Murder in the Garden District (Chanse MacLeod Mysteries) by Greg Herren

headed over there and waited. I did the schoolgirl look, as you suggested. And you were right, Carey is very hormonal. He’s going to be a looker when he grows up.”
    “Spare me the pedophilic details.” She made a face.
    “I waited until he was heading for his bicycle, then called his name. I pretended I was an old friend of his sister’s, and was wondering how Alais was doing. I’d lost her cell number, and was only in town for a couple of days before I left to go back to school, and it would be great to see her. Luckily, one of the kids yelled at us before Carey could ask my name. Hey, Carey, is that your babysitter? I remember the type. I hated them when I was in high school. Poor Carey turned beet red. So, I put my arm around him, kissed him on the cheek, and looked the asshole right in the face. ‘I’m his date,’ I told him, ‘and he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.’ You should have seen the look that smug little bastard gave me. Of course, Carey was grateful, so I suggested we go for coffee. We went to the CC’s at the corner of Jefferson and Magazine.
    “That’s one lonely kid, Chanse. All the other kids at swim practice were in groups, laughing and joking and horsing around. Carey was by himself. No one talked to him or anything. I felt bad for him. He kind of reminds me of what Jephtha must have been like at that age—kind of geeky, all bones and angles.”
    “That sounds like Jephtha now,” I teased her.
    She gave me the finger, and went on with her story.
    “We sat in a back booth at CC’s. He just shrugged when I offered my condolences about his stepfather. I got the sense he wasn’t very close to Wendell. I wanted to ask about his real dad, but didn’t want to tip my hand, so I asked about Alais again. That’s when it got really interesting.
    “Alais hasn’t left the house since she came back from Ole Miss. She hardly leaves her room. A shrink comes by three times a week to talk to her. Carey doesn’t know what it’s all about, but his mother and his grandmother are really worried. He thinks she got into some kind of trouble at Ole Miss. How did he say it? She was completely different when she’d come home for spring break. Then she was always in a good mood, always wanting to go somewhere and take him with her. She was in love, always talking about this boy she was dating. Sometimes she’d sneak out late at night to meet him. Their parents had no clue. I used to do that, too.”
    “Did she ever mention the boy’s name?”
    “For some reason she was keeping it all a secret. She didn’t want the parents to know she was seeing someone. From what you’ve told me about the family, the boy was probably someone they wouldn’t consider suitable for her. Anyway, poor Carey said Alais was his only real friend, and he’d been looking forward to the summer so they could have more fun. But she came home looking really sick—pale, listless. She doesn’t talk to anyone, just stays in her home. She doesn’t even turn on her cell phone. If any of her friends call the house, she won’t talk to them.
     “He looked so sad. My heart almost broke for the poor kid. And then he saw what time it was, mumbled something, and tore out of there. I guess his mother keeps him on a tight leash.”
    Her eyes glinted. I sensed that she hadn’t finished.
    “And?” I said.
    “Before he left, Cary told me that Alais was a Kappa up at Ole Miss. So, I called the Kappa house and spoke to the housemother. I am so glad I never joined a sorority! If Mrs. Fisk is any indication of what housemothers are like, God help sorority girls. Very judgmental, and into all their business. I pretended I was Janna Sheehan.”
    “Nicely done, Abby. You never cease to amaze me.”
    She stuck her tongue out.
    “Thank you. It was a damned good job. I said I was calling because I knew she’d be concerned about Alais and would want an update on how she was doing. It was a risk, but it’s not like I was going to see