The Sixes

27

“ARE YOU ALONE?” Phoebe asked.

The girl’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Of course,” she said. “Who would be with me?”

Phoebe motioned her into the living room and gestured toward an armchair. Jen took the seat, perching on the edge of the cushion. She looked vulnerable, but also a tiny bit impudent, like someone called into the principal’s office who didn’t feel deserving of punishment.

“So why do you think that—that they’re innocent?” Phoebe said.

“First of all, I just know that they would never do anything like that,” Jen said. “They’re just not the type. I saw Gwen in the café on Monday, and she seemed perfectly normal.”

“People who brutally kill people are often sociopaths,” Phoebe said bluntly. “They can look and sound like the rest of us, but they do awful things without feeling a trace of remorse.”

“Sociopaths?” Jen exclaimed. “Is that what you think they are?”

“You seem surprised I’d assume that, Jen. But aren’t the Sixes by their very nature about hurting other people? You pull pranks, you steal, you humiliate vulnerable boys, you come after the people who want out—like Alexis Grey.”

“No, we’re not about hurting people. We’re about female strength and helping each other gain every advantage we can. Sometimes we put certain people in their place, but only because they’re trying to block us—you know, hogging all the professor’s time, stuff like that. And besides, you can’t totally trust Alexis Grey. Blair said Alexis blamed us for posting that sex tape when a boy had actually done it.”

“How long have you been a member?”

“I was just tapped at the beginning of the term. I’m only a junior member.”

“And Blair was definitely in charge before she was arrested?”

“Yes, I guess.” Jen gnawed on her bottom lip.

“What do you mean you guess?”

“There’s this sort of council of seniors who run things, and Blair was the leader of that. But sometimes it seemed she consulted with other people. I don’t know who.”

Phoebe recalled that Alexis had also sensed that there was someone in the wings.

“You said first of all. What’s the other reason you think they didn’t murder Hutch?” Phoebe asked.

“The police found Blair’s scarf at the murder scene, but I know for a fact it had been stolen,” Jen said. “Someone is setting her up. People are jealous of Blair, and they want to bring her down.”

So the cops had discovered clothing at the scene.

“Wait, start from the beginning,” Phoebe said. “How do you know they found something?”

“I heard from this other girl who talked to Blair’s mother that the cops showed Blair this pink scarf and asked if it was hers, and told her they found it at the scene. I’m sure Blair tried to tell them that the scarf had been stolen, and they probably thought she was just making that up to protect herself. But I know it’s the truth. Because I was walking with her the other day, and she told me someone had taken it.”

“But don’t you see that she realized she’d dropped the scarf when she was at Hutch’s house, and tried to cover her ass by telling you that she’d lost it.”

Jen shook her head. “But she told me Sunday at lunch. That was way before the old guy was murdered. She’d just come from her house. I know she leaves some stuff downstairs in the entranceway, which isn’t locked. Some girls had been hanging out at the apartment downstairs, visiting the guys who live there, and Blair thought one of them had stolen it just to be mean.”

Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black, Phoebe thought snidely, but she knew that the scenario was possible. In her mind she saw the coats drooping from the row of pegs in the dingy entranceway of the Ash Street house. Was Blair really being framed? she wondered. But how would the killer know that she would be a viable suspect?

“By the way, does either Blair or Gwen own a car?” Phoebe asked.

“No—why?”

“Would they have had access to a car?”

Jen bit her lip again and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess they could have borrowed one.”

“You need to tell the police about your conversation with Blair,” Phoebe said. “I can give you the name of the detective you should talk to.”

“I can’t,” Jen nearly wailed. “Don’t you see? They’ll know that I’m part of the Sixes then. And they’ll suspect me, too.”

So that was the real point of the visit, Phoebe realized. It wasn’t at all about protecting Blair and Gwen—it was about protecting Jen’s own hide.

“But the road may eventually lead to you anyway—everyone in the Sixes could come under suspicion. You should call your parents immediately and get legal advice about how to handle this.”

Jen’s eyes welled with tears. “My parents won’t understand,” she said. There was a trace of petulance in her tone. “Can’t you try to help me first?”

“But help you how?” Phoebe didn’t have an ounce of pity for the girl.

“I don’t know. Can’t you figure out who is setting them up?”

“I’m not a detective, Jen. That’s what the police do.”

“But you write those books. You find all sorts of things out.”

Phoebe rose from the armchair and pulled a tissue from her purse for Jen. She needed a second to think. She had to work this situation to her own advantage—try to use Jen’s inside knowledge about the Sixes.

“Okay, Jen, let me see what I can do,” Phoebe said. “But first I’m going to need additional information.”

Jen shifted on the couch, expectant.

“Let’s start with me.” Phoebe said. “You know, of course, that the Sixes have been after me, right?”

Jen looked away, unable to make eye contact. “I know they were upset with you,” she muttered. “Blair said you were trying to expose us—and then ruin us.”

“Were you one of the girls that broke into my house?”

“What?” Jen said. “I never heard they did that. Are you sure it was them?”

“Forget that for a minute,” Phoebe said bluntly. “What does the word Fortuna mean to you?”

The girl looked genuinely puzzled. “Um, nothing. I’ve never heard of it. Is it a place?”

“I want you to ask the other girls in the Sixes about that name, okay? You won’t want them to catch on that you talked to me, so tell them you overheard me on the phone after class, and that I was talking about the Sixes and Fortuna. See if it means something to any of them.”

“Okay.”

“Now tell me about the circles.”

Jen’s eyes widened in surprise. “But how—why do you need to know about them?”

“Just trust me. If I’m going to help you, you’re going to have to provide me with information. I know about the first four. What are the fifth and sixth circles?”

“I really can’t talk about them. We’re never supposed to reveal anything about the circles.”

“Jen, people are dead,” Phoebe said. “It’s time to talk.”

The girl looked away and bit her lip again. At this rate, Phoebe thought, it was going to be a bloody pulp by the end of their conversation. Finally Jen looked back at Phoebe.

“You’re only supposed to know about the circles you’ve done and the one directly above them,” she said. “I’ve only done the first two. But someone told me about the fourth and fifth in secret.”

Phoebe already knew about the fourth. “What’s the fifth one?” she asked.

“‘Seduce and Exploit.’”

“You’re supposed to entice someone to have sex with you?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of ?” Phoebe could feel her patience starting to fray.

“Well, yes, sex if you want. But you can find some other way to win their favor.”

“And what’s the exploit part?”

Jen looked away yet again, and this time when she turned her head back, she never looked directly into Phoebe’s eyes.

“You entice them to do something for you or give you something you need.”

“So you have sex with a boy and then have him write a term paper for you—something like that?”

“No, not a boy. You have to seduce someone in power. So what they have to share is really worthwhile.”

Wow, Phoebe thought, it was just as the psychologist had told her—girl power totally run amuck.

“Like a professor, then?” Phoebe asked. “Or someone in the administration?”

“Yes,” Jen said, nearly in a whisper.

“And you don’t know the sixth circle?”

“No—just the name. It’s called ‘Secure.’”

“As in ‘to secure’?”

“Yes. I think it might have something to do with forging your future somehow. That’s all I know.”

Her comment was vaguely similar to what Alexis Grey had said about the Sixes taking care of you after college. Phoebe was baffled. It was hard to imagine such a malicious group of girls morphing into a spunky career-networking operation.

At that Jen let her shoulders sag, like a kid who was growing bored and irritated. “I should probably go now.” She rose from the couch and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her slicker. “They might wonder where I am. So you’re going to help, right?”

“The Sixes are still in operation—even with Blair in jail?”

“It’s sort of a mess, but they’re trying to keep it going,” she said.

“Who’s in charge now? Another senior?”

“Yes, but I can’t tell you who,” Jen said. “She’s a friend of mine. We—”

She broke off, looking like she’d given too much away. Phoebe bet it might be Rachel, the girl she saw Jen yammering to that day after class. Rachel was a senior.

“Okay, Jen, I’ll see what I can find out. But you have to do the same for me. About Fortuna. I expect to hear from you.” She paused. “I also need you to find out what the sixth circle entails.”

“But they’ll never tell me that,” Jen said. “Besides, I don’t see how knowing any of that would help.”

“Let me worry about that. Just find it out.”

Jen started to move toward the door

“There’s one more thing I need to know before you go,” Phoebe said. “Was Lily Mack trying to extricate herself from the Sixes?”

Jen sighed, thrusting her hands deeper into her pockets.

“Yes, she wanted out. And I heard Blair was furious about it. She felt really betrayed.”

“How long had Lily been a member?”

“Just since last spring. After her boyfriend left.”

“And why did she want to quit this fall? Because she started to find out what the Sixes were up to?”

Jen finally met Phoebe’s eyes and held them.

“No, it wasn’t really that. She was going through the fifth circle this fall, and the man she was supposed to, you know, seduce . . . she fell in love with him. And she didn’t want to use him in any way. That’s why she wanted out.”

Phoebe found herself swallowing hard. She didn’t like where this was going.

“So who was it?”

“I don’t know. I swear. The only thing I know is that she was on a committee with him. Blair said that was how Lily first got to know him.”

The school, Phoebe knew, seemed to form a committee every time you turned around. That’s how she had met Duncan, after all—on a committee made up just of faculty. There were others for students only, and some that included a combination of faculty, students, and administration. Jen had been on the committee Stockton had organized about student life—that’s where he’d seen her exchange a look with the other girl, Molly Wang, when he raised the topic of sororities. It should be easy enough, for Phoebe, to figure out which one Lily had participated in this fall.

As soon as Jen left, scurrying down the porch steps, Phoebe began to pace. She felt totally wired from the tarot card and now from Jen’s visit. Her gut told her Jen didn’t have a clue about Fortuna. Other members—Blair and the senior council—certainly might. But how could they have ever found out? Glenda was the only one here who knew about Fortuna. Could her friend have told someone?

Phoebe stopped abruptly. She debated whether she should even bother calling Michelson to tell him about the tarot card. Would he even care? The fact that the Sixes might know horrible details from her past and choose to torment her about them would have no relevance to the deaths they were investigating, even if Blair and Gwen were guilty.

She thought back on what Jen had shared about the scarf. If the story was true, it meant that someone was trying hard to implicate Blair—and perhaps by association, the other Sixes. That clearly suggested that the killer was someone at Lyle College, someone who knew the Sixes made a perfect target.

And that took her right back to where she’d started on Monday. If the Sixes hadn’t killed Hutch, then the murderer could very well be a psychopath, someone who received his kicks purely from killing. But there was now something new to factor in, something she should have followed up on before: the new man who’d been in Lily’s life this fall. In her mind she heard the line Lily had supposedly said to Amanda: Wouldn’t I be a fool to date a little boy again?

Phoebe glanced at her watch. It was almost four and she hadn’t heard from Glenda yet. She tried Glenda’s cell again, and when that proved futile, she rang the office number once more.

“I’m sorry, she’s still out, Ms. Hall,” the assistant informed her.

“It’s really urgent I speak to her, and she’s not picking up her cell.” Phoebe realized that she sounded like a child not getting her way.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me telling you,” the assistant said. “She was going to pick up Brandon from school today and help him with his homework. From there she was heading over to a literary magazine fair they’re holding on the quad this afternoon.”

“All right, I’ll try to catch up with her at the fair.” Then Phoebe had an idea. “One more question. Do you know how I could find a list of all the school committees this term, and who’s on them?”

“I’m not sure who would have access to that list. Dr. Johns, of course. And probably Dean Stockton.”

Stockton was the last person in the world Phoebe wanted to ask.

As soon as she hung up, Phoebe realized she couldn’t wait for the fair. She had to talk to Glenda now. She draped a coat over her shoulders, grabbed her purse, and headed for her car. Glenda would probably be back from Brandon’s school by now and Phoebe planned to stop by the house. She would be interrupting mommy time, she knew, but she had to learn if Glenda had ever shared information about her past with anyone at Lyle. Phoebe had driven only a block toward Glenda’s house when she was forced to flick on her windshield wipers because the drizzle had morphed into a light rain.

To Phoebe’s surprise, the housekeeper didn’t respond to her knock on the door. She tried again, and as she waited, she detected music playing inside—a jazz song. Someone was home and obviously couldn’t hear her above the noise.

She pushed the front door open and called out hello. No one responded. The music seemed to be coming from the conservatory, and she followed it, like a thread. She reached the room and glanced around. There were speakers on a small table, the source of the jazz, but no one was in the room.

She glanced out the long windows, across the yard to the driveway. Glenda’s car wasn’t even there. Damn, Phoebe thought, Glenda must have shifted her plans. Phoebe backed out of the room and into the main hall, rushing to leave. As she took a step toward the front door, the landline in the house rang. She flinched. And then from just inside the living room, she heard a male voice answer hello. It was Mark. Phoebe froze in position.

“Yes, I understand,” Mark said. “But never call me on this phone again, do you understand? I told you to use my cell.”

Phoebe stayed still, holding her breath. It wouldn’t be pretty to have Mark discover her presence, but at the same time, she was desperate to hear what he would say next.

“Of course, I told you that,” he said after a few seconds. There was another long pause. She heard him clear his throat.

“I’ll have it for you,” he said crisply. “I said I would, and I will.”

Oh, God, Phoebe thought. He was about to get off and possibly leave the room. She tiptoed to the front door and snuck outside, scrambled down the steps of the porch, and bolted to her car. Once inside she finally breathed and fired up the engine. Before pulling out into the street, she looked back at the house. To her chagrin, she saw the curtains of the living room part just an inch. Someone, most likely Mark, was peering outside.

Had he recognized her? If he had, he might guess she’d eavesdropped and would have another reason to keep her on his shit list. But what worried her even more were the words she’d overheard. Why wasn’t the person supposed to call him on the landline? And what was it that Mark was supposed to produce?

She drove to campus and parked in the lot behind the student union. It was raining harder now, and her sweater sleeves and sling were soaked by the time she reached the front of the building. There were a few tables on the plaza draped with plastic coverings, but most, she realized, had obviously been dismantled because of the weather, and only a half dozen people now milled around. A dripping sign, written in script and propped against a chair, read, “Rain Date: Friday.” Phoebe tried Glenda again on her cell, but she reached only voice mail. She waited for fifteen minutes under an overhang, thinking Glenda might still show, not knowing the fair had been canceled. Finally, after the last table was hauled off, Phoebe tramped back to her car. The ache in her elbow had returned full force.

Once home she popped two ibuprofen and made green tea, hoping to calm her jangly nerves. With the mug in one hand she circled through her rooms, hashing over her conversation with Jen. She had to find out what committee Lily had been on and who she’d fallen in love with. That could very well be the killer. But there were confusing aspects. How would Hutch have learned about the connection? And how did Trevor Harris’s death fit into this scenario? Had Lily’s lover killed him out of jealousy? But that couldn’t be the case: it had sounded like Lily had fallen in love this fall after Trevor was clearly out of the picture. Phoebe grabbed her phone and dialed Jen’s number.

“Is there any chance that Lily started the relationship with the older man when she was still with Trevor?” Phoebe asked when the girl picked up.

“No, it started this fall,” Jen said. “And besides, she loved that guy Trevor. They were going to live together, and she was really upset when she thought he took off.”

“So she never suspected something bad had happened to him?”

“No, because he’d been talking a lot about how fed up he was with Lyle and with being hassled here.”

“Hassled?”

“About his grades. And by the campus cops. He told Lily they had it in for him.”

That was interesting. Phoebe asked if Jen knew why, but the girl said she had no clue. Phoebe signed off, promising to call tomorrow.

It was dark out now, and foggy too, and the rooms seemed to be shrinking, pinning her in. She knew she had reason to be on edge, but the fading light wasn’t helping. She dreaded the coming night and wished she’d never opened up that piece of cardboard. Why, she wondered, hadn’t Glenda called her? And where was Duncan? Why the hell was no one getting back to her?

And then, it was as if she had conjured him up. She heard a knock at the front door, and when she spun around, she saw Duncan through the glass in the window.

“Hey,” he said when she opened the door. His black trench glistened with water. “I got so crazed I never checked my phone, and when I heard your message, I decided to just hurry over.”

“Oh, God,” Phoebe said. “I’m just so glad you’re here. There’s something totally freaky going on.”

As he stripped off his coat, she began to tell him about the tarot card.

“Let me play devil’s advocate,” Duncan said when she’d finished. “Couldn’t it just be the Sixes leaving their own specific warning for you—that your fate is about to change?”

“Sure, I guess,” Phoebe said, flinging her arms up. “But the more I think about it, the more it seems like too big of a coincidence. Fortuna always left the mark of the wheel. And there’s a wheel right on the front of the card.”

Duncan looked at her sympathetically, but she suspected he felt she was making much ado about nothing. “Even if someone did find out about Fortuna—let’s say that Glenda mentioned it to someone—you shouldn’t let it cause you any grief, Phoebe. What difference does it make if someone knows about your past?”

“What if it’s more than that?” she blurted out. To her dismay, she heard her voice tremble as she realized something she hadn’t considered before. “What if someone from Fortuna is here—at the school? I never knew who all of the members were.”

“That seems unlikely. But even so, why be so afraid of them? They bullied you, but that’s really it, right?”

“No,” she said, her eyes welling with tears. “It was worse than that. Worse than I ever told you.”