The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(258)
“No!” He looked startled. “It’s just that—what if she was upset that I asked her out, and she did something stupid because of it? That would make it my fault! I mean, she went to that party at Ross, last night, and you know how she gets when she drinks.…”
“It wasn’t your fault, I promise you. When did Katie go to Ross, though? I thought she was at Professor Farmer’s picnic?”
“She was. Dee and I caught a ride out there with Brandon—he said Katie could ride with us, too, but she took her bike and got there about 10 minutes after we did. She mainly talked to Brandon until dinner, but I was close enough to hear some of their conversation and she seemed, you know, perfectly normal. When Farmer handed back our papers, though, sometime after ten, she got really upset. Soon after that, she took off—all there was to drink at the picnic was soda and cider, and she told me she wanted a ‘real’ drink, so she was heading over to Ross. She asked me if I wanted to go with her, but I was having a good time at the picnic and decided not to. Dee and I came back to campus with Brandon about 11. He dropped us off, and I just went to bed. I was still kind of freaked about—well, what happened. Are you sure she didn’t—you know—do it herself?”
“She didn’t kill herself, Gavin. The policeman said she was probably murdered.”
He shuddered, then got up from the chair and threw his tissue at my wastebasket. “This is so horrible, I know, but—in a way, I’m sort of relieved.” Suddenly realizing how that had sounded, he added in a rush, “Not that she’s dead, obviously. But, you know, if somebody else killed her, then I guess it really wasn’t my fault, after all. But, Max, why would anyone kill Katie? I mean, you know, why?”
“I don’t know. That’s kind of the million-dollar question right now, I guess.”
Shaking his head in bewilderment, he left my room.
* * * *
Why had Katie been killed? If I knew that, I thought, the answer might help me figure out who had killed her.
The Ross Townhouses seemed to be the last place she’d been seen alive, so I decided to head over there and nose around. It had already turned bitterly cold in Vermont, so I shrugged into my North Face fleece, threw on a wool ski cap, grabbed my backpack, and headed out.
It was only a five-minute walk from Stew to Ross, but I was thoroughly chilled by the time I touched my access card to the pad and pushed through the door. My hard-partying friend Charlie was sprawled out on one of the shabby sofas in the downstairs lounge, surrounded by pillows, with a dog-eared paperback in his hands. I’m not sure if he was actually reading it, but he was holding it—and it was by Kierkegaard. Charlie grew up in a Chicago suburb, a real straight-arrow all the way through high school. His first weekend at Midd, though, he’d found himself at a party at one of the social houses, and I don’t think he’s been sober for 15 minutes at a stretch ever since. I have no idea how he keeps his GPA up—but underneath his shaggy blond hair is a brain that somehow seems to be successfully fueled by alcohol.
“Hey, Charlie,” I greeted him, and slapped the hand he held aloft. “You were at the party last night, right?”
“Absolutely, babe, of course I was!” The words were slurred, and, although I couldn’t see it, I knew he must have a bottle somewhere in the immediate vicinity. “It was the party of the semester! I looked for you. Where were you?”
“Studying,” I confessed. “It’s a rough job, but somebody’s gotta do it—and I knew you’d be drinking for the both of us. Listen, Charlie, I can see you’re busy, but can you help me with something for a minute? Do you remember my friend Katie?”