Authors: Kirsty Moseley
He lifted his chin, looking out over the people that were
standing around watching us carefully. “What the hell are you all thinking it’s
Maisie for? It wasn’t her so just stop with the gossip and go to class!” he ordered.
No one moved so he scowled around at the crowd. “She was with me last night
anyway, so go find some other innocent person to pin it on because you’re all behaving
like a bunch of moronic children right now.”
I gulped, trying not to act surprised at his revelations.
I’d just told him that I didn’t want to lie and say he was with me, but with
everyone looking at me like that, accusing me with their eyes, I was actually
immensely grateful that he had lied for me. At least now people would have to
look elsewhere for who had done it. Hopefully that would quash the ridiculous
accusations towards me before it reached the police officers, and I was
incorrectly arrested for something I hadn’t done.
Luke threw his arm around my shoulder, using his other arm to
push his way through the crowd towards my locker. I pressed myself against him,
gripping his shirt tightly in my fist as the whispering continued - but now it
was different, people were asking who it was if it wasn’t me, they were
speculating that it could have been anyone. By the time I had my books and Luke
had weaved us through to where my first class was, peoples’ suggestions were
getting wilder and wilder, I even heard one guy joke that maybe Sandy was a
whore and was murdered by her pimp.
Luke stopped outside my classroom, looking at me
apologetically. “I’m sorry I said that. I know we just agreed that we wouldn’t,
but I couldn’t just let people look at you like that. I’m sorry,” he whispered,
wincing as if he was waiting for me to scold him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my face into the side of
his neck. His smell filled my lungs and my knees went a little weak, probably
from the lack of food and the shock of what I’d heard.
He chuckled making the sound vibrate through his chest. His
hand closed around my ponytail, pulling gently but firmly, forcing my head to
tilt up. “There was me thinking I was going to get a mouthful of those awesome
cuss words,” he teased, grinning down at me wickedly.
I smiled despite the fact that inside I felt like crying.
“Some other time, I’m too exhausted to cuss you out today.”
“See you at lunch,” he said as the second bell went,
signalling he was now late for his class which was half way around the building
from here. I nodded, waving a goodbye as he turned and ran off. I took a few
deep breaths, steeling myself because I knew I was going to see people now and
had no Luke to lean on and hide behind.
What I’d forgotten though when I’d hardened myself against
what I was going to encounter in my first class, was that Sandy shared this
class with me.
As I pushed the door open I saw that most people were
sitting down already, the teacher was sat at her desk, seeming a little bemused
as to what to do. Sandy’s empty desk caught my attention immediately. A cold
shiver seemed to tickle down my spine as I hunched my shoulders, pulling the
strap of my backpack further up as if I could somehow hide behind the thin
strip of nylon. The room had an eerie silence, so a few people looked up at me
as I stepped into the room. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one late though as a
couple of others breezed in behind me. Twenty-five sets of eyes seemed to
pierce into me as I shuffled into the desk that I usually occupied in this
class. I dropped my gaze to the table, shifting uncomfortably in my seat
praying for the end of the day already.
Fortunately for me, one of Sandy’s close friends had this
class too so she took the attention off of me as soon as she walked in the
door. She came in, still crying - not the quiet sobbing kind, but full on wailing,
snot on the face, red puffy eyes crying. The teacher jumped up from her seat,
rushing over and immediately wrapping a supportive arm around Rochelle’s
shoulder.
“I’m g-going to m-miss her s-so much!” Rochelle croaked,
blowing her nose loudly on a hankie that Mrs Walters seemed to materialise out
of thin air. “She was s-so p-perfect, and now she’s g-gone! Who would d-do such
a horrible th-thing?”
I closed my eyes, resting my head down on my arms trying not
to let my imagination run wild. If this was what Sandy’s friends were like,
what on earth must her parents be like today? How were they coping? I didn’t
want to think about it, but I couldn’t stop myself. Even though I never liked
the girl, my eyes glazed over hearing how much she was going to be missed.
Though, somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered just how much of
Rochelle’s wailing was an act so that people would feel sorry for her. The
whole of the cheer squad were fake and bitched behind the other’s backs so it
wouldn’t surprise me if I learnt that Rochelle didn’t even like Sandy that
much.
They placated her with kind words and hugs. The teacher
abandoned the lesson plan for today. After a while there was a knock at the
door and the receptionist poked her head in. “Hi, I need a few moments with
Rochelle Levine and Maisie Preston,” she said, reading our names off of a piece
of paper.
I frowned, looking at her quizzically.
What does she want
me for?
Mrs Walters walked over to me, tapping on my desk. “Off you go,
Maisie,” she instructed, nodding at the door. I gulped, standing quickly and
gripping my backpack that I hadn’t even opened yet. Rochelle was glowering at
me hatefully as she swiped at her nose again with the hankie. I sidestepped
around her, following the receptionist out into the hall. A group of about ten
students stood there too, all looking bemused and bored at the same time. Most
of them were from the cheer squad, some of them from the football team and also
a couple of stragglers from my year that I knew by face only. When Rochelle
stepped out she was immediately greeted by cooing words and hugs, which of
course started the tears all over again.
“Come with me, please,” the receptionist requested, marching
off up the hallway. I walked behind her, somewhat taken aback by how quickly
she walked. She was getting on in years, I would guess in her late fifties, but
she marched along the hallway like a spring chicken.
I jogged to catch up with her, setting my pace alongside
hers. “Where are we going?” I asked, looking back at the group who were idling
along behind us.
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Police just
want a word with you students first. They’ll be talking to most of your year
about the murder, but they’re doing it in stages. Just routine so I’ve been
told,” she answered somewhat excitedly.
I gulped. So why was I getting questioned first? I looked
back at the group. They were all close to Sandy one way or another, but I
wasn’t… had someone told the police about what I’d said when we were fighting?
I was silently thankful to Luke for helping me and giving me an extra alibi. I
hadn’t done anything wrong, but I suddenly felt as if I was about to face the
firing squad.
The receptionist led us to the south side of the building and
to a row of chairs that had been set out along the side of the hallway. A
police man in full uniform stood outside a classroom door, regarding us with
intrigued eyes as we all filed down towards him.
“Take a seat. You’ll be called in one by one to answer a few
questions. Hopefully we won’t keep you long,” he instructed, waving a hand at
the chairs.
I sat, setting my backpack on my lap and hugging it to my
chest. Practically as soon as we were all seated, the classroom door opened and
another uniformed officer, this one female, stuck her head out. “Alright, who’s
first?” she asked, looking down at her clipboard. “Terence Fuller, please,” she
added, looking up at us.
Terrence stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he
trudged past me, not seeming intimidated by this in the least. When the door
closed shutting Terence off in there with the police, I looked around at the
other faces that were here with me. Everyone seemed a little apprehensive; some
of them still had puffy eyes where they’d been crying. I hugged my bag tighter,
pleased that it wasn’t just me that seemed to be nervous about what I was going
to be asked.
Terence was in and out within five minutes, disappearing
down the hallway without another word. The next person was called in and still
I sat there, my stomach churning with anticipation. Finally, after four other
people had been in and left already, I was called in.
I gulped as I stood. My legs felt weak as I took the few
steps towards where the female officer was standing with the clipboard, waiting
for me. I lifted my chin, trying not to show I was nervous. I had nothing to be
nervous about anyway but I was always a worrier with things like this. When I
got to the police lady she stepped back, waving me into the room.
An ageing plain clothes police officer sat there with a
notepad and coffee set on the desk in front of him. He swept a hand through his
short salt and pepper hair and regarded me with hard, steely grey eyes that
made me squirm on my feet. Principal Bennett sat in the corner of the room and
smiled kindly at me as I sat in the chair that had obviously been set out for
me.
“Good morning. My name is Detective Inspector Bartrum; I’m
with the homicide division. You are Maisie Preston, correct?” he asked, raising
one eyebrow.
I nodded, willing my voice to work when I spoke. “Yes,” I
confirmed.
“Okay, Maisie, I just want to ask you a few questions to
help with our investigation. Because we’re conducting these questions on school
premises, Principal Bennett is sitting in on them too, it’s just standard
practice,” he muttered, picking up his mug and taking a loud slurp of his
coffee.
“Okay.” I nodded in understanding, wanting this over with
already.
He nodded, looking down at his notepad and flipping over a
page before looking up at me. “Did you know Sandy Watson well?” he asked.
“Um, not really. We weren’t friends or anything,” I
answered.
He sucked his teeth with his tongue, just looking at me
without speaking. The silence stretched on and on, and I cringed under his
intense gaze. “I’ve been informed of an incident between you and the deceased
that happened yesterday morning. Would you please tell me about that?” he asked
finally.
I groaned inwardly. “We had a fight in the hallway. She said
something that upset me and I reacted badly. I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t
have done it,” I admitted, looking at my feet, suddenly ashamed of myself. I’d
jumped the gun yesterday and assumed that it was her that had sent me those
things and poisoned Chester when I now knew that it wasn’t even her.
He picked up his pen and wrote something that wasn’t even
legible; he would probably have trouble reading his notes again later. “What
was the argument about?” he asked.
I sighed, closing my eyes, hoping he wasn’t going to ask
this information. “Lately I’ve been getting these weird phone calls,
threatening notes, that kind of thing. Then, two days ago, someone broke into
my house and poisoned my dog. I’ve reported it to the police; DI Neeson is the
lead officer on my case. I thought it was Sandy that was doing it, so I
confronted her about it and we ended up fighting. But I later learned that it
wasn’t her anyway because she was somewhere else when my dog was poisoned.”
Principal Bennett sat forward in her chair, her eyes
concerned. “Oh, Maisie, why didn’t you come to me and tell me?”
The inspector held up his hand and shook his head,
signalling for Principal Bennett to be quiet. “DI Neeson you say?” he asked,
scribbling her name on his pad. I nodded in confirmation. “I have witnesses to
the fight that say you actually told Miss Watson that you’d kill her if she
came near you again. Did you say those words?”
I tightened my jaw, nodding guiltily. “I think so. It was
all so fired up and stuff. I can’t remember my exact words. I didn’t mean it
though; it’s just something that came out. I’d never hurt anyone, ever,” I
replied quickly, begging him with my eyes to believe me.
“So why would you say it?”
I shrugged, not having an answer. “I don’t know. It just
came out. I was angry, we were both screaming stuff at each other. I don’t
really remember everything that I said.”
He nodded, picking up his coffee and regarding me over the
rim as he took a deliberately slow slurp. When he put the mug down he cocked
his head to the side. “This is just routine questioning at this time, Miss
Preston. I’m just talking to everyone that had direct contact with Sandy
yesterday, trying to piece together her last day.” His eyes bore into mine,
seeming like he was trying to drag any lies out without me even speaking. I was
incredibly intimidated by the way he looked at me; it didn’t feel like these
were just routine questions.
I chaffed my hand up my arm, flicking my eyes up to the
clock on the wall. I’d already been in here for almost ten minutes; everyone
else had been out within five so far. Was that a bad sign?
“Where were you between the hours of nine and eleven last
night?” he asked suddenly.
“At home,” I answered quickly.
He nodded. “And people were there with you? Parents,
siblings?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
I nodded. “My brother was downstairs, and also my, um,
boyfriend, well, kind of ex-boyfriend, he came over last night,” I stumbled
over my words, not quite knowing what to class Luke as anymore.
Inspector Bartrum raised both eyebrows at that. “What time
did your boyfriend, kind of ex-boyfriend, come over?” he asked.
“About eight,” I lied. “I snuck him into my room, and he
spent the night.” There, it was done; the lie was told. Now I should be allowed
to leave and he would stop looking at me with those scary, challenging eyes.