Chapter 17 – Grievous Bodily Harm
Verne’s voice: cruel, whispering,
Insistent, filling up
An answering machine with abortive calls
Never answered. “Mirabel?
Don’t think you’ll escape me.
You’ve begun a game
You can’t win”
My teeth began to chatter.
Derek’s eyes bugged.
It went on and on – filled the cassette –
Verne threatening that he’d find her and
The longer she made him wait
The sorrier he’d make her.
Did she want her family
MUDERED?
Did she want her friends
MURDERED?
Because he had nothing left to lose.
Sometimes he attempted different ploys;
He loved her –
They were made for each other –
She knew that
It had never been good with
Anyone but her.
Didn’t she want to be Lady Verne?
Wasn’t every bad thing
That had ever happened to either of them
All her fault?
She owed him.
He’d would find her
Wherever she was hiding,
He could smell her out.
He knew her friends were lying and
One of them would succumb – eventually.
“Call me, Mirabel.
You better call me.”
Derek and I looked at each other
Pale as ghosts.
“He did it,” said Derek, finally.
“He must have. He
Has everything – motive, means
Most of all, he has the
Personality – the – what do they call it?
The killer signature.
Even a past record for
‘Grievous bodily harm’.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,”
I defended weakly, not wanting to have
Roomed with a killer. Not wanting my sister to have
Thrown me at a murderer.
Derek scoffed.
“We’ve got to take this to the police.”
Derek was supposedly the expert –
But even I could see the holes.
“It isn’t proof of anything,”
I argued.
“So he threatened an ex-girlfriend!
Do you know how many guys do that?”
“No,” said Derek. “Do YOU?”
“Yes,” I spluttered. “I read Teen Vogue.
It happens all the freakin’ time.”
“Well,” said Derek, red-faced,
“You caught me. I’m embarrassed
For my gender.”
God, he was adorable.
I made my case,
“If the police came calling
Would be to search for Mirabel HARDER.”
“OH, GOD,” sighed Derek,
“I gave him the name of my dad’s P.I.! I’ve got to
Call him!” I sprang back so fast
Derek’s phone clattered to the ground
Between us. “Don’t call Verne!”
“I’m not calling Verne!
I’m callin the P.I.! Hello, Angie? This
Is Derek Lowther. Can I speak to Ed?
It’s an emergency.
O.K., I guess I can tell you,”
He grumbled. “I gave Ed’s name
To somebody I just met
Who’s looking for his missing girl. But then I found out
He’s a dangerous kind of guy.
Oh, he doesn’t? Well, what if he asks
For a referral? OK.
He hasn’t called? Well, thanks.
I’m better.”
Disconnected.
“She says he never takes cases like that
And would only recommend
Police. She says –“
He gulped – “Most people –
Searching for a past lover –
Have nothing good in mind.”
And I had been helping him!
But what else could I do when
Mirabel dumped me, too.
I leafed slowly through Mirabel’s
Portfolio.
There was a picture that I recognized –
Mirabel sent it to the family –
Bikini’d Mirabel on a sun-beaten
Grey-weathered viewing deck
Posing beneath an osprey nest.
“She talked about this place,”
I recalled. “She called it Dream Island.
She said she wished
She could just live there forever.”
I grabbed Derek by the arm.
“I know where that is,”
Eureka. Hard to explain
Those moments of insight
Where everything just comes together.
“She’d be stupid to return
To any place she’d ever been.”
There’s Derek, arguing for the sake of
Arguing. “The smart thing
Is to light out for somewhere you’ve never
Been before.” I batted that one
Off easily. “Then what’s the point? If you’ve
Been miserable, what you want is
Guaranteed happiness.”
“Unless you’re shallow,” said Derek.
“Then you need guaranteed variety.
Guaranteed newness.”
What an awful thing to say.
The question was, is Mirabel that bad?
I refused to believe it.
“She’s my sister,” I one-upped,
“I hope I know her better than you.”
He could have told me
I didn’t know her at all
And been right, but he backed down
Immediately. Maybe he saw
In my face the high stakes I felt in
Rescuing the sister who made me
Happy face pancakes all those years ago.
“It’s like a password hack.”
Now he argued for my side,
Bless him. “Depends how well
You know the person.”
My phone rang. I jumped a mile.
“Oh, Jeez, it’s Verne!
What should I tell him?”
“Don’t pick up! We better get
Our stories straight.”
But I picked up. Bravest thing
I ever did. “Oh, hi, Verne
Did you find something?
Well, Derek’s talking to a neighbor
Who used to be a cop.
Sure – when we find something –
Ok. Catch you later.”
Derek stared at me awestruck.
“That was incredible! Have you studied acting?”
“Hell no,” I told him
“I’ve studied LYING. Can’t get through
Teenage life without it.”
Most lies are cover-ups where your quarry
Is already suspicious. That never works.
Smart lies strikes first –
Bold, believable
(Because part of it is truth)
And straight out of nowhere.
“What were you thinking? Maybe you
Spooked him?’
“I was hoping to spook him. I wanted a way
To hint what we learned from your PI’s
Receptionist. I mean,
WE NEED TO STOP HELPING HIM.”
“But what good is that?” Derek argued,
“If he finds Mirabel first?”
“He won’t,” I said. “I know where to go
And I don’t want him following me.”
Do you have a spare phone?”
“Sure,” said Derek,
“Brand new trac phone in my dad’s office
Still in the packaging. And
Plenty of air miles burning holes in my pocket.
Do you need a passport?”
“It’s only Florida. Isla Ensueno.”
Alysse Aallyn 
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