Confessions of a Murder Suspect

86

Two days later, we had all the windows open in our apartment in the Dakota.

Harry had turned up his music—not classical this time—so that it came over the intercom in every room, really loud. The charging drumbeat and the bright guitar riffs cleansed the air and made me almost want to dance.

Hugo was taking his baseball bat to the furniture in his room, which had been designed with some ordinary rich kid in mind—three big vintage toy cars with pedals, a make-believe rocket ship on a spring, and first-edition antique books that had never even been opened. All reminders of Angel wealth and perfection were quickly being decimated.

There was a lot of food on the dining room table: chips and dips and Ding Dongs—junk my parents would have forbidden. But Malcolm and Maud had left us to soldier on without them. And this laugh-out-loud time was a beautiful start. We felt like actual kids.

We were having a party. Our party. Just for us. We were finally grieving, in our own special way, as only Angels can.

I took a bottle of soda with me into my parents’ room. Their valuables would be sold or auctioned off: the Aronstein flag, the South Sea pearls and the emerald ring, Mercurio and Robert, the Pegasus piano, the Pork Chair and the UFO light fixture.

Before it was too late, I wanted to go through my parents’ less valuable things and find keepsakes for all of us.

I put on the jacket that had belonged to my mother by way of Madonna. I hoped I’d be able to keep it.

No, I was definitely going to keep it!

Harry came into the closet and sat down next to me.

“I’ve got Malcolm’s watch,” I said. “You want that?”

“Okay.”

“I saved a couple of things for Matthew and Hugo. Pictures. The wedding rings.”

“I’m the one who called the cops,” Harry said.

“What do you mean?”

“That morning. Right after I found Malcolm and Maud dead. I thought one of us had done it. Still, I had to call the cops.”

“Oh, Harry. Who was suspect number one on your list?”

“Well, sister dear, you’d just gotten a Big Chop.”

I laughed really hard, then said, “For a while, I thought you did it. You.”

We were still grinning at each other when a shadow fell over us.

I snapped my head around—a fear reflex, for sure. Virgil was standing there, absolutely huge in the doorway, looking down at us.

“I’ve got the car ready downstairs. You know the house rule, kids: I’ve got to move the vehicle in ten minutes.”

“Let’s move it,” I said.