Fifty Percent Vampire, #1, page 12
Mike continued to whittle away at his pencil. Eying my adversary with trepidation, blood rushing in my ears, and a warm tingle starting in my belly, I sat down opposite him and smoothed my skirt with suddenly perspiring hands.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sonnschein,” he said, and I swear his eyes sparkled for an instant. “I’m Officer Hanson. You may remember me from a previous encounter.” The sparkle disappeared from his eyes. Now he was regarding me shrewdly.
“The Syrian war protest,” I blurted. “You almost fell off your horse.”
“Yes,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “Not my best moment.”
Hardly mine either. I bit my lower lip and squirmed uncomfortably on the chair.
“Your name’s been mentioned a number of times during the course of my interviews today,” he continued. “You didn’t like Zoe very much, did you?”
I looked at the floor. “You could say that. She picked on me on my first day here and never let up.”
He sat back and pursed his lips. “So should I suspect you had reason to kill her?”
“I had reason to think about killing her, but only when I was mad. Most of the time I just felt like kicking her butt.”
Mike rested his cleft chin in his hand. “Maybe you should have kicked her butt. To release some of the tension. And let her know she should back off.”
“Well, I managed to resist temptation.” Revenge is mine, saith the Lord. Thus had spaken Aunt Jean on numerous occasions. “To tell you the truth, I’m really sorry she’s dead.”
He reached across the desk and touched my arm briefly. My eyes closed and a shiver ran through me. Do that again. “We‘re all sorry,” he said in that wonderful low voice of his. “Tell me about the last time you saw her.”
I twisted a strand of hair round my fingers and tried to make out the pattern on the linoleum floorcovering. “The afternoon before she went missing. We had English class together last thing. Hamlet.”
“And had she harassed you that day?”
“Officer Hanson,” I said in a severe tone and raising an eyebrow. “Surely you haven’t already forgotten what happened on Sunday evening.”
He cocked his head to one side. “She was all over you because you tripped on a step and spilled a bowl of soup?”
“The other students you’ve spoken with must have confirmed that. By first recess I was ready to crawl under a rock. News travels at light speed here.”
“I wanted to hear it from you,” he said. “So where did you go after Hamlet?”
“I ran home through the woods.”
“The woods?” Mike looked up from his notetaking to scrutinize my face. My heart stopped. “Behind Wicket Lane?”
“Yes,” I said guardedly. “But I was home by five. And you told us yesterday morning Zoe was last seen at the boarding stable around eleven.”
He gazed at me steadily for a few seconds, then bent his head and scribbled something in his notebook. “You like to run in the woods?”
“It’s a good place to let off steam,” I explained. “I get to be away from people for a while and commune with nature instead. Have fun, go wild, chase rabbits …” I tailed off lamely.
“Just what you needed after yet another day of harassment by Miss Exmouth.” He gave me such a bounteous smile, I was in danger of melting.
“Yes, but it didn’t work,” I said. “When I reached home I was still mad at her. So I locked myself in our basement and worked on my assignments till ten.”
“And what did you do after ten?”
I swallowed nervously. “I took a walk in the woods,” I said. “To clear my head before sleeping. I was still upset.”
Mike frowned and rubbed his jaw. “That’s pretty late for a young girl like you to be out alone.”
“It was full moon and I like being outdoors at night. There’s nothing to be afraid of in those woods.”
“If Zoe were still with us she might disagree.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Mike’s expression was unfathomable. “I heard as much.”
Damn. Someone must have snitched on me about Jonah. I bet it was Evan. I let out my breath and held out my arms, resigned to my fate. “In that case why don’t you just swing out the cuffs? You’re not the only person around here who looks at me and sees the murderer.” My voice cracked, but I was past caring.
“Hey,” Mike said gently. “I’m not going to arrest you. At least not today. While you don’t appear to have a satisfactory alibi, we also have evidence that gives me pause of naming you a suspect.”
I blinked. He was ruling me out? I’d really thought he was about to haul me off kicking and screaming to jail. Instead he passed me a paper tissue and turned to a clean page in his notebook. “Okay, now I have a couple more questions. Can you handle them?”
“Yes,” I sniffed.
“Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to kill Zoe?”
I thought of Jonah and how he’d defended me. Fleetingly I thought of Angus. I shook my head. “No, I don’t know any person who would go that far.”
“So when Miss Exmouth wasn’t harassing you, who else was she harassing?”
What was this, the Salem witch trials? If I started naming names we wouldn’t get out of here till midnight. “Um,” I said tiredly. “A bunch of people. They must have told you.”
“Yeah, I get the impression she wasn’t the most popular girl in tenth grade,” he said as I held back a yawn. “You know, I think that’s enough questions for today. You look about ready for a little beauty sleep.”
He was right; the stress of the last two days had built up to overwhelming point and all I wanted to do right then was go home and crash. I stood up to leave.
“There’s one more thing,” he said. “I’ve had a request from the immigration service to take a look at your visa. Seems they’ve screwed up their computer records and they need to correct your date of birth. Do you have your papers with you?”
I’d been breathless before but now I was about to have a seizure. “My what?”
“Do you happen to have your entrance visa and passport with you?”
“Um, no,” I said. “My uncle has them in his office for safekeeping.”
“I’m going to need to see them and make a copy to send to immigration so they can fix their error.”
I frowned. George had assured Mom and me my fake visa was perfect. Trust him to have gotten my date of birth wrong.
“Of course,” I said, quickly replacing the frown with a smile. “Let me know when you have time and we can meet up.” Over a coffee maybe. Or for a walk in the park. Or ...
“I’m sorry about this,” he said, breaking my off-subject train of thought. “It must seem strange that I’m bringing up such a mundane issue in the middle of a murder inquiry. I should have come to see you earlier. In fact, I did, but your aunt told me to beat it because you were sick.”
“You’re just doing your job,” I said, turning the following inane giggle into a cough. “I mean, um, it’s so sad we had to meet again under such tragic circumstances.”
He looked at me as though I were nuts. I flushed and decided I’d better leave before he remembered more questions he’d forgotten to ask me. “Thank you, Officer Hanson,” I said hastily, heading for the door. “Good luck with your investigation.” If I get in any more trouble I’ll be sure to let you know.
All the way home through the woods I berated myself for my behavior during the interview. If I’d acted any more the giddy schoolgirl toward the end there, Mike would have been right to suspect me of being a total wacko as well as an illegal immigrant and a potential teen murderer. So much for me trying to keep a low profile. But when I was that near to him I couldn’t help myself. Bad Astrid, I muttered, resisting the sudden urge to bang my head several times against the nearest tree trunk.
The Antisocial Network
When I arrived home I decided to find out how the girls were faring. Surely they must have been affected by today’s events just as much as I had. My cellphone battery had run out of juice and Emma had stolen my charger again, so I tramped down to the basement, got online, and fired up my email. Nothing much there, just the usual boring stuff (mostly junk) but when I visited my social accounts things were very different. Until that day I’d received few messages, mostly Jenny updating me now and again with the latest Hollywood trends. But that afternoon I had pages and pages. I felt as though a fist had hit me square in the stomach. None of these people were wishing me well.
‘You killed Zoe you witch.’
‘Burn in hell!’
‘Zoe was my friend. You’ll pay for what you did to her.’
‘Ugly day walker!’
‘Go bak ta Rusha u comy!’
‘Vampire!’ (This mail came complete with a photo of someone, presumably the writer, cowardly hiding their face behind a way over-the-top Dracula mask)
Etc. etc. etc. etc.
I covered my mouth in horror. I’d read all about cyberbullying but had never expected I’d become a target. These people really thought I’d killed Zoe. Some of the messages were so full of hate I half expected arms to thrust themselves out of the screen, grab me by the throat and start squeezing hard. One message in particular made my blood run cold.
‘We know where you live, Astrid. One day soon you’ll come home and find your whole family dead. It’s time for you to go back where you belong. Or else.’
I turned off the computer, sickened. I should have erased the mails, but maybe it was better I didn’t; they would serve as grim reminders of the monster people in this town really thought I was, however deluded they might be. I thought briefly of showing Mike, but what good would that do? Better right now to keep my head down and stay out of sight. I’d come here with a purpose, to live. And in this country I was innocent until proven guilty, right?
I straightened my shoulders. Let them prove me guilty if they could.
Procession
“I don’t know why Mom refuses to let you join the procession,” grumbled Emma as I helped her get ready to leave next morning. “Zoe was in your class. You have every right to be there.”
“Aunt Jean is worried people won’t be happy to see me,” I reminded her. “And frankly, so am I. The last thing I want to do is make waves.”
“So you weren’t friends with Zoe. You should still be allowed to walk in her memory,” she said. “No one deserves to go the way she did. Strangled and dumped in a ditch.” She began to shake and I saw tears starting to form.
Hesitantly, I put my hand on her shoulder and drew her into a hug. “Please don’t cry.”
“You’re meant to cry at times like these,” she sniffed. “But thanks anyway.” She took the hairbrush from me. “Maybe you can sneak out and join us when the procession passes our house.”
“Our house?” I squeaked. “They’re coming here?”
“Just passing by on their way to where Zoe was found,” she said. “Mr. Exmouth persuaded Chief Frank to give his permission for people to go there and create a memorial. Being a politician has its advantages, it seems. I thought the police wouldn’t allow anyone near a murder scene for weeks.”
“Why would anyone want to go near a murder scene, period?” I said. “Okay, I’ll look out for you. Tell Rachel and the girls hi for me.”
She promised me she would and I hugged her again before she left.
Aunt Jean joined me at the front door, broom in hand. She said she was there to see Emma off, but I suspected she wanted to ensure I didn’t sneak out too. I’d told her several times I wasn’t planning to. What would be the point? Emma’s grapevine was reporting that Zoe and I had fought the day she had disappeared, which was funny since all I recalled from that day was being made a laughing stock and wanting to crawl underneath a table and die. I hadn’t retaliated, though I’d certainly been tempted to. Nevertheless, rumor was saying me and my mortal enemy had come to blows, which was the biggest lie ever. There was nothing I could do about it though, so that morning I was glad to be staying out of the public eye.
“Now don’t you go running off,” warned Aunt Jean one more time.
“Leave the girl alone. Can’t you let her do what she wants for once?” grumbled Uncle James. I hadn’t noticed him standing behind us. Maybe I was more interesting than television this morning. Ha! At least one adult in this house was willing to treat me like a normal human being, even if it was only my coach potato uncle. Aunt Jean left, shaking her head in amazement at her husband’s audacity.
Half an hour later I heard the slow boom ... boom ... boom ... of a bass drum and the wailing of horns as the band approached so I ran upstairs to observe. It was the school marching band, dressed in their smart gold uniforms. Which shocked me as I was expecting humans to wear black or dark colors when they were mourning someone. At least that’s what I’d observed on non-reality television.
I went out front as the band led the people slowly past, figuring Aunt Jean would at least let me watch the procession. People who knew me or about me looked toward the house as they trooped by, and I waved and returned them a tentative smile. Rachel and a few others waved back, but the majority turned their heads away or stared at me like I’d just stepped out of an alien spaceship. Eventually I spotted Emma walking arm in arm with Rocio and Jenny, all three of them tight-lipped. To my surprise she looked straight ahead, pretending I didn’t exist.
A lump formed in my throat. My own cousin had caught crowd fever and was ignoring me. I covered my mouth and turned my back. Those people didn’t know me; many of them probably hadn’t known Zoe either, not personally. Yet they felt they had the right to judge me based on flaky rumors. Well, enough already. I hurried to my room and changed into a blue blouse, black skirt and flats, determined to join the procession whether anyone liked it or not. Including Zoe, wherever she might be.
Sneaking downstairs I almost bumped into Uncle James in the hallway and for an awful second thought he might stop me leaving. But I needn’t have worried.
“I never saw you,” he said. He winked and turned back to the living room.
Relief flowed through me. He wouldn’t rat me out. Another plus point for my lazy but kind-hearted uncle. I took a deep breath and opened the door. People continued to pass by, crowding on one another’s heels, so I waited a while and when what I judged to be the stragglers came round the corner I darted in amongst them and hid between two tall men. Some people turned to stare, but most seemed more interested in getting to the spot where Zoe had died than giving me the evil eye.
When I finally reached the crime scene, I realized it was going to be hard for me to see anything. There were more people there than trees, and no way was I intending to push through the crowd to the front and have everybody rubberneck me.
“Psst, Astrid!” whispered a voice from above. I looked up to see Rachel and the others perched like birds on branches. Brady, her eyes red from crying, reached down a hand, pulled me up, and made space for me next to her. It seemed strange to be watching someone’s memorial service from halfway up an old oak tree but at least I had a good view.
“Bunch of hypocrites, turning out on false pretenses,” Brady said in a shaky voice. She patted my shoulder. “I don’t think you had anything to do with this.”
“Thanks,” I said, staring dumbfounded at Rocio, who was standing on a branch to my left and pointedly looking the other way. This situation needed lightening up. “So we got the VIP pass or something? Or did you have to reserve this tree last night?”
“This is not a joke,” growled Rocio.
“She didn’t mean anything by it,” protested Jenny. “What’s your problem, Ros?”
Rocio didn’t answer. I couldn’t stand the silence. “Thanks for saving me a branch,” I said.
“You don’t have to thank us,” muttered Rachel. “This is what we do for our friends.” She stared at Rocio hard. “And I never ate lunch with a killer.”
I sat quietly on my branch. While I was grateful for the support Rachel and Jenny were giving me I felt bad about the rift forming in the group. They had all been best of friends before I came along, and now my presence seemed to be driving them apart. How long would it be before the next one turned against me? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Just one more thing to pile on my already guilty conscience.
“Can everybody hear me?” A Latino woman in a navy-blue suit was speaking into a bullhorn. “We’re gathered here today in memory of Zoe Exmouth, a sweet young lady taken from us way before her time.”
She paused to wipe away a tear.
“Now, before we begin I have a couple of requests to make. Firstly, the police ask you not to venture beyond the yellow tape this morning, and secondly, please place your cards, flowers etcetera carefully. It would be most unfortunate if these precious tributes were trampled on or tripped over. You’ll see pink markers delimiting the area where you can place them safely. Thank you for your cooperation.”
She paused once more, suddenly overcome by emotion.
“Now, let’s remember the dear child who met her end here so tragically; one of our town’s most promising students, with plenty of dreams and hope for a bright future. I think I can speak for us all in saying that our hearts go out to her family and friends. They, and I, thank every one of you for being here with us today. God bless you all.”
Her voice broke as she ended her speech. She handed the bullhorn quickly back to Officer Tafani who stood solemnly scanning faces, and disappeared into the crowd.
“That’s Rocio’s mom,” whispered Brady. “She’s freaked out by Zoe’s death and thinks if a politician’s daughter can get herself killed … then who knows what might happen?”
