I very much wanted to call Boyd and have a venting session, but Cici had me a little worried as I watched her sit on the sofa, staring into space with a face that looked more stone like as the minutes went by. Me kvetching out loud to Boyd where she could hear might be like throwing gasoline on a smoldering fire. Instead, I sent him a quick text, just to check in, promising him a longer phone call tomorrow, when Cici was at her job interview.

  Action is better than sitting and stewing, I have always thought. Maybe a walk around the neighborhood would dissipate some of the negative energy, for the both of us.

  “Cici, let’s leash up Rett and get some fresh air before we hunker in for the night,” I suggested, aiming my voice at upbeat, but beneath the level of annoyingly perky. “Rett’s got to have a crack at being outside, no matter what.”

  Rett lurched to his feet at the sound of his name, outside, and leash. He launched himself into an orgy of ridiculous behavior, whirling in tight circles at Cici’s feet and emitting high pitched yips as if he were a tiny puppy, all the while rolling his bright blue eyes around at us like marbles. The dog and his silliness sparked a laughing response from Cici, and just like that, the volcano vanished.

  “All right, all right, you goofy goose,” Cici said. “Let’s get bundled up and see what’s what in the neighborhood.”

  Winter darkness had brought out the stars over Missoula when we hit the streets for our evening walk, but the temperature was still above freezing. We’d walked several blocks, stopping frequently to let Rett investigate bushes and lamp posts, when Cici spoke up.

  “Say, Kelly. Brianna was living in a house near here, right? What say we see if anyone’s home? If so, we can get a heads up on how much stuff she still has there, make arrangements to come back and haul whatever away.”

  I couldn’t see any downside to trying. As Cici said, the house was in the same neighborhood as our Airbnb, it would be easy to walk by the place. If no one was home, no big loss. We could always telephone later, if we struck out.

  “Sounds good to me, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I replied, pulling out my phone and using Google Maps for directions to the house in question. “Looks like we just need to go two blocks over, and half a block to the east.”

  We were in luck, both of Brianna’s ex-roommates, Jori Haupsted and Lila Sanderson, were spending Tuesday night at home and were in when we knocked on the door. The girls lived in a red, single story, older model home with wood siding, on a tree lined street near the golf course. The neighborhood was a mix of owner-occupied houses and ones that were rented out to groups of college students, but there was no evidence of partying or other college shenanigans at the moment. Most houses had some lights visible behind curtains, but no other people were out on the street.

  It was full dark when we arrived at the house, and snow had begun to fall steadily, the flakes looking like white moths circling the streetlights. It was a black and white and gray colorless Montana night, soon to be whiter with the oncoming storm. I was very thankful we had driven up to Missoula when we had. I mean, really, why drive on snowy roads if you don’t have to? Hopefully tree limbs that were still covered in fall leaves wouldn’t get weighed down to the point of breaking. Widespread power outages would result, if the branches pulled down power lines.

  We rang the doorbell, and after a short wait, the porchlight clicked on.

  A tinny voice from overhead alerted us to the existence of a doorbell camera that allowed those inside to give strangers on the porch a once over without having to open the door. With a murdered roommate, this seemed like an excellent idea. We pulled off our stocking caps and helpfully smiled at the camera, wanting to put the house occupants at ease.

  “Hello? Can I help you?” said the doubtful, tinny voice. Why, I lamented to myself, why are girls taught to be so accommodating and polite? We were utter strangers; her roommate had been recently killed. Surely it was ‘alright’ to demand we identify ourselves immediately or the police would be called, at the very least. If she was my daughter, I would want her to be pointing a shotgun at us, while she ascertained our bonafides.

  Once again, Rett’s presence was the wedge that literally opened the door for us. As the shortest person, I had been standing in front of Cici and Rett, but Rett now moved to my side at the sound of the intercom, where he could be seen on the camera feed. Good thing for me the door had been locked. The sound of the deadbolt clacking open gave me just enough time to step back and avoid being smacked in the face as the door was flung open so hard it rebounded.

  “Ohmygodyou’vegotRett!” a young female voice cried, blurring the words together into a single falsetto shriek. A long haired, blonde girl flew out the door, landing on her knees by the dog and swooping his head up into a double armed hug as she squealed, “RettieRettieRettie! Ohmygod!” The young woman was wearing a blue crop top underneath an open, long sleeve yellow shirt, and, of all things, a bright red pair of shorts. Her apparel was a direct challenge to the lack of color in the outdoors. I felt like summer had just punched me in the eye.

  Surprisingly, Rett sat without moving, as still as if he were a gigantic stuffed toy. Given his exuberance during his reunions with Darrell Forsun and Adrian, I expected more of the same now, especially with the giddiness on display from his current admirer. Perhaps he was loath to encourage her to greater displays of girlish frenzy. Some time ago, Boyd and I had seen musical that featured sorority girls whose role was to screech, “Ohmygod! Ohmygod! OHMYGOD!” in shrill, microphone assisted voices and this girl would have fit right in with them, no microphone needed. I was deeply thankful that Rett wasn’t sending her into the stratosphere with an overly enthusiastic greeting.

  “Lila, Jesus, shut the front door will you?” a deeper toned voice shouted from within the house. “Some of us care how high the heating bill is, you know?”

  The blonde girl scrambled to her feet on the front porch, releasing Rett from her anaconda squeeze. “Ohmygod, sorrrry!” she called back inside. “You must be Brianna’s friends? The police said that someone would come and collect her things? Is that what you’re here for?”

  “Lila, for chrissakes! Bring them inside and shut the damn door!”

  “Oh, yeah, for sure, come inside.” Lila swooped a hand toward the inside of the house and added primly, “We can’t afford to heat the outside, now can we?” She added a little giggle on the end of that declaration. Cici was staring at her in open disbelief. Apparently little Miss Lila didn’t line up with her expectations for a roommate of Brianna’s.

  “Where are her pompoms, Kelly? Don’t she seem like she’d have a pair welded to her butt or something?” Cici suggested in my ear as we followed Lila inside, and at last, got the front door closed. I made a shushing gesture with my hand. Probably Lila was impervious to mild insults, but still, honey catches more flies than vinegar.

  “Jori, come and meet Brianna’s friends, they’ve come to collect her things,” sang out Lila.

  A tall girl, in her early twenties, came into the living room where we stood. She had the kind of round face that people describe as moon-faced, and little brown button eyes that looked at us watchfully. Her light brown, crinkly hair was just past her shoulders in length and worn loose. She pulled it up into a high pony and secured it with a band from around her wrist as she looked at us.

  “Hi, I’m Kelly Boyd,” I supplied into the void left when Lila stopped talking, probably because she really didn’t have the slightest idea who we were. “This is Cici Vargas, Brianna’s friend. You must be Lila Sanderson?” I gestured at the blonde girl. “And you’re Jori Haupsted?” I asked the tall girl.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry I yelled about the door, Lila sometimes just wanders off and leaves it open for bugs to come in and the heat to go out.”

  We stood in awkward silence in a small living room that was filled with normal college furniture: nothing matched, everything looked pre-owned and worse for wear. The coffee table only had three legs, a stack of books did support duty at its far corner. Everyone stared at everyone else and waited for someone to take charge, while Rett whined and pulled at his leash, wanting to search the house for Brianna, I supposed.

  “Maybe we could see Brianna’s room?” I suggested. “I don’t think we could take much away with us tonight, but we can get an idea of what’s there, maybe make a start on packing up, if you have garbage bags we can use?”

  “Yeah, sure, that would be good.” Jori moved to lead us down a hall. “Lila and I put all of Brianna’s stuff from around the house in there, so there’s not anything left in the bathroom or anywhere. Lila, get the box of garbage bags from under the sink, will you?

  “This is my room, Lila’s is across the hall, that door’s the bathroom, and this is where Brianna slept.” Jori opened the final door to what must have been intended to be a storage space. There were no windows and no closet in the room, the space was barely long enough to house the twin mattress that lay along one wall. Across the room, clothes hung in the open, supported by a tension rod that was parallel to the mattress. Milk crates held some shoes, charging cords, books and general bathroom stuff: curling iron, makeup bag, hairbrush, and shampoo bottles. Some carved stone animals sat on a small shelf. These were the only nod toward decoration in the room.

  Evidence of Rett’s occupancy was given by the wads of dog hair that lurked along the walls, especially in the corners. Clearly he had shared the bed with Brianna, based on the solidly fur-felted comforter. I was mildly grossed out by the amount of dog hair in the room. This is why Sadie and Leo sleep in the mudroom, I thought to myself. Ewww.

  “It’s not a big space,” Jori said defensively. “We gave her a good deal on the rent, though. Mostly we wanted a third person to split the utilities with, is why we let it out at all.” Jori looked at her feet and shuffled them slightly before continuing. “The landlords don’t actually know that Brianna was living here, as far as I know. I don’t know how the police knew to come here.”

  I kept my mouth closed, and hoped Cici would as well.

  “What did the police take with them?” Cici asked. “I don’t see her phone or her iPad here, just the charging cords.” She looked at me. “Brianna had a used iPad along with her phone, she didn’t use a bigger computer. I think her phone was most likely with her, but the tablet? She didn’t carry that around with her so much.”

  Jori squinched her eyes almost shut and her mouth formed a hard scowl as she replied, “You think the police told us anything? It was a pair of thick-necked storm troopers who came here; they about banged the door down, knocking on it. They told us that Brianna was dead, and that they were here as part of a murder investigation. Made us sit down in the kitchen while they went through her room, and then took ‘statements’ from us about Brianna They asked a bunch of questions like who her friends were, did she do illegal activities, blah, blah, blah.”

  Lila interrupted from the hallway, where she stood with the box of garbage bags. “We didn’t know anything about her, really. I mean, she and Rett slept here, and it was really nice she could drive us to the grocery store, because Jori and I don’t have cars, but she never had anyone come to the house. Most days we never even saw her!”

  Lila continued indignantly. “Those policemen kept asking us about who she knew that was in Free the Animals or something, and whether we were part of it. I finally called my dad and told him we were being badgered by police. My dad’s a criminal lawyer in Boise; he had me give those guys my phone and told them we weren’t going to say one more word to them unless a lawyer was present.

  “Then they went away. They did carry some stuff out; I bet her iPad is with them,” Lila finished.

  “Did the police say anything about her car? It’s not parked here, is it?” I looked at both Jori and Lily for confirmation.

  “No, no one mentioned her car. I haven’t seen it since she’s been gone,” Jori replied. “Have you, Lila?” Lila shook her head vehemently, whipping her long blonde hair into contrails around her head.

  “It’s been gone since Brianna didn’t come here anymore,” Lila said, making round imploring eyes at Cici and me. “I feel so bad that we didn’t realize that she was missing and call the police ourselves when she must have been laying out there, dead. But she never told us in advance if she was going to be gone or not, sometimes she was gone for over a week, even. So we didn’t know!” Lila’s eyes filled with tears, and she began to cry. She thrust the box of garbage bags at us and whirled into the bathroom, banging the door shut behind her.

  “Drama queen,” muttered Jori. “You’d think she and Brianna were BFF’s the way she’s carrying on. Phhh, they probably didn’t say more than ten words to each other since Brianna moved in.”

  Huh. I had noticed that despite Lila’s effusive greeting of Rett, which he had politely tolerated but otherwise ignored, Lila hadn’t seemed to notice that his leg count had been reduced since she last saw him. Now Jori, too, was saying that Lila didn’t interact with Brianna. So how had Brianna wound up living in here in the first place?

  “Jori, how did Brianna come to rent the room here? Not through Lila, huh?”

  “I met her at a wildlife film festival that the Department of Forestry was hosting last May. I’m a Wildlife Biology major, and I was taking tickets and stuff to help with the festival; she and I got to talking at the reception party, afterwards. You know, just a low-level get-together to eat cookies, drink punch, schmooze with the filmmakers sort of thing. She was really interested in the films, how they got made, what was the background of the people doing it. She said she wanted to have a career that was centered around wild animals, and I filled her in on the program that’s at UM. It’s the best place to get a Wildlife Biology degree, and not just in Montana, either.

  “Anyway, she also said how she was looking for a place to live, since she had decided to stay in Missoula. I liked her, so I told her about the Tiny Room, that’s what Lila and I call it, and said she and Rett could live there. Rett was with her at the festival, he’s a cool dog, huh?”

  “Didn’t you need to check with Lila first?”

  “No, my name’s on the lease here. Both Lila and Brianna are subletting from me. I don’t think the landlords really know about them, but as long as we’re not bothering anyone . . .” Jori’s voice trailed away as she gave me a mischievous wink.

  The three of us began to work at packing up Brianna’s few things. Clothes went into garbage bags after the pockets were checked. All her clothes would go to Goodwill; Jori volunteered to be in charge of dropping them off. Any paperwork that had been left behind by the detectives was bundled into a canvas tote bag that we found under some shoes; we would read through the papers at a later date, before discarding anything as junk.

  Rett was enjoying himself cavorting on the bed, burrowing underneath the comforter and peeking back out at us. I had a cat once who liked to do that, and gave him some playful swats on his hidden butt. Just like my old cat, he whirled around under the covers and tried to bite me through the comforter.

  “Oh, look out for the Bed Monster!” I laughed, swatting him some more, while Jori looked on with amusement.

  “Come on, Kelly, quit farting around with the dog and lend a hand.” Cici gave me mock grief, her grin belying her gruff tone of voice. “Why don’t you find something to wrap up those little carved animals, I’d like to keep them.”

  Jori spoke up, “I’ll take these bags of clothes out to the garage, and grab a handful of newspapers from the recycling stack while I’m out there. Those’ll be good to use. I’ll see if there’s a small box, too.”

  Cici and I listened to the sound of Jori’s footsteps receding down the hall as we sat back in silent, mutual agreement that a break was called for. Cici looked at the now empty milk crates and shook her head.

  “Not much more than a pot to piss in, is it?” Cici said slowly. “And I’m not much better; all my shit fits in my Mobile Hotel. You know what they say, Kelly, about freedom equals having nothing? It doesn’t seem really wild and free anymore, just . . . inconsequential. Damn.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck hard for a moment, then turned and poked the Bed Monster, inspiring fresh body surges and fake snaps from under the blanket.

  “This job interview tomorrow could be the start of a fresh page for Rett and me. Got to tell you, Kelly, I’m more nervous about it than I ever was driving one of my transport trucks.” Cici whacked her prosthetic leg. “And look how that turned out. Got my fingers crossed for a better outcome from this job!”

  Betty Mills had arranged for Cici to interview on Wednesday, October 12th, at an animal rescue group in Missoula, called Zootown Zoo. Rescue groups around Montana all get to know one another; Betty and Jana Toski had started their organizations about the same time and had mutual respect for each other. Betty Mills and some of the Montana rescues don’t see eye to eye; they probably dislike her as much as she disdains them, but she and Jana rub along okay. Betty had even told us to ask Jana if she still liked mules from Moscow as much as she used to; the small, wicked grin on Betty’s face at the time told me there was a story behind this reference, and that she didn’t mean four legged creatures, either. Apparently Betty and Jana were sometimes drinking buddies as well as rescue warriors.

  “You’ll do great, Cici,” I said, knowledgeably. “Remember, it’s not just you interviewing, it’s you and Rett as a package deal. You both know your way around RogerDogs, this place just has other types of animals deal with. We’ve pre-tested Rett out on cats and horses and you know he did great. As for you,” I pointed a finger her direction. “Shoveling shit is shoveling shit, it doesn’t matter so much what kind of butt it came out from.” I arranged my face into a wide-eyed picture of solemnness before continuing. “Ms. Vargas, I have complete faith in your ability to rise to Head Shitwoman by Christmas.”

 

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