Page 50 of What They'll Say About Us
As Morgan finished speaking, her phone rang. "It's Cassidy on a video call."
I moved around the table to sit next to Morgan as Cassidy's face appeared on the screen.
"Hey," I said. "How's the grand opening coming?"
"Keeping me busier than I thought. I feel guilty for not helping you more," Cassidy said.
"It's fine. We've got things under control," I said.
"I did go through the comments on last night's post. That setting was really eerie, by the way; it added a lot of atmosphere. Good call on going out there at night."
Neither Morgan nor I mentioned the guy in the hoodie, and I thought that was because neither one of us wanted to think about it.
"I'm texting you two of the comments to read right now."
I grabbed my phone as she sent the text and read the first one aloud: "You bitches are going to be sorry if you don't stop trying to create a problem where there is none. Paige drowned by accident. Get over yourselves."
"That's a popular sentiment," Morgan said dryly.
"The handle is Chicagobabe29," Cassidy said. "I looked across social media and found one account created yesterday. This was the first and only activity on that account."
"What does the second text say?" Morgan asked, keeping Cassidy on her screen.
I looked back at the text and read it aloud: "What better way to cover up a crime than to be the one investigating it? But too many of us know who you were and how desperate you were to get rid of Paige." I paused. "This sounds like the first note I got with the flowers. They want to deflect by throwing the blame on me."
"Unfortunately, those comments generated more comments in response, with people speculating whether you might know more than you're saying and wanting you to address your relationship with Paige, which you haven't really done," Cassidy said.
I thought about that. I wanted to focus on the crime, but I was part of the circle. Could I really avoid talking about myself? "I don't want to make myself the story. It will take away from Paige."
"But you are part of the story," Morgan said.
"I understand that I have to say something. But let me think about exactly what that should be. If we can get more clues and leads, then, hopefully, we can turn the audience in a different direction."
"I have to run now," Cassidy said. "Keep in touch."
"We will. Enjoy the grand opening."
As Morgan ended the call, I thought about who might have posted those comments, because they both sounded like they'd come from someone in my former circle of friends, if I could even call them friends, because they certainly didn't feel like that anymore. But speculation wasn't going to get me anywhere. "I'm going to check out the theater," I said, getting to my feet. "I'll be back soon."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"No. You keep doing what you're doing. You're starting to put together a more comprehensive picture of everyone connected to Paige, and we'll need that information to get Detective Barclay to understand the complexities of the case."
"Okay. But stay away from the stage and anything that might fall on your head."
"I will." I took my empty plate to the kitchen, put away the food, then headed next door.
When I entered the theater, it was a little after two, and it appeared that the actors and crew members were coming back from lunch, but the afternoon rehearsal hadn't begun yet. Jay was sitting alone, so I headed for him first, sliding into the row next to him.
He gave me a wary look. "You're back."
"I am. Did you know I almost got knocked out by a sandbag falling from the catwalk yesterday?"
"Yes. Your aunt made us do a sweep through the building to make sure there was nothing else in danger of falling. Glad you're okay."
He didn't sound that concerned, but I didn't care about that. "I was wondering if you were interviewed by the police after Paige died."
Anger flashed through his gaze. "I talked to some cop for a few minutes, but I didn't know anything, and that's what I told him. I worked crew. I wasn't in on all the drama going on between you and Paige and Carrie."
