Girl Most Likely

Four

The following Friday — still unseasonably sunny and not overly chilly for February — Krista met her good friend Jessica Webster at Otto’s Place on the east side.

Dating to 1899, the two-story white-trimmed red-frame structure faced the side of the refurbished old train depot (now the local visitor’s center) across Bouthillier Street. In front of the brick depot, and alongside the restaurant, ran the railroad tracks, beyond which the Galena River formed the dividing line of the little town’s east and west sides.

Over the years Otto’s building had been home to everything from basket shop to bakery, grocery store to furniture emporium, pizza joint to antique shop, even a record shop where her father said he’d bought his first David Bowie album.

Now it was a cozy breakfast and lunch spot, its specialties banana bread French toast and the daily quiche. For Krista and other locals, the restaurant was a nice alternative away from Main Street and the tourists the town depended on. Some of those visitors would be resourceful and adventurous enough to seek Otto’s Place out.

The restaurant was only open till 2:00 p.m., and it was a little after one already — Krista had worked over the noon hour, as usual, to cover for clerk-dispatcher Maggie. But Jessy was already here, across the little dining room, perched at a chair at the counter facing the window on the kitchen, an open seat next to her. Jessy liked to sit there, closer to the wine on display.

Krista hung up her windbreaker, then slipped past the tightly arranged wooden tables and chairs, only a few of which were taken so near closing. Those who glanced up from their meals at the uniformed police officer moving among them were likely stray tourists.

The front of the place was all windows and sunshine streaming in, pleasant enough if you weren’t sitting in it. Framed local art adorned the walls, and a wooden staircase at left yawned up to the secondary dining area. Right now a young blonde waitress in a T-shirt and jeans with a brown apron classing them up was coming down with a pot of coffee in hand. She nodded at frequent customer Krista, who smiled and nodded back.

Jessy was sipping a glass of what was almost certainly white zinfandel. As Krista slipped onto the chair next to her, Jessy smiled and said, “My first glass, officer. I swear.”

“Public swearing is a violation,” Krista said.

“No shit?”

Both young women laughed a little; it didn’t deserve much more than that.

Jessy had been Krista’s best friend in high school. She was not then and was not now a raving beauty, her nose a little big for her face, but she’d been very popular thanks to her big brown long-lashed eyes and great smile and curvy little figure, all of which she still had. When Krista had played basketball, Jessy — head cheerleader — had lobbied for the cheer squad to travel to out-of-town games to support the girls. Krista still loved her for that.

Now Jessy Webster was one of Galena’s top real estate agents. She wore her dark brown hair short and wore dark suits and brightly colored silk blouses. Today was no exception. Orange blouse. Navy jacket and slacks.

“So,” Krista said, “are you ready?”

Both women knew what she meant by that: the Class of 2009 reunion was this weekend — tonight, the casual get-together, tomorrow the more formal night out at Lake View Lodge.

“As I’ll ever be,” Jessy said, eyes widening before sipping the white zin.

The friendly blonde waitress in the brown apron was behind the counter now. Krista ordered the asparagus, mushroom, and Swiss cheese quiche-of-the-day, with a cup of black coffee (never too late for caffeine in the life of a cop), and Jessy had the chicken-salad-and-bacon club sandwich and a second glass of wine (something of a risk when the chief of police was having lunch with you, and you were driving).

“I wish I’d had time,” Krista said, between sips of coffee, “to help you guys out on the reunion committee.”

“Well frankly,” she said, and sipped more white zin, “once Dave Landry stepped up, there wasn’t much left to do. He’s providing everything... and bargain-rate lodging.”

David Landry was the general manager of Lake View Lodge, his father one of the owners of the lavish resort on Lake Galena in the rolling hills of Galena Territory — four golf courses, several indoor pools, and full-scale spa. And two hundred usually pricey rooms, sitting mostly empty in off-season, which likely had helped encourage Landry’s largesse.

Krista smiled a little. “Like the yearbook said — the Boy Most Likely.”

“Likely to inherit his old man’s money,” Jessy said with a smirk. Then she shrugged. “But, really — we’re lucky to have him in the class. Not many high school reunions get this kind of royal treatment, with one generous classmate picking up most of the tab.”

“Who’s he trying to impress?”

“You coppers are so suspicious. But if I had to guess?”

“Guess, guess.”

Jessy leaned toward her. “Remember how bad he had it for Astrid?”

Krista gave up a light laugh. “And why shouldn’t he? She was the Girl Most Likely.”

“Most Likely to Dump Him back then. Most Likely to Snub Him now.”

Krista’s brow frowned while she smiled at her friend. “Astrid isn’t coming, is she? Would she really lower herself?”

Astrid Lund — class salutatorian, president of student council every damn year, president of Drama Club, editor of the school paper, The Spyglass — had looked like Kate Hudson only more beautiful. She seemed most likely to be a famous movie star. But instead she’d merely gone into broadcast journalism and a celebrated career — currently an on-air investigative reporter for Chicago’s WLG-TV on the city’s top-rated nightly newscast. She’d be anchoring on a network someday.

Astrid Lund was the single most famous person to graduate with their class. Also, the only famous person to graduate with their class. Well, maybe a few others rivaled her...

“I don’t think she’d miss it,” Jessy said. “The chance to lord it over everybody while she pretends to be nice? You should know better than anybody she wasn’t the Ms. Goody-Goody-Two-Shoes she tried to pass herself off as.”

“Should I?”

The big brown eyes got bigger and bored into Krista. “Didn’t she steal Jerry away from you, senior year? If I may be so blunt? After all, she stole Josh from me, for a while. Greedy little buh... witch.”

Josh was Jessy’s husband. He ran the All American Popcorn Store on Main, a family business. They’d been married since shortly after graduation, and parents six months later.

Krista asked, “How many glasses of wine does that make?”

“Just two. My limit.”

Their food arrived.

“You and me, we both got our revenge,” Jessy said with a shrug, before biting into the club sandwich. “Didn’t we?”

“How so?”

Jessy shrugged again. “I got Josh, and my girls, and you got Jerry back, didn’t you? Took you a while, but... how’s that going, by the way?”

Matter-of-factly, Krista told her friend about shooing Jerry out of the house to make room for a new boarder.

“Your dad’s living with you now? Since when?”

“Since Sunday.”

Jessy frowned sympathetically. “How’s he doing?”

She nodded, smiled. “Good. Better than I expected. We’re getting along. He’s a better cook than me, that’s for sure.”

Jessy was studying Krista the way she might a water-damaged ceiling. “Does he know you booted Jerry out to make room for him?”

Krista gave her friend a condensed account of how Pop had played detective and brought her to justice. And how Jerry had dropped by the office, with an interview as cover, and how badly that had gone.

Jessy sipped white zin. “Weren’t you going to the reunion with him?”

“I was. I guess I’m going stag now, or whatever you call a girl without a date.”

“Call her a woman with possibilities.”

They ate awhile. Even Jessy seemed to know having a date was better than possibilities.

Krista asked, “Who else is coming that you know of?”

“Reservations came in from quite a few out-of-towners. Chicago contingent includes Alex Cannon — would you believe it?”

Alex was a top defense lawyer who got lots of media.

“Mostly it’s the Galena crowd, of course,” Jessy said. “Ol’ Fearless Frank, another of Astrid’s conquests.”

Frank Wunder managed a Buick dealership owned by his father-in-law, whose daughter, Brittany, was another Galena graduate, though two years behind Krista. Like Jessy, Mrs. Wunder had been a cheerleader.

“In fairness,” Krista said, and touched a napkin to her lips, “I don’t think Astrid made conquests in the way you might think.”

“Oh, you mean she didn’t put out? Maybe not, but she had enough on offer to have any boy she wanted. And she really got a kick out of taking a guy away from somebody else — particularly if it was somebody popular, like her.”

Krista shook her head, chuckled. “Listen to us. We sound like we’re still a couple of kids, talking trash in the cafeteria.”

Jessy used her napkin and tossed it on the counter. “Nonsense. Like you, I’m a successful professional woman... and I can’t wait to throw that in as many faces as I can!”

They both laughed. Like a couple of high school girls.

The blonde waitress, perhaps mildly amused at seeing the police chief and well-known Realtor behave this way, came over to see about dessert. The two successful professional women declined, but Krista had another cup of coffee while Jessy worked on her wine — she still had a little left.

Something passed across Jessy’s face as she looked into the wineglass, swirling the liquid, as if she were trying to read her fortune in it.

“Terrible about Sue,” she said quietly.

“Sue? Sue Logan? What about her? Isn’t she a manager at Best Buy somewhere?”

Jessy sighed and faced Krista with an expression turned suddenly grave. “You don’t know? You of all people...”

“Know what?”

Now Jessy glanced around, as if someone might be eavesdropping and, if so, that would be disastrous.

“Sue,” Jessy said very softly, and somewhat melodramatically (this was her second glass of wine), “got killed.”

“You’re kidding! When was this...?”

Jessy’s eyebrows went up. “Some time ago, actually. Her mother wrote the reunion committee, several months ago. I looked it up online. Her mother said only that Sue had been killed last August. We thought it might have been a car accident or something, but no. She was murdered.”

Krista reared back. “Murdered? Sue?”

“I know. She’s not the type.”

As a police officer, Krista knew that there was no “type” when it came to homicide victims; but she let that pass.

Instead she asked, “What did you learn online?”

Jessy leaned close. Disturbingly, this felt even more like two silly girls talking in the cafeteria or maybe study hall. “It was terrible. Somebody stabbed her, a bunch of times. Left her bleeding on her own doorstep.”

“Who did it? Did they catch him?”

Wrong to assume it had been a man, she knew, but that was what came to her lips.

Jessy shrugged. “No one knows. No neighbors saw anything. It’s terrible. Horrible! And none of us knew till way later. No one could go down to the funeral...”

“Down?”

Jessy nodded. “She was in Florida. Clearwater. She did work at Best Buy, and also at some big theater down there. Not movies — plays and concerts.”

Krista nodded, too. “She was into that. Always into that. Liked working backstage, remember?”

Jessy’s chin trembled. “And we didn’t even send flowers or anything.”

Krista shrugged a shoulder. “We didn’t know to.”

But she also realized that none of them would have gone to Florida for the funeral, even if they had known. Maybe the class would have sent flowers — the reunion committee, that is.

Or maybe not. Life goes on. Death, too. More than life.

“I’ll make a few calls,” Krista said, like that would do any good.

“The police down there think it’s some maniac.”

You think?

Krista, straightening, asked, “Have we lost any of our other classmates?”

Jessy nodded. “Two in Iraq. One in that car crash, remember?”

Krista remembered, all right. She’d worked the scene.

“Well,” Krista said, “we need to do a memorial for Sue and all the rest of them, Saturday night. Say a prayer or something.”

“The reunion committee’s doing that,” Jessy said, just a little defensive. “We’ll be releasing balloons with each name. We were going to do floating luminaries. You know, sky lanterns? But the fire marshal nixed it. Lot of trees out at Lake View.”

The two women, their giddy girlishness turned glum, paid their checks and went out together. At Jessy’s car, Krista asked, “Are you okay to drive? Do I need to have you walk a straight line or something?”

“No, really. I only had the two. I’m not lying. I have no wish for you to take me in a back room at the station and work me over or anything.”

They smiled, laughed. Neither meant it. The discussion of death was lingering.

Still, Krista watched Jessy drive off, noting that her friend seemed to be driving quite normally. Then she got in her own car — she didn’t make use of department vehicles on personal business — and within five minutes was across the bridge over the trickle of river and onto Main. Two minutes or so later she was pulling into the PD lot.

She got out of the car, locking it with her key fob, and took the steps up to the Bench Street sidewalk. Leaning against the gray rock wall near the front door, in the shadow of the overhang, his arms folded, his weight on one leg, was Jerry.

He was in a navy field jacket, light blue polo, jeans, and running shoes. He gave her an embarrassed grin, held his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not stalking you,” he said, “I promise.”

Now she was the one with folded arms, though she had her weight evenly distributed on her two feet. She said nothing.

“And I’m not going to make a habit,” he said, “of ambushing you at the station.”

“... Good.”

“I think maybe I’ve been kind of a dick.”

“Maybe?”

“I’ve been kind of a dick. You’re just trying to do right by your dad. That’s a good thing. That’s the right thing. So I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I wondered... you haven’t been returning my calls. Is why I came here like this.”

“I didn’t feel like talking to you,” she said. No emotion in her voice.

His smile tried too hard; he gestured awkwardly. “Reunion starts tonight. Casual get-together... Will probably be more fun than the more formal thing tomorrow.”

“Probably.”

“How would you feel about still going tonight?”

“Well, I am going tonight.”

He winced. “I mean, with me. I’ll pick you up at seven, if you’re up for it. Are you? Up for it?”

She nodded, and went in, leaving him there.