Greenhouse Gore

CHAPTER FIVE: (HI)DEY-(HO)LE

I knew where Asa was hiding.

After the police had pasted up the flyer in the cafeteria and announced the identify of Lockpick Larry as Asa Stevens, aged 16, the whole of BV turned upside down. The elders were flabbergasted and accused the deputy of lying and being distasteful. They vehemently rejected the idea that a high school girl was capable of sneaking into their homes, undetected and with the skill of a seasoned professional, and stole all their precious jewels for no apparent reason. A census revealed a fifty-fifty split; some did not believe it, but the other half reminded them that Asa did not have any of her own money since her parents piddled their away and left her with no inheritance. She was only attending BV because the Livingstons had pitied her and offered to pay for her tuition until she graduated.

"She has no money," Mr. Harbor said at the public townhall. He'd put on his finest suit for the occasion and was dabbing his forehead with a silk handkerchief during his turn at the microphone. "In two years, that girl will be out on her own and that is why she stole everyone's jewelry!"

"But the owner of the pawn shop said he only gave her $100 for Mrs. Carson's pearls," said a voice from the eighth row. "If she was trying to steal everyone's money, why charge so little for something that is worth more than $100?"

At the mention of Mrs. Carson, everyone could not help but look over at the old lady herself. She was sitting in the front row. The pearls were around her neck and her nostrils flared when someone mentioned Asa's name, but she did not say anything.

"Have the police figured out why Lockpick Larry only robbed specific homes? Nothing was reported missing from the Coffins or the Smiths or the Mickles or the Grey-Parsons." Gary Herbert asked. He'd spoken out of turn and was being chastised for it as the deputy cleared his throat.

"Well, we weren't focusing on that, but now that we've identified the suspect, we will turn our attention to ascertaining what the motive behind the burglaries was. From what many people have told us, the girl was friendly and had no criminal history, so these actions seem unfounded," the deputy responded. "But we are thinking that the suspect hit the wealthier homes in the area."

That last statement reminded the BV residents of just how useless the police were. Everyone knew that the Coffins were the wealthiest. You only had to drive past their estate, gaze at the overwhelming gate blocking the entrance, and wonder what else they had hidden in that massive brick home. Gary Herbert waved a dismissive hand in the deputy's direction and marched out of the townhall.

"How could she do this to us!" someone cried. "We practically raised her!"

There was an uproar.

It takes a village to raise a child, but it's the same village that usually brings that child back down. My mother, the psychologist, says that the people that love you the most are the ones that can bring you down to your knees the hardest. You expect your enemies to bombard you with assaults and because of this, you keep your eyes open. But what about those people that you keep your eyes closed around because you trust them enough to not gouge your eyes out? With your enemies, you might scratch your cornea, maybe lose an eye, but a betrayal could leave you fully blind.

The rest of the meeting had gone on like that, or so we'd heard.

The police requested that students of BV not attend because they didn't want us to be 'confused' when they conducted their interrogations, but almost everyone's parents came home and told us what had been discussed. My mother didn't bother taking a turn at the microphone because she felt it would have been disrespectful sharing an opinion as one of the only people in the town who had not had anything stolen from them. She wouldn't admit it, but I could tell my mother had a soft spot for Asa and didn't want to see her punished horribly. She was probably remembering the times when Asa was over at our house and could not imagine that child growing up to be a criminal.