When You Leave by Monica Ropal

Author:Monica Ropal [Ropal, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780762456307
Publisher: Running Press

Chapter 18

In the van, Mattie wasn’t speaking to me. I may have made a crack about him scoring more numbers than leads, but it was a joke. Kind of. Greta broke the silence by telling the others about my encounter with Ziggy’s root beer. Apparently it was the name of a cocktail, not the guy whose drink it was. They all thought this was hilarious.

“I’ll pour him another one.” Franklin repeated my line in a squeaky voice for the hundredth time.

When their laughter died down, Greta asked, “New hipster boyfriend, Cass?”

Crap. I was hoping no one saw the kiss.

“Hello? He’s my in. The dude knows everyone. Including Gobbers—the shaved-head dude.” I waved the list in her direction and noticed Franklin glance into the rearview mirror at me. “I’ll get Brady to help me, and then we’ll run down the list. Simple,” I said.

“That’s what Mattie was doing,” Greta said. “Dangerous Mattie, always one step ahead.”

Mattie kept looking out the window.

“Maybe. I think he was just hitting on her because she’s a vulnerable mourner,” I said.

At least that’s what I thought I said, but apparently it came out as “moaner” and it set them all off again into their fits. Except Mattie.

“Not sure if it’s anything, but overheard some chickadees saying how fab it was that Cooper and Devon could ‘make things cool again before Cooper died,’” Greta said.

I tried to blink away the fuzziness in my brain and focus. “When were Cooper and Devon not cool with each other?” I said.

“Dunno. I was all ‘OMG, when were they fighting?’ but they just looked at me like I was an alien,” Greta said.

“You are an alien,” I said, a laugh bubbling out.

“See, you never know what those assholes are up to,” Franklin said as he pulled up in front of my house. He pushed the button on the ceiling and the auto door crept open after a few tries.

Franklin and Greta started laughing again about “moaning suspects” as I crawled out of the van.

Mattie still looked mad, but I poured on the puppy-dog pout. I didn’t want to be fighting with him and I didn’t want to be alone. He rolled his eyes and lumbered his way out of the van to follow me. Franklin chirped the van’s tires and was off.

Mattie wasn’t looking at me. “Why were you macking on Marilyn? She’s on the list. And don’t give me some crap about getting info, I saw you with your arm around her and stuff.” I felt like crying again. I wasn’t sure why. “You could be putting yourself in with a murderer—a murderess,” I said, pointing in his face.

Murderess? Really?

“Oh, make fun of me. Whatever.” I started to walk away. He grabbed my arm.

You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be upset with me.

I shook his hand from my arm and tried to school my emotions. “Fine. What do you . . . think?”

He pointed to his chest above his heart and winced. Pain. She has a lot of pain.

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