Murder of crows, p.10
Murder of Crows, page 10
“Earl Grey.” She nodded. “I hope that’s acceptable.”
“Thank you,” we chorused in unison, awkwardly.
“I’m certain you’re eager for answers,” Noel said. “Especially considering Sofia’s outburst at the funeral this morning.”
“She won’t tell me anything,” I said in a rush. “Obviously you guys were friends when you were younger, and she was clearly involved in The—” I paused, not wanting to give away our hand. Wyn was right. We didn’t know what Noel’s angle was. “In the Murder of Crows,” I finished.
If Noel noticed my hesitation, she didn’t comment on it.
“Sofia and I were … close when we were younger. There was a time that I would have followed her anywhere. She was headstrong and brave, and I just liked being in the warmth of her shadow. We were … companions.”
I could feel Wyn shift, and suddenly her shoe was pinching against the side of mine hard. I nudged her back to let her know I definitely understood. I had been getting some weird vibes ever since Abuela rejected Noel’s offer to meet. Then there had been the way Abuela looked at her during the funeral. But there was so much else going on that I hadn’t really had time to think about what it all meant.
But now that Noel had put words to it, it was hard to miss. It also made a lot of other things slot into place. The poetry, the anger. Abuela and Noel weren’t acting like best friends who had a falling-out. They were acting like exes who had a bad breakup.
What a chaotic realization. Max coughed dryly and quickly took a gulp of his steaming tea. I glanced over at him briefly, and he looked like he was using all the restraint in his body not to smirk.
“I was so angry with Sofia for some of the decisions she made,” Noel continued obliviously. “But the heart just … can’t take being pulled in two directions. As much as I cared for her, I was always going to be tempted by something else—somewhere she wouldn’t follow me.
“When we realized our … friendship was at an impasse, we agreed not to see each other again. We knew it would just dredge up old pain and remind us of how much we had lost. And I kept my word. I haven’t spoken to your grandmother in fifty years—until today.”
Noel blinked repeatedly, as if to clear the emotion from her eyes. Then she suddenly let out a wet chuckle. “The time we’ve wasted spent on opposite sides of this place.”
“The town or ideologically speaking?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Noel let out another peal of laughter, but this one sounded a little more lighthearted. Like talking about this again after so long was healing to her. Like her offering to answer our questions wasn’t just for our benefit.
“Both. With her it was always both. And when we met Alan and Charlie—Mr. Wyatt and Mr. Green—we all had such a golden summer together. Alan was so handsome and ruthless back then.”
I remembered the photos we had seen of him in the Talon yearbook. I could imagine he made quite the impression.
“We were all looking for something—competing to see which team would find it first,” Noel continued. “We played a game of cat and mouse until we realized that we might be more successful if we worked together.”
“The founder’s treasure,” Wyn chimed in.
Noel nodded slowly. “I wondered how much you knew.”
“Mr. Wyatt told us,” I admitted. “The night of the meeting, he asked for our help looking for it—so he could get rid of the temptation and end the violence.”
A flicker of irritation crossed Noel’s eyes, but it was gone as suddenly as it appeared.
“What can you tell us about the early days of The Hunt?”
Noel closed her eyes in memory. “People had been actively searching for the founder for a long time, but everything really began to come to a head in the late ’60s and early ’70s.
“Sofia and I met at the library while both independently doing research on the riddles, and we decided to team up. Alan and Charlie noticed that we were getting close, and they started trying to intimidate us into stopping—or to hand over the information we had. Apparently, we were the closest anyone had gotten since the 1930s. By then, the last person who knew the actual location of the founder’s treasure had died, and unfortunately, they had taken that information with them. So it was truly anyone’s game.”
Noel paused to think for a bit before continuing. “We were all so … young back then. It was easy for me, Sofia, Charlie, and Alan to go from mortal enemies to grudging rivals to shaky friends, and finally become true companions. By the time we started working together, we had independently solved nearly all the riddles, but we knew there was another piece we needed to find to lead us to the actual treasure. An artifact that no one else had discovered before.”
“The spyglass!” I said, leaning forward.
But before Noel could respond, a telephone pealed from deep within the house. “I must get that,” Noel said, standing up quickly. “I’ll be right back.”
I gazed after her to make sure she was gone.
“Tig!” Wyn said, but I hushed her quickly. “She could still hear us.” I pulled out my phone. Immediately Wyn and Max took theirs out, too, and started typing furiously.
Noel came striding back into the room right as we all tucked our phones back away. She looked a bit more like her normal, serious self. The softness she’d shown when talking about Abuela seemingly wiped away by whoever she’d spoken to on the phone.
“Sorry about that,” she said, looking at us with a forced smile.
“You were telling us about an artifact?” I asked forcefully. “So even if one has, theoretically, solved all the riddles, you still couldn’t find the treasure?”
“It’s unlikely. The riddles all point to places in town—which I’m sure you’ve figured out already. But the location of the actual treasure can only be seen on a specific map, created by the ones who hid the founder’s treasure in the first place,” Noel said. “And that map, I have on good authority, is kept under lock and key by our own Mr. Green.”
“Why him?” Wyn asked, putting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward.
Noel shrugged. “When we had our falling-out and Alan arranged to have The Hunt all but wiped from existence, he and Mr. Green worked together to keep the artifacts separate—so that no one would be able to find the treasure without their cooperation. Selfish old men,” Noel spat, something ugly flashing across her face.
“So Charlie took the map and Alan took possession of the spyglass. If there was another piece in Sofia’s care, they didn’t deign to tell me. But I do know you need all the pieces in order to solve it.” She took a drink of her tea and sighed.
“That’s quite a jump from working together to them locking you out of The Hunt,” I said slowly, not wanting to push Noel too much. “What happened between you guys?”
“The whole search came to an end not long after a man named Jet Cassidy died. He was looking for one of the clues in the church, and he fell three stories to his death. Jet’s death brought us together, but in a way it also tore us apart.” She paused. “It is odd how many people fall in this town …”
“Yeah,” I agreed, a tingle going up my spine. “I wonder if that string of coincidences is in Judah’s book. He can add his own trip down the stairs,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Noel made a strange expression. “What?”
“Judah busted up his face on Friday night. That’s why he wasn’t around when Mr. Wyatt fell. He was doing first aid in the bathroom.”
Noel raised an eyebrow. “Judah was there when the police arrived to take out the body. He wasn’t hurt at all. He must have fallen somewhere else.”
A thrum of fear went up the back of my spine. I turned to Wyn. “Judah said he tripped after he dropped us off at the library. Did you run into him at all after that? When you were taking up the cake?”
Wyn nodded her head slowly. “I did see him on my way upstairs, but he was coming out of a hallway on the second floor, not from Mr. Wyatt’s office. We both reached the landing around the same time, but he ran off in a different direction. He looked fine …” She trailed off.
Max stood up. “That rat bastard,” he seethed.
Noel looked up at him, scandalized at his outburst. Max visibly remembered that there was no way in hell he could explain his reaction to Noel.
Because if Judah didn’t hurt his face the way he said he did, he must have hurt it another time.
Like when Max pushed him against the cabinet in Mr. Wyatt’s office when we all broke in on Saturday night.
When he was ransacking the dead man’s library looking for the spyglass.
I steered a seething Max toward the door of Noel’s house as Wyn trailed behind me. “We just remembered we’re late for another interview—Talon business,” I called to our host over my shoulder. “Thanks for the tea.”
As the door closed behind us, Max set off at a furious pace down Noel’s long walkway.
“Judah works at the convenience store a half mile away,” Max said with an intensity I had never heard from him before.
I jogged behind him. “Don’t you think we should maybe make a plan?” I panted. Max’s legs were much longer than they were last year, and I had never been more aware of it.
“I’m mostly planning to fight him until the cops pull me off him,” Max said resolutely. “What’s your plan?”
“Dude, slow down!” Wyn begged. He did not slow down, and instead, he continued to stride purposefully, turning sharply left at the end of Noel’s street.
“But Judah is obviously in on The Hunt. What if he has some information we can get from him?” I said.
“We can get the information after I get in one solid punch,” Max said. He continued to walk in silence the rest of the way. Wyn and I kept exchanging nervous glances and did our best to keep up.
A few minutes later, Max yanked open the door of the convenience store where Judah worked.
The bells at the top jangled wildly behind Max as he approached the front counter. A woman who looked like she wished she could be anywhere else was sitting on a stool, chewing gum and looking bored. She perked up in alarm as we got closer.
“Welcome to Sparky-Mart, can I help you?” she squeaked.
“Where’s Judah?” Max demanded.
“He’s not working today. Maybe I can get him a message from you later?” the woman tried, but Max shook his head.
“Do you know where we can find him?” I asked gently, aware that Max was starting to freak this woman out. “We need to speak to him as soon as possible. Lives are at stake.”
The cashier looked really conflicted.
“I … don’t know his home address, but here’s a white pages book. You can look it up yourself. His mom’s name is Gina.”
Max snatched the book and flipped through it quickly. Wyn made awkward eye contact with the cashier, then put a candy bar on the counter.
“Thank you for this, and sorry,” she said, pulling her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans.
“Judah seems like a nice guy,” the cashier said to me and Wyn, ringing up the purchase. “But most men do, I guess. I hope everything turns out okay.”
Wyn dropped her change in the tip jar and grimaced.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Got it.” Max took a picture of the page with his phone and headed briskly toward the door.
“Have a good day!” the cashier called behind us.
* * *
Judah’s house was small and a bit run-down. The lawn was filled with scraggly weeds and the paint was peeling off the siding. Max marched up to the door and knocked hard.
“Who is it?” I could hear a woman shout. Then I heard Judah answer her: “It’s probably the mailman; I ordered something. One second!”
My heart began racing as the door unlocked and swung open. I didn’t get more than a glimpse of Judah before it swung closed again, but it was enough for Wyn and Max to see Judah’s bruised face—just like I had at the funeral that morning.
I was hit with a pang of guilt. I should have put the pieces together as soon as I saw him. Instead I let him smooth-talk me into thinking the injury was just a coincidence. But the bruise was glaring proof that we had indeed encountered him two nights ago, and from the panic in his eyes, he knew he’d been caught.
Before the door could shut all the way, Max shoved his foot into the house and slammed his palm against the jamb. I helped, pushing the door hard with my shoulder, and we tumbled into his house.
“I’m sorry!” he said at once, backing away into the hallway. “It’s not my fault!”
“What do you mean, it’s not your fault?!” I shouted, pushing him so hard that he banged against the wall.
Judah cringed back. “I mean, yeah, I admit it. It’s my fault Wyn got hurt, but—”
“But what?!” Max roared. “She’s smaller than you. You could have killed her!”
“I’m right here,” Wyn said, rolling her eyes and closing the door softly behind us.
“I—I know. It’s no excuse, but I’m being blackmailed. I didn’t even want to be there!” Judah shouted back.
“You—what?” Max yelled, this time in confusion.
Judah shook his head; his face was starting to get red with panic.
“Judah? Are you okay?” a voice that had to belong to his mom called from upstairs. Judah put up his finger, gesturing for us to be quiet.
“Yeah, Mom, just some noise from outside,” he yelled.
He turned back to us. “She’s using a breathing machine. None of this is her fault, so please. Just … come to my room and you can do whatever you want there.”
Max was angry, but he wasn’t a bad person. I could see him warring internally with giving Judah his just deserts right in the hallway versus having to wait a few minutes.
“Fine,” he said.
We followed Judah to his bedroom in the finished basement. He closed the door and made sure we could see that it wasn’t locked before he began talking.
“I am so sorry I pushed you into that hutch, Wyn, but I’m in a really bad place, and I just got desperate.”
Wyn crossed her arms over her chest and glared.
“Who is blackmailing you—and why?” I interrupted.
“I don’t know,” Judah admitted. “A year ago, around when I was starting to apply to colleges, I got a notification that one of our overdue bills had been paid in full. Things haven’t been the best since my dad died, and my mom has been ill as long as I can remember. At the time, I was just so grateful and relieved that I didn’t question it. Then a few of our other debts were paid, and eventually all our bills were being handled. I asked my mom if she knew anyone who would do this for us, and she said she thought it could be a mistake or charity of some kind and that if I pressed the companies, they might get suspicious and reverse the charges, and then we’d be in more debt than ever.”
Judah looked embarrassed to be admitting all this, but he was clearly too scared of Max’s balled fists to stop talking.
“Then, one day, I got a letter asking me to do something. It wasn’t signed, so I thought it was a prank and ignored it. Within a month our electricity bill hadn’t been paid, and I quickly understood that this situation wasn’t a ‘gift’; it was transactional. I’ve been doing stuff for whoever it is ever since.”
“Don’t you have a job?” Max asked coldly.
“I also go to school full-time,” Judah reminded him. “All my money goes to groceries and medication. This would have been the first year that I was able to get a full-time job instead.”
“But you told me you were going to college soon …” I said dubiously.
“Yes. That’s it exactly. I was told to find some spyglass in exchange for my blackmailer paying for college. A full ride,” he said firmly. “I got into Stanford, Tig. No one in my entire family has ever gotten anything more than a high school education. Don’t look down on me for this. Look around. What would you do?”
“But you didn’t find it,” I said, not looking away from his guilty, bruised face.
Judah sighed. “You know that I didn’t.”
“Do you know what it was even going to be used for?” I tried. “Why your blackmailer wanted it so badly?”
Judah shook his head. “Someone starts blackmailing you and you tend not to ask questions,” he said, rubbing his fingers through his hair in distress.
I looked at Wyn and Max. Wyn raised her eyebrows, and Max—though still furious—shrugged one shoulder roughly. Judah definitely wasn’t going on our Christmas card lists, but it seemed like we were all buying his story.
And if Judah didn’t know about The Hunt or have anything to do with it, that meant we were back to square one. Again.
Max huffed in disgust and crossed his arms, but the wind had been let out of our sails. I finally stopped and took the time to look around. The wallpaper in the room was so old it was stained yellow. The corners of his bedroom had gray dots that looked like mold and water damage. He had a desk, but one of the legs was being propped up by books, and the back of his desk chair had split long ago. His bookshelf was packed, but most of the books were library books that had DISCARD across the spine in big red letters. Even the sheets on his bed, though clean, were threadbare. The only thing that looked new were his clothes, which made sense.
“You guys have gotta believe me. I didn’t push Wyn into a hutch because I’m a brute. I pushed Wyn into a hutch because my future depends on it,” Judah said firmly. “If you knew what I know, you would have done it, too. This is an evil town, and I want to get my family out of here. Permanently. For people like me and my mom, a chance like this only comes once in a few lifetimes.”
“I can’t leave here without punching you, or at least doing something,” Max said, though I could see that Judah’s circumstances were wearing him down. “Unless—do you want to do it, Wyn?”
“By all means,” Wyn said, gesturing at Max to do the honors.
“Go ahead. It’s the least I deserve,” Judah said solemnly.
