brought liquor. Do you know she was drinking? Did you see or smell anything?”
He bristled at the implied accusation. “If I had, I would have confiscated it. No one on our teams drinks during training, or they’re out. But Angie’s the last—”
“How about her friends?” At Notre Dame, everyone knew everyone’s business.
“She was dating Jeff Pasquin. Went to the junior formal with him last year. As for friends, Lindsey Benish.” He paused to think, rubbed his finger pads together. “But they must have had a falling out. These kids and their head games. It’s even worse in a small school. Feelings get hurt.”
“Point them out to me.” Not much had changed at the home of the Saints. A tapestry with knots behind it. How dense and how deep? What looked perfect on the surface was a tangled mess behind.
He nodded toward the group, a few elbowing each other to take their turns with Chipper. “Jeff ’s got his head shaved. He’s a swimmer, too. Went all the way to the Nationals. And Lindsey...” He craned his head as a girl with extra pounds only a seventeen-year-old could carry well blew her nose on a tissue. “She’s the one in cargo pants and the polka-dot bikini top. Nothing shy about her. A few more years, and look out.” Then he cleared his throat and smiled, revealing one chipped incisor, which added a touch of vulnerability. “Any other questions? I’m overdue to call my wife. She’s eight months pregnant and keeps me on a short leash.”
Kim Bass, the English teacher, had an oval face with high cheekbones. About Holly’s age, she wore wheat jeans and a faded plaid shirt. Her sleek black hair was razored at the sides. She wore soft, beaded moccasins that looked more comfortable than Holly’s hot, stiff boots, which had raised a blister on her heel with the prolonged and irregular beach walking. Kim’s voice was husky and low, sweet as lemonade on a July afternoon. “Angie was in my British Lit survey this year. I also had her in tenth grade for Communications. Straight A’s.”
“When did you see her last night?”
She shuddered, even though the day was warm, sun streaming through the trees. A sheen of sweat broke out on her brow. Doe eyes and a faintly darker complexion made Holly wonder if she had First Nations connections. “Dinner, of course. There was a volleyball game.” She pointed to an open area, where a net was set up. A lone, deflated ball sat to one side. “We were all playing.
Angie won nearly every serve. A natural athlete.”
“And afterwards?”
“I developed a headache and went to my tent for an early bedtime. Smoke from the campfire maybe. Kills my sinuses.” She gave a small cough into her hand. “Not that I expected to get much sleep with all these teenagers, but I took a sleeping pill.”
Holly’s eyebrow rose. “I see.”
“My head was throbbing like a jet engine.” She levelled her gaze at Holly and gave a weary sigh. The sclera were pink and inflamed. “You remember slumber parties. Girls can yak all night. The boys keep it down.”
“Lucky you brought a supply, then.” Had the woman been unconscious? Was she on a medication with unusual side effects like sleepwalking?
“Just generic stuff. They were in my personals bag from a trip to England a year ago. I always take a couple on the plane.”
* * *
Having been told that Jeff had been Angie’s former boyfriend, Chipper directed the young man to a bench under a massive Sitka spruce with its trademark cracked bark. “Do you carry one of those cool daggers?” Jeff asked, unable to take his eyes from Chipper’s uniform.
Chipper’s soft smile hid an internal eye roll at the naïve question, but he refused to answer directly. “Actually, it’s called a sword, though the use is purely ceremonial. It’s a very old custom dating back over four hundred years.”
“Wicked. I’ve seen a few. Way better than crucifixes and rosaries.” Jeff awarded himself a congratulatory snort on the joke.
Chipper explained the interview process to the young man. “And your relationship to Angie?”
Jeff straightened his broad shoulders and completed a bullish neck roll. “We were dating. Were. Not this year.”
“What happened between you, if I may ask?” Chipper made a point of writing neatly. It was one of his trademarks.
Jeff blew out a contemptuous breath. “That’s no secret. Everyone used to see us arguing.”
Chipper’s pen poised. The boy seemed more angry than wounded by the death. On instinct alone, he didn’t like the teen. Cocky and immature. Interested in immediate gratification. Disciplined about his sport, but accustomed to the accolades as a birthright. Jeff wouldn’t have had to fight for anything. Chipper found himself listening to his inner voice instead of his subject and gave an internal shake. “Arguing about what?”
“Hey, man, you know chicks. Teasing you. Gets to be a hassle.” He lowered his voice almost to a whisper.
“We need to be clear. Are you saying that she wouldn’t... have sex with you?” One ebony eyebrow arched into a question. His stomach rumbled faintly, and he shifted.
“Don’t spread it around, man. I had all the guys thinking I’d been into her pants for months.” Then his eyes narrowed, and he turned away, miming a cigarette toke at a friend raising a pack. “Almost finished, dude,” he called.
“Were you trying to get back together with her last night?” Chipper asked, annoyed that Jeff seemed to have his own agenda. He needed to take back the interview. A small muscle in his neck started aching from tension.
Jeff turned to him with a worldly-wise curl to his full lips. “Just some fun. Why not? Didn’t work out, so I blew her off. We were going off to different universities anyway. Who cares? Follow what I’m saying?”
“Oh, I follow completely, sir.” Chipper snapped his notebook shut.
* * *
Last on Holly’s list was Janice Mercer. A short, wide girl with blocky glasses came over. Instead of the revealing shorts that most girls wore, her denim pair hung nearly to her knees, topped by a Save the Rainforest sweatshirt. Her eyes were beady and swollen, and she sniffed at intervals. “I was her tent partner, but honest, I conked right out around nine. Mom says I sleep like a log. I never saw her after dinner at all. She just, like, vanished.”
Holly let her talk for a moment. Janice hugged herself and gave a shiver. “Brr. I’ve been going all hot and cold, but I’m not sick. Do you think it’s shock?” She blinked at Holly, an innocent calf-like creature at first glance, but with crafty intelligence behind the pose. She reminded Holly of someone who sought small advantage by talking behind a person’s back. A sneak.
“Very likely. If there’s a regular soft drink around, try that. Or coffee with sugar.”
“Yuck. I never drink caffeine. Just herbal tea. Chai.” Her cautious diet hadn’t helped a serious case of acne. Having skated clear herself as a teen, Holly could only imagine the humiliation.
“Please tell me what happened. Anything you remember.”
“Not that she was my good friend.
