If there’s one good thing about this blasted storm, it’s that there’s no school (“due to continuing power outages”). That means that I’m around town, looking for clues. Mom put Billie on house arrest after her little stunt, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She’s been playing more with her “fairy friends” lately, which I don’t mind so much because it keeps her out of my hair-- and anyone who says I actually like that pest has no idea what they’re talking about. It makes Mom even more high-strung than usual, though, so there’s no way I’m staying in the apartment to be ranted at.
I stopped by the diner around noon. Thanks to whatever Dan puts in the coffee (which I’m not entirely sure is legal, but whatever), it’s usually full of possible sources. I mean, people.
I zeroed in on my target immediately. I couldn’t remember seeing the woman around before, but she had a look about her: listless, withdrawn, and moody-- more of an observer than an active participant in her life at the moment. That’s good news for me; observers have all the best info.
I sidled into the chair, and started talking before she could object. “Save it. If you want me to go away, you’ve got to tell me what you know.”
She raised an eyebrow, seeming amused more than anything else. Oh great, another grown-up wanting to patronize me. “And what is it that you want to know?”
Or maybe I can deal with her humoring me, if it means she’ll cooperate with my investigation. “What do you know about Belinda Dawn?”
She frowned at first, and then her expression cleared. My heart rate quickened. “Haven’t heard that name for a few years. Poor girl got sent away to get professional help, right?”
I tried to hold back a scowl. Everyone always spouts the same cover-up, if they bother to respond. I forced out a professional smile and a “thank you for your time”, and stood up to leave.
After what looked like an internal struggle over abandoning her super-suspicious Dan’s Diner coffee, she got up to follow me. Oh, great-- not a loner, a lonely barnacle. “Where are you going? Do your parents know you’re doing this?”
I ignored her and kept walking. For someone navigating a swathe of branches and leaves in some tippy-looking heels, she did a pretty good job keeping up with me and my combat boots.
Passing by the fountain, a watery giggle made me pause. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Taking a closer look at the fountain, I nearly did a double take (and the strange woman shrieked) at an enormous crocodile relaxing inside. Some brave soul had given it a nametag reading “ORVILLE”.
The alarming reptile wasn’t the only unsettling figure in the fountain. Out of the corner of my eye, I was almost sure I saw a feminine grin-- from a predator that felt much more dangerous and elusive than Orville.
