Текст книги "Crowned and Moldering"

Автор книги: Kate Carlisle

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Tiger, my fluffy marmalade cat, had no such compunctions. She pranced into the room and straight over to me, where she, meowing loudly, wove her soft, furry body in and out and around my legs. And there was the difference between cats and dogs. Dogs will wait while cats demand.

“Hello, my darlings,” I crooned over the blast of the hair dryer. “We’re expecting company, so please be on your best behavior.”

Robbie’s bark was loud and enthusiastic, so I knew he understood completely. Tiger ignored the dog and head-bumped my ankles repeatedly. “I’ll feed you—don’t worry. I just need another minute to tame this mop so I don’t scare off the chief.”

A minute later the doorbell rang and Robbie barked again, then ran off down the stairs. Tiger tried to remain haughty and pay no attention to whatever was going on downstairs, but seconds later she strutted away to join Robbie, probably hoping our guest had brought food.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, as though I expected Tiger to convey my message to the chief. I chuckled at myself, gave my hair one more gust of hot air, and turned off the hair dryer. Checking the mirror, I saw that my hair was still a tangle of red curls, but at least they were dry and bouncy, as opposed to stringy and wet. I quickly applied a coat of clear gloss to my lips, and hurried downstairs to greet the chief.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said as I swung open the front door. “Come in.”

“Thanks for seeing me.” He stepped inside and removed his wet leather jacket. I took the jacket, and he glanced down at the small puddle on the hardwood floor. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about that. Let me hang this up.” He followed me into the kitchen, and while I hung his jacket on the service-porch rack to dry, he grabbed several paper towels and walked back to the front door to sop up the rainwater.

“It’s pouring out there,” he said a minute later as he returned to the kitchen.

“I know. My hair was sopping wet by the time I made it home.”

“It looks great now.”

“Oh,” I said, foolishly pleased by the compliment. “Thanks.”

Robbie had been patient long enough. He let out a quick bark and toddled up to Eric’s feet, where he sat expectantly.

“Hey, buddy,” Eric said, and bent down to scratch Robbie’s back.

Tiger joined them, and Eric gave the cat’s neck and ears a soft rubbing.

I almost sighed out loud. My pets recognized an animal lover when they saw one. And I did, too. Eric had recently adopted Rudy, a German shepherd he was training to become the first member of the Lighthouse Cove K-9 patrol. There had been a run on pet adoptions last month when the local no-kill animal shelter had rented a booth at the town’s Valentine’s Day Festival.

Mac was another one who’d taken advantage of the pet-adoption service and found himself a beautiful black cat. He’d named him Luke, short for Lucifer, and it was sweet to see how instantly they’d adapted to each other. At the time, I wasn’t sure how my Tiger would feel about sharing her backyard territory with Luke. But the two felines had scrutinized and sniffed and circled each other for a little while before they slowly decided to become new best friends.

Mac had since assured me that he’d be paying another visit to the pet-adoption booth to find himself a big, clumsy, lovable dog, as soon as he moved out of the small garage apartment and settled into his new life in the lighthouse mansion.

“Let’s sit in here,” I said to Eric, gesturing at the kitchen table. “I didn’t have lunch, so I was going to throw together something to eat. Do you have time to join me?”

“I’d love to. I missed lunch, too.”

“I need to feed these two ragamuffins first, if you don’t mind. Otherwise, they’ll be begging for scraps.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Eric took a seat and watched me fill the pet bowls with food and give them fresh water to drink. Then, rather than prepare a real meal for Eric and me, I pulled out my favorite snacks and put them all on a platter. There were pickle spears, potato chips, cheese, crackers, pistachios, some rolled-up ham slices, and olives. I placed the goodies on the table, along with napkins and utensils and small plates for each of us.

“Would you like something to drink? I’ve got bubbly water, soda, beer?”

“Just water. I appreciate it, Shannon.”

Once I’d poured two glasses of sparkling water, I sat and we began to munch. He seemed perfectly happy to enjoy a quiet moment, but I was dying of curiosity. So after a few minutes of small talk, I prompted him. “You said you need some background information on Lily.”

He nodded and finished chewing a slice of ham. “Yes. I’ve debated back and forth about saying anything. I realize you’re very loyal to Sean.”

“I am, and I hope you don’t believe for one minute that he could have anything to do with Lily’s death.”

“Not so far.”

“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that for now.” I reached for a slice of cheese. “But I was also a friend of Lily’s and I would love to know what happened to her. So I’ll help you in any way I can, and I promise that anything you tell me will be kept in complete confidence.”

“I’ll count on that,” he said, “because I don’t want one word of this getting out. I know how things operate in this town.”

“You mean Gossip Central?”

“Exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s amazing how fast news travels around here.”

“Well, if anyone hears anything, it didn’t come from me. I know you’re worried about that, but don’t be. I won’t tell a single soul.”

He grabbed a potato chip and popped it in his mouth. He chewed slowly and appeared to be internally debating the question of my discretion. I sat back and waited. It was no hardship. The man was too attractive for my own good. In fact, thanks to the recent arrivals of both Eric Jensen and Mac Sullivan, the women of Lighthouse Cove—especially me—were a very happy group.

But time was marching on, so I gave Eric another nudge. “So, what do you want to know about Lily?”

“Well, that’s the thing: we still don’t even know if the deceased is Lily Brogan.” He sounded exasperated.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

“It’s never soon enough,” he grumbled.

I hid a smile. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Yeah, but you know me—I’m a results-oriented kind of guy.” He gave me a half smile, easing my fears that this conversation might devolve into another interrogation.

“Did you talk to the medical examiner yet?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t had a chance to study the skeleton yet, but the coroner said that he thought it was a young woman.”

“I guess he would know,” I said. As the sheriff-coroner, the man had probably seen his share of skeletons. Still, the ME would make the final determination.

“The coroner also said that her skull was crushed in.”

I winced. “Ouch. Does he mean crushed by a bat or some other kind of weapon? Or was it crushed from falling through the dumbwaiter’s shaft?”

“My guess is that it happened a long time ago, so the fall through the shaft wouldn’t be a factor. But, again, the ME will know more once he gets everything back to the lab.”

“Did you give him the MedicAlert bracelet?”

“Yeah. If there’s a trace of DNA on the surface, he’ll find it.”

I thought about the bracelet and tried to remember if I’d ever seen it on Lily’s wrist. And that was when I realized what it was that had struck me as so odd about the image of those bones in the basement. “Did you find anything else down there besides the bracelet?”

His eyes narrowed. “Like what, exactly?”

“Like remnants of clothing or personal effects?”

“Good question. But no.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. No clothing was found in the basement or anywhere else in the house.”

“I knew it. I knew something was wrong when I first saw the bones. There was no sign of any clothing.”

“That struck me, too.”

My next thought made me a little sick to my stomach, but I had to ask. “Was there any hair left on her skull?”

“Not that I could see, but the medical examiner will be able to check more closely. Chances are, if the remains are, in fact, Lily Brogan’s, it means that she’d been in that shaft for fifteen years. The close quarters might’ve protected her body from rodents and such, but not from insects like moths and beetles. Because of the ocean air and the closed-in conditions, the space would be humid, which would attract bacteria. Her hair would have been consumed within two or three years.”

Consumed. I clutched my stomach and had to take a few slow breaths to ease that queasy feeling. “I just thought, since she was a redhead, you’d be able to tell right away that it was Lily. If there was any hair left on her head.”

“It’s a good point.”

A sickening point, but a good one. After a few sips of bubbly water, my stomach calmed down a touch. “Did you see the mattress in the attic?”

“Yeah. Tommy’s got the crime-scene gals working on it. They searched the entire house all over again after we left and they didn’t find anything, either. No clothes, no bed sheets, no towels.” He shook his head in frustration. “Nothing that would indicate that someone might’ve actually lived there or even crashed there occasionally. Nothing except that mattress and the bones.”

I rubbed my arms, suddenly chilled. “That’s creepy, don’t you think? I mean, she couldn’t have been running around the house naked all the time. Someone must’ve taken the clothes and sheets to hide the evidence.”

“Evidence?” he said. “Like what?” It was obvious that he already knew the answer. So this was a quiz, maybe?

“Blood,” I said immediately. “Or semen? Dirt? Or sand from the beach. Maybe she was dragged up to the house from the beach.” I thought about that for a second. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I won’t reject any wild theories just yet.”

As I reached for an olive, I suddenly remembered something else that might be important. “Okay, I’ve got a wild one for you.”

His mouth curved into a smile. “Of course you do. I can’t wait.”

“Did you happen to hear about the rat we found the last time Mac and I went out to the mansion?”

“I did. Some of your guys were talking about it at the pub one night. There was a lot of laughing, and the consensus was that your rat was barely big enough to be seen with the human eye. But you insisted on having the place exterminated, anyway.”

I sniffed. “If you’ve seen one rat, you’ve got to assume there are a few hundred more hiding somewhere. And that many rats can work like an army. They were planning an attack to defend their home. And, in my defense, it wasn’t small. It was a great big ugly rat.” I was exaggerating again, but I still wasn’t comfortable admitting how teensy-weensy the thing had actually been. A rat is a rat. “And, besides, I use a no-kill exterminator. They trap rats and mice and raccoons and rabbits and remove them before tenting the place for termites.”

“Are you kidding? A no-kill exterminator?”

“I’m not kidding. Well, they do kill termites and carpenter ants—any bugs that destroy wood. But the rodents are trapped in cages and driven out to the mountains, where they’re set free.” And, yes, I suspected that the rats would come scurrying back to town, but my hope was they wouldn’t remember their previous address.

He scratched his head. “Now I’ve heard everything.” He grabbed his pen. “I’d better get the name of your exterminator. He might’ve seen something while he was out at the house.”

“Good idea.” I gave him the name of my guy, then grabbed a cracker. “Over the past fifteen years, though, do you think those rats could’ve eaten Lily’s clothing? Could they have chewed through any sheets and towels left lying around?”

He thought about it as he reached for another chip. “As far as I know, rats will eat anything. Frankly, they might’ve eaten parts of her flesh, too, if they could reach her inside the dumbwaiter shaft. We may never know.”

I grimaced. “Thanks for that visual.”

“It’s disturbing, but entirely likely.” He shook his head. “But back to the question of clothing. Even if rats did eat away at it, I think there would still be some remnants. But I’ll discuss it with the medical examiner. He’ll know more about rats’ eating habits than I do.”

Gathering up my nerve, I said, “Okay. So why are you talking to me about all of this?”

He sat back in his chair, but before he could speak, Tiger took the opportunity to hop up onto his lap.

I started to get up. “I can take her if you’d rather not hold her.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He stroked her soft fur, looking perfectly content.

“She doesn’t mind, either, clearly.” I shook my head at my presumptuous, flirty pet, then glanced down to see Robbie gazing up at me with a hopeful expression. Robbie’s problem was that he was too polite—not that I was complaining. Tiger, of course, had no such issues.

“Okay, come on.” I patted my lap, and the sturdy little dog jumped up and made himself comfortable. “So, what were you going to say?”

“The reason I wanted to talk to you,” Eric began, “is because I’m worried that this case has gone completely cold. Evidence has a way of disappearing after this many years. The cops working the case have retired, died, or moved away. Memories fade, so it’s going to be hard to find anyone who can shed new light on what happened.”

“That’s true.”

“You knew Lily and Sean and Amy. You knew who their friends were and what they were like in school. You heard the rumors about their parents.”

“Yes, but half the people you work with in the police department went to school with them. We all knew the Brogan kids. I mean, I’m pleased that you trust me to answer your questions, but you’re always telling me that you play by the rules. So why don’t you talk to someone in the department? Why don’t you ask Tommy? He knew the Brogans.”

Eric absently scratched Tiger’s neck, and the pushy little cat stretched up, demanding more.

“You know Tommy,” he said with a shrug. “He likes everyone. He’s not objective enough and he’s not as insightful as you are.” Eric quickly held up his hand. “Before you say anything, I’m not trying to be harsh. Tom’s a great guy, but he himself admitted it’s true. He’s the one who told me I should talk to you.”

“But I like everyone, too,” I protested weakly. Okay, nobody on the face of the planet was as nice as Tommy—which was why it was so hard to understand why he had married Whitney, but that was a different story. I wasn’t sure why I objected to telling Eric what he wanted to know. Was I afraid I might hurt Sean? Maybe.

Eric grinned. “I’m sure you like everyone, but you also have a healthy awareness of people’s attitudes and of the dynamics that go on between different groups. You know the folks in this town better than anyone I’ve met here. You’re part of the social fabric of Lighthouse Cove. And your memory is sharp.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

I sighed, because he was right about me. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”

He checked his notes. “Lily had a boyfriend. Did you know him?”

“Oh yeah. I knew him.”

“See? Right there,” he said, pointing directly at my face.

I frowned. “Right where? What?”

“You wriggled your nose.”

“No, I didn’t.” I touched my nose. “I don’t wriggle.”

“Yeah, you do. And that little wriggle tells me you didn’t like the guy.” He grinned and clicked his pen. “So give me the scoop on him. What’s his name?”

“Oh, all right.” It wouldn’t hurt to give him some details. They were fresh in my mind after my run-in with Cliff at the market. And just thinking about him brought back the anger and fear. “His name is Cliff Hogarth, and you’re right: I don’t like him. But it has nothing to do with Lily.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Why didn’t you like him?”

I sighed again and reached for a sip of water. I realized the anger was still so fresh, I could barely swallow. “Because he’s mean, pushy, vain, and obnoxious.”

“You’re talking about him as though he still lives here.”

“He does. He moved away, but now he’s back.”

Eric made a note on his pad. “So, what’s his story?”

“Cliff dated Lily most of their senior year, but I never got the feeling she was serious about him. I hope not, anyway, because he’s horrible. He left town at some point. Let me think.” I shut my eyes and pictured the scene back in high school. “He must’ve left right after graduation.”

“And when did he come back?”

“A few months ago.”

Eric glanced up, his eyes narrowing. “A few months ago?”

“Yeah. Pretty big coincidence, right?”

“Is it?”

“Maybe not.” Those were the same thoughts I’d had earlier, after Cliff had accosted me, but I’d been too freaked-out to think clearly. Now, talking to Eric, my thoughts were starting to solidify. “Maybe Cliff heard through the grapevine that the town had finally sold the lighthouse mansion. If he was Lily’s killer, he would’ve kept tabs on the place, right? He would want to get back here and make sure that the police didn’t find anything that incriminated him.” I gave Eric a hard stare. “I told you he’s mean and pushy, but now I realize that’s putting it mildly. He’s downright malicious. I wouldn’t be one bit surprised to find out that Cliff Hogarth killed Lily.”

Chapter Four

“That’s quite an accusation,” Eric said in a mild tone.

“If you knew him, you would agree it’s justified.” I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe it’s unfair of me to accuse him, but I told you what a toad he is. I kind of wish you’d arrest him on general principle.”

He met my gaze. “You said he was obnoxious, pushy. Give me some examples.”

I thought back to the months before Lily disappeared. “Even though he was dating Lily, it was a well-known ‘secret’ that he was always cheating on her. He liked to hit on other girls, including me. The thing is, he wouldn’t give up. And the more you said no to him, the more he pushed. Maybe he thought he was so ultracool that the girls would eventually give in and go out with him.” He couldn’t have been more wrong, I thought.

“Did you ever give in?”

“No, never. I kept telling him to buzz off. Everyone in school knew I was dating Tommy.”

“Right. High school sweethearts.”

“Yeah, that was us for a while.” I wasn’t about to go into the angsty history of my relationship with Eric’s second in command. “Anyway, back in those days, Cliff worked every summer for a local builder. Not my dad, by the way. And once he left for college, he didn’t return for more than a decade.” I frowned in thought. “You could probably get the precise dates from him. Because you’ll be talking to him, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. So, anyway, Cliff moved back recently, maybe two months ago. He was telling everyone he missed the California weather. I mean, given that he was living in Chicago, that story could be true. But I doubt that’s why he really came back. He’s been going around town, letting everyone know what a big-time successful businessman he is, after making millions in Chicago. I think he came back to rub everyone’s nose in the fact that he’s rich now.”

“From construction?”

“Not exactly. He made his money by flipping foreclosures. Which is a perfectly legitimate way to make money, as far as I’m concerned. But it wouldn’t surprise me to find out he was underhanded about it.”

“Have you seen him around town? How do you know he’s still the same person he was back then? Maybe he’s changed.”

I groaned. “Oh, please. He’s so much worse. I saw him less than an hour ago at the market and he acted like a complete psycho.” I took a breath and realized I was still reeling from the run-in. “Cliff doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants to screw over all the local contractors, especially me. He’s trying to move in on our jobs and steal our crew members.”

This had been bugging me since the day Cliff moved back to town. I mean, if things were so great in Chicago, why would he come back to a town as small as ours? He probably didn’t like being a little fish in a big pond like Chicago. In Lighthouse Cove, he could be a big fish in a little pond. Maybe some bigger Chicago fish chewed him up and spit him out, forcing him to swim back to my tiny pond. Something was definitely fishy about the whole situation. But okay, I told myself. Enough with the fish metaphors.

“He’s actually made offers to your guys?” Eric asked.

“Yes, in the beginning. But not lately.” I scowled. “My guys are too loyal to leave me, or so they say. But several of my friendly competitors have had their crews poached. And another thing Cliff has done is gone behind my back to talk to some of the homeowners I’m working with to see if he can move in on my jobs. It’s a small world around here and all the local contractors know each other. They’ve told me the same thing. It’s a sleazy way to build a business.”

“Yeah, it is,” Eric said, staring thoughtfully at his notepad.

“And I can’t blame the guys on the crew. Like I said, my guys have always been pretty dedicated to working for me, but if they were offered a lot more money, why wouldn’t they take the job? That’s life, right? But it sucks.”

“It sure does,” Eric murmured.

“I have too much work to do every day without having to deal with a poacher in my territory.” On a roll now, I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And not only that, but Cliff Hogarth is an arrogant sexist and, frankly, when he first started his business, I think he deliberately homed in on my job sites and my crew members in particular.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I’m going to sound paranoid, but I think it’s because I wouldn’t go out with him back in high school.”

Eric looked doubtful. “That does sound extreme.”

“I know. But every time I see him, he acts like a vicious bully. What other reason could there be?” I flopped back in my chair. “He’s vindictive and childish and he’s bugging me to death. I wish he would get over it and go away.”

“You sound frustrated.” Eric continued writing notes for another minute.

“I’m more than frustrated. He told one of my guys that it must be hard to work for a woman because everyone knows they can’t do the same work as a man, but then they expect to make all the same money.”

Eric wrote it down. “That’s sexist, all right.”

“You think?” I shoved a strand of hair back off my forehead. “Look, my father taught me to do every single job his men could do. He told me that power wasn’t the answer to everything, and showed me ways to finesse things when I couldn’t get it done through sheer brute strength.”

“Your dad’s a smart man.”

“And he’s a good man.” And then, because I knew Eric wouldn’t want to take my word for it when it came to Cliff’s attitude, I gave him the names of two other contractors who’d been having the same problems with Cliff that I’d had.

“Do you know where Hogarth is living right now?”

“He’s staying at the Inn on Main Street. Word has it that he’s running up big tabs, buying meals and drinks for anyone he meets. He’s the big spender now, trying to impress everyone. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because he didn’t have a lot of money in high school. But I refuse to feel sorry for him.”

Eric kept writing. “You mentioned that you ran into him at the market earlier. Something happen?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said lightly. When he simply glared at me, I decided I’d better tell him the whole story. “Okay, in a nutshell, he threatened to put me out of business. He told me that by the time he was through with me, I’d be begging him for a job.”

Eric glanced up slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. He grabbed my arm and—”

“He grabbed you?”

“Yeah. I guess he thought I wasn’t paying enough attention to him. And that’s when he said all that stuff about destroying my business.”

“Has he threatened you before?”

“Yeah.” I told him about the time Cliff approached me at the pub and what he’d said.

Eric rubbed his jaw, clearly agitated. “He actually referred back to the way you treated him in high school?”

“Yes. And I swear I hardly ever said anything to him in high school. Just had to finally tell him to buzz off, or I’d tell Tommy.”

“And Hogarth said he could make life miserable for you. Did anyone hear him say it?”

“No. The bartender was too far away and there was music playing, too.”

“Those are some pretty ugly threats.”

I gazed at my hands, willing them not to shake. “I know.”

“Don’t get mad, but I’ve got to ask this.”

“Go ahead.” I had a feeling I knew what he wanted to ask.

“Did you threaten him in any way or say anything that would egg him on?” He held up his hand before I could speak. “It won’t condone what he did, but I want to have all the facts.”

“I understand.” I fiddled with a cracker. “I might’ve called him a few choice names, like jerk and clod. And when he followed me outside the pub and said what he said about walking home in the dark, I told him that if he didn’t want to be found dead in a ditch, he’d leave me alone.”

Eric considered for a moment. “That sounds like something you would say.”

“Can you blame me?”

He didn’t answer, but asked, “Did he touch you that night? Hurt you?”

“He didn’t hurt me, but he scared me,” I admitted. “He grabbed my arm a bunch of times. This afternoon in the market I thought he might punch me.”

I could see Eric’s jaw tighten. “And you said he’s staying at the Inn on Main Street? I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I’d feel better if you just threw him in jail.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

I gritted my teeth. “I hate to sound like a tattletale, but—”

“Shannon.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “All you did was report a legitimate threat to your well-being. I don’t like that happening in my town. So let me take it from here.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Eric flipped a couple pages of his notepad and read what he’d written. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to high school.”

“Good idea.”

“So, what was the story between Hogarth and Lily? You said they dated. For how long?”

“From what I remember, they were together maybe six months during their senior year.”

“Were they dating when she disappeared?”

I’d already thought about this question. “It had started to cool down. Lily was hearing rumors about him cheating. But they still must’ve been involved, because I heard that the police interviewed Cliff.”

He wrote it all down, then glanced up at me. “This may seem like an odd question, but let me ask it anyway. Do any moments stand out in your mind from that time? Anything at all that might’ve struck you as odd in the days and weeks before and after Lily disappeared?”

I thought about it for a minute. The memories were still spinning around and I had to concentrate. High school girls were known to dwell in fantasyland sometimes, and I was no exception. I didn’t want to tell him anything that wasn’t absolutely true.

“This might not have anything to do with anything,” I said, “but if nothing else, it’ll give you some insight into the way girls think. And once you start interviewing Lily’s girlfriends, you might want to take the things they say with a grain of salt. Because it all happened a long time ago.”

“Thanks for the warning. Go ahead.”

“My girlfriends and I were obsessed with Lily’s disappearance. She was like a celebrity to us because, first of all, she was a senior and she was beautiful. She had the lead in the school play and she could sing. And she was smart, too. So, after she disappeared, my girlfriends and I would sit in the cafeteria and spin new stories, come up with different ideas of what might’ve happened. Did someone lure her away? Was she kidnapped? Did she tumble over the cliff into the ocean? Did she fall in love with a traveling soldier? Did they run off and get married?” I glanced at him. “That last one was Jane’s idea, because even back then, she had a romantic soul and believed in love that lasts through time. The rest of us quickly blew off that scenario.”

Eric grinned. “You have to appreciate Jane’s good heart.”

“I do,” I said, smiling. I’d known Jane Hennessey forever. We’d been best friends all through school and we still were. She owned Hennessey House, the newest, most elegant, most romantic bed-and-breakfast in town. She and Eric were good friends, so I knew he could relate to what I’d said. “Naturally, I was the one who kept pushing the notion of foul play. I was forever coming up with elaborate, gruesome theories of what had happened to Lily. Even with her problems at home, I couldn’t imagine that she would simply leave town on her own.” I fiddled with my napkin. “I also had several clever conspiracy theories that revolved around all the cutest boys in school.”

He laughed. “Naturally.”

“I guess we were being ridiculous. But here’s the weird thing, and it probably doesn’t have anything to do with Lily. But you asked about moments that stand out in my mind and this is one of them. There was one girl who went a little too far with the obsession and caused a scene in the school cafeteria.”

He sobered. “What happened?”

“She accused an innocent boy of hurting Lily. Of course it wasn’t true, but his reputation suffered. She wasn’t part of our group, but she occasionally tried to join in. Her attempts always seemed to fall flat.”

“What was her name?”

“Ophelia Hawkins. She was sort of a needy type. I felt sorry for her, but I have no idea what she was thinking when she accused Bernie. Maybe she thought her accusation would make her more popular. Whatever her reason, I blame myself for her freaking out.”

“But you don’t think Ophelia had anything to do with Lily’s disappearance.”

“Oh no, not at all. But you were asking for odd moments.” I paused to remember the day it all happened. “She wasn’t evil. She was just sort of sad.”

“Kids are impressionable,” he said, staring at the page. “Can you give me the names of some of Lily’s friends?”

I named five girls I knew had been in Lily’s crowd, including her best friend, Denise Jones. I also named three boys that hung out with Lily and her friends. All of them still lived in town. “There were plenty of others. Lily was really popular.”

“I’ll probably collect more names as I talk to these people.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, until Eric closed his notepad. He reached for his glass of water and took a sip. “That boy in the cafeteria. The one who was falsely accused.”

“What about him?”

“What’s his name?”

“Bernard, but we all called him Bernie. Bernie McHugh.”