'At camp last year we had a girl from Manhattan who had a schooled voice like yours. Her name was Liza Montgomery. Did you know her?'
I met his eyes steadily. 'No. But I've heard about her. She's a hot topic among campers.'
'I bet,' he replied with a grimace. 'In answer to your question: I was thinking about Liza.'
'Were you close to her?'
'No. Just friends.'
'But I thought-' I broke off.
He observed my face shrewdly. 'You thought what?'
'I heard you and Liza Montgomery were in love.'
Check the actor's hands, my father always told us. Mike's face was composed, but his hands tense, his fingers curled. 'You're confusing me with Paul.'
'No, Paul was obsessed with her-that's what they said. You were in love.' That's what Liza said, I added silently.
'I think I should know better than they,' he replied shortly.
'Today in the theater, did you hear'-l hesitated, remembering at the last minute that I wasn't supposed to know what Liza's voice sounded like-'voices?'
'I heard you reciting the lines from Twelfth Night.'
'Anything else?'
He gazed at me thoughtfully. 'Well, Brian came in then.'
'Before that-how long had you been there?'
'I arrived just before you began to speak.'
Maybe, I thought, but I had heard a rustling noise well before that.
'Why?' he asked.
'Just curious.'
We stared at each other, both of us defiant, each aware that the other person wasn't being candid.
'Well, I'm headed back to the party.'
'Enjoy it,' he said. 'I'm going to stay here a little longer.'
'To think about Liza?'
He nodded. 'She was a very talented girl. And a friend,' he added.
Liar, I thought, and strode away.
We arrived back at Drama House about eight-thirty that evening. Some of the girls got sodas from a vending machine and holed up in the common room to talk, but I was tired of being someone other than myself, always thinking about how to respond as Jenny Baird, and was glad to escape to my room.
While I unpacked, I thought about the things that the kids from last year had said about Liza. I didn't like the idea that a creepy guy was obsessed with her. And it bothered me that the guy she had fallen in love with now claimed they were no more than friends. Maybe I remembered Liza's e-mails incorrectly, I thought, then retrieved from my suitcase a folder of notes I had saved. Sitting sideways in the window seat, I pulled my feet up, and began to read.
I continued reading through the batch of notes-her description of Stoddard Theater, her account of the funny things that had happened during auditions, and her reaction to Walker.
He's always criticizing me, Jen, me more than anybody else. I make him mad because I don't cringe like the others at his stupid remarks. I just stare at him. One of these days I'm going to give it back. He's a nobody acting like he's directing Broadway. Somebody's got to put Walker in his place. Looks like it'll have to be me.
There were frequent references to 'Boots.' Of course, given Liza's difficulty in following rules, she and Maggie had had a few run-ins. Liza thought Brian was nice. I found only two mentions of Paul. She was aware of his interest in her, but seemed to consider him just another of her fans. Maybe she had seen too many weirdos in New York to be alarmed, I thought. She didn't get along with Keri.
Talk about a snob! She finds the whole world boring, which, if you ask me, is the ultimate in snobbery. Her parents have given her so much that the only thing left to want is something she can't have-like Paul. In front of everybody she announced that she couldn't stand my jasmine perfume. Fine, I told her, stay away from me so you don't have to smell it-make us both happy!
I remembered correctly the romantic way Liza had described her relationship with Mike-Michael as she called him.
'It's Mike,' he keeps saying, but I like the sound of Michael better-Mikes are guys who work at Kmart. He is so gorgeous-dark hair, blue eyes to die for, tall but not one of those skinny Hamlet types-a real guy. We're like so in love, but we both fake a little. I don't discourage the other guys who are interested in me because it's always good to keep each other wondering. But really, Jen, this is true love!!! You've got to come down and meet my incredible guy.
Please come soon.
The descriptions of Michael and Liza's shared moments filled the rest of her e-mails. I remembered thinking when I first read them that Liza had finally figured out what counted, for the things she was talking about so romantically were small acts of kindness, little bits of gentleness, not wild kisses. Usually, Liza went for cool, star types like herself, and after she and the guy grew tired of showering each other with flattery, the fighting got ugly. Maybe Liza had finally fallen for a guy who was terrific on the inside, too.
And maybe I should have been gentler, I thought, not trying to force Mike to admit his feelings for my sister.
I read all the way through the correspondence and came to the last e-mail, the one that had been sent after lunch the day Liza died.
Jenny, Don't tell Mom and Dad, but I'm thinking about coming home. I know they won't want me to pull out of the production, but I think I have to. I've hurt someone very badly, and I don't know how to make it up. I had no idea-l didn't mean it-it's terrible. I need to talk to you. l:20-rehearsal's started. Talk later. L Whom Liza had hurt, I never found out. I showed the note to the police, but they dismissed it as normal high-school stuff. The pattern of the serial murderer had been established, and his victims appeared to be random. They weren't looking for suspects who knew Liza and would have had some kind of personal motive.
I wondered again what had happened that day. Had Liza suddenly realized she was hurting Paul? Had something occurred between her and Mike?
Maybe that's why he denied their relationship now. Or, had she let Walker have it between the eyes? My sister had a better command of language than she had realized and could sometimes be cruel in what she said.
It wasn't until I got her phone message that night that I checked my e-mail. If I had checked earlier, I might have reached her before she slipped out the window. If I had gone to Wisteria when Liza invited me, I might have helped her get out of whatever mess she was in. I could have been with her and kept her from venturing out the same night as the murderer.
