The Perfectionists

Chapter 18

WE DO HAVE SOME QUESTIONS for all of you. The words reverberated through Jane's mind, but before she had the chance to wonder what he was talking about—what type of questions he might ask—Peters went on.

"We looked through Ben's phone shortly after his death. We found some pretty steamy pictures of you there, Miss Godmother," he said, looking straight at Jane.

Her stomach dropped. She lowered her head, too humiliated to make eye contact with the others. By their gasps, it was clear they didn't know what he was talking about. "Ben does that to everyone," she mumbled.

Peters didn't look impressed. "We also tracked down the IP address of the individual who sent out the photos of Mr. Florian . . . defaced . . . at that party, to an internet café. Several people say a blond girl with your height and build was seen at the time in question."

Jane felt her cheeks turn red. "It wasn't me."
Then the detective turned to Audrey. "We also found a death threat from you." Audrey blinked. "What are you talking about?"

He opened the manila file on the table in front of him and took out a thick folder. When he opened it, the first page showed a printout of text messages.

"'If you keep telling lies about me, I'll kill you,'" he read out loud.

Audrey's lips turned downward. "He was spreading rumors about me. I just wanted him to stop."

"Twenty different kids told me they saw you heading upstairs with him the night of the party, Miss Rose." He gave a mock-confused smile. "I guess you were a little mixed-up the last time we talked, huh?"

Then the detective looked at Uma. "It's no secret why you might want him dead, Miss Arsulu. But killing a bully isn't the way to deal with a problem."

Uma turned pale. "You don't know anything about me," she spat.

"And I saved the best for last." The detective then held up a photo. It was a close-up showing the word Monster on his face. Evie gasped. "We're still waiting for a final report from forensics, but you see that funny-looking M, with a loop-de-loop up the middle? Familiar, huh?"

Then the detective stood. "Look. I don't know what all this means, but I do know you ladies are lying. I don't know why, but I'll give you a break: Tell me the truth now, and we can work something out. It's better to get everything out in the open before things get really crazy."

The room was dead silent. From down the hall, they heard a phone ring. Jane's hands twitched in her lap. She considered confessing about helping to put Oxy in that drink. It was a simple prank, after all—nothing more than that. They weren't killers.

Evie spoke up. "We only came here because you promised we wouldn't get in any trouble if we had information about the murder. We know it was Mr. Maraj. He had the weapon—the drugs—and the motive. All you have to do is prove it."

Detective Peters smiled again. This time it wasn't the affable, easygoing grin but a cold, hard smile. "I assure you we'll look into Mr. Maraj sexually assaulting students, ladies, and we'll talk to him about that. But I want to talk to you about Ben. Ben didn't die from the OxyContin. Ben was murdered with cyanide poisoning."

"Cyanide poisoning?" Jane blurted, though she hadn't meant to. Audrey kicked her ever-so-softly under the table.

"That's right." Peters closed his manila folder again, his gaze moving slowly and intently over each of them. "Now if you come up with any more theories, be sure to come see me right away. Or maybe I'll be paying you a visit before you have the chance."

He looked at them like he knew everything. For a few seconds, nobody moved. Jane's brain cycled around the same word again and again and again. Cyanide. Cyanide.