Chapter 15 – That Girl Is Murder

“Ooo fink sees eating om ooo?”

“Do you have manners?” Lance asked Justin, turning to look at him stuffing his face with a bowl full of cereal. “Chew with your mouth closed, pig. And swallow before you try to talk.”

It gave Lance a few seconds to walk to the fridge and grab an orange juice out of the fridge, waiting for Justin to finish chewing.

“You think she's cheating on you?” he finally said as he swallowed.

Lance sighed heavily. “I don't know, Jus.”

Lance would be the first to admit that his encounter with Adeline the day before had gone bad. He had realized it this morning when he woke up. The day before he had still been angry at her for walking out on him so suddenly. And when he had seen what the note that she had handed him said, it had crossed his mind. He couldn't help but think that maybe it was the explanation he was looking for as to why. His broken heart and rage had spoken up before his head had a chance to tell him to stop and think about what he was saying to her.

Her reaction hadn't helped. She hadn't once said the word “no”. She hadn't ever denied it, only returning his questions with more questions. Her face made him want to think the answer was no, but she was usually so direct and honest with him. The thought that she had a secret that she wasn't telling him killed him.

“Yeah, but...you really think she could do that to you?” Justin asked. He used his spoon to dip what little cereal was left under the milk before scooping up another bite and holding it over the bowl. “Addy loves you, man.”

“She still loved her husband when she started sleeping with me, too,” Lance countered.

Justin took a brief pause before spooning the cereal into his mouth and chewing.

“That was different, though,” he said after he swallowed. “Her husband treated her like crap. It was falling apart and she knew it. She knew it was only a matter of time.”

“You don't call this falling apart?” Lance scoffed. “Look around – do you see her here?”

“It won't last,” Justin said. “Give her a week. She'll be back. She's Addy.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, I get to wake up to your ugly mug instead of her beautiful face,” Lance said. “I'm so blessed.”

“You fuckin' love me and you know it.”

Lance smiled. He was actually slightly glad that Justin had decided to take a semi-vacation and stay with Lance in New York for at least a week. He hadn't expected it when Justin had told him and asked if he could crash on his couch instead of renting a hotel, but he was always willing to have one of the guys stay with him while they were in town.

Circumstances what they were, he was glad to have the company, even if it wasn't exactly the person he wanted in the apartment. It at least made the days less lonely, with the two of them hanging out and spending quality time together like they hadn't in several years.

“I've got my meeting to go to, so if you're going, you better be ready in ten minutes,” Lance said, standing up from his seat at the table. “And watch your filthy mouth.”

Before he walked out of the kitchen, he used the opportunity to smack Justin on the back of the head. The spoonful of cereal he was about to put in his mouth didn't make it before milk splashed out of the spoon and the blow to the head caused the whole spoon to crash back down into the bowl with a loud sound.

“I'll get you back for that!” Justin yelled after him. “I know where you sleep now!”

To Lance's surprise, Justin had finished eating and was fully dressed by the time Lance walked to the door and got ready to leave. Lance made sure he had the note card in his back pocket and his keys and cell phone, before walking out the door with Justin in tail.

“Hey Mel.”

Lance had turned around to close and lock the door when he heard Justin speak, and he quickly turned around, seeing Mel walking down the hallway with her tote bag wrapped over her shoulder.

“Hey Justin,” she said, pulling out her keys. Then she looked over to Lance. “Hey.”

“Hey Mel,” he answered, watching her walk up to her door and put the key in the lock.

“How are you this morning?” Justin asked her.

“Fine, Justin,” she answered quickly. “How are you guys?”

“We're going to the police station,” Justin said, a slight smile on his lips. “I'm gonna be the good cop and Lance is gonna be the bad cop.”

She raised her eyebrows, only half amused. “Have fun with that then.”

“So,” Lance said, taking the opportunity to talk before she stepped inside her apartment, “did you ever get to talk to Addy yesterday?”

She paused before smirking at him. “No, I didn't. Did you?”

“Nope,” he answered shortly before smirking back.

“Hmm, too bad,” she said before disappearing into her apartment and closing the door, and they could hear the mechanism lock before hearing her scoot the deadbolt as well.

“Yo,” Justin said, drawing the word out with a smile on his face. “What was that all about?”

“I don't fucking trust her, man,” Lance said, keeping his voice quiet but heated. He started walking quickly down the hall toward the elevator, leaving Justin to have to keep up with him. “None of this shit started happening until she came into the picture, J. She moves in out of nowhere and then all of a sudden we come back to New York and somebody knows our every fucking move!”

“Isn't she Addy's friend, though?”

“That's exactly what I don't like!” Lance stressed, pointing a finger at Justin, nearly poking him. “Who is she? Where'd she come from? Boon-fucking-docks Arkansas is all I know about her. And what the hell is with her apartment? Addy said it's nearly barren in there. She hardly had anything to her name. No pictures, hardly any furniture, no personal belongings, collections, little knick knacks – nothing!”

“Maybe she likes things simple,” Justin responded as Lance smacked the button on the elevator to go down. “Not all women like to pretty their apartment up with pink taffeta bows and shit like that, you know.”

“No pictures? Not even a picture of her parents, her grandma, her ex-boyfriend?” Lance asked. “I don't buy it, J.”

Justin was about to respond when the elevator dinged and the door opened, and Chris started walking out, stopping right before he smacked into Justin, neither of them paying attention.

“Whoa!” Justin said, startled. “Jesus Christ, Chris. Ninja midget. You come out of nowhere.”

“Hey,” Chris said, stepping out of Justin's way and turning back to them. “Where are you guys going?”

Lance ignored him, stomping onto the elevator in a rage, while Justin stepped on quickly so his friend wouldn't leave him behind.

“Police station,” he said quickly, knowing Lance had already pushed the button. “Wanna come?”

“Holy hell, wait for me!” Chris said, trying to make it onto the elevator before the doors closed.

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The last place Chris had expected to find himself was the police station when he'd walked out of his own apartment this morning. He had fully intended to go to Mel's apartment that morning and make another attempt to talk to her and smooth things over.

He admitted it – the minute Justin had asked him if he wanted to come to the police station with them, he'd turned into a chicken-shit.

He didn't even know why he was here, other than it was a good excuse to get out of losing his mind one more time and submitting himself to Mel's punishment again.

“Mr. Bass?”

Lance, Chris and Justin looked up as Detective Abrams peeked out of his office door and looked at them.

“I'm ready for you,” he said.

The three of them walked into the office with Lance at the head of the line, Justin holding the door for Chris and Chris closing it behind him at the request of the detective. Justin and Chris couldn't help but look around the office in amazement. It looked like you saw in the movies, only a little less unorganized.

Justin's face screwed up in horror as he looked at a corkboard hanging up on the wall to their right, and smacked Chris's shoulder to get his attention, pointing to it. Chris's face also twisted in disgust as they both laid eyes on a bloody crime scene photo, complete with what they could only assume was a dead body covered with a sheet. They looked at each other, both of their faces turned up. Justin used his index finger to point to his mouth, making a slight gagging noise at his friend.

Lance remained unfazed as he took a seat in front of the detective's desk, Chris and Justin sitting down in two seats next to him.

“You said you may have had some more information for me?” the detective said as he sat down in his desk chair with a slight groan, adjusting his tie.

“I do.” Lance lifted up to reach into his pocket, pulling the note card out of it and placing it on the desk in front of the detective. “My fiancee received this yesterday afternoon at her apartment.”

“Were you there at the time?” the detective asked, briefly looking over the note. “Did you see anybody suspicious hanging around your apartment or the building that day?”

“Uh...no,” Lance stammered, shaking his head. “Actually, I was at...my apartment.”

The detective's eyebrows raised in confusion. “Your apartment? I thought you and Ms. James lived together?”

“We did,” Lance said. “She...moved out.”

Justin and Chris held their breath silently while the detective paused before nodding.

“I see. Okay. Is this the only one you've received since we were at your apartment?”

“The only one that I know of,” Lance responded.

“Where did she receive it?”

“She said it was left at her door, right there on the floor.”

“Who besides you knows her new apartment address?”

“Her friend Stephanie, she lived there before,” Lance said. “Chris might know where it is. And her friend Melissa.”

At the mention of Melissa, Chris sneaked a peek over at Lance.

“And Ms. James didn't tell you she saw anything herself?” the detective quickly intervened.

“No, sir. Not that she told me.”

“Has she noticed any odd behavior around her apartment building or anywhere she's gone lately?” he asked. “Maybe anybody following her?”

“Not that she's mentioned.”

“Are you on...speaking terms with her, Mr. Bass?” the detective asked cautiously.

“Speaking, yes,” Lance said honestly before sighing. “Speaking cordially? Not so much.”

The detective nodded slightly. “And you haven't seen any unusual activity around your apartment lately?”

“Not really.”

“Aside from Justin's not-so-unusual activity,” Chris said with a chuckle, seeing Justin's smug glance at him.

“Who's Justin?” the detective asked, looking toward Chris.

“This is Justin,” Lance said, nodding his head toward him. “He's staying with me while he's in the city.”

“Have you noticed anything?” the detective asked. “Maybe while Lance was out of the apartment?”

“Only Melissa this morning,” Justin said.

“What about Melissa?” Chris asked.

“I'm sorry – Melissa?” the detective asked.

“Yeah, the uh--” Lance paused to collect his thoughts and try to remember her last name. “The girl who lives in the apartment directly across from me. Short blonde hair, probably about five foot...four, maybe? Sorry, I don't remember her last name.”

“Weston,” Chris said. “And she's more like five foot nine. She's about as tall as I am.”

Lance looked beside him as the detective went silent and lifted an eyebrow at Chris.

“What?” Chris asked.

“You sure know a lot about this girl for not liking her very much,” Lance answered.

“Just because we want to claw each other's eyes out, doesn't mean I'm not observant,” Chris said, feeling defensive.

“Ahh yes, Ms. Weston. We checked out her alibi for both the night of the murder and the day the package was delivered,” Abrams said, ignoring their inside conversation in front of him. “Her employer had her clocked in at the time of the guard's death, and her teacher had her marked as in attendance the morning the package was delivered to your door. We've cleared her from the suspect list.”

Chris sighed in relief, and Lance clearly heard it and looked over at him again with a questioning look.

“She broke into my apartment,” Lance argued.

“Technically, she didn't break in,” Chris said. When Lance looked over for a third time and narrowed his eyebrows, he raised his hand. “Hear me out, Lance. It's not like she picked the lock. She walked in because the door was open.”

“So it would be okay if your door was open a crack and a complete stranger walked into your apartment?”

“Well--”

“With your fiancee in the place...”

“Lance--”

“Alone and completely defenseless?”

“Dude,” Chris said assertively as Justin stood back, sitting in the middle of their argument. “Chill the fuck out, okay? Of course it wouldn't be okay, I'm not saying it would be. What I'm saying is that we've gotten to know Melissa a little better now. And we don't like her very much, me and you, yeah – but do we really think she's capable of murdering that guy?”

“So because she's short, blonde, and cute, that means she's not capable of killing a guy?” Lance asked.

“Lance, let's face it,” Chris said. “If she was capable of murder, and she was going to kill anybody close to you and Addy to get back at you, I'd clearly be the one buried six feet under with a bullet in my head right now.”

Lance tilted his head and looked away. Unfortunately, he found that was logic that he couldn't argue with.

“Boys,” Abrams interrupted, “you really needn't worry about your friend Ms. Weston. As I said, we've been to her apartment, questioned her, checked her alibis and records, and she's been cleared from our suspect list.”

“Then who else do you have?” Justin asked. He found it was funny that he seemed to be taking point in this conversation, since it was Lance's fight – but he was sure Lance had the same questions he did. “What the hell are you doing to catch this person?”

“We've combed over the victim's phone records and bank records unscrupulously,” Abrams said, almost defensively. “Once we were reasonably confident that he wasn't involved in any questionable activity that may have nothing to do with this stalking case, we moved on to the assumption that the two cases were connected. We've checked out the majority of Mr. Bass's and Ms. James's friends and family and have cleared several people, and the ones who haven't been cleared are low on our radar. The one unanswered question we have right now is Ms. James's ex-husband.”

“Marc?” Lance suddenly jumped up from his relaxed position of leaning back in the chair. “What about Marc?”

Abrams looked between the three men, including Chris who had much the same reaction as Lance.

“We got some new information. It appears that he's gone completely missing,” he said, pulling out a separate manila folder and placed it in front of him, opening it. “His secretary filed a missing person's report on April 16th stating he hadn't shown in his office for almost a week and he hadn't been scheduled for any business-related travel that she knew of.”

“That was only a couple weeks after the divorce,” Lance said. “And a couple weeks before we left Los Angeles.”

“Yes, exactly.” Abrams pulled a paper from the middle of the folder and scooted it in front of Lance. “His credit card was last used on April 14th at a convenience store west of Los Angeles, so LAPD pulled the security camera footage and we had them send us these copies.”

Lance leaned in front of him and looked at the grainy black and white image in front of him, combing over the blurry facial features of the cashier and the customer, the person they assumed was Marc.

“He made a small purchase before he pulled out of the parking lot in his vehicle.”

The detective placed another grainy picture in front of Lance; although it was black and white, he could clearly see the Jaguar – the same one that Addy had vandalized that day in the parking garage. He fought back a small grin.

“Well, it's grainy, but that's definitely Marc,” Lance said.

“This is the last record that the LAPD has found of him. None of his credit cards or bank accounts have been used since that day, he hasn't tried to use his name to rent any vehicles or hotel rooms, and a check on his social security number shows that he hasn't attempted it to use it to attain any new employment or housing. His house in LA was searched only to find that it was still in the same condition he left it, but it didn't appear that anyone had lived there for several weeks.”

Chris was able to lean over to take a peek at the two photos before the detective pulled them away and put them back in his folder.

“So, what does that mean exactly?” Chris asked. “Is he on the run or something? Is he a suspect?”

“Currently, all indications are that there's no way he could be a suspect.”

“What does that mean?” Justin repeated from Chris, cautiously.

Abrams paused and ran his fingers through his dark black hair. This was the part of his job he disliked.

“Most of the time,” he said, taking a breath, “in cases such as this, where the person who has gone missing has a traumatic life event – such as a death in the family, a divorce, etcetera – take place only weeks before they disappear...unless any evidence arises pointing to the contrary, authorities assume that they may have taken their own life.”

“Suicide?” Lance asked.

“We believe that may have been the case.”

None of the three exhaled a breath. Lance had been standing in front of the guy less than three months ago, staring him down in front of the courtroom. He had acted so egotistical, so sure of himself. The thought that the man could have killed himself blew his mind.

“Whoa,” Chris said softly, expressing the emotion that Lance was feeling but not saying.

“His Jaguar was found abandoned in the parking lot at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, which is unfortunately common for suicides on that bridge.”

“So, does that mean he's cleared too?” Lance asked, still uncomfortable with the idea.

“Well, not exactly,” Abrams said. “Right now, he's presumed deceased – but without a body, his missing person's case can't officially be closed. And unless either his body is recovered and he's officially declared deceased or he shows up alive and it turns out he went on a vacation without telling anybody, we can't completely clear him from our investigation. Right now, it's up to the California authorities to deal with his case, because it's not our jurisdiction – but we're keeping the LA and San Francisco offices on speed dial. They're to notify us immediately if they find out anything more, big or small.”

Lance sighed – it was all so much to take in and not at all how he had hoped that this visit would turn out. In addition to not having any more answers than he had this morning about the stalking and the murder, he had the new burden of knowing that Marc was missing and possibly even dead. He despised the man, but he didn't wish him dead.

“We're doing all that we can for you,” Abrams said reassuringly. “This case will not leave our desks until it's solved. It's my main case right now – in fact, I've taken some of the files home with me at night, in case I've overlooked anything. You have my personal assurance that we're working on it.”

“What about Marc's case?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, I have a question about that,” Chris said. “He's this big-wig film director. How have we not heard about this yet? An Academy Award-winning director goes missing and possibly commits suicide and it's not splashed all over the tabloids by the next morning?”

“That's exactly why it's not splashed all over the tabloids – it's a high-profile case of a sensitive nature, a lot like this one. There's been some local publicity but most of it is being kept on the down-low and hasn't reached nationally yet. The LAPD are thinking that it's possible that he didn't commit suicide, but possibly took off because he's been under high stress. The death of his daughter, a messy divorce, plus his career...sometimes it gets to be too much.”

“Tell me about it,” Lance mumbled to himself.

“They're holding out hope that without extra publicity, he'll get it out of his system and show up alive.”

“What does that mean for our case if he does? No credit card purchases, no phone records...no trace of him while he was missing. There's nothing to prove his innocence or guilt.”

“We're not quite sure of that right now,” Abrams admitted. “But we're taking it one day at a time. We'll conquer that when we come to it.”

Lance sighed again; he had hoped he could come back home with answers, not even more questions.

“Do you gentlemen have any more questions for me before you leave?”

“No, I think that's all we had for today,” Lance said, hoping that Chris or Justin wouldn't bring something up at the last minute. He wanted to leave this station and go home to process his new information.

Detective Abrams briefly looked from Lance over to Chris and Justin, who only shook their heads.

“Okay then,” he said, standing up from his desk chair. The boys followed suit to stand up and shake hands with the detective. “I'll keep you informed if anything changes, and as always, if you receive any more notes or threats – or anything out of the ordinary, anything at all – please call me right away.”

The boys exited out of the police station a few minutes later and hopped into Lance's Expedition, in a hurry to get away from there as quick as they could. Justin turned the air conditioner on full-blast when they pulled out of the parking lot, in an effort to beat the warm early summer sun that beat more heat down on them every new day.

“Holy fuck,” Justin said.

“Suicide,” Chris said. “That's...”

“Insane,” Lance finished. “Less than three months ago I was standing in front of the guy staring him in his ice cold, empty eyes. The guy is an asshole but I was honestly terrified of him. He's got balls. People like that usually don't commit suicide.”

“You think he did it?” Justin asked.

“I don't know,” Lance said with a shrug, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don't know what to think. I guess it makes sense, though. Addy isn't the only one who lost a daughter – it was his daughter too. And then Addy left him.”

“She left him for you,” Chris said.

“Yeah, but I think that's irrelevant,” Lance responded. “She could have left him for you and he still would have done it – if he did it.”

“You don't think he did?”

“Like I said, I don't know.”

“You're right though,” Justin said. “Melissa's suspicious.”

“You guys seriously think that Melissa did it?” Chris said, leaning up between them in the seat to look from one to the other.

“Chris, open up your fucking eyes man,” Justin said, looking back. “Lance is right. Melissa's always right there when this shit pops up.”

“The first note was hand-delivered inside our apartment, days after Melissa pops up and walks right in our door,” Lance said. “She was standing three feet away from Addy and pointed out the third one to her. And she took my bait yesterday.”

“Bait?” Chris asked, confused.

“I'm not stupid,” Lance said. “Addy suddenly moves out and then Mel comes knocking on my door to find her? I told her where she lived as a test – and she failed.”

“She went and visited her,” Chris said defensively. “They're friends.”

“Then why did she lie straight to Lance's face this morning when he asked her if she'd talked to her yesterday?” Justin asked.

Chris sighed.

“She's hiding something, Chris, and I don't like it,” Lance said. “I don't know what's going on between the two of you, and I don't care what goes on in either of your bedrooms – or what's going on in your pants for her. But if you're smart, you'll stay away from Mel.”

“Chris? Smart?”

“Fucktard,” Chris said, smacking Justin for the insult as he laughed. “Lance, I don't think Mel could do that sort of thing.”

“Your dick doesn't think Mel could do that sort of thing,” Justin retorted. “Lance and I know better because the blood is actually flowing to our brains.”

Chris went silent and leaned back in the seat, tired of getting insulted.

“So let's send Melly-girl our own personal little message,” Justin said as he turned to Lance, a grim smirk on his face.

“A message?” Lance asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “A little return love letter letting her know we're onto her. Compliments of me and you.”