Impotent Death: A Paranormal Mystery

Chapter Eight

Why did it take me so long to realize that I had access to answers I needed since the first day of school? Anthony Green. Hannah Green. They had to be related. I mean, how many people have the last name "Green" in Mosier? And it would explain why Hannah always got so upset about the murder when I brought it up around her.
     "Hannah—do you mind if I ask you something really quick?" I whispered hesitantly to her in English the next morning.
"Is it about the 'you-know-what'?" Hannah responded sourly, glaring at me with her cold grey eyes.
"I was just wondering if you're related to Anthony Green," I said. "Ya know, since you both have the name 'Green' I kind of assumed—"
"If you're looking for more interviews for your little investigation, try someone else," Hannah said cooly. She turned away from me and pulled out her phone to browse social media.
Hannah's comment caught me off guard: my "little investigation"? How many people at school knew what I was up to?
"Hannah, please. I don't mean to upset you, I just need to... um..." Surprisingly, she looked up from her phone. I took a deep breathe. "I need to show you something."
I rummaged through my backpack until I found Anthony Green's letter to Kevin Raymond. I handed it to Hannah and watched her intently as her eyes scanned the writing, her expression slowly turning more and more sober.
"Where did you find this?" she asked quietly.
"In the mansion I'm living in. This letter—doesn't it make you wonder if Anthony Green wasn't who everyone thought he was? What if Kevin Lee Raymond was blamed for something he—"
"How dare you accuse my grandfather of murder! He didn't kill anybody! Just because my grandma cheated on him doesn't make him the number one suspect for murder! The case was already solved, stop wasting time trying to reverse what happened 80 years ago!" Hannah's face was bright red from yelling, and the room was silent. The bell for first period hadn't even rung yet, but Hannah swept up her backpack and stomped past me out of the classroom.
I was too stunned to chase after her, so I stayed seated in my desk, trying to make sense of what had just occurred.
So, my suspicion was right: Hannah was related to Anthony Green. Furthermore, Anthony Green's wife did cheat on him. And the way Hannah had reacted... I hadn't even finished telling her my theory before she exploded and blamed me for accusing her grandpa of murder.
This was all too crazy. I had direct access to someone who was personally affected by the murder of Robyn Weller. Robyn Weller's granddaughter. Maybe not biological granddaughter, but still. At least now I knew who she got her temper from.
If I was going to get to the bottom of the conflict between Robyn and her husband, I needed to find a way to talk to Hannah's family. But based on the way Hannah reacted to my questions, I wasn't sure how smoothly things would go with talking to her father.
I debated what to do in my head, until I realized that a dozen people were staring at me. Including Liam.
"What's up, you guys?" I said awkwardly, as if I didn't know what had just happened.
Liam gave me a look. "Um... are you gonna go apologize to Hannah? You made her pretty upset just barely."
I grimaced. "Oh. You guys all saw that?"
Everyone nodded.
"Well... I better go then."
"I can excuse you for a few minutes if you need, dear," Mrs. Elms said sweetly from her desk.
I stood up and walked out the door, unable to remember a time in my life more embarrassing than right now.
"It's her fault for overreacting, nothing I did," I muttered angrily to myself. I turned the corner and headed for the bathroom; the one place any girl goes to pout about something. "Hannah? Hannah, are you in here? Please come out, we need to talk."
There was no response.
I sighed and leaned against the wall. "Look. I understand you hate people accusing your grandpa of—things—and believe me, I would hate that too. All I want is to learn more about what happened that day 79 years ago. I want to know what really happened to Robyn... who I guess was your grandmother, right?"
To my utter astonishment, Hannah emerged from the middle stall clutching her bag and mumbled, "Yes. She was. You don't understand how hard it is to have people wondering if my grandpa killed her. He wouldn't. He couldn't."
"Is your dad, um... still alive?" I asked carefully, taking a step closer to her. If Anthony Green was her grandfather, her father must be pretty old.
She scowled. "Of course my dad's alive! And why do you care?"
"I just wanted to ask him if he knew anything about the murder," I said. "I'm writing my essay about it, and I thought it'd be cool to get some quotes from the family of the people involved."
Hannah frowned. "So... you're not trying to 'expose' my grandpa or anything? You just want quotes?"
"Um... would it be possible to set up a time for me to meet with your dad?" I said, avoiding her question. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice.
"Actually... yes. Yes, you can meet with him after school today."