Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
After Paige’s breakdown, Dennis excuses himself from the party.
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
“Paige looks like she could use some weed,” Dennis says, grabbing his coat.
“Stop right there!” Elliot calls over his shoulder.
Dennis freezes with his hand on the knob. “But—”
“Step away from the door, Dennis,” Elliot says. “And sit back down.”
Mayor Thornberry slaps his hands together. “After you accused every one of malicious wrongdoing, it was your uncle’s laziness that soiled your carpet. I guess that solves it. Now you’ve caught your man, there’s no reason to keep us here.” He gets up to go, but Elliot blocks his path.
“There’s still the mystery of the basement turd,” Elliot says, undeterred.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ivan gestures to Uncle Tony. “If he shat once, he’ll shit twice.”
Elliot snorts. “It would be convenient for you if Tony also defecated on her basement steps. But would a man who was so lazy, he couldn’t be bothered to climb upstairs, go through the trouble of squatting on the third step of Holly’s basement and taking a second dump?”
“This is ridiculous! I don’t need to listen to this another minute.”
The mayor tries to bolt.
Elliot beats him to the door and barricades it with his body. “Nobody leaves.”
“You can’t forcibly keep us here against our will.” Jen props her hand on her hip. “The shitter has been found. Uncle Tony’s an animal. No offense, Uncle Tony.”
Uncle Tony shrugs.
Elliot crosses his arms. “Ah, but Tony is not the second shitter…”
Silence descends upon the room.
“He’s not?” Aunt Cherry glances down at her husband. “Then who?”
Elliot clasps his hands behind his back and resumes pacing. “I found something on the window ledge of Mrs. Day’s attic, which may interest you.” He pivots around and locks eyes with my sister.
Jen’s eyes widen. “Me?”
“Yes,” Elliot says. “You.”
Jen plops down in her seat, crossing her arms defiantly. “I didn’t shit in her basement, okay? It’s probably Uncle Tony going for Round 2.”
Uncle Tony grumbles, “I like Polly better than you.”
I suck in my breath, fighting the urge to correct him.
“It’s Holly.” Jen corrects him for me. “And screw you, Uncle Tony!”
Uncle Tony pops open another can of beer. “You young people are such sissies, getting all worked up over a little bit of poop. Back in my day, we saw poop, we scooped it up, and we got over it.”
That’s the most I’ve ever heard Uncle Tony speak and I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I open my mouth, ready to put him in his place, but Jen beats me to it.
“When was your day?” Jen snaps. “The Medieval Ages when people emptied chamber pots out of windows? Uncle Tony, with all due respect, I liked you better when you were silent. So please, shut the f— OW!” She rubs the back of her head, glaring at the person who bopped her. “Mama! What the hell?”
“Even if Tony is disgusting pig man,” Mom chews her out, “I raise you to respect elder.”
“That’s quite an unhealthy amount of rage,” Elliot observes. “Did Tony hit a nerve? Everyone likes Holly better, don’t they?” He hovers over her shoulder, a devil’s advocate digging into her deepest resentments. “It’s something you’ve heard your entire life… Holly. Holly. Holly.”
Jen covers her ears. “Shut up.”
“How does it feel to be the black sheep of the family? To always come in second fiddle to your sister? To date her ex, who’s still obsessed with her.”
Jen opens her mouth to protest.
“You know he is. In your heart, you’ve always suspected. He’s hot for Holly.” Elliot nods at Brian. “Look at him. He can’t keep his eyes off her even now. He’s trying to impress her with that walnut in his hand.”
Brian sets his walnut down. “I love Jen.”
“Really?” Elliot snorts. “You gave a poor impression of that at the bar.”
Jen glares at Brian. “What’s he talking about?”
“He was trying to pick her up,” Elliot says. “Right under my nose. As her boyfriend at the time, I should take offense.” He shrugs. “C’est le vie.”
Frankly, I’m a little bothered by his cavalier attitude toward us. “Why didn’t you take offense?” I ask.
He grins over his shoulder. “Because I wasn’t really your boyfriend.”
“Well, if you extended more effort in pretending to be my boyfriend, we could’ve had a beautiful fake relationship.”
“Alas,” Elliot tips his head up to the ceiling, “I let him hand you that nut.”
Jen glares at Brian. “You gave Holly a nut?”
He gulps and sinks down in his seat.
“All those nuts he cracked,” Elliot continues, “he cracked for her. Not you. Holly. All your life, everyone praised Holly. Even your mom, who criticizes everyone, including Holly, criticizes you more. Why can’t you dress like Holly?”
“Stop.” Jen squeezes her eyes shut.
“Why can’t you be successful like Holly? Buy your own home like Holly? Run for mayor like Holly?”
Jen furls her hands into fists. “No more…”
“Makes you angry, doesn’t it?” Elliot crouches down to her level. “Everywhere you turn, you hear your sister’s name. Holly. Holly. Look at her…”
My eyes shift from side to side, squirming under the spotlight. I like attention. Just not this kind of attention. Hearing myself painted as Little Miss Perfect makes me hate myself. “Elliot, what are you doing?”
“Hallmark Holly,” Elliot ignores me, “isn’t that what you call her behind her back?”
Jen lifts her head. “H-how did you—?”
“You think I don’t know? You think I didn’t hear you? Your sister, living in a storybook Hallmark movie, with her grand gingerbread house and her Christmas cookies and her perfect life. While poor you, poor Jennifer Lo…”
Dennis’ stoner laugh interrupts Elliot’s monologue.
I frown. “What’s so funny?”
Dennis clears his throat. “Jen Lo. J.Lo. She’s J.Lo! I just got it.”
Elliot levels him with a silent ‘Shut up, Dennis’ stare and returns to frisking my sister.
“You always get the short end of the stick. A lifetime of living in your sister’s shadow.
A lifetime of bottled up resentment. Surely it must come out somewhere…
You want to take Holly down, don’t you? Shake her up at bit.
Knock her down a few notches with a tennis ball to the head? ”
Jen leaps to her feet and looms over him. “I didn’t launch those tennis balls at her.”
“Nor did you shit in her basement.” Elliot gets up from his crouch and circles the living room, talking to the guests like a prosecutor to the jury. “No, you’re a smart girl. You would never get your hands dirty. Wouldn’t you agree…” He halts in front of the mayor. “Thornberry?”
All heads turn to Mayor Thornberry.
The mayor has a minor jump scare. “Me?”
“Yes,” Elliot leans forward, “You.”
“What do I have to do with this?” Ivan tugs on his bolo tie, the turquoise dull against the lamplight.
“Why don’t you take off your bolo tie, Mayor Thornberry? It’s obviously causing you some discomfort. Is the cheap gemstone you’re trying to pass off as turquoise giving you a neck rash? Perhaps your new supplier is taking you for a ride?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The mayor’s forehead glimmers with sweat. His eyes are bloodshot, his nose runny. With shaking hands, he pats his coat, searching for something.
Elliot passes him the tissue box.
The mayor blows his nose. “This is real turquoise. I got it from Holly’s shop. She’s my only crystal supplier.”
“Until you found a cheaper source.” Letting that information sink in, Elliot clamps a hand on Mayor Thornberry’s shoulder, preventing him from bolting. “What were you doing behind the hedges of the abandoned Brody farm the night of the party?”
“I was… I was…” Ivan wipes the sweat from his brow. “I was never —”
“Oh, but you were. You were spotted by Dennis.”
Dennis puffs up his chest. “That’s right. I saw him.”
“Dennis?” Ivan blusters. “Who is this ‘Dennis’ anyway?”
Dennis raises his hand. “I’m right here.”
Ivan snorts. “This thug has a mullet. Do you expect anyone to believe the word of a mullet man over their mayor?”
Elliot gestures to the eyewitness. “This is Dennis Buckminster III and don’t you forget it.”
Dennis grins. “Thanks, man.”
“On the night of November 24th,” Elliot pounces on the mayor, “while sharing a joint with Holly’s aunt, Dennis spotted you scurrying across the backyard like a weasel where you disappeared into the hedge that abuts Holly’s property from the Brody farm.
You were later joined by a woman wearing five inch crystal slides…
” He points to Aunt Cherry. “Her trademark shoes. She’s wearing them right now. ”
Aunt Cherry flexes her pudgy pink toes. “You can’t pin this on me. I was with Dennis.”
“Did you see Ivan sneaking around back?” I ask.
“I was pretty mellow by that point,” Aunt Cherry says. “And these old eyes don’t see as well in the dark like they used to.”
“So you only have the word of a stoner with a mullet…” Shaking off Elliot’s hold, Ivan smooths down his coat.
A shit-eating grin spreads across his smug face.
“Detective Frost, you’re wasting everybody’s time with your conspiracy theories.
Why don’t you just tell us who took a shit in Holly’s basement?
And if you say I did it, I’ll sue you for slander. ”
“You didn’t do it,” Elliot says calmly.
I blink, surprised by how easy it was to clear Mayor Thornberry’s name. “Are you sure?”
“Of course he’s sure,” Ivan snaps. “Because I didn’t do it and I’m insulted that you would even think I’d stoop to this level! I do my business in a toilet like a normal human being.”
“Clearly you’re hiding something.” I plead my case to Elliot.
“What makes you so sure Ivan didn’t do it?
Look at him!” I gesture to the red-faced, sweat drenched mayor.
“He’s the picture of guilt. All evidence points to him.
” I check off his offenses, one finger at a time.
“He was sneaking around back. He was in proximity to the crime scene. It benefits him to harass and intimidate me out of the election. He did it. He shat in my basement!”
“He didn’t shit in your basement, because he has a solid alibi.” Pivoting around, Elliot jams his hands in his pocket, his hawkish gaze landing squarely on Jen. “He was banging your sister in the bushes…”