“No, I’m meeting a friend.”
“Friend?” he questioned, probably because I didn’t really have friends. I hoped he didn’t think I was lying.
“We could make it another time, if you like,” I suggested.
“Okay, I’ll message you.”
“So, how’s Kerry?” I asked.
He held his fist to his mouth and coughed. “Ah we broke up.”
“I’m sorry. You seem so suited.”
“Her rich daddy thought I wasn’t a good influence, yet it was her who was the naughty one.”
I laughed at the word ‘naughty,’ obviously, he still had feelings for her. I wasn’t keen on being a rebound date, if that was his intention, however, I’d still love to go out with him. Hayden Cornwall was more my tribe than Mr. Ed, who suited cheerleaders and the daughters of the privileged. I had an intuitive feeling this thing with Mr. Ed was fleeting, enjoying it while it lasted was my objective. Not that I could really ‘enjoy’ anything since that night I killed Sweeney. But I had to act normal, whatever normal was for me.
“I’ll talk to Tris, if you want,” I suggested. We were walking back past the basketball court and the athletic frame of Mr. Ed shooting ball, caught my eye. He paused when he saw me walking closely with Hayden and I immediately dropped my head down, pretending not to see him.
“Nah, it’s alright,” Hayden waved his hand dismissively. “I got to get to class. But I’ll definitely take you out for a meal, if you’re up for it.”
I smiled, because I couldn’t help myself. “Yes, I’ll like that.” He darted off towards the math college, while I headed back to the library on University Square.
Once alone and in the library at my favorite table, I reached my hand into my sweater pocket and took out the piece of paper with my father’s crime on it. Taking a deep breath, I opened it.
Three counts of murder.
“Three counts of murder?” Weirdly, I felt as if it was about someone else, not my father, my own flesh and blood. Besides, I wasn’t even sure what ‘three counts of murder’ meant. Did he murder three people on separate occasions or all at once? Was he even guilty? Maybe he was set up? Or maybe it was self-defense like what happened to me.
The only way to find out more was to Google him, so I did. I sat there for an hour taking notes. It was one event. He and two others broke into a renowned thief’s farmhouse outside of Detroit city. The thief’s name was Leith Heinrich. Moody had two accomplices, brothers, Johnny and Scout Landers, and Moody was believed to be the ringleader. The murders took place when I was two years old, which explained why he vanished from our lives at that time. He wasn’t caught and arrested for this crime until three years later. During those three years, he was on the run and listed as ‘Michigan’s most wanted.’
The triple homicide was described as a ‘heist gone wrong’ by police and media and I circled that term with my pen. The three men that were killed, Heinrich and his two accomplices, disturbed my father and the Landers brothers while they were ransacking Mr. Heinrich’s house.
Moody and the Landers brothers fled after committing the triple homicide, taking several million dollars worth of already stolen possessions, including jewelry, artifacts and art, including a Klimt. I circled ‘several million dollars’ and ‘Klimt,’ and wondered which Klimt it was. I scrolled further to see if there was more information on the Klimt, but there wasn’t.
To access the items, Moody and the Landers brothers, used explosives to blow up safes and a vault in the cellar of Heinrich’s house. The house alarm was disabled and the wiring cut, and since they were stolen goods, Mr. Heinrich refused to call police when he discovered thieves in his home.
“Wow, Hollywood should totally make a movie out of this.”
There were more articles, but my head was too full to read them. Besides, it was getting late and I wanted to confront someone about all of this.
“Three counts of murder,” I shouted down the line. A kid was whining in the background and I realized it was the worst possible time to ring my mom.
“I’m trying to get dinner on the table,” she told me.
“Did you not hear me?”
“Of course I did. Patty told me he posted a letter to her address, but I didn’t think she’d betray my wishes by passing that letter on to you.”
“She thought I was old enough to handle the news.”
“Sounds like you’re handling it well to me,” she bit sarcastically.
“I’m fine. This is me handling it. The Band-Aid was stripped from the wound quickly and now I need answers.”
“Can we talk about this later on tonight?”
“I’m busy tonight.”