Remember Me (16 page)

She was undoing his belt. They were both groaning. Peter stood above them shaking his head.

"And you're not even cold in your grave," he said.

"Peter," I moaned, deeply hurt. He was by my side instantly.

"I'm sorry. That was tactless." He put his arm around my waist. "Are you OK?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"No, you're definitely not going to do that. Let's go in the kitchen."

"I want to leave!"

"Not yet. This might get interesting. I mean, as far as your case is concerned.

Come on."

We sat at the kitchen table. I could still hear them in the next room. I stared at the apples in the fruit bowl and wished I could stuff one down each of their throats. "I thought he cared about me," I whispered.

"You get used to it," Peter said.

"No."

"Forget him. He was trash."

I chuckled sadly. "Your brother said he was an asshole."

"He's a smart gty."

"Yeah. If he was so smart, what was he doing with Beth?"

"Well," Peter said, peeking around the corner of the kitchen into the living room. "I suppose he had a couple of good reasons."

Someone knocked at the front door. We jumped up, but not nearly so fast as Daniel and Beth. They were busy pulling themselves together when we reentered the living room.

"Just a minute!" Beth called.

"Shh! This is my house," Daniel said. "Just a minute!"

Peter peeked out the window. "We're in luck, Shari. It's Garrett. He's caught them red-handed."

"He's a couple of minutes early," I growled.

The kids finally got themselves presentable and answered the door. Garrett was not wearing his frumpy green sports coat, but his unironed black shirt was a questionable improvement. He looked as if he had spent the night with his head bent over a toilet. He needed a shave in the worst way.

"May I come in?" he asked Daniel.

"I don't know." Daniel glanced at Beth. "This is sort of a bad time."

"I bet," Garrett said, stepping inside anyway. "Are your folks home?"

"No," Daniel said.

"Good." He took out the notepad he had brought to Beth's condo. "I'd like to ask you two a couple of questions." He gestured to the couch. "Have a seat."

Daniel and Beth sat down. Garrett pulled up a footstool.

"Did you go to the funeral?" he asked.

"Yes," Daniel said.

"It was sad," Beth said.

"They usually are." Garrett coughed as he clicked open his ballpoint pen. "Did either of you push Shari off the balcony?"

Daniel gave a ridiculous smile. "What?"

"Did you kill your girlfriend?"

"She jumped," Beth said.

"Did you see her jump?" Garrett asked.

"No," Beth said.

"I didn't push her," Daniel said. "Jo can tell you that."

"She wouldn't tell me if she stood by and let you push her," Garrett said.

Daniel stopped smiling. "I don't believe, sir, that we have to answer your questions."

"You do have the right to remain silent," Garrett agreed.

Daniel nodded self-righteously. "I know my rights."

"But that's only if you've been arrested. I'll have to arrest you if you want to remain silent."

"I love this cop," Peter said.

"Shh," I said.

Daniel and Beth exchanged uneasy glances. "We didn't kill her," Beth said.

"What else can we tell you?"

"Was Jo on the balcony before you?" Garrett asked her.

"She says she got there after me," Beth said.

"What do you say?"

"I don't know. I told you, it was dark."

"It wasn't that dark. The balcony's not that big. What was the matter with you that night, Beth? Were you drunk?"

"She doesn't drink," Daniel said.

"I'm asking her," Garrett said.

Beth put her hands to her mouth and grimaced. "I don't know what was wrong with me."

Garrett leaned forward. "Were you mad at Shari?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because ... s-she was my friend," Beth stammered.

"How could she be your friend when she was going out with your boyfriend?"

Garrett asked.

"Dan wasn't my boyfriend."

"Is he your boyfriend now?"

"No," Daniel interrupted.

"No," Beth echoed weakly.

Garrett turned to Daniel. "When you were on the balcony, did you see Amanda come out of the bathroom? Please try to remember as best you can, or I might have to arrest you."

"I saw her."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

Garrett closed his notepad and stood. "That's all for now."

Daniel's fear turned to anger. "Why are you hassling us like this? You have no right."

Garrett stared down at him for a moment—way down; he appeared to be studying Daniel's feet. Then his eyes flickered upward, and he reached over and plucked something from Daniel's shirt pocket before Daniel could stop him.

It was an unopened condom.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"It's none of your goddamn business," Daniel snapped.

Garrett tossed the condom into Daniel's lap. "You may think you're practicing safe sex, son." He smiled and put his notepad away. "But you're not even close."

Garrett left. Peter wanted to go after him.

"He's probably going to question the others," Peter told me. "We can ride in the back of his truck and not have to worry about the buses. Come on."

"No. I want to see what these two have to say."

"They're just going to have sex." Peter paused. "I suppose we could stay."

They did not have sex. The instant Garrett was out the door, Beth burst out crying. Daniel tried to comfort her.

"He was just bluffing," Daniel said. "He's not going to arrest us." He put his hands on the back of her neck as she wept into the couch cushion. "Hey, babe.

I'm here. It's all right."

She sat up suddenly, throwing off his hands. "I shouldn't be here! We shouldn't be together!"

"Why not? You said you liked me."

Beth gave him an incredulous look. "Dan, Shari's dead.

We just buried her." She glanced around, obviously confused about how she had come to be where she was. She stood. "I've got to get out of here."

Daniel tried to stop her. "I'm upset, too. You know, she was my girlfriend."

"If she was your girlfriend, why are you trying to make like you hardly knew her?"

"That's not true."

"Let me go. It is." She went to shove him away and then stopped. Looking at his face, her own changed. The dingdong expression vanished. "It is true," she said, a note of regret in her voice.

Beth left. Daniel let her.

"Shari," Peter said. "We have to get into Garrett's truck."

"Just a second," I said. Daniel just stood there staring at the closed door before finally trudging upstairs to his bedroom. I went with him. Peter remained behind. Plopping down on his bed, Daniel opened a drawer in his nightstand and took out a picture of me in my white prom dress. My corsage was huge, as big as my smile. He had pinned it on me only a couple of hours before the picture had been taken.

He had told me how beautiful I was, and that night he had been beautiful.

Now he looked old.

"Shari," he said, biting his lower lip. I had to move closer. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. They were tears.

I might have taken pleasure in them or even wept with him.

But he didn't give me the chance. A second later he hurled my picture against the far wall, breaking the glass. Then he buried his face in his pillow, and all I could hear was his heavy breathing.

"Catch you later," I said.

Downstairs, Peter hurried me out the window. We hopped into the back of Garrett's truck as he pulled away, heading in the opposite direction from Beth.

Garrett did not fail to note Beth's hasty departure.

"I heard something break?" Peter asked.

"It was nothing," I said.

Garrett went to Jeff Nichols's place next, Peter's old house. I could tell that's where we were headed a couple of blocks before we got there. I had an eye on Peter, but he appeared undisturbed by our destination.

"I never asked you," I said. "What was it like when you died?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you know you were dead?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. "I didn't black out like you did. I was on my motorbike one moment with the wind in my face, and the next thing I knew, I was standing on the road beside my body and a huge semi." He shrugged. "There was a lot of blood. I knew it was over."

"It was the truck driver's fault, wasn't it?"

"No."

"That's what I read in the papers."

"It was my fault."

"Really? What happened?" I asked.

"I was careless."

"Did someone meet you on this side and help you along?"

"I was worse than you," he said.

"What do you mean?"

He smiled faintly but refused to elaborate.

Jeff was out front, working on his motorcycle. The love of fast machines obviously ran in the family. Jeff had grease on his hands, a cigarette in his mouth, and a half-finished six-pack sitting beside a ratchet set. He hardly glanced up as Garrett climbed out of his truck and walked toward him.

"Busy?" Garrett asked.

"I suppose."

"Can I have a beer?"

Now Jeff looked at Garrett. He set down his tools and handed Garrett a can.

"It's not cold," he warned.

"That's all right, I'm on duty," Garrett said, popping the beer and taking a deep drink.

"Thanks. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.''

"I have nothing to add to what I said the other night."

"You like beer, Jeff?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

"I like whiskey." Garrett finished his can and set it beside JefFs pile on the cement driveway. The Nicholses were fairly well-off. Their house was roughly the size of my own. Jeff appeared to be the only one home. Garrett pulled out his notepad. "Were you drinking the night of the party?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"How much did you have to drink?"

"I wasn't drunk," Jeff said.

"How much?"

"Two or three cans."

"Following the seance, why did you try to go to the bathroom in Beth's bedroom when you had just seen Amanda go in there?"

"Beats me."

"You can do better than that," Garrett said.

"I had to take a leak. I just went in there. I didn't give it a lot of thought. Want another beer?"

"No. When you were in Beth's bedroom, did you hear anything that would indicate Amanda was actually in there?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Jeff said.

"Could you be more specific?"

"I thought I heard water running."

"What was your relationship with Shari?"

"I didn't have one," Jeff said.

"Weren't you friends?" Garrett asked.

"No."

"Did you dislike her?"

"Not really."

"Would you say she was suicidal?"

"I told you, I hardly knew her."

"What is your relationship with Beth?"

"I used to go out with her," Jeff said.

"When did you stop going out with her?"

"The night of the party."

"Why?" Garrett asked.

"It started to get old."

"What is your relationship with Joanne Foulton?"

"We're friends."

"Have you ever dated?"

"No," Jeff said.

"Might you in the future?"

"I doubt it."

"What's your sign, Jeff?"

"Huh?"

"Your astrological sign. What is it?"

"I'm a Scorpio."

"You don't strike me as the type who'd be into astrology."

"I'm not," Jeff said.

"How did you know what sign you were? Did Joanne tell you?"

Jeff hesitated. "That's right," he said flatly.

The phone inside the garage rang. Jeff went to get it. I tagged along and pressed my ear to the receiver as he answered it. Garrett stayed in the driveway.

"Hi, Jeff, this is Jo. Am I calling at a bad time?"

"Sort of," Jeff said.

"I won't keep you. I just wanted to tell you that I'd like you to come over to my house tonight at ten o'clock."

"What for?"

"You'll see when you get here, but it's important."

"I can't make it," Jeff said.

"It has to do with Shari. The group's going to be here."

Jeff glanced at Garrett. "Can't make it."

"Come on, Jeff. Please? It really is important."

"I'll think about it."

Jo paused. "All right. I hope you come."

Jeff set down the phone and returned to Garrett and his bike. He picked up his ratchet.

"Finished with your questions?" he asked.

"Just about," Garrett said. "Who was that?"

"Some girl."

Garrett gestured to Jeff's greasy white sneakers. "Are those the shoes you wore to the party?"

"Maybe."

"Are you sure you didn't have on black shoes?"

"I don't remember."

Garrett put away his notepad. "Those sneakers are a mess.

I doubt Beth would have let you into her place with them on." He turned to leave. "Take it easy, son."

"You, too, Lieutenant."

Peter and I climbed into the back of Garrett's truck again.

Garrett started the engine, and we were on our way. It had to be close to seven; the sun was nearing the horizon. I couldn't get over how the breeze was not messing up my hair.

"Who was on the phone?" Peter asked.

"Jo. She wanted Jeff to go over there tonight. She said the gang would be there.

It's supposed to be about me."

"We'll have to stop by," Peter said.

"You bet. What did you think of Jeff?"

"He didn't do it, Shari."

"But he was so evasive."

"That's just the way he is."

"Why do you think Garrett asked Jeff about his shoes?"

"I was wondering that myself," Peter said.

I soon regretted hitching a ride on the truck. Garrett left our neighborhood and got on the freeway. He headed west, toward downtown L.A. Peter told me I could jump off any time I wanted, but my shin still hurt from the park bench.

We got off the freeway in a crummy part of town. It was dark by then. Garrett stopped at the first liquor store we came to. He bought himself a pint of whiskey and drank half of it before he left the parking lot.