Hades Ain't Got Nothing on Us

Ch. 4 - Gullibility Is Evergreen

Secure in the fact that Rob was far across campus in the epidemiology classroom, Zooey strolled nonchalantly to the parking lot. With her hands tucked in her coat pockets, she walked to his BMW. She thanked whatever power was responsible for the weather, because it was a hot enough day that the passenger side window was cracked. Inversely, she looked quite suspect in a bulky trench, and was beginning to sweat foundation-colored bullets.

From the left pocket, she produced a bra, and from the right, the student ID she'd stolen from Sephy the day before.

She tossed the ID onto the floormat. Once she aimed the bra to drop precisely between the car door and seat, she uncurled her finger on the strap, and left the black lace smoking gun to await discovery.

Zooey proceeded to the ladies' room. She locked herself in the last stall and put the lid down over the toilet. Over a dozen sheet protectors, she put on a pair of latex gloves and held her makeup compact like a palette. She mixed a tube of purple paint into the powdered rouge, carefully tempering the paste with hand cream and water. When the mixture reached the perfect viscosity, she smeared a sample across her ankle.

Picasso had nothing on her. She closed her makeshift workshop.

In the music building, jazz band was rehearsing for their quarterly concert. To the iconic soundtrack of Louis Armstrong, Zooey snuck into the storage closet. She identified Rob's guitar and exposed the strap. Remembering how Rob wore the instrument every lunch, she knew exactly where to apply the paste.

Her powder brush was ruined forever, but it was worth it. She closed the compact, buried the evidence into the bottom of the nearest trash can, and closed the door behind her.

"Come to watch the band rehearse, Miss Maisler?"

Zooey wheeled to see the music teacher, Mr. Weitz, standing behind her.

"Yes, I love Beethoven!"

Zooey rushed out the door before any additional witnesses could place her at the scene of the crime.

Glorying in a job well done, she rested on the steps. At the sound of the lunch bell, Rob appeared as he always did, in the window seated on an amp with headphones on. He was picking his stratocaster despondently and making fanatical notes in a pocket notebook. Zooey smiled at the way the strap gently caressed the side of his neck, and wider when Sephy unwittingly ran past her to interrupt Rob's songwriting session.

The second Sephy's lips closed her explanation, Rob was on his feet and rooting around for his keys.

"Did you find it?"

Rob kept his distance, standing on the other side of the open car door.

Sephy felt something soft in the darkness under the seat. She could have missed it easily the day before. The straps and cup could have only been one thing, and from what she could tell, it was too large to be Allison's and too lacey to be Rob's mother's, not that there would be any reason for either of their undergarments to be in Rob's car.

Then she spotted her ID card, lying in plain sight on the floor mat.

"Got it."

"That's a relief," he said distantly.

Rob's phone rang. A restricted number.

"Who could this be?"

Who indeed, thought Sephy.

He ignored the call.

Then, a text came from another unknown sender. It flashed on his screen.