Clarity (19 page)

Justin’s forehead creased. “He went in for like a minute and came out with a bag of takeout. I don’t think that makes him a suspect.”

“He was there, in the same place as the victim, and never bothered to mention that while I’ve worked with him on the case for almost a week.”

“So?”

I couldn’t believe Justin was defending him. I had to tell him. “And he also has a tattoo on his bicep.”

Justin’s face changed. I knew he was going through all the scenarios in which I could have seen Gabriel with his shirt off. And he didn’t like it.

“It says ‘Victoria,’ “ I finished.

Justin blinked rapidly. “I guess, um, that could be something, I don’t know.”

Someone knocked lightly on the door. I took the videotape out and hid it behind my back, just in case, as Justin unlocked the door. Thankfully it was only his father.

Mayor Spellman closed the door behind him and immediately turned to me. “Perry has been released.”

I let out a huge breath and sank into the nearest chair.

He continued, “They have no weapon. They have no motive. They only have evidence that Perry and the victim were together, which Perry now admits, nothing else. Stealing the tape was a dumb move, but they can’t hold him for only that.”

“Thank God,” Justin said.

“He has to stay in town,” Mr. Spellman continued. “And they’re not giving up. They’re going to keep digging for more on him.”

“That’s okay,” I said, rising from my seat. “They won’t find more because he’s innocent.” I paused, looking at them. “I have you both to thank for this.”

“Thank our lawyer, not us,” Justin said.

I gave him back the tape and thanked him profusely again. He left to return the tape to the station downstairs.

“What’s next?” Justin asked.

“Now I’m going to find out more information about what went on in Yummy’s that night.”

And I knew exactly who could help me.

I breathed in the moist, humid air as I walked home. The sun had almost completely set. I was starving and tired, but my mind raced. Things were happening so fast on so many different levels. My old feelings for Justin were rising to the surface again. My newer crush might actually be a killer, or the son of one. Perry had been released, but wasn’t out of danger. I couldn’t wait to get home and see him, but didn’t know whether I should hug him or dope-slap him.

First I had one more thing to do. I pulled my cell out of my pocket and dialed as I walked.

Stephen answered after a few rings.

“Hi, it’s Clare Fern.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I wanted to call and tell you I’m so sorry.”

A pause. “For what?”

“For not showing up today to meet your lawyer. Someone slashed my mom’s tire, if you can believe it. But I wanted to thank you for offering to help. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Um …” Stephen was obviously surprised by the offer, but he wasn’t exactly saying no.

“I thought we were cool now, after our talk. Plus, it’s not a date. Just one friend thanking another friend.”

“Sure,” he said. “That actually sounds great.”

He seemed sincere, with a hint of excitement in his voice.

A small flame of guilt flickered inside me for lying to him and using him, but my need for answers quickly doused it.

TWENTY-TWO

THE FERN FAMILY CALENDAR WAS BLANK THE NEXT day. A rare event for July, but things add up. It was a Monday and the peak week of July Fourth was done. And, you know, the whole “a murderer lives there” thing isn’t good for business.

Mom was handling it by cleaning. She was happy to have Perry home again, but our worries weren’t over. To Mom, this called for obsessive, floor-to-ceiling scrubbing.

There was nothing I could do until my dinner with Stephen, so I spent the day with Perry, uselessly trying to lift his spirits. As annoying as man-whore Perry was, I wanted that old Perry back. He was better than depressed Perry. I’d rather roll my eyes at his constant conquests than sit in the living room beside him, wondering about his state of mental health.

“Come on,” I said grabbing his arm. “We’re going out.” I tried to pull him up off the couch, but he was dead weight.

“No,” he moaned.

“It’s a beautiful sunny day.”

“I can’t.” He covered his face with a pillow.

“What are you, a vampire?”

“People will stare at me. They’ll whisper,” his muffled voice muttered.

“Perry, people always stare and whisper at us.”

“Not like this.”

I stomped my foot. Perry peeked one eye out from under the pillow.

“Yeah, I stomped. I’m your little sister and I want you to buy me some pizza. You
owe
me, Perry.”

He moaned and groaned some more, but got up. And during our stroll to the boardwalk not one person pointed or stared. I nabbed us a bench with a great people-watching view and Perry bought us some slices from Monty’s.

I took a bite and closed my eyes in a moment of pizza ecstasy.

Perry took a bite and all the cheese came with it, landing on his chin. He sighed and peeled it off. “Monty’s pizza sucks. I know I owe you for trying to help clear my name, but you should’ve chosen ice cream.”

“You don’t just owe me for that.” I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin.

“What else?” Perry asked, with his scarred eyebrow raised.

“I figured out why Tiffany Desposito targeted my boyfriend a few months ago. Turns out it was revenge, but she was taking it out on the wrong person.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyes slid down.

“A little birdie told me what happened between you two.”

He grunted. “Nate.”

I turned to face my brother. “You think it’s all fun and games, hooking up with girls and ignoring them after. You act like there aren’t any repercussions. But there are. You hurt her.” I couldn’t believe I was defending Tiffany of all people.

“You’re right.” He held his hands up in submission. “I thought it was just a meaningless party hookup to her, too. It wasn’t until she started acting psycho that I realized she’d hoped for something more.” He shook his head slowly. “I never thought she’d direct her anger at you for what I did. That whole thing with Justin was low. I didn’t know she was capable of that.”

“Who knows what people are capable of,” I said sadly.

“Okay, now I feel super guilty.” Perry nudged me a little with his shoulder. “I’m going to buy you some ice cream, too.”

I stayed on the bench and people-watched while Perry fetched us cones. Tourists strolled by, their shirts stained with ice cream, their skin sunburned, their faces happy. Townies always complained about the summer influx, the traffic, and the crowds at the beach, but overall it was cool to grow up in a tourist town. The town’s purpose was to make visitors happy, and my family had a small part in that. I’m sure some people went home saying their Cape Cod vacation was so much fun and the best part was this psychic reading they had by a family of freaks. I smiled.

“Touch me, baby!”

I looked up and groaned. Cody and Trevor, two juniors from my school, friends of Tiffany and her crowd, walked by, laughing with delight.

“Yeah,” Trevor yelled. “Touch my dick and tell me where it’s been!”

“Easy,” I called out. “It was in Cody’s mom.”

“Bitch,” Cody muttered.

Thankfully they kept walking.

So much for me loving my town and my job. Ah, well. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples.

“You know what I hate?”

Now what? I opened my eyes and found Madame Maslov sitting beside me. She wore a white cotton dress, all the way down to her ankles, with lace up to her throat. Her feet were bare, crossed at the ankles. She looked over my shoulder at the ocean as she spoke.

“People always asking me for these numbers. I know not tomorrow’s lottery numbers. I hate when they ask for this.”

Was she trying to bond with me over the occupational hazards of being psychic?

“My gift does not work like that,” she continued in her funny accent. “Just like your gift doesn’t always work when you want it to.” She looked at me then. Her eyes were dark and framed by laugh lines, which made them look kind. “Are you here to see me? You know what I spoke of before is true.”

“No, I’m just here to get food. And I don’t believe a word you said. You just want me and my family to leave town because we’re your only competition.”

“These things you say are not true,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “The truth I know is that you are in danger. I tell you this before. I try to protect you but you’re not good
at the listening.” She pointed at her ear for emphasis. “I try again.” Maslov inched closer on the bench and looked at me determinedly. “Leave this place. Before it is too late.”

I heard Perry’s footsteps pounding on the boardwalk as he came up to the bench with an ice-cream cone in each hand.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Madame Maslov was just leaving.”

I turned back to Maslov, but her attention was no longer on me. She was staring at Perry.

She stood and stepped up to him, cocking her head to the side. “You look so familiar to me. I met a man once who looked just like you, but older.”

Perry immediately stiffened. My heart skipped a beat.

“Where?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Maslov waved her hand as if it wasn’t worth mentioning. “Far, far away, in my homeland, in a deserted area.”

Her watch beeped and she looked down at it. “I need to return to my business now.”

She pulled a large ring of keys out of her purse and turned toward her shop, casting one last glance at me. A worried glance. Either she was a great actress or she really believed I was in danger.

“These are melting all over the place,” Perry said. A puddle of sticky ice cream had formed at his feet.

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

Perry gave a tiny shrug and proceeded to chomp on both cones. “Wanna walk the beach?”

“No thanks. I’m going to head back.”

I watched Perry descend the boardwalk stairs to the sand
below. I was glad I got him out and about. Mission accomplished. I turned to start heading home, when someone caught my attention.

Cecile Clayworth was gliding toward Maslov’s shop in a formfitting black dress and heels. Our eyes locked and she changed direction, charging toward me. I stopped and waited for her, curious what this could be about.

“I want to ask you something,” Cecile said, getting right down to it.

“Okay.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You have a date with my son tonight.”

I wouldn’t exactly call it a date, but I nodded.

“I want you to cancel it.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Her tone rankled me. “I don’t see why our dinner plans would be any of your business.”

Cecile whipped off her oversized sunglasses. “You’ve caused my family a lot of trouble in the last few months. Your childlike need to tattle to the principal nearly took away my son’s Ivy League spot and ended up costing my husband a lot of money.”

I refused to let her rattle me. “You’re putting the blame on the wrong person here,” I replied. “If Stephen hadn’t cheated on the test, none of the rest would have happened.”

Cecile’s expression remained cold. “You can think whatever eases your conscience, darling, but the truth of the matter is that you were the catalyst for that bit of trouble. Since then I have been civil and even cordial to you and your family. We have to share this town, and despite everything you’ve done, my son has a soft spot for you. So, because of his wishes, I’ve
been kind. But that will all end if you pursue my son. He deserves better than some gypsy-pretender.”

I took a step into her personal space. “You’re quite the snob for someone from such meager beginnings.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s no secret you’re ex-trailer trash. You lucked out in the looks department, latched on to a rich dude, and turned your life around. But don’t pretend you’re better than me.”

“Stay away from my son.”

She thrust her sunglasses back on and dismissed me like hired help. I wanted to knock her off her high heels, but assaulting Cecile Clayworth in the most public place in town wouldn’t do much to help our floundering business. Instead, I marched home and got ready for my non-date.

TWENTY-THREE

STEPHEN SHOWED UP AT MY DOOR WEARING A BLUE button-down shirt and dress pants. A bit overdressed for what I had planned, but Stephen was always overdressed. What surprised me were the roses he held out in his hand.

Hadn’t I been clear that this was not a date? Granted, I hadn’t been completely honest about my intentions to grill him for info. But I’d thought Stephen knew that this wasn’t a romantic thing — just a thank-you dinner.

“Are you allergic?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“The roses,” Stephen said. “You’re frowning at them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. They’re beautiful. I was just trying to remember where our vase is.” I took them from his hand and did the obligatory sniff-and-smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” I quickly brought the flowers into the kitchen to ask Mom to put them in water. She was on the phone. I could only hear one side of the conversation but it seemed like someone was insistently trying to set up a last-minute appointment. Mom explained that we were closed for the day, but the person must have been begging.
Mom finally agreed to do a one-on-one. I felt bad, leaving her in the lurch, but I had to go.

Stephen walked me to his Lexus. “Where are we headed? The Captain’s Bistro?”

“I was thinking Yummy’s,” I said.

“Okaaay,” he said with slight disappointment. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not that I was craving Yummy’s, not by any means. But if I wanted to jog Stephen’s memory of the night Victoria was killed, Yummy’s was the place to be.

“You’ve been here before,” he said, after we were seated in a dimly lit corner booth.

“Yeah, I’m a regular. How’d you know?”

“You didn’t look at the menu.”

I smiled and pointed to my head. “I’m flipping through it right now.”

He laughed. “I guess you do come here a lot. What’s good?”