Palindrome by E. Z. Rinsky

Author:E. Z. Rinsky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Mydearestcandy take such tender item to dirtand put it as deeply down as can believe it is a knife that cuts hearts and need be hidden in dirt MYDEARSETCANDYDONTLITNES MDYEARSTCADNYDNTOTILNES MDARESCADONTSITNEL YMEARDETSDNCON

Courtney carefully folds the letter up with his latex-­gloved hands and puts it in a Ziploc bag.

“ ‘My dearest Candy, don’t listen,’ ” he murmurs. “No question now. The tape was here.”

“But she did, probably, right?” I ask. “Listen?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks grimly.

It’s confirmed in her diary. A week after she describes her confusion and sadness at Silas saying he’ll never write again, something starts happening to the way she writes. First she only does it for a few words, but within two weeks of the date she received the tape, she’s writing a full mirror image—­a palindrome—­of each diary entry on the page opposite.

“What about the guy who wrote the same way at Orange’s?” I ask. “So he heard the tape somehow, somewhere—­”

“Good Frank! Yes! Wait . . .” Courtney suddenly digs into his backpack for his notebook, flipping back to the day he wrote about meeting with Orange. “Okay, well, that guy came in to see Orange two months after the murder here. And Candy’s accident. And mentioned the Beulah Twelve. Which means . . .” He jerks the ends of his mustache growth so hard it looks like he might pull it out, pushing his frown down as far as it will go. It’s like he’s on coke but really not enjoying it. “Which means that probably, as we guessed, the Beulah Twelve took the tape with them wherever they went. And somehow this guy ended up hearing it.”

“Or he really was one of them, as he seemed to be implying when he confessed to killing that boy.” I shake my head. “How do twelve men just disappear when the whole country is looking for them?”

Courtney nods slowly, then sits back down on Candy’s old bed.

“So . . .” I ask. “Can we take this stuff? I mean, seems like it sort of belongs to Ms. Anderson, right?”

Courtney frowns. “It would cause her nothing but distress to see all this . . .” He sighs. “But I suppose you’re right. I’ll photograph it all, and then we’ll put it back.”

He takes his spy camera out of his bag but hesitates before starting his documentation.

“I just had a thought,” I say, staring at the letter sitting on the bed. “Remember how Silas told us that he didn’t know what was on the tape? Like he never heard it?”

“Right. Spewing nonsense.”

I suck on my teeth. “Yeah, except, when you read this letter, don’t you kind of believe him?”

“Kinda,” Courtney nods almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”

“And Greta scared the shit out of him. He sent the tape right after her visit, right before he tried to kill himself. It’s almost like he was trying to keep it away from her.”

WE’RE THE ONLY ones in the Ritz tonight besides the help. Different waiter: a portly, middle-­aged man who seems to genuinely enjoy this work.

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