Not Quite Dead Yet, page 25
The chief wrote something down.
“Alone?”
“No, with Billy.”
“Billy Finney?”
Jack coughed into his hand.
“Yes sir,” Jet answered.
“All night?”
“All night.”
The chief glanced over at Jack for a moment, then closed the file.
“OK. If there’s nothing else you think we should know?”
“Is there nothing else you think I should know?” Jet countered.
The chief stared blankly at her.
“About my case,” she said. “I have about two days to live. Did you forget that?”
“I didn’t forget, Jet.” He held the file against his chest. “There’s nothing new. JJ Lim has been arrested.”
Jet’s turn to lean forward, only one elbow on the table, the other hanging lifeless by her side. “Are you going to charge him? Doesn’t the fire change things?”
Jack answered instead.
“Detective Ecker is interviewing him again now. He hasn’t confessed yet, but we believe the prosecutor will move forward without a confession.” His eyes hooked onto hers. “We will get him, don’t worry. I made you a promise.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Finney,” the chief said, standing up. Not a real thank you, a warning disguised as one.
The chief gestured toward the exit and Jet took the hint, getting to her feet. But she blinked and the door doubled before her eyes, another world intruding over theirs, Jack’s hand—twice—grasping the handle, holding it open for her, two ways to go, one of them not real.
“Thank you,” Jet said to him, not a warning, just a thanks as she stumbled through.
Outside in the rec-rece-re-re—ah, fuck off, the waiting room, Billy and Jet’s parents sat, well, waiting. Another doubled man behind them all too: Gerry Clay.
Billy jumped up, but Mom reached Jet first, folding her into a hug that Jet couldn’t return, because her arms were pinned down, and one didn’t work anyway.
“It’s just awful, isn’t it,” Dianne said, voice breathy in Jet’s hair before she pulled away. “We wanted to be the ones to tell you.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Jet’s eyes found him, struggling up from his chair, hand pressed to his side, to his kidneys, a wince of deep pain on his face. “Must be hard for you. You spent your whole life building that place.”
“We’re insured,” he said, hiding the pain in his voice. “We can come back from this. I’m just glad nobody got hurt.”
Jet found Billy’s eyes and she found his. Hazel and blue. One blink and a thousand silent words.
“Does Luke know?” Jet asked, looking between her parents.
“He was the one who called me, in the middle of the night,” Dad said, a yellow tinge to his skin but gray under the eyes, betraying his lack of sleep. “He won’t leave the scene. Been there all night. Your mom took him some breakfast, but he won’t leave. Just staring at it.”
“Don’t know why,” Dianne sniffed, a self-conscious glance back at Billy and Gerry, at the non-Masons in earshot.
“I do,” Jet said, taking Luke’s side, even though she couldn’t remember the last time he took hers. “All his dreams, gone up in smoke. Literally.”
Jet studied her dad’s face for any sign of the truth. Because the company was never going to be Luke’s anyway, whether it burned down or not.
He didn’t react, only Dianne did, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I’ve got such a headache.”
Jet rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s worse than mine too.”
“What did they ask you?” Dad hissed, hand to his kidneys again. “Is it related? Was it something to do with JJ? He has a brother, doesn’t he? Do you think—”
“—I don’t know anything,” Jet cut across him. “Maybe it was the same person who killed me, maybe it was someone else.”
“Well, Gerry might be able to help with that,” Dianne said curtly, bringing him in.
Gerry rose to his feet, Jet’s eyes snapping to him. “What do you mean?” she asked the room, waiting for the answer, because it was a waiting room after all.
“Don’t know about that.” Gerry shuffled over. “It’s just Owen. He was flying his drone last night. Heard the sirens, got curious.”
Fuck, it had been a drone Jet saw, against the whirling column of smoke. But had the drone seen them back? Jet caught Billy again, over Gerry’s shoulder.
“Oh,” she said, that mock-surprise back in her eyes, plastered over the shock. “Did he manage to record anything?”
Gerry inhaled. “The building was already collapsed by the time he got it there, only just beat the fire department. Couldn’t see a lot through the smoke.” He paused. “We’ve watched it a few times, can’t see anything important, nobody coming or going. But maybe the police will spot something we can’t see. I’ve got the footage, thought it might be helpful.”
Too fucking helpful, fuck sake, Gerry.
“Thank you,” Jet said, clearing her throat. “But the footage doesn’t show anybody, right? Who might have started the fire?”
“Not that I can see.”
So, Billy and Jet were in the clear, but so was whoever tried to burn them to death, and no leads as to who it could have been. Only JJ was ruled out, and the two of them.
“I know,” Gerry said. He must have read her face as disappointment. “But I think I know who did this.”
Everyone in the room turned to him, waiting again.
Jet and Billy waited a little harder.
“Yes?” Jet snapped, spooling her left hand impatiently.
Gerry glanced over at Dianne.
“Dianne, did you tell the cops? About the cat thing?”
Dianne sparked back into life, running a hand through her hair, taking her right arm for granted.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, almost a laugh, but it hissed too much around the edges. “Nothing to do with that.”
“You sure?” Gerry asked. “Someone says they hate Mason Construction, and your family. Threatens you. And now the premises get burned down.”
“That was a long time ago, Gerry. It was just a prank. It’s not relevant.”
“What’s he talking about?” Jet’s eyes zeroed in on her mom. “Mom?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Jet.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing. If there’s someone who hates the company, hates our family, that means they could be a suspect not just for the fire, but the person who killed me.”
Dianne blinked. “JJ is the one who—”
“—What’s the cat thing?”
“It doesn’t matter, Jet.” Mom doubled down, already taking up two outlines, splitting into more.
“Gerry!” Jet pressed him instead. “What’s the cat thing? And remember, I only have two days to live so it’d be really great if we could stop wasting time.”
Gerry swallowed, the lump in his throat moving up and down with it.
“It was—” he began.
“—It was nothing,” Dianne cut him off. “Just a harmless prank by someone who hijacked one of our Town Hall meetings, during citizens’ comments.”
Jet pushed out her chin. “Dressed as a cat?” she asked.
“No,” Mom said. “The meetings are online, on Zoom.”
“It was a filter thing,” Gerry added. “To hide his identity. And he distorted his voice too. Was actually kind of creepy. That was my Halloween costume this year. Doesn’t seem so funny anymore, if he’s the one who set the fire.”
“You never told me about this,” Dad said, finding his voice.
“Because it’s not relevant,” Mom replied. “It was a harmless prank and we’ve all forgotten about it.”
Apart from Gerry. Apart from her mom too, hands tucked behind her back, balled into fists, telltale knuckles pushing through the skin.
“When was this?” Jet asked both of them, either of them.
Gerry looked up, searched the ceiling and his mind for the answer. “Maybe a year ago. Or less.”
“Thank you, Gerry,” Dianne clipped.
“Do you still have the recording of the meeting?”
“Well, yes,” Gerry said. “Everyone does. All the village trustee Zoom recordings are posted online on the town website, along with a transcript of the minutes—”
“—Yes, thank you, Gerry,” Dianne shot him down.
Gerry continued mumbling, something about “transparency of democracy.”
Dianne turned away. “Look, there’s Sergeant Finney now. Jack,” she called, “Gerry has something he needs to show you. About the fire.”
Gerry’s shoulders slumped. Just wait until he finds out how much Luke ripped him off over marble countertops. Maybe he’d be happy that someone else already burned it down.
He shuffled away, dismissed, clearing the path between Billy and Jet. Another thousand words in the blink of an eye.
And a new lead.
For someone who might have started the fire.
Someone who might have smashed Jet’s head in with a hammer.
“Come on,” Jet said to him, but he was already coming, truck keys trailing from his finger, his liquid eyes on her. Jet’s heart picked up, not in the bad way, not fight-or-flight, actually just flying, side by side with Billy, a new electricity thrumming under her skin, sidestepping her right arm.
Somehow, Billy could tell. “Are you excited?” He smiled down at her.
“Aren’t you?” she whispered.
“Where are you going?” Dianne called just before they reached the door.
Jet turned back. “Home,” she said. “Billy’s.”
Mom released her balled-up hands. “C-come home for dinner?” She shrank as she said it, eyes heavy and swimming. “We won’t have many more chances, for the family to be together and…”
Jet softened, an ache in her chest that hurt her in small ways, not like the one inside her head.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I promise.” And she meant it.
Mom brightened, almost a smile, not quite making it. “Tomorrow,” she said, accepting Jet’s promise…just. “Why, what are you doing tonight?”
“Watching cat videos.”
Twenty-Five
“Fuck me, I’m so bored.”
Jet held one eye open, staring at the laptop screen on the coffee table in front of her, cross-legged on the floor.
“Is it possible to die of boredom?”
“Don’t try it,” Billy said, stretched out beside her, straight-legged, his hand splayed on the rug, pressed against her right knee.
The video kept playing, full-screen, a Zoom recording split into two halves. One side was labeled Village Trustees, a meeting room inside Town Hall, harsh overhead lighting and a long U-shaped table. The five village trustees sat at the far end: Jet’s mom, Gerry Clay, and the others. Lou Jankowski was in his uniform, sitting on the right, and a handful of other municipal employees along the left, notebooks and pens at the ready.
On the other side of the split screen was a Ms. Duffy, sitting too close to the camera, ruddy cheeks and sagging skin in the unforgiving light of her computer screen.
“Thank you for joining us for citizens’ comments again, Ms. Duffy,” Gerry said, cheerfully. “Are you here to talk about something other than your neighbor’s solar lights?”
“Yes, actually,” Ms. Duffy said, voice old and crusty, annoyed before she even started. “I want to talk about those new parking meters over on Pleasant Street. It is absolutely ridiculous. My daughter lives there and I’ve already gotten six tickets. I’m not paying them.”
“I hear you, dude.” Jet scrolled the cursor, fast-forwarding the angry woman. No other faces appeared on the split screen, just Ms. Duffy; then back to the Town Hall meeting, stretching to take over the full screen again.
“Is there anyone else in the Zoom waiting room, Milly?” Gerry asked someone off camera.
“No, that’s all,” replied the disembodied voice.
“Great, let’s move on,” he said. “Any additions or deletions to the posted agenda? No? OK, so let’s discuss this financial report, starting with the police revenue.”
Papers and people shuffled.
“Next,” Jet said.
Billy leaned forward, finger on the trackpad, exiting out of the video, back to TownOfWoodstock.org to the page called Village Trustee Meeting Uploads.
“OK, so this next video takes us back to January this year,” Billy said, double-clicking it. They’d started in March to be sure, and this was their fifth video already.
Billy pressed play.
Jet held her eye open again.
The same people, in the exact same positions, wearing different clothes, apart from Lou Jankowski in his uniform. Jet eyed her mom, in the middle, hair swinging around her bare neck.
“We’re good?” Gerry Clay asked, looking off camera, then back to the room. “OK, everyone, I’m Chair Gerry Clay, and I call to order this meeting of the Board of Trustees for the Village of Woodstock. It is 6:30 p.m., January fourteenth, and I want to wish you all a happy new year for our first meeting of 2025. Present is myself, Dianne Mason, David Dale, Florence Chu, Richie Collins.” He reeled off the rest of the names. “And introducing our new chief of police, who was elected by the trustees in a secret ballot at the end of last year: Police Chief Lou Jankowski.”
Lou dipped his head as there was a polite spattering of applause, a tight smile on Jet’s mom’s face, the first to stop clapping.
“OK, Milly,” Gerry said. “Do we have anyone in the Zoom waiting room for citizens’ comments?”
“No one today.”
“Perfect.” Gerry grinned. “Let’s get to the agenda.”
Jet leaned forward this time, pausing the video, freezing them all.
“Next?” Billy asked.
But it was something else.
“I just realized something,” Jet said, mind aching as it reeled back, her eyes fixed on Mom’s pixelated face, staring across at the new chief. “The vote for the police chief, it’s a secret ballot, right? At the Halloween Fair, I heard Gerry telling your dad that he voted for him, not Lou. And obviously David Dale would have voted for your dad, he and Jack and Luke play golf together, like, every weekend.”
“Right?” Billy said, bending it into a question.
“Well, for Lou to have won, that means my mom must have voted for Lou, not your dad. There are five trustees.”
“Oh.” Billy turned back to the screen.
“Why would my mom vote for Lou Jankowski?” she said. “She probably didn’t even know Lou before, and she’s known your dad for over thirty years, been neighbors all that time. I just assumed it was Mom and David for your dad and the others voted against him. Why would Mom vote for Lou instead?”
Billy shrugged. “Maybe she thought he’d do a better job.”
“Seems like a bit of a dick move,” Jet said. “They’re friends. Anyway, not relevant—we’re looking for a cat.”
Jet exited the video, on to the next.
“Doesn’t look like they had a meeting in December, so we’re into November 2024 and—”
Gerry Clay spoke over her, from the speakers.
“—This is Chair Gerry Clay, calling to order this Village of Woodstock Board of Trustees meeting. It is 6:30, November twelfth, and present we have…” Jet skipped ahead, dragging the cursor to the end of the names.
Lou Jankowski was gone, replaced with the old police chief. Much older, in fact, hair snow white and so thin it almost looked like it was floating above his uncovered head.
Jet circled his face with the on-screen arrow, poking him in the eyes. “Can’t wait to retire,” she said, putting on an old man voice. “These meetings are so fucking boring.”
“Yeah,” Billy joined in. “Can’t wait to do all that old people shit. Puzzles. Gardening.”
“Bang so many bitches,” Jet added. “That I used to be a police chief line works every damn time.”
“Gonna eat so much ham.”
“Ham?” Jet’s old man asked Billy’s old man.
“Yeah. I really like ham.” Billy’s accent had slipped, somewhere between surfer and stoner.
Gerry stopped the fun, as usual.
“OK, let’s get this meeting started,” he said.
“Milly, do we have any citizen comments today?” Jet asked before Gerry could, parroting her a few seconds later.
Milly’s disembodied voice floated through the speakers. “Yes, there’s someone in the waiting room. I don’t actually have a name; their screen name says Anon. Shall I let them through?”
Jet leaned forward, holding her breath. Billy too, right beside her.
“Yes, let them through.” Gerry waved his pixelated hand.
The screen fractured into two, and not because of Jet’s eyes this time. Town Hall halved, shrinking all the people inside it.
On the right-hand side was a darkened room, no lights, just a pale glow from a window in the background. In front of it, lit from the silver of the computer screen, was a cat.
Not a real cat, not even a full cat. Some kind of filter: a digital ginger-and-white cat face plastered over the human one below, moving with it, blinking bright green, uncanny eyes. The cat wore a dark hoodie zipped up to cover their neck. Pointed cat ears out the top of their head, just a sliver of visible dark hair, but their human ears showed beyond the orange fur.
It tilted its head, cat face moving with it, staring right at Jet, almost an entire year later.
She felt the hairs stand up on her arm. Just one arm.
Then flinched as a sound erupted from the speakers: Town Hall bursting into laughter.
Gerry Clay hooted.
Jet’s mom covered her mouth with her hand, giggled into it.
“Oh dear!” Gerry called over all the commotion, barely able to speak. “Ms. Duffy, is that you?”
