A Murder in Malibu

Gemma

When we finally pulled back into the garage of the Malibu home, I announced my exhaustion and made a mug of chamomile tea to take to my bedroom. There, I burned a lavender candle, sipped the tea, and hoped for sleep.

But no amount of tea or burning candles could lull me into relaxation. I tried to read Wuthering Heights for the third time but kept rereading the same line. 

A hot shower did nothing to relax me. Neither did watching old movies from the 80's, doing yoga stretches that Pamela taught me, or writing in my diary. I was wide awake all night, watching the numbers on the clock move from one minute to the next. I kept looking at my phone, nervous about any weird calls and also wondering if I'd hear from Jason, who had been silent for over seven hours.

When the sun finally peeked through the blinds, I had a brand new theory on who was behind the frightening hijinks. It was so obvious, staring me in the face; I wondered why it had not, until a sleepless night, occurred to me before.

The answer was obvious.

Lily.

It made sense!

Lily knew everything. 

She couldn't risk anyone finding out what we had done to Taylor. Her father's political career would be over; her family's pristine reputation would be in the gutter. She was creating this elaborate scheme to set me up so that if anything happened, the blame would be on me and she'd look innocent, a girl trying to help her friend who knew about a dead classmate and tried to cover it up.

Lily knew everything about me and didn't have to stretch her imagination to answer questions. 

She was an excellent manipulator of the truth as I saw firsthand with our teachers at school, any authority figures, and Freddy Levin, the flamboyant producer of the Bel-Air High reality show we had starred in last year. 

Lily had forced Freddy to edit the show in such a way that we were the clear stars of the entire production. I watched in awe as she convinced Freddy to keep us front and center of filming, creating her persona as the queen bee and me as her loyal sidekick. And I let her. 

Somehow she got us on the covers of fashion magazines, on podcasts, and blogs. It had been a short run of celebrity until the show was yanked off the air thanks to a missing Taylor.

She didn't have much in the way of support like I had Pamela. She was super rich, sure. She was also so pretty that people on the street often turned to stare at her, probably wondering if she was a supermodel visiting from New York.

But deep down inside, I always wondered if Lily, at her core, was an insecure little girl. The memory of a class play popped into my mind.

We were maybe ten years old and Lily and I had the leads in a reenactment of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr's duel. For some reason, Lily and I got the roles even though the parts were masculine. Probably because we sang so well and were both very theatrical. Maybe it was because Pamela was dating the theater teacher and Lily parent's funded a new library.

Though I was nervous, Pamela taught me exercises to relax which I attempted to show Lily. She made me repeat "Red leather, yellow leather" until my tongue swelled. 

As we waited in the wings of the theater to make our grand entrances, Lily, who had been the picture of composure, suddenly began to shake as if she had been electrocuted.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wrapping her in a hug, feeling her tiny body nearly convulse.

"What if I mess up? What if people don't like me? What if my father is embarrassed?" She gasped in a hoarse whisper.

It was the first time I saw vulnerability in my best friend. She then proceeded to vomit in a black tricorn hat edged in gold.

Lily grew to become a very good actress as evidenced by her turn as Maggie in last fall's high school production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

What cinched my hypothesis was when I walked into the kitchen to find Lily sitting with my laptop.

"What are you doing?" I asked sharply, startling Lily.

"I'm...looking at cars. Why?"

"You have a perfectly good BMW, what's with car shopping suddenly?" I pulled out a chair and dropped my belted jumpsuit-clad body into it. Even after a sleepless night, I knew how to turn out an ensemble. Outside there was no sign of rain though it fell in loose drops all night with the occasional roar of thunder to jolt my nerves.

"I think it's time for something new," Lily scrunched up her nose. "What's the big deal?"

Behind Lily the sun was bright, and generous light streamed in through the window. I noticed dust particles in the air, floating like ghosts.

I licked my lips. "What's your budget, Lily? What are you looking at there?" I grabbed the laptop and spun it around. "AhhhRange Rover Evoque? Doesn't it cost nearly fifty thousand dollars? Isn't that a little rich for your blood? Fifty thousand dollars, now where did we recently deposit that same amount, hmmm?"

I assumed that Lily was planting evidence on my computer, searching for murder weapons and ways to blackmail. She quickly went to the history setting and cleared it.

Then she lifted her shoulders, not picking up on my implication.

"Come on Gem, I'm seeing what's out there. Nothing is set in stone. I'd love to drive an SUV. Cute, right?"

"Yeah," I answered harshly, sipping the hot coffee that Marisela had set in front of me. "Real cute."

Later, I took a nap and got the rest I desperately craved. When I woke, I felt slightly better, but still eyed Lily with a reserved awareness.

And that night, when we pretended everything was fine and that we weren't ready to jump at the slightest noise, we played Scrabble and drank hot chocolate and laughed like old times, I was almost convinced that it was impossible that my best friend would ever do such wretched things like blackmail, ransom notes, and extortion.

Almost.