In the Belly of Jonah (23 page)

The man Shelby had been dancing with most of the time must have been someone she didn’t know as well, judging by the distance he kept from her clan. She appeared to be playing coy, yet never let him out of her sight. A hard-to-get flirtation. Contradictory. Three other men and a woman with short black hair in a pixie cut sat at the table next to the two guys at the bar and were guarding Shelby’s drink, presumably so it wouldn’t get spiked by someone with ill intentions. But it was all speculation by Streeter. Five men, four women.

Kari had told Streeter about Micah and Shelby, the only two of Jill’s friends she had ever met. Julia confirmed having met those two as well. From their descriptions, Streeter realized that Micah was the one with long braids, the exotic-looking young woman dressed in tight jeans and a sleeveless floral blouse. He wondered which of the five men was named Jonah. He was about to find out.

The band had just announced they were taking a short intermission, giving themselves and the strobe lights a quick break. A soft yellow glow settled on the patrons in its place. Micah, Shelby, and Quasi-Dolly found their seats at the table with the four others; the two guys remained perched nearby on their barstools.

Streeter drained his glass and flagged the bartender with a folded bill, leaving it on the bar to square up his tab. He rose and walked to the other end of the bar, pulling up a chair to the table of six. They all stopped talking and stared at him.

Streeter had to shout over the noise of surrounding bar tables. “You’re all Jill Brannigan’s friends?”

The pixie snarled, “What’s it to you?”

Streeter reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his credentials. “I’m investigating her murder. Mind if we talk?”

Pixie’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small circle. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” he said, looking at all nine of the men and women in turn. “Is this everyone?”

They looked at each other and nodded.

“Mind if we step outside, where it’s quieter, and talk for a few minutes?”

One of the pimply-faced boys whined, “We’ll have to pay the cover again.”

Pixie hit him in the arm and said, “Geez, Jackson. This is for Jill. It’s worth another five bucks, you tightwad.”

He rubbed his arm and Pixie motioned toward the door, “Let’s go, gang.”

Streeter kept his eye on Pixie, the obvious leader of this clan. They waited for Streeter to lead them out the front door. He winked at Bouncer as he went by, slipped him a fifty, and said, “Mind if I borrow these guys for a few? This pays their way back in, okay?”

Bouncer grinned and held up the fifty. “No problem.”

The night was cool and fresh, stars blinking in the dark, cloudless sky above. Traffic was light and the downtown area sleepy compared to what he imagined took place during the regular school year. Streeter gathered the group around a bus stop bench under a streetlamp, away from the front entrance, the noise, and the watchful eye of the bar’s manager.

Two of the men sat on the bench, motioning the women to sit beside them or on their laps. Micah and Pixie sat on the bench; Quasi-Dolly and Shelby each took a lap. The other three men lingered behind the bench, Pimply Face slouching against the lamppost.

“My name’s Special Agent Pierce,” Streeter said.

“FBI. Cool,” one of the guys said.

“I’m the lead investigator on Jill’s murder and I would like to ask you some questions. Mind if we start by introducing yourselves to me?”Streeter pulled out a notebook and pen, unaccustomed to writing notes during an interview but having to, because of the sheer numbers.

Pixie leaned forward and stuck out her hand. “I’m Christina Jensen. I just met Jill this semester. We were in a class together. And I hope you nail the bastard who did this to her.”

Streeter shook her hand. Her handshake was firm and confident. “I do too.” Shelby waved. “And I’m Shelby Goodman. I’ve known Jill since freshman orientation two years ago. We’ve hung out ever since.”

The good-looking young man beneath Shelby had been wearing a dopey grin on his face ever since she’d plopped onto his lap. Shelby elbowed him playfully to indicate it was his turn. “My name is Grady. I met Jill through Shelby about a year ago or so.”

Shelby jerked a thumb his way and added, “Grady Mullany.” Streeter wrote it down as Shelby spelled it for him. Grady flicked the long dark bangs away from his eyes when Streeter looked up at him and smiled.

Micah rose to introduce herself. She extended her hand toward Streeter, her slender warm fingers wrapping around his hand in a light, sensual handshake. Her aqua eyes were large and smoky.

“Micah Piquette. Jill’s friend for the past two years. And thank you for finding whoever did this to her.”

Streeter gave Micah a nod. “Haven’t found anyone yet.”

“You will,” she responded.

Sincere, polite, polished. Not flirtatious. Mature.

The Quasi-Dolly wiggled her fingers and said, “Alicia Smith. I’m a freshman, and I just met Jill this semester too. Same time Christina did.”

The young man supporting Alicia in his lap nearly spilled her onto the sidewalk when he rose to shake Streeter’s hand. He was the tallest of the bunch, hovering over Streeter by a few inches. “I’m Andrew Peterson. Nice to meet you.”

Streeter shook his hand, a strong, confident embrace. “Likewise. How did you know Jill?”

While Andrew spoke, Streeter wrote, thinking,
No Jonah yet
. He was down to three men.

“I met her during rush last year and we’ve been friends ever since.”

Streeter asked, “Jill was in a sorority?”

Andrew shook his head. “She never pledged. She decided it was too much with her class schedule and with basketball.”

Andrew motioned Alicia to take his seat on the bench and he remained standing.

The guy behind Alicia stuck out his fist and Streeter bumped it. “Cameron Kelly. Senior. I met Jill through Andrew. We share an apartment.”

The shortest male in the group, which wasn’t saying much, since all of them were taller than Streeter, waved. “Zack Rhodes. Grad student. I’ve known Jill for about seven months. I met her in a class I was helping teach.”

“Are you a TA?” Streeter asked, already knowing the answer.

Zack nodded.

“What class?”

“Sculpting 101. For beginners,” Zack said.

“Was she any good?” Streeter pressed.

A smile reached the corner of Zack’s mouth. “Yeah, very good.”

The others snickered. Zack’s cheeks reddened.

Streeter studied him for a moment. He wore his long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a skullcap was perched on top of his head. He donned a loose, button-up bowling shirt, baggy shorts, and Birkenstocks with wool socks. Every inch the art student. By the way Zack was talking about Jill—or, more important, avoiding the subject—Streeter was hoping this was Jonah.

“What kind of sculpting? Clay, wood?” Streeter asked.

Zack perked up. “Wood, technically, is carved, not sculpted. For sculpting, we use traditional clay materials.”

The others shot a glance toward Zack, who reluctantly added, “But we do sometimes carve rather than sculpt.”

The twitch on Zack’s lip was unmistakable. Reflecting on the one-piece crutch that had been used to prop up Jill’s corpse, Streeter focused on Zack’s sudden nervousness. He was about to probe deeper with his questioning when Pimply Boy, who was still holding up the lamppost, shivered and griped, “It’s colder than shit out here. Can we get this thing over with?”

Or maybe this was Jonah and they could all go home now, Streeter thought.

“Shut up, you big baby,” Christina shouted at the peevish group member. “That’s Jackson Whaler. He’s a complete ass, so just ignore him.”

The others laughed. Streeter noted his name, wondering if Whaler had anything to do with the moniker Jonah, the biblical Jonah having been swallowed by a whale. It was a long shot, but hearing no one’s name remotely close to Jonah, he had little else to go on.

“Nice to meet you, Jackson. And I’d love to get this thing over with, but I need your help. Okay?”

Jackson shot him the peace sign. Streeter gave him a nod.

“Is this everyone?” Streeter asked again.

“Everyone?” Christina asked.

“The circle of friends you hang out with,” Streeter asked. “Is everyone here tonight?”

Andrew said, “The gang. Yeah, this is everyone. I mean we all have our own friends outside this group, roommates, high school friends, other classmates. But this is the gang.”

“Jill’s gang?” Streeter asked again.

They all nodded.

Cameron poked Zack in the ribs. “Except Dr. Jay, right?”

Zack jabbed him back. “I’m not his keeper.”

“The professor?” Streeter asked. “Dr. Bravo?”

“Yeah,” Cameron said. “He’s cool. That’s where we all met, really. We all took Dr. Bravo’s art class this spring. Some of us have been friends longer, but we weren’t a group until this spring.

“And then we started a business together.”

“What kind of business?” Streeter asked, noting Zack’s blanched face.

Andrew explained, “It’s cool. Nothing serious. We carve walking sticks and sell them on commission through all the convenience stores, gas stations, and tourist stops throughout the Rockies.”

Streeter noted Zack visibly shrink into the crowd of his friends. “And is the business doing well?”

Jackson piped in, “Selling them as fast as we can make them.”

“But we don’t make that much money on them,”Cameron added. “Just spending cash for pizza. And looks great on our résumés.”

Streeter’s mind was racing. “Okay, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You meet in beginning sculpting class. And you’re the teaching assistant for Dr. Bravo,” Streeter said, pointing to Zack. “All of you, including Jill, were in that Sculpting 101 class this year, from January to May. And then you started a business selling hand-carved walking sticks.”

They all nodded.

“And everyone but Micah is in intermediate sculpting this summer,”Alicia piped up, her voice sounding like a cheer.

Streeter looked at Micah and saw a slight flicker behind those smoky eyes. “I’m working. Need to earn the money to pay for fall semester. Not enough in sticks.”

They laughed.

“And Dr. Bravo is part of the gang?” Streeter repeated.

“He hangs with us from time to time; comes and goes like the wind,”Cameron said.

“More like a tornado,” groused Jackson. “Blows in, steals all the girls, and then disappears.”

“Ladies man, huh?” Streeter asked.

The guys nodded. The coeds giggled. Except for Micah. Streeter sensed there might be something more between Micah and Dr. Jay, but he was surprised by Shelby’s answer. “Not
all
ladies. Just some of us.”

Grady gave Shelby a playful push. “Him too? Not only did you do the TA, you did the professor too?”

“The Professor and Mary Ann,” Jackson crooned the
Gilligan’s Island
theme song with a smirk. “Right here on Shelby’s Island!”

“Shut up, moron.”

Streeter was getting enough of the picture. He decided to pull his line of questioning back on track. “Do any of you know who would have wanted to see Jill dead?”

They all shook their heads. Micah added, “It doesn’t make sense. Jill had an unblemished soul. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Loved everyone. Judged no one.”

“Was she having any trouble with anyone? Afraid of anyone? A love interest she spurned?”

The gang was still. Zack’s face turned crimson. Streeter added, “Any of you date Jill before?”

The men were still. Jackson blurted, “Dated or wanted to date her?”

The others laughed. A nervous laugh, Streeter thought.

“Okay. Any of you who wanted to date Jill?”

Streeter was surprised by all the nods. Every man except Zack, who looked down at his shoes.

“Any of you ever ask her on a date?”

“She wasn’t into that. She was too busy, too focused on school, on B-ball,”Andrew explained. “I might have hinted around at it, but she never gave me any indication she was interested in dating. Just in friendship.”

The men all nodded. Zack looked up at Streeter.

“Zack?” Streeter pressed.

“Andrew’s right. Jill wanted to keep everything at a distance. She just wanted to be friends.”

“And did you?” Streeter asked.

“Did I what?” Zack spat back.

“Did you keep it on a friendship basis?”

Zack shrugged. “Did I have a choice?”

Micah said, “Jill didn’t let anyone in. She was guarded.”

Shelby wiggled on Grady’s lap. “You mean a prude.”

Zack barked, “Well, at least she wasn’t a slut.”

Shelby stood and slammed her fists on her hips. “What does
that
mean?”

Zack looked down.

“You were the one who was always trying to hump her leg.
You’re
the slut, and she didn’t want anything to do with you,” Shelby sniped.