She came out of the kitchen with the cordless in her hand. "Have fun, you guys." Then, into the phone, "That's a large pie, with everything, extra cheese, and lots of anchovies."
I made a face. I couldn't help it. I hated anchovies, but Poppy loved them. It was her chance to munch on the fishy morsels to her heart's content.
"You don't like anchovies, huh?" Ryan said. "I'll have to remember that for next time."
Next time, huh? There was going to be a next time. I smiled at him. This was going to be a great evening. That's what I thought, anyway. I was definitely not the psychic in the family.
Chapter Seven
The evening started to go downhill as soon as I got into Ryan's car and saw Samantha sitting in the front seat. Sean was in the backseat, and he looked about as happy as I felt, which was not at all.
Ryan opened the rear passenger door for me and shot me an apologetic look. "Samantha gets carsick in the back," he explained.
She had spent plenty of time in backseats, I thought. Of course, the car wasn't usually moving at the time.
"I hope you don't mind," Samantha said sweetly. "Queasy stomach."
"I know the feeling," I muttered, but in a louder voice I said, "Not at all. Sean and I can talk about"—I searched frantically for something we could possibly have in common, until I realized he was in my English class—"English."
Samantha laughed. "That's kind of a sore subject," she said.
Sean looked at me, stony faced. "I'm flunking it."
"Oh," I said.
On the way to the club, Samantha and Ryan chatted easily in the front of the car, while Sean and I maintained an awkward silence in the backseat. I frowned when I noticed how often she managed to touch Ryan's arm in the course of casual conversation.
She was dressed entirely in alabaster white, from her top to her gorgeous leather boots. Who buys white leather boots? You could wear them maybe once without getting them dirty. The Devereauxs did have money to burn, but it seemed excessive, even for Samantha.
She caught me staring at her outfit and said, "White is the color of mourning in China." So she was going to dress for death in all seven continents? And designer dead, I'd wager.
The ankh around her neck gleamed in the dark, and I remembered what Rose had told me about the history of the symbol. Why was Samantha wearing a symbol of the afterlife? And why the extreme new look? She hadn't told me the truth earlier. There was more to her new look than boredom. I just hoped it didn't involve vampirism.
Ryan's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "Daisy, are you okay back there? You've been awfully quiet."
"I'm fine, Ryan," I said. But I wasn't. Inside, I was kicking myself for ever agreeing to this. It was obvious that Samantha planned to monopolize Ryan for the rest of the night. That's why she had been so nice to me before. Just to lure me into a false sense of security.
I wanted to make it through the night with a shred of dignity intact. I was not going to let her see that she was getting to me.
The club parking lot was crowded already, but Ryan managed to find a spot at the far end. To my surprise, he came to my door and opened it for me, before helping me out. He left Samantha to fend for herself until Sean caught a clue and rushed over to open her door.
Ryan kept my hand in his as we walked to the door of the club. There was a long line, but Samantha marched to the front and immediately started flirting with the guy at the door.
The rest of us hung back, but then I heard someone calling my name. "Daisy? Daisy Giordano, is that you?" The guy at the door was Nicholas Bone.
"Uh, hi, Nicholas," I said. What was he doing working at the Black Opal when his family had a perfectly good mortuary? And why was he being so nice? When he had dated my sister, I wasn't sure that he could tell Poppy and me apart. Or even wanted to. He had been quiet, surly even, whenever he'd been at the house to pick up Rose. Now he stood there beaming at me like we were long- lost pals.
"Are these your friends?" His brandy-colored eyes gleamed.
I could understand what Rose had seen in him. He was handsome and tall, with pale skin, reddish brown hair, and those strange eyes. His hair was the exact shade of our Irish setter, Sparky, who died of old age last year.
I nodded and Nicholas held open the velvet rope. "Go ahead." He gestured toward the door. "I can't make an old friend wait in this line."
I glanced at the crowd and hesitated. There were a few groans here and there, but most people seemed resigned to us cutting the line. And I had a curfew. If I didn't cut in line, I might not have any time to snoop around.
Samantha grabbed my arm and propelled me forward. "You heard the man, Giordano."
Nicholas stamped our hands and I checked the mark. It matched the one the dead girl had. Then Samantha swept through the door with Sean right behind her. Ryan and I trailed behind them.
She was getting plenty of stares. She looked like a gravedigger's dream date in her strapless metallic white top and scrap of lace that passed for a skirt, fishnet thigh-high stockings and those white boots. Fortunately, she left her coffin at home tonight—too unwieldy for the dance floor. Sean was handing out dirty looks like Halloween candy. I hoped there wouldn't be a brawl.
It was early enough that there were still a few tables available. We grabbed a booth, and Samantha and I slid into the middle with Sean on her side and Ryan on mine. I was surprised that she hadn't found a way to have a guy on either side of her, but the night was still young.
Sean and Ryan talked football while Samantha looked to see if anyone was noticing her (they were) and I watched the crowd. I wondered if any of these people had been here on the same night as the dead girl. Maybe I could talk to some of them and find out.
But at the moment, I was too nervous to say anything. Ryan had dropped my hand when we sat down, but he kept one hand on my knee. It was distracting, not entirely in a bad way. I reminded myself that I was here for sleuthing, not flirting. But I didn't take his hand off my knee.
A server came by and took our order as we waited for the first band to take the stage. "What can I get you?" he asked, after introducing himself and rattling off the drinks specials. He didn't seem to notice or care that our hands were clearly marked with the underage stamp. We ordered sodas and appetizers, but our waiter didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to trot back to the kitchen to place it.
"Are you here for Side Effects May Vary?" he asked.
"What?" I said.
"The band," he said. "They're a local favorite."
Samantha said, "And I heard they just signed a major record deal."
The club started to fill up. I recognized a couple of kids from school. Samantha's best friend, Jordan, was on the dance floor with a couple of the other cheerleaders.
Penny Edwards made a beeline for us, dragging her mini-coffin behind her. Only Penny would bring something the size of a small car to a club. There was some swearing involved when the coffin thumped against random shins and feet as Penny made her way toward us.
I relaxed a little bit. Ryan wasn't hanging on Samantha's every word. In fact, it seemed like he barely noticed her at all.
I made an attempt at friendliness. "So have you ever heard Side Effects May Vary play before?" I asked.
Samantha seemed amused by the question. "Of course. We come here all the time," she said.
"You and Sean?" Somehow, the Black Opal didn't seem to be Sean's scene, despite the fact that he was one of the popular kids.
"No, Jordan, Rachel, and me mostly, but some of the other girls on the squad sometimes."
"I come here all the time, too," Penny bragged.
"I've never been here before," I said casually, hoping for more information.
"Big surprise," Penny muttered.
I ignored her. "So, have you ever seen anyone ... strange hanging around here?" I asked. It was entirely possible that the dead girl met her killer at this very club.
Samantha looked at me like I had two heads. "Strange? Take a look aroun
d, Giordano," she snapped.
She had a point. The room was filled with some unusual people, even by Nightshade standards. There was a guy wearing a clown costume, a woman who glowed like her skin had been covered in phosphorus, and a beautiful girl in a fire engine red cowboy hat, a bikini top, and shorts. None of them looked like killers, but you never know.
But before our semicourteous conversation could deteriorate any further, a tall man wearing a baggy checked suit and creepers on his feet strode to the microphone. "Please give it up for Side Effects May Vary!" he said.
The audience went wild, whistling and cheering.
The band took the stage and started things off with a rousing cover of the Ramones' "Rock 'n' Roll High School." The lead singer had a raspy, sexy voice, but the bass guitarist was truly eye-catching. She wore a naughty nurse's uniform paired with leopard-print tights, six-inch white plastic heels, and a towering hot pink hairdo that was obviously a wig. Her makeup looked like she had applied it with a trowel, but even with gunk on her face, there was something about her that seemed familiar.
"Let's go!" Samantha said, cutting off Penny midgrovel. "Penny, stay here and guard our table. We're going to dance." She grabbed Sean's hand and dragged him out of the booth. Then she turned and put a hand on her hip. "Daisy, are you coming?"
I looked at Ryan and raised one eyebrow in question. He took my hand and we followed Sean and Samantha to the dance floor. I felt sorry for Penny, but she seemed perfectly thrilled to be allowed to play watchdog for Samantha.
Ryan was a great dancer. A lot of guys weren't, at least in my limited experience. Take Sean, for instance. He danced like he was running for a touchdown. Zig, zag, shoulder tucked in. He'd make a motion like he was throwing a long pass and then start the sequence over again.
Samantha, on the other hand, had natural rhythm and some slick moves. She looked pretty lively for a girl obsessed with death.
We danced until the band took a break. I watched the bassist as she walked offstage. There was definitely something familiar about her. It nagged at me, but as we went back to the table, I saw a face that was even more familiar.
Rose was at the Black Opal! Definitely unlike my studious sister. She didn't see me, but made a beeline for Nicholas in the corner. It was safe to say Rose knew her ex was in town. By the way she was kissing him, I wasn't too sure he was her ex.
She had told me earlier that she was going to the library, yet here she was, practically devouring the mortician's son. Public displays of affection weren't like Rose at all. "I'm going to the bathroom," I said.
"Daisy," Ryan said, "maybe I should go with..." He trailed off when he saw my look of mortification. "Just be careful, okay?"
"I will," I said. But as I headed for Rose and Nicholas, they left their table and disappeared down the hallway I assumed led to the bathroom. I took off after them, but working my way through the crowd slowed me down.
By the time I made it to the hallway, there was no sign of them. A couple was pressed against each other in the corner by the pay phone, but it wasn't Nicholas and Rose. A distinct chemical odor wafted down the hall. It smelled like Aqua Net and cigarettes. I stood by the bathroom door, deciding what to do next. That's when I heard the scream. It sounded like it was coming from the women's restroom.
I ran into the bathroom. As I entered, I passed someone going the other way and caught a glimpse of white as she ran by me.
At first I thought the bathroom was empty, and badly in need of some cleaning. The aerosol odor was stronger in there, but mingling with that odor was another smell: stale beer and vomit.
I turned to leave, but caught a glimpse of a cowboy hat lying on the floor in one of the bathroom stalls. And that's when I found the body.
Chapter Eight
I froze, unable to move for a moment. Please, don't let it be Rose, my mind repeated over and over as I drew closer to the crumpled figure lying on the floor of the bathroom stall. I opened the stall door slowly, reluctant to see. I could tell right away that it wasn't my sister, and I could breathe again.
I stooped down and gingerly checked for a pulse. Her wrist was so cold that I thought for sure she was already dead. Just when I was ready to give up, I felt a weak beat.
Then I heard, ever so faintly, Help me. Please help me, but the sound was in my head, not in my ears. Then nothing. Whatever or whoever I had heard had stopped the transmission. Either I was losing my mind or there was something seriously spooky going on here. I stared at the girl, but she was still unconscious.
I ran outside and prayed that the couple by the pay phone would still be there. They were. "Get help!" I yelled. "There's an unconscious girl in the bathroom." They jumped apart and stared at me. "Go!" I shouted.
"I'm a paramedic," the guy said. "Off duty," he added, in case I thought he was slacking on the job. "Show me where she is. Vanessa, you call an ambulance." Vanessa nodded and rummaged for her cell phone. Paramedic guy and I raced back to the bathroom and he immediately started CPR. God, why hadn't I learned CPR? I stood there, feeling completely helpless.
It seemed like it took hours, but I finally heard the sound of the sirens coming near.
Down the hall the lights were up, and club-goers were milling around, trying to get a glimpse of the excitement.
I waited until the paramedics had steered the gurney through the bathroom door, then I headed back to our table. Samantha rushed up to me. "Daisy, where have you been? We heard a girl had been murdered. Ryan was going crazy, but I told him you were probably fine."
"I was a little tied up," I said.
"If you didn't want to go out with him, you should have just said no," she said. "You didn't have to avoid him all night."
"I wasn't avoiding him," I said, "and besides, this wasn't a real date."
Samantha looked unconvinced. So did Ryan, who appeared at that minute. I wondered if he heard the last part of our conversation. It was hard to tell. His face was expressionless, but he looked like he was holding something in check.
Explanation time. "I found the girl everyone is talking about," I blurted out to him. "When I went to the bathroom. But she wasn't murdered. She was still alive when I found her, just unconscious."
His expression softened a little. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I assured him. He put an arm around me and gave me a hug, which I took as an encouraging sign. "Jesus, Daisy," he said into my ear, "I was worried."
"I didn't mean to worry you," I said, "but I had to get help, and then I couldn't just leave her there alone." I shuddered. "It was awful, Ryan."
"Why don't we take off?" he suggested. "I don't think anybody's in the mood to stay anyway."
Samantha and Sean had drifted over to a cluster of kids from school, so we went over to round them up.
"Let's get going," Ryan said. "Daisy's had a rough night."
"Daisy found that girl," Samantha told Penny Edwards. It'd be all over school tomorrow.
"Really?" Penny said eagerly. "What was it like?"
"I don't really want to talk about it," I said. "I just want to go home."
Surprisingly, Samantha didn't argue. As we left the club, though, Ryan's dad pulled up in a squad car. Just great.
I looked over at Ryan and he gave my hand a comforting squeeze. My mother wouldn't be happy when Chief Mendez told her what happened at the club.
Chief Mendez said, "It came over the scanner about an incident at the Black Opal and I remembered you were taking your date here tonight. You kids okay?"
"We're fine," Ryan said, "but Daisy found her. She's a little shaken up, so I'm taking her home."
"She's still alive," I offered, "or at least she was when the ambulance got here." I shuddered as I remembered the faint voice calling for help. A voice only in my head, I reminded myself.
The chief looked troubled. "Daisy, I want you and your friends to be careful," he said. "It's beginning to seem like someone is preying on young girls around here."
"I'm always careful," I
said. I didn't mention that I was also determined to catch the culprit before someone else ended up dead.
Chief Mendez asked me a few questions, and I answered them as best I could. I didn't tell him about the weird feeling I'd had—like I'd been in someone else's head.
"Thank you, Daisy," he said. "I'll call you if I have anything else. But we'll probably learn more when we talk to the victim. Ryan, make sure you get her home safe."
We said good-bye to Ryan's dad and walked back to the car. Ryan opened the car door—the front passenger door this time—and helped me inside. Samantha fumed at the curb for a second and then stomped to the back door, tapping her foot until Sean finally opened it for her.
No one spoke on the ride home. We got to Samantha's house first. "Daisy, meet me in the gym at 7:00 A.M. sharp," she instructed, before getting out of the car. "There's a pep rally tomorrow afternoon and I have to go over the routine with you." With that, she flounced up the sidewalk toward her dark house.
Sean got out of the car, too, and came around to the driver's side window.
"Later, bro," he said. "Thanks for the ride."
"Don't you need a ride home?" I asked. Ryan gave me a look, the kind of look you give a clueless little kid. Oh.
"Samantha's parents are out of town," Sean said with a wink, just in case I still hadn't figured it out.
Ryan played it cool, but I saw a tinge of red creep into his cheeks. He put the car in gear and we continued home. I hadn't had time to think about it before, but this was the first time Ryan and I had been alone all night.
Despite the fact that it had been the least romantic first date in the history of first dates, I still wanted Ryan to kiss me.
He seemed to be taking his time about it, though. I draped my arm casually over the seat, so close that I could almost touch the curls that caressed the nape of his neck. He kept his attention on the road. I was glad he was a safe driver and all, but there were plenty of scenic views, aka romantic spots to park.
Then again, I'd seen enough horror movies to know that making out in a secluded spot was just inviting trouble, especially when there was someone or something out there attacking teenage girls. Going home like Chief Mendez had ordered suddenly held tremendous appeal.