Chapter 61
We hurried through the rain under one umbrella, arms linked, Sebastian shivering in his T-shirt, me wrapped in his coat.
“Do you want a scarf? I have three.”
“I was going to ask.”
“Strip poker.”
He leaned closer. “And whiskey?”
“Mary made me puke that night, not the booze.” Part of me had always known this. Not drinking had been a penance, an echo of Hiromi.
The women’s rugby team flowed past, covered in mud, on their usual weekly run. They sang an old marching song about leaving their wives to fight for their country.
“Time of death?” I asked when they’d passed.
“Less than an hour.”
I nodded. No rigor, no lividity yet.
“We dragged her into the pantry,” he said. “None of the housemates know, but Salinger came home as I was leaving. He went straight to his room. Didn’t see a thing.”
“What the hell happened?” I asked.
“This is all according to Faraday—I was in my room, with headphones on.” Sebastian pulled me a little closer, lowering his voice even in the din of the storm. “Crystal showed up at our door, claiming she worked for Garrett.”
“What the hell?”
“She showed Faraday the paperwork for that light box at the top of the stairs. Said there was a problem with provenance, like it’s a forgery, and she had to inspect it in person.”
The light box—the only piece of art that Jessica Anderson had ever sold. The buyer’s name was on the receipt.
“So Faraday let her in,” I said.
“And Crystal starts asking about the woman who sold it to her. Had a picture of you, and Faraday says—”
“ ‘That’s Jessica Morton. She goes here.’ ”
Sebastian nodded.
“How the fuck did that escalate to murder?” I asked.
“Because that’s when Faraday realized she was getting played. This wasn’t about the light box—it was about you. So she decided to be a hero and find out from Crystal what was really going on.”
“To make amends for Oscar Junior,” I said, and began to shiver. Inside Sebastian’s coat I was drenched and shirtless.
“I think Crystal was trying to leave,” he said. “But Faraday grabbed her and started shouting for me. By the time I came out, Crystal was at the bottom of the stairs.”
A gust jerked his umbrella sideways, and fresh rain spattered my face. As Sebastian wrestled with the wind, he held me tight.
“She was still breathing when I got there. I fixed that. We dragged her into the pantry and stuck an electric heater in there, got it close to body temp. Algor mortis won’t show true time of death.”
“You fixed it…”
“Her blood will be pooling by now. We’ll need to place her in the same position, out in the rain, somewhere she could’ve fallen.”
“She was staying at the Motorway Inn,” I said, pushing the rest away. “We’ll dump her at the bottom of the back stairs, by the parking lot.”
Those stairs were covered by a concrete awning, but the rain was practically blowing sideways. There were plenty of sketchy residents at the Motorway for the police to suspect. Most of them wouldn’t talk to the cops; the rest wouldn’t be believed.
Sebastian and I left campus, through the east gate and past a row of Helshire-focused businesses. A café, a tattoo parlor, two hair salons. The street was empty.
Out here in the real world, no one was celebrating the rain.
A few blocks later, Faraday’s Victorian loomed before us. The house was dark and still, except for one lit window on the top floor.
We went in through the back, muddy and soaked. Faraday sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, staring at the closed pantry door.
She looked up at me and smiled.
“Finally,” she said. “Amazing what I have to do to get a visit.”
“Well, here I am,” I said.
“All’s well in hand, dear. I gave Salinger a gummy bear, twice his usual dosage. He’s retired for the afternoon.”
“He lives here? I thought you kicked him out.”
“I did, but then Hopper left in protest, leaving room for one more.” She glanced at her phone. “India and Dutton are trapped at the library. I’m supposed to bring them umbrellas, and then we’re all heading to the Banner storm party. They’ll text me if they change plans.”
Sebastian closed his umbrella. “Good work, Far.”
“I’m not completely useless, Bazzy. Wipe your shoes.”
I ignored the nicknames. In the nearest chair was a wet Helshire sweatshirt in a plastic bag, the one Crystal had been wearing. They must have pulled it off her before moving the body into the pantry—one less clue pointing at the college.
“We’ll need a car.”
“Dutton’s keys are hanging by the door,” Faraday said. “Sunset is at six eighteen.”
I closed my eyes, but she was right—we couldn’t move the body in daylight, and it wasn’t even five yet.
“Faraday. How did this happen?”
“Aren’t you going to take your coat off?”
“I’m not wearing much under it.”
“An odd choice for your first visit, dear.”
“I was in a hurry. Something about a dead body.”
Faraday glanced upward—toward the scene of the crime or perhaps Salinger’s room—and gave a sigh.
“She started talking about a murder in the city, this summer. Some artist of Garrett’s. It sounded as if she was here to accuse you.”
Maybe Crystal had known I was more than a loose end.
I looked at the pantry door. What if Faraday had saved me?
“I couldn’t let her walk away after that,” she went on. “I’d told her your real name.”
“She already knew my name. I talked to her a few hours ago.”
“Oh. Oops.”
“Yes, dear. Oops.”
Faraday pushed her tea away. “I didn’t mean to kill anyone. I was thinking we could break her pinkie, to keep her quiet. It worked with Oscar.”
“It didn’t work with—” I began, but both of them glanced at the ceiling. I lowered my voice. “You have to let us handle things like this.”
“I screamed for Bazzy, and he didn’t come.” A tear rolled down Faraday’s cheek. “And you haven’t been here all semester. You never even saw the koi pond before the smoke killed them all.”
I sat at the kitchen table beside her, head in hands. My buzz from the cocktails was sliding into an early hangover. The exhilaration of running in the rain had faded into sore muscles and wet feet. Sebastian’s sodden coat was heavy on my shoulders.
“Can I borrow a shirt?” I asked.
“We aren’t really the same size, dear.”
“Don’t worry, dear.” I managed a smile. “We’ll make it work.”