A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red (24 page)

“I don’t think she knows.”
 

I gave him the full Marilyn wide-eyed smile and this time it wasn’t too late. Derek blushed like crazy and started stammering. Okay. Maybe I laid it on a tad too thick.
 

“Knows what?” I asked.
 

“We’re not supposed to talk about it, but since it’s you, I think it’ll be all right.”
 

“It’s more than alright. I need to know and so do the police.”
 

“Christopher was charged with rape,” whispered Derek.
 

I almost fell over. My knees actually went weak, and they never do that. I have rock-solid knees. I groped for a chair and dropped into it just the way my godmothers taught me never to do. “By who?”
 

“Faith Farrell. But he didn’t do it. She’s crazy.”
 

How many times had I heard that? Too many to count.
 

“What makes you say that?” I asked in what I hoped was an even tone.
 

“She’s a psycho. She was stalking him.”
 

“Did Miss Farrell report this to the police?”

Derek frowned. “I don’t think so. No regular cops ever came. Chris had to go talk to the campus police about it, though.”
 

“What happened?”
 

He shrugged. “Nothing. He didn’t do it.”
 

Campus police. Great. Why they were ever allowed to decide anything on a rape case was beyond me. Some schools even allowed student courts to decide whether or not an assault had taken place. And people wondered why girls didn’t want to report rapes.
 

“When did this happen?” I asked.
 

“I don’t know when she said it happened,” said Derek.
 

“Okay. When did she accuse him?”
 

“Christopher got called to campus security in December. I think it was before finals. Could’ve been the second week. I heard you talking about the Listeriosis thing with Chris’s brother and sister. What’s this got to do with that?”
 

“I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Did Christopher have any problems with anyone?”
 

“Besides Faith? No.”
 

“Nobody threatened him? Was there anyone hanging around the house that shouldn’t have been?” I asked.

“No. Everything was regular. We all thought the rape thing was bullshit.”
 

“But some people didn’t agree?”
 

“Just some of the girls around.” Derek rolled his eyes. “They love drama and pumpkin spice lattes.”
 

I grinned at him. “You’ve got us pegged. How about Faith? Drama girl?”
 

“I don’t really know her. She was around at the beginning of first semester and then she wasn’t. No big deal,” he said.
 

“Do you remember when you stopped seeing her? It could be important.”
 

Derek got out his phone and looked through some things. “October.”
 

“Really?” I didn’t expect him to know.
 

“Yeah. She was at our Halloween party, but she wasn’t at sexy savages.”
 

“Huh?”
 

He came over and kneeled next to my chair, holding his phone in front of me. “Here she is. The French maid in the back.”
 

The group shot had twelve people in it. Faith stood far off to the left, not really part of the group. She was tall and curvy with dark brown hair cut in a pageboy style. Her smile was plastered on and she looked uncomfortable in her sexy getup, while everyone else hammed it up.
 

“Is Christopher in this picture?” I asked.
 

“That’s him.” Derek pointed to a gangly redhead that reminded me of Prince Harry, but not as good-looking. He was definitely Donatella’s son, curls and all. Two identical blonds, wearing Cleopatra costumes, were hanging all over him and he was loving it.
 

“Who are the Cleos?” I asked.
 

“Rory and Rachel. They’re twins and they love redheads.”

“So they were with Christopher that night?”
 

“Oh, yeah. Big time.”

I got out my phone and typed in the names and dates that Derek repeated for me.
 

“What was this sexy savages thing?”
 

“Thanksgiving party. You know sexy savages and pimping pilgrims. It’s kinda stupid.”
 

“And Faith wasn’t there?”

Derek showed me all the pictures he had of that night and it was pretty stupid. Any excuse to drink, right? Faith wasn’t in any of his pictures. Of course that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Derek might not have seen her. There were plenty of shots of Christopher though with the twins again. They were half-dressed as pilgrims. Christopher was a savage in a loincloth.
 

“Any parties after that?” I asked.
 

We went through all the pictures Derek had taken since then and Faith wasn’t there. Maybe she’d run into Christopher somewhere else, but Derek didn’t think so. The pledges stuck pretty close together. They did cleaning details and cooking, plus they had to study group, but he admitted that they weren’t joined at the hip.
 

“Were you here when Christopher’s mother came the day his father died?” I asked.
 

“No. I have three back-to-back classes on Friday afternoons. My schedule sucks.”
 

“And nobody in the house has been sick?”
 

“Nope.”
 

I stood up. “I need to see Christopher’s room.”
 

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you looking for?”
 

“No idea. Probably nothing, but Abrielle and Colton were here. I have to look.”
 

Derek pumped his fist. “Let’s do it.”
 

We used the back stairs, so no one would see us and went into Christopher’s room. Derek said I was there at the right time. Most everyone was in class or out getting lunch. The house would get busy in a couple of hours.
 

Christopher’s room was tiny, more like a walk-in closet with clothes strewn everywhere. He had a single bed and posters of cars and various movies pinned to the walls and ceiling. There was something about that room. It was messy and all guy, but I had the sense that there was a clue buried in the mess. This was the last stop for Abrielle and Colton before the airport. Something happened in that room. I could feel it. I just had to find it.
 

Christopher had a little dorm fridge stocked with only some cheap beer and Red Bull. No open containers. I rifled through his drawers and the papers on his desk. I found a half-empty box of ribbed condoms and some pictures of the twins, naked. Nice. But no sign of Faith, pictures, cards, or a mention of her in his papers. Derek said Christopher had a laptop, but it wasn’t there. I assumed he took it and his phone with him to St. Louis. If there was any evidence of a connection to Faith, it would be there. Moreover there was no food, certainly no food that could’ve been contaminated with bacteria and eaten by the kids. Damn. Now I had a new possible crime and no evidence in the old one. Fantastic. Job well done.
 

“Are you finished?” asked Derek, looking vaguely disappointed.
 

I was missing something. I should’ve found some sort of clue. It was there. It had to be.
 

“Sadly, yes. I’m not seeing anything.”
 

We left the room and headed back down the stairs. Now I’d have to look into the rape. No avoiding it. Someone hated Christopher Berry and who was a better candidate than a possible rape victim? Nobody. That’s who. Crap on a cracker. I’d rather dive head first into a dumpster than find evidence that Donatella’s son was a rapist.
 

“Wait,” I said. “We have to go back.”
 

“Why?” asked Derek.
 

“Dumpster.”
 

“Huh?”
 

“Where’s the trash? Did you see a basket in Christopher’s room?” I asked.
 

“Oh shit!” Derek ran up the stairs past me.
 

I chased him yelling, “Don’t touch it!”

Derek stopped in the middle of Christopher’s room with his hands up. He listened to me. That was so rare, I was speechless for a minute.
 

“I didn’t touch anything,” he said.
 

“Wow. Good.” I looked around, not seeing any trash basket or any trash. “He had a basket or can, right?”
 

“I think so. Should we look?”
 

“Yes, but I have a feeling. There’s—”

“A Tommy Watts kinda feeling,” said Derek, buzzing with excitement.
 

“You’ve heard about my dad’s intuition then?”
 

“It’s legendary. You have it, too?”
 

“Sometimes. If we find the trash, don’t touch it.”
 

Derek and I went through the room systematically, starting at the window and working our way to the door. I found it at the foot of the bed. The covers had been thrown off and draped over the footboard. In the corner was a small wire trash basket, full but not overflowing.
 

I got out my phone and snapped several pictures. So did Derek, to my amusement. There wasn’t much to see: four crushed beer cans, a couple of Red Bulls, and lots of crumpled paper.
 

“Anything?” asked Derek.
 

“Not so far.” I used my pen to shift the contents. Under the cans, I saw a bit of pleated paper. A little more shifting revealed crumbs.

“Do you see something?” Derek loomed over me, blocking the dim light from the overhead lamp.
 

“Cupcake wrapper.”
 

If that cupcake was our culprit, the kids must’ve split it. That thing must’ve been loaded with bacteria to have the effect that it did.

I took a close shot of the wrapper and encouraged Derek to do the same. He was so happy and I started to get why Dad loved mentoring. Derek was so damn excited.
 

I dug out Truesdale’s card and texted him a picture of the cupcake wrapper. He called me in two seconds flat. You gotta love cellphones.
 

“Don’t touch it,” he said as an opener.

“I’m not going to touch it. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
 

Truesdale ignored that question and pelted me with others about how I found it, how I got in, etc…

“Look, I didn’t do anything illegal. One of Christopher’s frat brothers let me in. We found the wrapper together. I was in his company the entire time. Remember, I’m not an agent of the police. I’m doing a favor for a friend. This is clean.”
 

Derek beamed at the word “we.”

Truesdale grumbled a bit and then said a unit was on the way. Tulane wasn’t in his jurisdiction. The New Orleans cops would handle it.
 

“Do you have good cooperation with them?” I asked.
 

“Sure. I sent Vicky Cortier over. She was part of the Gator Bait case, too. Sit tight.”
 

“We’re not going anywhere.” I hung up and gave Derek a recap.
 

“So what do we do now?” he asked.
 

“Nothing. Cortier will collect the evidence and we’ll tell her what happened.”
 

His face fell. “What about us?”
 

“What about us?” I asked.
 

“What do we do next?”
 

We? Oh, right. I said “we.” Great.

“You are going to figure out what to say to Toby. He’s going to be pissed that you let me in.”
 

I expected him to get all worried, but instead he said, “I don’t care. Someone tried to murder Chris’s family and we just found a clue. Toby can suck it.”
 

“Alright then. No fear. I like that.” And I did, too. Unfortunately, it meant I had another guy to deal with. Chuck and Stevie were bad enough. But Derek was a good kid and intimidating if you paid attention to his size, not his pimples. There was the hoodie guy to worry about and it might not be a bad idea to have someone in tow as long as it wasn’t the two I’d left behind. Neither of them took orders. “Okay. I’m going to call Donatella to ask Christopher about this cupcake. You’re going to see if you can find out where Faith Farrell lives.”
 

“No problem. I’ll call my friend Olivia. She’ll know.” He went into the hall to track down Olivia and I girded my loins to call up Donatella.
 

Please don’t let her be crying. And please don’t let me make her cry.