Sweet 16 to Life (15 page)

B
y the time I'm showered and dressed, Lana has more bad news. After they took MJ away, they searched her house. They didn't find anything there, but there were bloody clothes in the trunk of Big Mama's car.

“How do they know the clothes have anything to do with Lux?” I say, even though I can't think of any good explanation for bloody clothes in MJ's trunk.

“All we know for sure is that they were men's clothes, but they're on the way to Forensics right now. There was one item that was pretty distinguishable—the gang unit is checking to see if it's a marking—”

“Don't tell me . . . brown hoodie, white scrollwork on the back?”

“That's it exactly. How in the world—”

“It's Lux's jacket. The first time I ever saw him he was wearing it.”

“Chanti, what else haven't you told me?” Lana asks, using her cop interrogation voice that makes me feel like I could be joining MJ at the station.

“You said I could be implicated, but how? Because I was with MJ when she threatened Lux?”

“Depends on the witness's statement, how involved she perceived you to be in the threat against Lux. As soon as the witness identifies you, you'll be part of the investigation. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. If we get to it. Now, your turn to give the answers. What else do you know?”

“Remember when I wanted to see the report on MJ's house fire? He was the guy I thought might have caused it. I've seen him hanging around the neighborhood a couple of times since.”

“Well, that alone establishes a connection,” Lana says.

I wonder how long before she figures out what the DH stands for on the back of that hoodie. Then she'll really see a connection and probably won't let me talk to MJ. Shoot—she may even put me in the box next door to MJ's interrogation room.

“Not enough connection to jump from Lux hanging around our street to MJ killing him.”

“You putting him at the scene of her house fire gives her motive. I might not come to that conclusion if anyone but you were the witness who made him as the possible arsonist. Did you ever tell MJ your theory?”

Yeah, like fifty times, but I don't tell Lana that, not yet anyway, because I know MJ didn't kill Lux, even if she threatened to.

“Well, it doesn't look good for MJ. I'm pretty sure she won't be coming home tonight. The questioning is going to turn into an arrest as soon as the lab confirms the blood belongs to Lux.”

“How much blood did they find in his apartment?”

“Too much for it to have been an accident, not enough for him to be dead—at least not when he left the apartment.”

“MJ didn't do this, Mom.”

“I know. At least, I want to believe that.”

“After all she's done for me, even for you and the cops, you
have
to believe it.”

“I know, honey, but MJ is a felon.”

“
Ex
-felon, but I know how cops think. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy.”

“The evidence looks—”

“Screw the evidence,” I say, not even caring that I just said that to my mother. “I need to see MJ. Can you get me in?”

 

MJ looks as nervous as I've ever seen her, and police departments have never agreed with her. Even before this week, she's been here enough times to know the routine. This time her visit includes a possible murder charge.

“I can't believe I'm here again, Chanti. I swear, if I get out of this I will never talk to another con again, I don't care what dirt they have on me.”

“
When
you get out, not if,” I say. “Look, I told Lana I was there when that so-called witness saw you arguing with Lux. I'll make sure the cops know that chick was exaggerating, trying for her fifteen minutes of fame or getting back at you for always parking in her space. How often did you visit Lux, anyway?”

“I know that girl was pissed,” MJ says without answering my question, “but who tries to send somebody up for charges this serious just because I parked in her space?”

“That wasn't all you did, MJ. You threatened her, too. Before I go to Lana, is there anything else I should know?”

By now, I know MJ well enough to know there is always something else—whether of her own doing or because of circumstance, that will undermine my investigation.

“It's pretty bad, Chanti. I don't have an alibi for the time they say I hurt Lux.”

“You were home when they arrested you. They said it looked like Lux hadn't been gone long from his apartment when they got there.”

“Yeah, but that was two hours before they actually came to get me. You know how cops work. They had to check out the witness, talk to my probie, all that. So I had plenty of time to get home.”

“You mean they could
say
you had plenty of time to get home. If Big Mama was home, she can vouch—”

“That's just it. I ain't got no alibi because I wasn't home. The same time they claim I was jacking up Lux, I was in the middle of nowhere waiting for him.”

“Waiting for him?”

“Early this morning, I get a call from Lux saying to meet him outside this town called Limon.”

“That's about an hour and a half southeast of here. There's nothing outside that town. There's barely anything inside.”

“Yeah, that's what I found out. I waited nearly an hour for him on some dirt road that looked like it ain't seen a car in years, then came back to Denver. I wasn't home ten minutes when Five-O knocked on the door talking about they need to question me.”

“What made you go all the way out there? You should have known Lux was up to something.”

“Lux said he was going to set me free of all this, that he had some proof he could give me to clear my name with Tragic. But he was on his way out of Colorado, heading east.”

“He couldn't give it to you here, before he left?”

“He was worried too many eyes might be on us in Denver. Plus he said he felt kind of bad about me getting arrested for the drug charge, said he wanted to clear that up before he dropped off the map.”

“Right, Lux suddenly got a conscience after setting you up. You sure it was him on the phone?”

“Yeah, I know his voice. For the last few weeks, he's been calling me 24-7 threatening me about staying away from his box, so I definitely know his voice. It did sound a little different this morning though, but it was him.”

“Different how?”

“I don't know, like he was nervous maybe.”

“Probably because he was lying to you,” I suggest. “At least we know he was alive this morning. He's probably still alive right now, even if that blood comes up as his. I heard it wasn't enough blood for him to be dead.”

“You think this is just more of his trickeration?”

“This could be his way of putting everything on you, including his disappearance. Probably the only truthful thing he said was the part about getting out of town. Neither the cops nor Tragic will come looking for a dead Lux, especially if you're charged with killing him.”

“A murder charge? Aw, damn, Chanti.”

“It's gonna be okay. We're getting you out of this thing. Did you tell your lawyer what you told me?”

“He ain't come yet, but I will unless you think I shouldn't.”

“No, tell him everything. Be completely straight. You've told me everything this time, right?”

“There's one more thing,” MJ says, clenching her fists open and closed on the table between us.

“What?” I say, my stomach already starting to twist in knots.

“Remember how you was blowing up my voicemail the day Lux came for his box?”

“Yeah.”

“What had happened was I had went over to his place to try to talk some sense into him.”

“
Talk
some sense into him, MJ?”

“Talk . . . whatever. But he wasn't there, I guess because he was busy breaking into my house. Anyway, I didn't answer my phone because I was out looking for some protection from Lux. I knew if I talked to you I'd end up telling you what I was up to and you'd talk me out of it.”

“What do you mean protection—like a gun?”

“Naw, I'm not stupid. That would violate my parole. But I know I guy who knows a guy. . . .”

“Oh, so you thought hiring someone to put a hurt on Lux was smarter than buying a gun? They're both felonies, MJ. I don't care if you hire someone to do it or if you do it yourself.”

“I swear that's exactly what I heard you say in my head when I finally read all your texts and listened to your voice messages. I said to myself, ‘Chanti would say this was a real bad idea.' That's what I said.”

“And you were right.”

“So I backed out of it, told the dude who knows the dude I know to leave it alone. I'm pretty sure he didn't do anything.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“I never gave an order and I never paid him. Them kind of dudes never do anything for free.”

“Unless he had beef with Lux, too. They weren't connected in any way, were they?”

“Not that I know of. Either way, I never told dude to kill Lux, just to scare him away.”

“You could have done that yourself. That's what the witness and I pretty much saw you do.”

“Okay, so I wanted to scare him with a little pain, make him think I had people. But just a little.”

“You do have people—me and Lana and Big Mama. You should have come to us instead of looking for protection.”

“I know, I know,” MJ says, looking completely hopeless and not like she needs any more piling on from me. “Do I tell the lawyer this part, too?”

“Tell him
everything
. He can't help you unless he knows the whole story.”

“Yeah, like that public defender helped me into a two-year juvie stint.”

“Not all PDs are weak, and besides, Mr. Chatman isn't a PD. He's big-time lawyer Lana used to work for. Now he's her friend. He'll help you.”

Like I conjured him up, Mr. Chatman arrives and that's my cue to leave. Before I go, I make sure he hears me tell MJ to tell him everything or I will, just so he doesn't worry she might be holding out on him because she's been talking to me. On my way out of the interrogation room, I run smack into a woman walking down the hall toward the exit. When I back up and apologize for almost mowing her down, I realize I know her. It's the witness whose testimony the police will probably use to charge MJ with murder. Instead of pointing me out to the nearest cop as the “woman” who broke up the fight between her and MJ over the parking space, she gives me the most sinister and knowing smile I've ever seen.

Now I get it. A real witness, one who clearly recognizes me, would have turned around and pointed me out. But she's headed for the door. She's working with Lux to set up MJ and I'm probably next. They'll tell the police I was with MJ that day making threats right along with her even though I tried to stop her. For whatever reason, they're playing a game of cat-and-mouse, dangling me by the tail like they're Tom and I'm Jerry. I have to move fast before they make their next play. Otherwise, Lana is right about me being implicated—as an accessory to murder, even if it's a staged murder that never really happened. Instead of looking forward to my birthday this weekend, I could be looking forward to sweet sixteen to life.

I
get home from the visit with MJ to find another mystery package leaning against my front door, this time a box instead of an envelope, but the labeling looks the same. Lux would have to be the boldest man on the planet to still be dropping these packages off “from the grave,”so I call Marco to make absolutely sure he isn't behind this.

“I don't know who's sending the movies,” Marco says when I question him, “but it isn't me. I told you Hitchcock is the director that made me think about going to film school. I'd never rip him off like that.”

“Rip him off? What do you mean?”

“The DVDs I saw at your house the other day are bootlegs. I only knew they were Hitchcock films from the titles and the cover art. The art isn't original, either. Looks like someone just pulled stuff off the Net to make the covers.”

Lux may be in hiding somewhere, playing dead, but that just means he's got someone else doing his dirty work. And he isn't just using me to taunt MJ.

“Marco, are you busy right now? And I mean right now.”

“No, but—”

“Then I could really use your help. Can you come over?”

“What's going on?”

“MJ's case. This morning I thought it couldn't get much worse, but I was wrong. I think I might be the bad guy's next target.”

 

While I'm on the phone with Marco, I realize the DVDs are part of whatever twisted game Lux is playing with me. When Marco gets to my house seven minutes later (I timed it and I have to say it's impressive—it's good to know I can count on him when my life is about to be totally screwed), I skip the small talk and tell him about the case as I make a pitcher of iced tea.

“That's why I need your help,” I tell him after I've given him the quick version of everything, going back to the fire at MJ's house. “I think Lux is a film buff and he's using these DVDs to send me some kind of clue of how he's setting me up. I really hope you won't give me a hard time about the whole playing-detective thing.”

“Of course I'll help you. But I won't lie, Chanti—I think it's dangerous what you're doing and I think you need to call the police—”

“But I
know
the police... I mean . . .”

Lana's secret is one I need permission to tell, so I tell him the part that I can.

“My mom, she's a paralegal and she knows a lot about the law and crime and stuff. And the attorney she works for has agreed to be MJ's lawyer, so the police are involved. I'm just trying to help MJ and—”

“Chanti, if you'd let me finish, it's dangerous and better left for the police, but I won't let you get hurt, either.” Our hands touch when he takes the glass of iced tea from me, just like the time with the mug of cocoa.

“Yeah?” is all I manage to say.

“Yeah. I'll be your backup. No matter what.”

I know it's crazy that I have a bad guy trying to railroad me and my friend is about to be charged with murder, but right now I want nothing more than to throw my arms around Marco and let him hold me until all the crazy disappears. I wish it were that easy. I wish he didn't have a girlfriend, or that I wasn't a menace to his family. From the way he's looking at me, I'm beginning to wonder if he's thinking the same thing. Then he steps away from me suddenly, taking his drink into the living room, where we left the DVDs.

“What I don't get is why play this game?” Marco says as he looks through the DVDs. “I mean, if he's faked his disappearance or death, and it's looking bad for MJ, why do this? Why help you out by sending clues? You'd think he'd be spending energy on making sure the case against MJ sticks.”

“Maybe that's what these DVDs are for—the nail in the coffin for MJ. Or for me. What if they aren't clues and he just wants me to have them when the cops come knocking and find my fingerprints all over them the same way he set up MJ when he switched these movies out for drugs?”

“No, I think you were right about them being clues to something. If he was trying to plant evidence from the grave or wherever he's hiding out, he'd have sent them all at once. He's sending some kind of message by doling them out like this.”

I smile at him, completely impressed. “You're kind of good at this, you know.”

“Well, I can't let you go to jail. Who else would I hang out with at Langdon?”

“Unlike me, you've made a lot of friends at school. I'm the social outcast, remember?”

“Those are just people I know, they aren't friends. Besides, I think you know you're more than that to me, even if we did agree—”

“Okay, so maybe we should start watching these,” I say, jumping off the sofa to put a DVD in the player. I don't want to hear what he has to say or deal with another awkward moment of looking longingly into his eyes knowing I can't have him or what to do with him if I could.

“Hold up before you put the movie in. I was so worried about checking on you, I completely forgot I have food in the car. I was on my way home from picking up a pizza when you called.”

Is it weird that with everything going on, I'm kind of tingling like this is a date? Even worse, I'm glad it's happening. Not the Lux and MJ part, but the part where Marco and I are about to share a pizza on the same sofa to watch movies for clues. Yep, I'm officially crazy.

“We gotta eat,” Marco says, apparently reading my mind.

“That's true. I'll walk out with you. The cold air might clear my head a little and help me think.”

When we get out on the street, I don't see his car.

“Where'd you park?”

“In front of a house a few doors down. I couldn't find a space any closer.”

“That reminds me of something I've wanted to ask since the last time you dropped by. I've never given you my address and you hadn't been here before, so how'd you know where I lived?”

“Okay, so I creeped on you a little. I looked you up in the student directory the first week we were at Langdon.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant when really I remember coming home the day I met Marco and spending three hours online finding everything I could on him. The student directory is the one thing I didn't check.

“I hope I get points for telling you that. It isn't something a guy likes to admit.”

“You get points, but I don't know what you'll use them on. It isn't like we're together, or anything.”

“I'm here. You're here. If you look it up, that's probably the definition of together.”

The way he's looking at me makes me think he might be breaking the rules of our platonic agreement and there's more going on between us than solving a case. It also makes me feel like a boyfriend thief, so I break our gaze

We're walking back from his car, the pizza still warm enough to create a little cloud of steam around the box, when we see a kid on a bike pull up in front of my house, throw his bike down, and run up to my porch. Under his arm is a familiar-looking package.