Chapter 59

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Gretchen starts cooking dinner when I get into their apartment. She's making some sort of casserole, which seems to involve putting basically everything from the fridge into a nine-by-eleven-inch pan and then sticking it in the oven at four hundred degrees.

"Trust me," she says, "it's delicious."

"I don't know how it could not be delicious given how much cheese you just put in that pan," I tease her.

She winks at me. "The secret to everything that tastes good is cheese."

I laugh. I'm definitely feeling better since leaving Tom in front of the steps of the building. There's still a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I did the right thing. Even if Tom isn't a serial killer, he was not a good boyfriend. Like he said, he was terrified of commitment. I mean, when he met my friends, he looked like he was practically going to have a heart attack.

Good riddance.

While we're waiting for the casserole concoction to bake in the oven, Randy decides to take a shower and Gretchen shows me some of the photos from her exhibit at the museum. I feel terrible that I didn't manage to make it there one more time before it closed, but she is really understanding about it.

"My God, Syd," she says, "you've been through so much lately. And you already saw it once."

"It was amazing. Truly."

I flip through the photographs, which shows how much work Gretchen put into it. The exhibit was about flower species dating back to the Middle Ages. It's both spectacular and incredibly colorful.

That's why she was at the museum the night Bonnie was killed. When she claimed she had been with Randy, but instead, he was in our apartment building, all alone.

I can't help but feel uneasy about that. Okay, Randy just defended me, and I'm grateful for that. But now that Tom has a rock-solid alibi for the night of the murder, we still don't know who killed Bonnie.

It wasn't Randy though. I'm sure of it.

To my amazement, the ant farm has been mounted next to the bookcase. I genuinely thought Gretchen was going to toss it out the window, the way she was talking. "I can't believe you let him keep the ant farm," I say.

"I know." She rolls her eyes but she's smiling. "I must really love that lunkhead, huh?"

I can't help but feel a jab of sadness. Will I ever feel that way about anyone? It's possible someday I will, but it definitely won't be Tom.

The timer goes off, which means the mystery casserole is done. Gretchen pulls it out of the oven just as Randy emerges from the shower. With his hair plastered to his skull, he looks almost painfully skinny. He flashes us a big smile. "You ladies need help?"

Randy grabs some dishes and utensils, I carry the casserole, and Gretchen fishes out a bottle of wine from the cabinet over the refrigerator. A few minutes later, I am scooping casserole onto my plate, and when I taste it…it's not that bad! Actually, it's pretty good. Before I know it, I have demolished half a plate of casserole.

"This is delicious, Gretchen," Randy says happily. "You're the best cook ever."

She giggles. "No, I'm not. I mean, it's a casserole ."

"Yeah, but…"—he grins at her—"somehow, you make everything taste so good."

She beams. "Well, I love to cook for you."

Randy stares at her for a moment. He plays with his fork, pushing some of the casserole noodles around his plate. After what appears to be several seconds of internal debate, he gets out of his chair. While I watch in astonishment, he drops down onto one knee.

Oh no. Not right now—not right in front of me. Please no.

"Gretchen," he says, "I love you so much."

Her mouth is hanging open. "Randy…"

Okay, this is happening…

"I really do. In fact, I don't know what I would do without you." He digs around in the pocket of his jeans until he pulls out that blue velvet box. How long has he been carrying that ring around with him, waiting for the right moment? "And that's why I never want to be without you. Gretchen, will you marry me?"

Her eyes are shining, brimming with tears. "Oh my God, yes! Of course! Of course I'll marry you!"

Randy slides the white-gold ring with the tiny diamond onto Gretchen's slender finger. And I was right—she doesn't care what size the diamond is. She's just so thrilled that he asked her to marry him. And then he helps her to her feet and kisses her.

It's absolutely the sweetest thing I have ever seen.

And I think I'm about to start crying.

They are happy tears. Well, mostly. I'm not going to say it isn't depressing that my best friend is getting engaged on the same day that I've had to end the most promising relationship I've had in the last several years. But I'm happy for her. I truly am.

"Excuse me," I say, "I'll give the two of you some privacy."

They barely even hear me. They're too busy making out.

I hurry off to the bathroom, my eyes heavy with moisture. No, I'm not going to cry right now. I just need a minute to pull myself together, then I can go back out there and be super happy for my two friends.

The first thing I do in the bathroom is splash some cold water on my face. Naturally, I look extremely splotchy. When I look at my reflection right now, I can't even understand why a guy like Tom would have wanted to date me. He is gorgeous, and I am maybe a step up above plain—what on earth did he ever see in me? No wonder he didn't want a commitment. If I were a supermodel, it would be a different story.

I use the toilet, and when I'm done, naturally, it doesn't want to flush. There's some sort of irony in the fact that I'm in the super's apartment and the toilet doesn't work. I'm sort of reluctant to interrupt Gretchen and Randy's romantic moment to ask him to help me get the toilet to flush down my pee.

Well, I don't need him. As I said to Bonnie, I know how to fix the toilet.

I pull the cover off the tank. My experience is that there is a lever in there that sometimes gets stuck—the toilets in these apartments are pretty poorly made. Sure enough, the lever is stuck, and after I get it free, the toilet flushes no problem. I may not be successful in love, but at least I'm successful in fixing toilets.

But then, when the water in the tank goes down, I see something else.

It's a plastic bag.

It's a freezer bag—the same kind of airtight bag I used to store the water bottle with Tom's fingerprints on it. Why is there a freezer bag inside their toilet tank? That's super strange.

The bag seems to be taped in place. Curious, I pull it out to see why it's there. I imagine bringing it out and showing it to them. You guys are never going to believe what I found in your toilet!

And then I see what's inside. And I realize that I will not be showing it to them. Not now—not ever.

Because the bag is filled with locks of long hair. At least half a dozen of them.

And each one is tied together with a different-color ribbon.

Oh my God.

Randy is the killer.