Odin's Murder

The tiny girl’s mouth is open, lips in a perfect circle, eyes midnight dark. “Take pictures,” she breathes.

“There’s something wrong with my camera,” I say, but I fumble in my bag, and snap a one handed shot of Memory’s fingers, still clutching my wrist. I check the saved data. An image of a pale slender hand, with black glittery nail polish, grasping tanned, rough skin. Back one is a long shot of a street, and before that, a chapel window. No green houses, no sofas. I change the lenses out again.

“Is it working?” Memory asks. I nod, and stare around the room. “We came looking for Sonja and found all this.” She points to a tall antique shelf filled with tiny figures. “Make sure you get pictures of that corner.”

“And the paintings,” Faye directs, her nose an inch from one on the wall, like she’s reading the scribbly paper that covers the room.

“Is this her house?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ll explain in a minute. Just take the pictures so we can get out of here before the guard wakes up.” Memory places a package on the dining room table and ducks from the room. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch her leave. “We need to go. We shouldn’t be here.”

/> “Five minutes,” she calls back. “Less. Three.”

“What’s in the package?” I ask Faye. It has Sonja’s name on it and a dorm address.

“That’s why we came. To bring it to her.”

“Did you open it?”

“Oh, no. Opening someone else’s mail is a felony.”

She’s eager to trespass on private property, but wouldn’t open someone’s mail? I’d be amused if I weren’t so nervous. I lift my camera and start taking photos of the paintings and wallpaper, the gold dusty mirror hanging over the fireplace. I snap pictures of each shelf in the china cabinet, the embroidery on the footstool in front of a plush chair. I take pictures of everything and when I’m done I call to both girls, stashing the package to Sonja in my camera bag.

We scan the street before we leave, and pull the door closed behind us. Faye darts off the steps, to a tall plant that grows off the porch, and wrenches a yellow flower cluster from the top.

“What are you doing?” Memory hisses.

“It’s tansy. A natural bug repellent. Good against bees.”

Cherry groans and grabs Faye by her sweater sleeve, hauling her to the sidewalk. The girls run. I jog behind, and stop short when Faye does, nearly mowing down Memory. I catch her before she topples, arm around her waist. “Dammit!” she hisses.

The guard is up and awake, talking to someone.

“What do we do?” Faye whispers.

The rent-a-cop points up toward campus, and then steps out, gesturing up the hill while a tall skinny dark haired boy in glasses nods and points to his phone. Julian takes a few steps from the shack, and the man follows him, his back to us.

“Go,” I say, and Memory snatches the shoes from her feet and dashes past the gate. Faye flies behind her. I stride past as Julian’s words trail behind us, up the hill. “…just wondering if there were any local legends of the area, or old local landmarks that…”

We’re back on campus. The Frisbee players are gone. The girls stop to breathe in the shade near the chapel. Julian is still talking to the guard.

“What was all that about?” I wipe the sweat off my face with my t-shirt. Memory says nothing. She’s staring at my bare stomach, and I’m pinned still by the look on her face.

“We have to show Julian the pictures. He’s not going to believe it!” Faye says, peeling off a sweater and tying it around her waist. She bounces in her shoes. “Why would Sonja have all that in her house?”

Memory looks away, brushes her hair from her face. A few sweaty strands curl at her ears, the nape of her neck. “I think we need to figure that out. Come on, let’s wait for my brother inside.”

I look behind me at the gate that I’ve just walked back through on my own volition, and then keep following her.

*

The girls walk straight to my dorm room, only stopping to let me enter the code on the security door. We take the stairs in silence, and I unlock the door. Once we’re inside, Faye bursts out in wild giggles, and flops down on Julian’s bed. “Oh my god, that was crazy. Maybe the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

Cherry and I share amused glances, the first she’s met my eyes since I kissed her and got the mental whiplash of my life. I sit on my bed, giving her room, but she moves to the mini fridge and passes out Julian’s sodas, one to each of us.

Julian bangs the door open less than a minute later. “You owe me. Seriously. What the hell were you thinking?” he yells at Memory, and then shuts up tight when his eyes land on Faye on his bed.