Mystery Loves Company

Chapter 66 - File #7.4: The Low Blow

Rhett

After it was announced that Derek Rickard won 51% of the votes, Noel slammed the TV remote that belonged to Dorm A's lounge. Some students were religiously watching the news in the lounge, so the loud shatter noise attracted various complaints.

"Hey! We just changed the remote!" Joe, the receptionist and caretaker of Dorm A, yelled at Noel who immediately left the lounge. I remembered how the previous remote was thrown against the wall by a sophomore when his favorite NBA team was lost in a buzzer beater.

"Someone's a Jennings fanboy," commented a senior who lived next to us. He immediately kept his mouth shut when Noel stared at him deadly.

I was going to run after Noel, but since I had heard about 20 variations of, "Has your cop friend come up with anything?" already, I just kept sitting uncomfortably in the middle of the lounge full of sweaty students who just got back from their morning exercise.

The crowd dispersed after the news ended. At the same time, Parry finally texted me, but I let out a disappointed sigh. DMV's close for today. I can only give you the plate number, he said on his messages, followed by a much clearer screenshot of the license plate. Noel wasn't in our room when I came back, which relieved me a little bit.

Walking to my desk, I grabbed all the folders and sat on my bed. Noel and I had been compiling newfound evidence on a new folder, and I still felt like I was missing something. I reread everything—the Exclusives folder, Pierce's notes, to my own notes.

I noted that according to his autopsy report, on the day he was murdered, Norris didn't drink any caffeine. He probably couldn't drink any, which put a big question mark on the untouched coffees that were present on the crime scene.

Ms. Kane said there was supposed to be another list, but we couldn't find the files everywhere. It was possible that Norris wanted to put a stop on the group. He planned to spill about them to the Chief so he needed Pierce to back him up. That was why there were only two cups of coffee on the table. It was for both Chief Snell and Leonard Pierce.

And the third guest—the killer—knew about his plan and put an end to it.

If those lists were so threatening to the killer, he would have destroyed both of the files—but he left the transaction file and deleted the list instead. The transaction receipt didn't mention any specific name, but the list sure did.

There were names, money, and dates, Mrs. Kane's voice was replayed in my head.

"The list contained the killer's name, the date and the money he spent for... the dirty business The Exclusives did in some way," I came up with my own conclusion, followed by a finger flick. "All I have to do is find the soft file. But, if it can't be found, I can't exactly add it to the evidence folder."

An invisible lightbulb appeared above my head.

"The flash drive!" I exclaimed. It was all empty files and folders, but Knight told us to analyze it—maybe Norris was hiding something else there.

I gathered all the folders, put them in my bag, and snatched my car key on my desk before dashing out of the door. While running towards my car, I kept calling Kyle until he answered. When he did, he sounded delighted. It seemed like he was at a crowded place.

"Kyle, where are you?" I started the engine of my car.

"At Rickard's campaign office," replied Kyle with a loud voice. Ah, that explained the triumph in the background and the unusual glee in his voice. "If you're asking for my help to finish your drawings, I can't do it today."

For some reason, it offended me. I came to a sudden realization that I had asked Kyle to help me for so many times, almost seemed like I wasn't trying hard myself.