Dead Beautiful (29 page)

CHAPTER 11
The Incident Last Spring

I
T’S FUNNY HOW THE THINGS YOU WANT SOMETIMES
turn out to be things you wish you had never laid eyes on. I had barely managed to push the gruesome details of my parents’ deaths out of my mind before Benjamin’s files plunged me back into that hot summer night. I sat on the floor, hugging my knees and willing myself not to cry, before I was able to compose myself enough to go to class. I walked briskly to Horace Hall, stopping by the library on the way, where I hid the files between two oversized books on the third floor, glad to be rid of them for the moment. If the files proved anything, it was this: both Benjamin and Cassandra had been murdered, and their deaths were somehow connected to the murders of my parents. But who was behind it? I thought back to what Eleanor had said about Gottfried the first day we met.
The secrets that aren’t found out are buried well. And probably for a reason.
The only problem was that this secret now had to do with me.

Plus, I had to worry about Mrs. Lynch. I didn’t dare risk keeping the files in my room—not with the possibility of her searching it. That would only give Lynch further evidence that I was to blame for Eleanor’s disappearance. After jotting down the titles
Toads of New England
and
Amphibious Past Lives,
along with their Dewey decimal numbers, I set off for class.

“Gideon has something to do with it,” I told Nathaniel, pulling him aside before lunch.

“And what drew you to this conclusion? Wait, let me guess: you snuck into his room and found Eleanor’s body.”

“Actually, that’s not far off. Come with me.”

I dragged him to the library, which was now crowded with students studying frantically for finals. I led Nathaniel up three flights of stairs and through the maze of bookshelves until I found the oversized book section, which, to my relief, was empty, probably because it was dark and musty, which wasn’t the best condition for studying.

“I found these files shoved in his pillowcase,” I said, relaying all the details of my trip to Gideon’s room.

“What do you think
Non Mortuus
means?” I said, flipping through Cassandra’s file. “Or
Basium Mortis
? The tie. It has something to do with the tie.”

But Nathaniel ignored my questions. “You actually went through his stuff?” he said in disbelief.

I blinked. Had he not heard me? “Benjamin was murdered,” I said quietly. “And Cassandra is dead. I don’t know how, but she’s definitely dead and the school is covering it up. And now Eleanor’s gone. She could be dead too. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Nathaniel shrank back in his seat. “Of course it does. But how exactly do you think Gideon is involved? Do you think
he
killed Eleanor?”

“I don’t know. Why else would he steal her file? And I did see him lurking around the girls’ dorm.”

“Lots of people hang out outside the dorms. That doesn’t mean he killed someone.”

I sighed. “I know... And he never would have killed Cassandra. They were friends. Or Benjamin. I mean, why would he do that? And there’s definitely no connection between him and my parents....” It was hopeless.

“Maybe he has the files for the same reason you wanted them. To know.”

He had a point.

“So what are you going to do?” Nathaniel probed when I didn’t respond.

“I have to tell someone,” I said, gathering the papers and stuffing them back in the files. “I have to tell Mrs. Lynch. Or a professor. Or someone.”

“Renée,” Nathaniel said, pulling me back. “You can’t. First of all, why do you think Mrs. Lynch would believe that you didn’t steal these files yourself?”

“Because I didn’t. I found them in Gideon’s room.”

“I know,” Nathaniel said. “But it doesn’t look good. What are you going to tell her, that you snuck into Gideon’s room, went through his things, and found these hidden in his pillowcase? She’s going to think you’re lying. And even if she does believe you, you’ll still be in trouble.”

My shoulders dropped. He was right. Minnie’s drawing of Cassandra’s burial flashed through my mind. What had actually happened the night Cassandra died? If we couldn’t hold another séance, there was only one other person I could go to.

“Renée? Hello? Earth to Renée.”

I shook myself out of my thoughts and looked at Nathaniel. Shoving the files back between the two books, I grabbed my bag. “I have to go.”

That evening after dinner, I lingered around the showers in the boys’ dorm until almost everyone had cleared out of the bathrooms. I brushed my teeth slowly, waiting for Minnie Roberts to show up; I knew from the state of her hair that she took showers at night. The bathroom was filled with steam, which fogged up the mirrors around the edges and condensed into droplets on the faucets and door handles. A few remaining girls came and went like ghosts, their presence heard but not seen—the toilet flushing, the faucet running, the stall door creaking on its hinges. But Minnie never showed. Giving up, I hopped into a shower stall and turned on the water.

I was just about to rinse the bubbles from my hair when I heard the sound of a showerhead turn on across from me. The swish of a curtain. And then a voice, talking to no one.

I peeked out, my head lathered in shampoo. The curtain across from me was only half closed, and a skinny silhouette hovered behind it. I leaned out to get a better look.

Minnie Roberts was standing under the shower in her bathing suit. If it were anyone else, the bathing suit would have been weird, but Minnie was already so eccentric that I wasn’t surprised. Everyone said she was a hypochondriac and a germophobe. The water beat down on her, pushing her hair across her face. Every so often her body pulsed forward with the change in water pressure.

Stepping out of the shower, I dried off and waited until I heard her turn the water off, followed by the sound of her feet padding against the tile floor. “Wait,” I said.

Minnie gave me a frightened look, her eyes darting around the room to make sure no one was watching, as if she didn’t want to be seen talking to me. She was wrapped in a towel, her skin red from the hot water.

“Can I ask you something?”

Minnie seemed caught off guard by my request. “I... um … I don’t know. I don’t think so,” she said, turning away.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I called after her. That made her stop.

“Well thanks,” she said, almost sarcastically.

“I also don’t think you were lying last year.”

She hesitated, and without warning, gathered her things and was about to leave the bathroom when I called out to her.

“What do you know about Cassandra Millet?”

She froze. “I don’t know anything,” she said quickly, her back to me. “I should go.”

“No, wait!”

Minnie didn’t move.

“I need to find Eleanor. She’s still out there somewhere. Please, help me.”

She turned and stared at me with a mixture of disbelief and fear. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I think Eleanor’s disappearance has something to do with Cassandra Millet. With her death.”

“Her death?” she said slowly, trying to figure out if I was mocking her.

I looked her in the eyes. They were dull and haunted, with the steady gaze of a person on the brink of madness. “I believe you,” I said.

Her lip quivered, and I thought she might cry. Hugging her clothes tightly to her body, she let out a sigh of relief. “Come with me.”

Minnie’s room was at the opposite end of our floor, and was, to my surprise, exceedingly normal. It felt like a cozy country bedroom, with a quilted comforter, a leafy plant hanging by the window, and prints of Renoir’s ballerinas on the wall. Minnie hung up her towel and sat on the edge of her bed. A row of satin ballet flats lay at the foot of her fireplace.

“Do you dance?” I asked. She was so clumsy at school, always dropping her tray in the lunchroom or tripping up the stairs in Horace, that I could hardly picture her balancing on one toe.

Minnie laughed nervously. “No, I... I just draw them.”

The other side of the room was empty, the desk barren, the mattress naked.

“No one wanted to live with me,” Minnie said.

Minnie kept a cautious eye on me as I surveyed her room. Spread across the floor and the empty mattress were dozens of loose sketches, all black-and-white. The lines were sparse and drawn bluntly in charcoal, yet somehow the images were even more stunning than the subjects were in real life. In addition to the drawings of ballet slippers, there were also landscapes of Gottfried’s campus, and portraits —beautiful portraits—of an old woman, a young girl, an old man, and one of Minnie herself.

“Did you draw these?” I asked.

Minnie nodded.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “When everyone tells you you’re crazy, after a while you start to believe it too. Drawing helps me...remember...that I’m not.”

“I know the feeling.” Was I crazy to think that my parents’ death was a murder? That there was more to Dante than he was letting on? I didn’t have anything like drawing to remind me that I was sane.

“You got into Horticulture, right?”

I nodded.

“What’s it like? My dad wanted me to get into that class, but I didn’t pass the test. He was so angry when he saw my schedule; I thought he was going to break something. I’m not even old enough to be tapped, but I guess he could tell from my classes that I wouldn’t be. Our family has been at Gottfried for centuries, and we’ve always been on the Board of Monitors. Whatever gene that was, I definitely didn’t inherit it.”

I didn’t understand why Horticulture had anything to do with the Board of Monitors, or why her father would be so upset that she didn’t get into the class. “It’s okay,” I said, trying to play it down. “We learn a lot about ecosystems and soil and burying things and stuff. Otherwise, nothing too interesting.”

When I mentioned burials, Minnie tensed up. “Burying things?”

“Just bulbs, flowers, you know. But now we’re learning more about the different species of plants.”

Minnie gazed at her drawings. “I was sketching when I saw them,” she said, wringing out her wet hair. “It was at night. There are moonflowers that climb up the gates of the chapel, and I wanted to draw them while they were in bloom. So after dinner I walked over to the chapel with my sketchbook and pencils. On my way I saw Brandon Bell bringing Cassandra Millet to the headmistress’s office in Archebald Hall. Benjamin had just died from the heart attack, and I figured the headmistress just wanted to check up on her or ask her questions.

“When I got to the chapel, I sat on the grass and waited for the moonflowers to open. And they did. They were beautiful.” Minnie gazed at her feet and continued.

“Halfway through my drawing, I heard a noise. I hid behind a tree and waited. At first I thought it was an animal, but it turned out to be the Board of Monitors. There were five of them, each carrying shovels; the only person missing was Brandon Bell. They walked to the chapel and went inside. Normally I wouldn’t have followed them, but my dad always talked so much about the Board of Monitors, and I wanted to be one so badly. I thought maybe if I listened in on one of their meetings, I could figure out what it took to get nominated. So I followed them.

“I waited until they had all gone inside, then took off my shoes and snuck in before the doors closed. They were almost out of sight when I made it to the pews, and I just barely saw Ingrid Fromme, another junior Monitor, crawl through the hole behind a grate near the pulpit.”

“Wait,” I said. “They all climbed into a hole in the back of the church?”

Minnie nodded.

“I didn’t want to go in it at first, but then I figured if the Board of Monitors was using it, it must be okay. So I followed them. The opening was about two feet wide and tall, and it had a little stepladder going down. It was dark and dusty and I couldn’t see anything. After only a few feet I hit the ground, and it was sort of like a tunnel or a passageway or something. I didn’t bring my candle so I just ran my hands along the wall and walked toward their voices.

“I walked forever. They took a bunch of turns until I had no idea which direction they were headed. Finally, it emptied out on the other side of the wall, right on the edge of the woods. When their voices were far enough away, I climbed out and followed them. They were going to the Dead Forest.

“The headmistress and Brandon Bell came from the opposite direction. Brandon was holding someone. A scarf was wrapped around her face, but I recognized Cassandra’s hair. She was shaking; otherwise I would have thought she was dead. A handmade coffin was next to them.” Minnie swallowed. “And then they started digging while the headmistress gave them instructions.”

“Headmistress Von Laark? Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. After they were finished, Brandon picked Cassandra up and put her in the box. Then he did the weirdest thing. He put a coin on each of her eyes.”

“Coins?” Suddenly, all I could think of were my parents, and how their bodies were surrounded by coins.

Minnie nodded. “I could hear her whimpering when he covered the coffin with a plank of wood, but she didn’t move. Brandon hammered it shut with his spade, and they all lifted it and set it in the hole. They covered it with dirt, and that was the end of it.”

“Brandon? Brandon Bell as in Eleanor’s older brother?

As in the top Monitor? You’re saying he buried Cassandra Millet alive?”

“Not just him. All of them. And the headmistress. I tried to dig her up after they left, but it started to rain, and the soil was packed so tightly. I marked the area with a stick so I could find it again, but when I brought Professor Lumbar back, it had been washed away.”

“But why? Why would they do it?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure you heard about the day in the dining hall when I told everyone.”

I nodded.

“After that, I was called to the headmistress’s office. I was so scared; I thought she was going to kill me too. I called my parents, but they thought I was making it up, just like everyone else. I even wrote a will.” She went to her desk and pulled out a slip of paper from the back of the drawer. “See, I still have it.”