"That little bitch...." Faith pulled the black hair tie off letting her golden locks fall over her shoulders. "Ran her mouth and now it looks like I killed Fiona."
Isabeth slid the key in the lock, "We'll fix it." She twisted the key and turned the doorknob.
Isabeth and Faith walked into Fiona's room. A blanket of emotions overtook them in the third room on the left side of the house. It was the same as it was five years ago after Fiona ditched the Little Mermaid theme for a mature soft pink motif. The walls were tan with white molding etched on the ceiling, white lace curtains hung closed along the windows and the crème rug that kept their feet from the chill of winter's nights lay on the oak floor.
Isabeth brushed her hand over the white orchid sitting on the silver table in front of the white couch. She remembered the summer days she spent sitting there waiting for Fiona to apply her make-up. Fiona would take two hours applying mascara, lipstick, eye shadow and other cosmetic goodies brought over by Harper.
Faith rested her hands in the pockets of her pants as a chill from the ceiling fan brushed across her arms. Her mind traveled to the last time she was in the room that was riddled with childhood bliss and teenage angst. Faith remembered the day like it was yesterday. It played before her life a film. It was the summer of junior year; her orange bikini was still wet as she left footprints over the floor pacing in a panic because Gavin was taking her out for a romantic boat ride to watch the end of summer fireworks. She needed Fiona's advice on losing her virginity because back then Fiona was the experienced one. Harper was still saying eww and Isabeth's motto was no karat, no cookie.
Fiona's advice was "If it feels good, it's all good." Under the fireworks that warm August night when Gavin kissed her lips and stroked her thigh, it felt good. Then after the incident with Fulton, when her will to live sunk lower than the depths of an abyss she started living by those words; if it feels good, it's all good. Now those words were leading her down a dark path riddled with recklessness and sin. Faith now knew standing in this vacant room that those words didn't lead Fiona anywhere good. Maybe it was time to make a detour, she thought. Faith didn't want her next destination to be the mortuary.
Faith picked up a gold jewelry box off the eggshell dresser with the initials FJH inscribed onto it with black ink.
"Don't touch anything!" Isabeth ordered grabbing at the jewelry box.
Faith pulled the box back holding it against her chest. "Then how am I supposed to search Isa? Get stung by a spider and get x-ray vision." Faith spoke sitting on the bed covered with a light pink quilt and six fluffy goose-down pillows.
Isabeth stepped back. "Spiders don't sting" Isabeth corrected looking at the stack of old Fashion magazines. All the issue dated were strangely all from last year. Fiona was known to keep up. Fashion was her life. Isabeth noted the character change. "And Spiderman doesn't have x-ray vision, Super—"
"I don't give a fuck," Faith spat opening the box. "I can touch whatever I want. My fingerprints are already splattered around this room anyways." Faith delicately pulling a sapphire necklace out the jewelry box resting on top her crossed legs.
"Just make sure you put everything back where you got it. Mrs. Hamilton wants to remember everything as it was." Isabeth instructed realizing not touching anything wasn't realistic. They were touching things for a noble cause; trying to find Fiona's killer. Mrs. Hamilton would have to forgive them for this indiscretion.
Anyways there was something Isabeth wanted to pick through. The black duffle bag stuffed under the bed caught her eye when she walked in the room. Isabeth pulled the duffle out from under the bed. It was heavy, feeling like a good forty pounds. Isabeth used all the strength pummeled in her from working out with drillmaster Faith. She dropped the bag on the bed sinking the mattress in an inch.
Faith stood in front of the mirror attached to the eggshell dresser adoring the sapphire necklace draped around her neck. "If Mrs. Hamilton wants this room to remind her Fi...the closet door should be open with a trail of clothes to the bed, shoes should be by the couch, sketches should be everywhere, the bathroom light should be on and the curtains should be open."
"She made the bed, though," Isabeth reflected unzipping the duffle. "Give her credit for that." She unfolded a black FCUK hoodie noting another character change. Fiona despised hoodies, saying they obstructed the beauty of a woman's curves.
"Fi made the bed every morning," Faith rubbed her fingers along the sparkling emerald cut stones. "Swearing her day would be off kilter if she didn't."
"I don't know." Isabeth pondered. "I kind of think Fi had something there. The day she failed chemistry she didn't make her bed."
Faith stopped admiring how beautiful the necklace was around her neck and walked over to the bed. "That wasn't from a lack of cleanliness; it was a lack of studying." Faith smiled remembering how they plundered through notes and chapters while Fiona flipped through an issue of Dazzle.
"Remember the week after the Hamilton's found out Fi failed chemistry."
"How could I forget, we spent three weeks in this house after her parent's grounded her for sneaking off to Callisto's vineyard with us for the weekend."
"But those three weeks weren't bad. We had fun in this house."
"Yeah." Faith reluctantly agreed. She was guilted by Isabeth into spending those perfect sunny, summer days confined to one home instead of gallivanting around Evening and the globe like usual. "We did. Mani Pedi's, the fashion show in the foyer, you tried the teach us the art of icing a cupcake, and the horror movie marathon that kept Harper up for two nights—"
"And those nighttime chats we had in this bed under the glare of the moon. I missed those."
"I missed her." Faith told. She regretted remembering all the good times they had. Which reminded her of all the time she wasted being mad at Fiona instead of apologizing to her for sleeping with her boyfriend. But, at the time she couldn't tell another person and have them push her away. She couldn't go through that again, not with them, they meant too much to her. Faith rather they hate her than not believe her.
"Who would want Fiona dead?" Isabeth asked still stuck on investigation mode holding the lipstick that Fiona couldn't live without. Wicked, the dark chocolate with flicks of gold hue was apart of Kieran's Midnight Glamour line that Fiona bought by the barrel.
"If it were me there would be a list as long as the Mississippi River," Faith thought the limitless verbal assaults she spewed to friends, family, and bystanders. "But Fiona...everyone loved her. She was the popular girl everyone wanted to sit by at lunch; girl's dressed like her, paparazzi flashed at the slightest glimpse of her."
"Someone that she was afraid of." Isabeth took out a ball of clothes. That wasn't a character change. Fiona abhorred packing.
"No, Fiona's fearless." Faith stopped digging in the duffle shifting clothes and books around. "She made us bungee jump, planned a group skydive, and could go through all five floors of the haunted house throwing back skittles."
"So, we shouldn't be asking who hated her but who frightened her." Isabeth shuttered. "Who horrified her so much she accosted you in the hallway."
Faith pulled out a pink card in the duffle pocket, "What's this?"
Isabeth took the card from Faith, flipped it over. "A parking ticket...for a garage."
"Her car's here?" Faith reminded pointing out the window. "I saw it. It was in the driveway."
"That was the Benz, the one her parents bought for her sixteenth birthday," Isabeth informed. "Not the Toyota she sold three dresses to buy so her parents wouldn't know when she snuck out the house."
"Red Rhapsody. I can't believe I forgot about that. We used it to go to clubs in New York on weekends with the thing."
"It's still in New York at Dobson's Parking."
"When are we going?"
"To New York?"
"Let's go tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow's Tuesday!"
"And?" Faith scratched her eyebrow. "So."
"We're interning at Kieran Cosmetics." Isabeth reminded. "Faith we can't miss another day. The car's been there since—" Isabeth read the date on the card. "April. I'm sure it'll still be there at one."
It seems like the girls found their first lead. Where will it lead?