The Sixes

8

IT’S THEM, SHE thought, her heart starting to thump. The Sixes. They’ve been here, they left the apples.

She spun around, almost knocking over one of the kitchen chairs.

How had they gotten in? Her eye shot to the kitchen door with the window on the upper half. Each week she left the key for the cleaning lady under a flowerpot on the back stoop. Maybe they’d been watching the house and seen Margaret retrieve it.

Phoebe couldn’t believe they’d had the nerve to sneak into her house.

She flipped on the stoop light, opened the back door, and stepped outside. Peering into the twilight, she wondered if someone might be out there, watching her. She quickly turned over the flowerpot and grabbed the key still beneath it. Phoebe stepped back inside and turned the lock on the door. She also slipped on the chain lock. Next she checked the front door. Still locked. She did a quick circle through the rooms, making sure nothing was disturbed, and then tentatively mounted the stairs. She doubted anyone would still be in the house, and yet her pulse quickened as she opened each of the two bedroom doors and scanned the rooms. Nothing unusual.

Back downstairs she studied the table in her office. There was no indication that anything on her desk had been touched. They’ve been in this room, though, she thought. She could sense it.

Returning to the kitchen, she stood by the table and stared at the apples. I’m being paranoid, she chided herself. She didn’t even know if the Sixes actually existed, and besides, there could be another explanation. Maybe Duncan had left the apples as a thank-you gesture. He might have dropped by and, not finding her home, checked around for a key. But she couldn’t imagine him entering uninvited.

Phoebe dumped the apples in the trash with a thud, picked up her cell phone again, and called Glenda. She was surprised when her friend actually picked up.

“Hey, I was just about to call you with an update,” Glenda said. “Have you recovered from yesterday?”

“Partly. But something weird just happened. I think the Sixes may have paid me a visit at home.”

“What do you mean?” Glenda asked urgently. Phoebe described finding the six apples in her kitchen.

“Damn, I can’t believe this,” Glenda said. “I’m coming over.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m sure you’re swamped.”

“Then why don’t you come by my place for dinner? We’ve scheduled a memorial service for Lily tomorrow night and I need to review the plans, but I’ll be home in two hours. Mark’s at a meeting and Brandon’s going to eat early, which means we can sit and talk.”

Phoebe agreed to the offer. She was eager not only for the company but for the opportunity to hash things out with Glenda. Until it was time to leave, Phoebe tackled her e-mail, but she found it difficult to concentrate. She kept trying to imagine who had come into her house. One person? A group of them? Was it the Sixes? Don’t let them get to you, she told herself. You’re not fifteen years old. But when it was finally time to head to Glenda’s, she left at least one light burning in each of the downstairs rooms.

Glenda swung open the front door of her house only seconds after Phoebe let go of the heavy old-fashioned knocker, and to her surprise, Phoebe found her friend standing in the foyer with a man she vaguely recognized. There was something military-looking about him—the ramrod-straight posture, the cropped hair—and right away Phoebe thought cop. His overly pink skin made his piercing blue eyes nearly pop out of his face.

“Phoebe Hall, this is Detective Michelson,” Glenda said. “He’s leading the investigation into Lily’s death.”

“Nice to meet you,” Phoebe said, reaching out her hand. Michelson gripped it firmly, but his eyes barely took her in, as if he’d instantly assessed her as unimportant to his efforts.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Glenda told him. “It’s very important that the school and community work together on this.”

After Glenda closed the door behind him, she kicked her teal-colored high heels onto the faded Oriental runner. She was wearing a wool dress and jacket—the same color as the shoes—that Phoebe guessed she’d been in for the entire day.

“Follow me,” Glenda said. “A roast chicken awaits.”

Glenda led Phoebe to the back of the house. The kitchen was a cavernous room with miles of countertop geared for entertaining, but there was also a small eating nook with a banquette in a corner. Phoebe shrugged off her coat and slid onto the banquette. The table was already set for two.

“So tell me what happened,” Glenda said, pulling a bottle of white wine from the huge, hulking refrigerator.

“First give me an update on Lily,” Phoebe said. “What did this detective have to say?”

“I don’t have much to report,” Glenda said. She uncorked the bottle, filled two wineglasses halfway to the top, and handed one to Phoebe. “According to Michelson, cause of death was definitely drowning. She had the equivalent of two alcoholic drinks in her system. That could have made her tipsy, but it’s hard to imagine she was so out of it that after getting partly up Bridge Street, she spun around, headed north along the river, and fell in. The only other thing he coughed up was that there was no sign of sexual assault.” She sighed. “Every time I ask him a question, he throws out the phrase ‘confidential police matter.’ ”

“They must have some theory about what happened to her. Could you read between the lines at all?”

“No, but Tom followed up with some of the students the cops talked to, and it looks like the police suspect that a guy might be involved. They kept asking if Lily was seeing someone or if she ever picked up guys in town. It’s possible she met a guy on her way home from Cat Tails or bumped into one she knew on the street. Then the two of them found a spot along the river for a grope session. When Lily decided not to go as far as the guy wanted, he flew into a rage, shoving her into the river. According to her parents, she was a good swimmer. But because it was dark and she’d had a couple of drinks, she may have been disoriented and panicked.”

“If there was no sign of sexual assault, I wonder why they think a guy was involved.”

“Madeline knows someone who knows someone in the coroner’s office, and she heard they found a bruise on Lily’s arm about the size of a thumbprint. As if she may have been forced into the water.”

Phoebe felt her stomach clench at the news.

“Has Stockton had a chance to share his serial killer theory with you?” Phoebe asked.

“Yup,” Glenda said. She set the chicken and salad on the table and slid onto the short end of the banquette. “And can you imagine what that rumor would do to enrollment? Of course, I can’t stick my head in the sand—not with kids’ lives at stake.”

“I know as much about serial killers as I know about the Andromeda strain,” Phoebe said, “but I do know they often move around so they don’t leave a trail. This could be someone who was operating in another area and has moved into this region.”

“Tom’s going to check in with the administration at Parker-Hyde and see what he can find out. But enough about that. Tell me about the damn apples.”

Phoebe relayed what had happened, as well as details of her conversation with Blair’s roommate and Jen Imbibio.

“Of course, we still don’t know for sure that the Sixes exist or if they left the apples,” Phoebe said, “but it seems like a fairly big coincidence that the apples appear at the same time I start asking questions.”

“You’re bringing them out of hiding at least, which is good,” Glenda said. “But I’m furious about what they did. You need to report this to Craig Ball, okay? And you need to get your lock changed.”

“I doubt that whoever snuck in took the trouble to make a copy of my key,” Phoebe said.

“But they might have.”

It could be categorized as overreacting, Phoebe thought, but she realized she would feel more comfortable doing as Glenda suggested.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get the lock changed. Did you tell the detective about the Sixes?”

“No—I didn’t think there was a reason to at this point. Like I said, the cops seem to be looking for a guy right now.”

“Let’s see how my research goes. If the Sixes turn out to be a real group with a vendetta against Lily, you’ll