Chapter 11 – The Perfect Alibi
Over breakfast I peppered him
With questions.
“If Mirabel was a scout for porn –
What does that mean
She actually did?”
Verne moaned.
“I tried so hard to make her quit,”
He writhed and sighed pointedly –
Reminding me who’s
The victim here.
“Set dressing. That’s what they call it.
Pretty young girls who want to
Get ahead.
Sometimes she found investors at
Openings and parties.”
Was that what she did
To me? Threw me at
Verne as a distracting toy?
Ignoring me –
Living alone in his world was HIS
Superpower, I’d
Decided;
Angry and increasingly incensed,
He worked himself up.
She took something he needed
That much was plain.
Pushed his plate of tempting food away.
“Is that how she found you?” was
The question he refused to answer,
Playing with his fork
As if he’d stab me.
I summoned up my calmest adult voice.
“Let’s call the police. I think it’s time.”
A shudder ran through him
As though I’d suggested
Daylight to a vampire.
“Too humiliating.
They’ll only say she’s
An adult whose feet are cold.
They don’t know her well enough
To find her. We do.”
I felt just the opposite. The police look
For the actual person; Verne
Only wanted certain Mirabels – others
He needed to stay gone.
On a sudden inspiration –
“The trash!” he raced to collar
Overflowing baskets and
Upend them on the counter.
Good idea, I must admit.
We attacked the problem
Like an archaeological dig
Separating
Paper here and garbage there.
But I realized – if you want to know a human
You need her phone –
Phones are more intimate than
Bodies. As Verne sorted through her
Discards, I considered ways
To break into her account.
Still, he levered intriguing items; a
“Welcome new members” card for
“Bioceutically Renewed Day Spa” and a crumpled pack
Of ginger parsley tea. I knew the tea
Through schoolgirl gossip –
Never tried it myself;
Supposed to cue overdue menstruation.
Surprise! Mirabel bothered
With menstruation: tiny as she was?
It perhaps had other uses.
Levered out the members’ card –
No need to mention the tea – and tidied up the mess.
Verne’s shoulders curled in
Frustration. “There’s nothing here.”
I waved the card.
He was rude. “Where’s that get us?”
He was tough to help
And something about that made me mad.
But if my school teaches anything it’s
Disguise your feelings.
I said coldly,
“We should check her phone.”
“How can we – if she’s taken it with her?”
“There might be a way if you pay the bill.”
He rolled his eyes. “I pay everything.
Where’s my laptop?”
Really, the man was helpless.
“I think I saw it beside the sofa.”
He blocked me from retrieving it.
“You finish breakfast. I’ll get it.”
I couldn’t eat with him typing
In the other room.
“What are you finding?”
“Nothing.” He turned away.
“There’s nothing there.
She dumped it somewhere.”
Are we playing
“Baffle the Virgin”?
“Mislead the Virgin?” But
I had to hand it to Lord Verne
Realer than Mirabel, so honest about
His needs while she vanished
Into legend. Now I cultivated
New ideas. Everyone knows
The leading cause of death for
Girls is Men. Let’s say
You wanted to kill a person
But create a perfect alibi.
It would help to have the person
Seem to disappear all on their own.
Could the Mirabel I’d met
Be an impostor who’d somehow
Managed to greet me with Mirabel’s
Special look? I discarded that
Impossible theory. But it was attractive;
Suggesting why her new self
Was tried out on me and not
The folks. Thinking of my parents caused
My phone to buzz.
Damn, they’re psychic too. Pressed
“Ignore” but knew that wouldn’t
Work for long.
Verne, suddenly hardboiled American –
Snapped his laptop shut.
“Does she have “find my phone?”
“You see location on a map.”
This man was a death-ray.
“We don’t want it. It’s just a piece
Of junk.” I’d like to believe
Verne grew values, honoring
The spirit rather than the object
But I know he saw himself
As the sole animating force.
I contemplated ways
To escape this echo chamber.
“At least we’ve got Bioceutically Renewed to try.
But first I need to report to Mom and Dad.”
The blood washed out of him
Never was a swain so
Fearful to confront the folks.
Alysse Aallyn 
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