Her First Mistake by Carey Baldwin (books for 10th graders txt) 📕

A cover up? If she didn’t have to walk back to her car and then drive herself home, she’d take Angelica up on that drink.

“Operation clean up.”

“Oh, you’ve been cleaning. I couldn’t help noticing how… fresh… the place smells.” She leaned in. “But is that okay? What if the police need to check for blood spatter or prints or…” The desolate look on Angelica’s face made her regret her big mouth. Blood spatter? What a horrible thing to say. “I mean, I know the police think Celeste never made it home, but what if she did?”

“Third post cap from the right on the front porch railing is hollow. That’s where Celeste keeps her spare key—and it was still there when the cops searched this place.”

“Couldn’t Celeste have put the key back after she went inside?”

“I guess, but then how did her purse get in the alley? Besides, the police were here from dawn to dusk on Sunday. They had special lights and sprays and fingerprint powder. A team of them came through, took a ton of photos, and then gave us the all-clear to reoccupy if we wanted—that’s why I’m here.”

“To reoccupy?”

“To get it ready for Celeste to reoccupy. She’s coming home. I feel it in my bones, and I want things to be nice for her. All those people traipsing in and out, even if they did have shoe covers on.” Her brows drew together. “They dusted fingerprint powder everywhere. And Celeste obviously wasn’t expecting to be gone long, because she left dirty dishes in the sink. You were here last week. I’d put the nuts and bolts back together by then, but surely you noticed it needed a deep clean.”

“Well, I… No, I didn’t notice the place being dirty.” Her heart ached for Angelica—the younger sister clinging to hope… and yet, if the situation were reversed, Mia would be more worried about preserving evidence than tidying up. Even if the cops had cleared the place, a new clue might come in that would make them want to take a second look, and… “Why keep this a secret from Alma?”

“Because if I tell my mother that I have to get the place ready for Celeste then it’s going to trigger the thought of another possibility—what if Celeste doesn’t come home again, ever?” Angelica poured more Scotch. “Celeste is going to have a spit-shined house and a warm bed with clean sheets when she gets home. I’ve seen to that. But my mother and father, and especially my brother, don’t need to know I’ve been over here. I don’t want them voicing the question ‘will she or won’t she come home?’; and I’m sure Isaiah would make a big thing out of it, and say we shouldn’t get our hopes up. Well, to hell with him.” She covered a belch with her hand. “Pardon me.”

“Nothing wrong with hope,” Mia said softly. She was no psychiatrist but she’d sat on Dr. Baquero’s couch long enough to recognize magical thinking when she saw it. Angelica believed that if she cleaned up Celeste’s house as if she were coming home, that meant Celeste had to come home. “I really do understand. And I give you my word I won’t mention seeing you here today.”

Angelica smiled in seeming relief. “Thanks Mia. You’re the best.”

“I’m not.” Mia didn’t feel worthy of Angelica’s trust.

In that moment, she decided.

She was going to tell her about the keys.

“Angelica?”

“Sure you don’t want a drink?”

“Maybe a small one wouldn’t hurt,” Mia said.

Angelica wobbled to the kitchen and a minute later returned with another red solo cup, which she half-filled with liquor before giving it to Mia. “Neat okay?”

“Neat’s great.” In the space of time it’d taken for Angelica to get the drink, Mia had lost her nerve. She swilled the booze before carefully setting the cup on a coaster. Perhaps she just needed some Dutch courage.

Angelica sat down on the couch, her body angled toward Mia, shoulders back, spine straight, eyes expectant.

Mia took another gulp of Chivas that burned on its way down but did little to bolster her nerve. She simply couldn’t bring herself to confess—but she could tell Angelica something else instead. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I found something in Celeste’s pocket the day I borrowed her dress.”

Angelica leaned forward, mouth slightly agape while Mia unloaded the whole story about the matchbook, the strip club, Shoshanna and the run-in with Isaiah.

When Mia finished, Angelica snapped her jaw shut and said, “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“I didn’t want to upset your mother.”

Angelica frowned. “At least you told the police. Has Samuels checked out that dancer yet—Shoshanna?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t share a lot. He’s not exactly a fan of mine.”

“You think not?”

Mia shrugged. “Listen, I promised your brother I wouldn’t mention seeing him at Lacy’s. I don’t want to put you in a bind, though. If you think you have to tell him I told you, I’ll understand.”

“So you’ll keep my secret, but I don’t have to keep yours? That’s my kind of bargain, but, in this case, I happen to agree. It’s best not to mention any of this to my family unless the police think it’s related to Celeste’s disappearance. Mother’s very fragile right now.” Suddenly, Angelica looked away. “You said Isaiah dragged you into a back room?”

“Yes, but it was just a case of mistaken identity. After all, I was wearing your sister’s dress.” Suddenly aware of how strange that sounded, she hurried to gloss over her admission. “Besides the club, I was hitting some of the swankier restaurants that day, and I thought dressing with class might maximize my chances of getting people to talk to me.” The quizzical look in Angelica’s eyes was fleeting, unfocused, a little too drunk to care. “And, of course, he’d been drinking.”

Angelica picked up a cap and screwed it on the Chivas bottle. “You’d think I’d know better than to get wasted like this.”

“You’re not going to be perfect. None