Charlie is.”
“He’s hired someone else, a professional hit man maybe. Someone we don’t know,” Alex counters.
“Maybe one of the other names on the list is the hit man and they both coincidentally own the same watch,” I posit, though even I know that I’m grasping at straws. Back to true crime rule number nine: There are rarely coincidences in criminal cases.
“The most plausible scenario is that Charlie is paying off the hit man with the Rolex watch. It does cost a lot of money…It’s smart paying him off like that. Paying him off with any sort of cash payment would immediately look suspicious. Any sort of withdrawal would be problematic,” Alex says.
I’m impressed with Alex’s keen investigative eye.
“You’re pretty good at coming up with these theories.”
“You know why that is?”
I’m about to say it’s because he’s a genius. I don’t get it out before Alex speaks again.
“It’s because I’m used to seeing the worst in people. I also usually expect the worst too.” There’s a rare seriousness in Alex’s face. “I think you see the good in everyone, so it makes you blind to their true possibilities.”
I’m not sure what to say. I sense Alex is about to tell me something important. He has a pinched look on his face.
Instead, he goes back to the investigation. “Charlie is behind this.”
“But Charlie is bankrupt. I saw it for myself. How could he afford such an expensive watch? What about the pizza menu? There are hundreds of pizza joints in the city—I can’t believe our killer would have a menu from that particular place by accident.”
“Maybe Charlie embezzled funds from Green World? Does it really matter what the motive is? And maybe the pizza guy is just a red herring?” Alex remarks.
“A red herring?” False, convenient clues don’t just pop up. Motive is critical.
Alex doesn’t address the comment. While the best true crime podcasts are filled with twists and turns, I now realize that’s probably careful editing and storytelling to maximize drama.
In real life, red herrings don’t seem plausible.
I wish my own life situation were a little more straightforward.
For a second, I wonder who would play me in the TV version of all this, and my mind draws a blank.
Mindy Kaling is far too beautiful, but since it’s a movie, a little embellishment can’t hurt…
Alex interrupts my admittedly poorly timed daydreaming. “Charlie must be the one behind the threatening texts and the stabbing of Amaya. Who else knew you went to Green World the day you got the text to stay away from there?” Only me, Amaya, Charlie, and the few people in Charlie’s house.
This is, I must admit, a good point. Even Alex didn’t know we were going there until after I told him. Charlie does fit in with my true crime rules. He has a motive. He wished the victim dead. He almost surely sent us the threatening texts. Could it be any more obvious?
“Maybe there’s more to the story…something doesn’t add up. Something I can’t put my finger on.”
“Always seeing the best in everyone,” Alex says with a shake of his head.
“Is that such a bad thing?” I respond loudly, irritation coating my words. He’s used this line as an insult before.
Alex stops walking and looks directly at me. “It’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s the best thing about you,” he says.
—
We wait until we get back to the safety of Alex’s apartment before looking at the photos of the other documents. I’m still feeling spooked after the attack, worried that the man who stabbed Amaya will spring out of any dark corner like my life is part of the Scream movie franchise.
“Anything in there helpful?” Alex asks from the kitchen as he makes himself a sandwich.
I scroll through the photos on Alex’s phone, and suddenly it buzzes. Someone is calling. The caller ID flashes B-Dawg. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the cringey nickname.
“Alex, someone’s calling!” I call out, waving the phone in the air.
“Who is it?”
“Someone named B-Dawg?” I say, poorly stifling a laugh.
“You can let it go to voicemail, I’ll call them back,” Alex responds, face a little pink as he walks toward me.
I return to the phone, which has now stopped ringing. I continue to scroll through the photos hoping that something will stick out at me. I need to find something. My life depends on it.