Chapter 44

Chapter Forty-Four

I end up ordering in Chinese food for dinner.

I order way too much. I always get way too much when I order Chinese food, but it's not like I can get a delivery guy to come over here to bring me one measly container of chicken with broccoli. So I end up ordering three or four dishes, figuring I'll eat it eventually, and then it all sits in the refrigerator until it starts to smell bad and I have to throw it all away… And then a week later, I'm craving Chinese food and I go through the entire cycle again. I call it the Circle of Chinese Food.

While I am eating my beef chow fun, debating if I should take a Tums now or after the meal is over, I consider sending Tom a text message. We left things a bit frosty after he refused to let me meet his mother and got all evasive about his phone. Of course, if I do send him a text message, God knows where it will go.

No, let him have a night to stew and decide whether he wants to tell me the truth. Anyway, I've got other things on my mind.

Namely, my conversation with Gretchen. I keep going over what we were talking about, and something keeps tugging at me. But what is it?

Even the night before, I was at the museum half the night working.

It's hard to forget the day Gretchen's exhibit opened. It was the same day that Randy and I found Bonnie mutilated in her bedroom. Bonnie and I had made plans to go together to see it. Naturally, that ended up not happening.

Even the night before, I was at the museum half the night working.

When I was talking to Jake about possible suspects, I mentioned Randy. I didn't want to incriminate him, but I felt compelled to point out the fact that he had a copy of the keys for the entire building, and that Bonnie repeatedly complained that she thought he was creepy. It wasn't evidence that he was a murderer, but Jake told me he had been ruled out.

Mr. Muncy has an alibi for last night. His girlfriend was with him the entire time.

Except Gretchen, his girlfriend, was not with him the entire night. She was at the museum half the night working on her exhibit.

Holy crap.

I snatch up my phone and select Gretchen's number from my list of contacts. The phone rings a few times before she picks up. "What's up, Syd?"

"Gretchen," I say. "Where were you really on the night that Bonnie was murdered?"

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. "What?"

"When I was at your apartment earlier," I say, "you told me that the night before your exhibit opened, you were at the museum half the night working on it. But you told the police you were with Randy the whole night. Except you weren't."

Another extended silence. "Right. Well, I must've made a mistake. I was home the night before the exhibit opened. It was the night before that when I was at the museum half the night."

"Gretchen…"

"It's true!"

I grind my teeth. "Please stop. I know what you said. And I remember when the exhibit opened."

"Sydney…"

" Tell me the truth ."

Gretchen's voice breaks. "Fine. I was at the museum. I lied to the police. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Oh my God!" I exclaim. "You lied to the police? Seriously?"

"What was I supposed to do?" she whimpers. "Look, Randy didn't hurt Bonnie. He never could have done something like that. But if he didn't have an alibi, they would have been all over him! He's the super, and he has the keys and also…"

"And also what?"

Gretchen is silent.

"Gretchen, what is it? What's going on?"

"This is going to sound worse than it is," she says softly.

I frown. "What is?"

"A number of years ago," she says, "like way before Randy and I even met, there was this girl who accused him of stalking her."

My mouth falls open. " What ?"

"And then there was this assault charge too, but it was so unfair," she goes on. "He told me all about it, and seriously, he didn't do anything wrong! But with that in his record, we both thought it would be better if he had an alibi."

We both thought it would be better. "Gretchen," I say, "did Randy ask you to lie for him?"

"No!" she cries. "I mean, it was his suggestion, but I completely agreed. He didn't push me into anything!"

This is just great. "You have to go to the police and tell them the truth."

" No . Please don't make me, Syd." If she wasn't crying before, I have definitely pushed her over the edge. "Randy is not a murderer. He's not . You don't really think he could have done those terrible things to Bonnie, do you?"

"I don't know…"

"He didn't!" she sobs. "I love him, Sydney. I've never felt this way about a man before. I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

My stomach turns slightly at the idea of Gretchen marrying Randy Muncy. I've known him for two years, and he might be a little quirky, but I am having trouble imagining him doing all those terrible things to Bonnie—and Gretchen clearly loves him with all her heart. Still, there is something about him that makes me uneasy.

I chew on my lower lip, trying to decide what to do. I've got Jake's number in my phone, and Bonnie's murder is still unsolved. I could call him and tell him about Gretchen's lie. But at the same time, if I genuinely don't think he killed her, what will I have accomplished? I'll have made my friend's life a lot worse, betrayed her trust, destroyed Randy's reputation, and possibly jeopardized his job…and for what? If it doesn't lead to justice for my friend, there's no point.

Besides, Jake told me they had unidentified, matching fingerprints at the two crime scenes. But if Randy's fingerprints are on file, it couldn't have been him.

Could it?

"Syd?" Gretchen sniffles. "Are…are you going to tell anyone?"

"I guess not."

"Oh, thank you!" I can imagine Gretchen's eyes filled with tears, her small nose bright pink. "Thank you so much, Syd! You are the best friend ever. If Randy and I get married someday, I'm going to make you the maid of honor at my wedding!"

Ugh. It would almost be worth it to turn Randy in just to avoid that dubious honor.

Gretchen spends the next several minutes tripping over herself to tell me how grateful she is and how lucky she is to have Randy. I soak it in, but the whole time, I can't help but wonder if I am making a terrible mistake.