Season 3 Redux - 3.07 Twice the Men
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 5,970
Category: AU-ing Season 3. They didn't do it right
Spoilers: You should've watched the whole lot anyway, but this is only up to and including 3.07
Disclaimer: The characters were created by Rob Thomas and remain the property of Thomas, the CW, and Warner Bros. Television. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. But think of all the fun we'd have together...
Author's Note: Thanks as ever to my fantastic beta celtic_flicka, who must have the patience of a saint to continually have to correct my punctuation. All mistakes after the fact are mine. This story is part of a season 3 re-write that has now gone pretty AU. You can find links to the other chapters under the cut and I recommend you read them to know what the heck is going on (and then can you tell me?) :-) I apologise for the delay in posting. I got pretty caught up with my 101 goals in 1001 days, but finishing this is goal number 2!
Comments are like cupcakes - the more you get the more you want them. I love to hear what you guys think!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Previously on Veronica Mars: Episode 3.01, 3.02, 3.03, 3.04, 3.05, 3.06
Now
“Dammit!” Keith Mars bent to pick up the keys that had slipped from his hand in his haste to open the door. Balancing his lunch and paperwork in one arm, he finally turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. The phone was still ringing. He hurried through to his office, dropping his load on the desk, praying that his sandwich survived under the weight of the folders.
“Mars Investigations?” he asked, remembering just in time that his keys were dangling from his teeth.
“Keith Mars, please.”
“Speaking.”
“Keith, this is Franklin Ballentine.” The familiar voice rumbled down the phone.
“Judge Ballentine, hello. What can I do for you?” Keith tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Franklin, Keith. I...” There was a pause on the other end of the phone followed by a deep intake of breath. “My daughter has died. The Sheriff’s office is claiming it was at her own hand, but I know my daughter, Keith. I know she wouldn’t do that.”
“Franklin, I’m so sorry to hear that. What can I do?”
“I need you to prove she didn’t kill herself. I need you to prove that Marjorie was murdered.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then
It was funny, how his brain worked. He assumed he should be thinking about the actual events of the last hour. His brain could have been processing it at some level, but all he could focus on was how the necklace around Veronica’s throat caught the light as she moved. As her chest rose and fell, the metal caught the overhead light and winked back at him. Rose and fell. Rose and fe-
“Logan?” His arm being jostled shook him out of his trance. He flicked his eyes back up to meet Veronica’s.
“Yeah?” He answered dully.
Veronica licked her lips, regarding him silently. “Logan,” she began eventually. “I... I don’t... A brother? You have,” she paused, checking herself. “Had a brother?”
Logan moved past her to stand at the railing of the balcony. “Half brother. Aaron-” He stopped, gripping the rail and dropping his head. He felt Veronica’s hand on his back, pressing gently.
“You don’t have to say anything-”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Logan said, more sharply than he intended. He heard Veronica’s quick intake of breath and he sighed, turning to face her. “Sorry,” he mumbled, catching her hand in his and lacing their fingers together.
She half-shrugged. “S’ok.”
Logan took a deep breath. “Aaron, like the great man he was, thought it a good idea to have an affair with an air hostess, and bang, instant brother. Guess he must have misunderstood the whole banana thing in health class.”
“How long have you known?”
“About my father’s inability to suit up?”
Veronica’s eyebrow twitched, but she remained silent.
“Or do you mean, Charlie?” Logan glanced sideways, as if in thought. “About three years, I guess.”
“Your brother’s name is Charlie?” she asked softly, almost to herself. Logan held her gaze for a beat, a small smile his only affirmative.
“Three years, Logan? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Logan snorted, “Right, tell you that my dad really was a shit? Or tell you that I didn’t have the balls to go through with meeting my brother? That I blew him off and never got the chance to speak to him?” Logan looked sideways again. “And now I never will.”
“What happened?”
Logan let out a breath, shaking his head, “I found out by accident, pretty much. Aaron was using Charlie to punish my mother. And me. He suggested I sign some legal documents, and when I questioned him…” Logan absently rubbed his forearm, shrugging slightly. “I eventually asked my mom who Charlie was. She… She didn’t want me to meet him. Didn’t want me to have anything to do-” Logan broke off, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Veronica stood silently, rubbing her thumb across his knuckle. The gentle circles she was making were having the desired effect: Logan felt the lump dissolve and his heart begin to slow. Then, her hand was gone, replaced by cool air. Logan looked back. Veronica was chewing on her thumbnail, looking thoughtful. He waited for the questions he knew were forming in her mind.
“How did you find out? Tonight, I mean. How did you find out about Charlie tonight?”
“His friend, Josh, I think, called. Said Charlie was driving and then... then there was an accident.” Logan shrugged slightly. “I didn’t really catch anything after that.”
“So you’d still have his number? This Josh?”
“I guess. What difference does it make, though? Charlie’s dead.”
“Well, don’t you wanna find out more?”
“More? What’s more to find out?”
“The circumstances? Or maybe why Charlie’s friend called you?”
Logan stared at her, blinking rapidly. “Not everything’s an investigation, Veronica.”
“I know, but-”
“No. No buts. Not everything has another layer to dig into.”
“But aren’t you curious?”
“No, Veronica!” Logan wiped his hand over his mouth. “I’m not, ok? I can’t go back and do it over. Finding out what happened isn’t gonna change anything, alright?” Logan let go of her hand. “Please, just leave it. You scratch under the surface and you’ll only make it raw.”
Veronica twisted her mouth. “Ok,” she finally said in a low voice.
“Look, let’s...let’s take some time out. I need a drink. Then I need to sleep for about a year.” Logan pushed both hands back through his hair.
Veronica smiled slightly. “You want some company?”
Logan let out a breath and cupped her shoulder with one hand, drawing her closer. “No, it’s ok. I think I just need some time by myself.” He tucked her head under his chin and looped his arm around her back.
Veronica rubbed her cheek on his chest and matched her breathing to his. “Alright,” she said into his shirt. “I’ll grab my stuff. Call me, if you need anything, ok?” She pulled back and looked up at him.
Logan nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“And Logan, about last night-”
“Yeah, I... I know. We need to talk. We will, but not now.”
Veronica held his gaze for a beat, playing with the necklace around her neck, before nodding. She disentangled herself and stepped around him, heading towards the door. “I’ll talk to you soon?”
Logan turned back to look out over the balcony. “Ok.”
He heard the door close behind her and a few minutes later heard the door to the suite shut. Then silence.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but when the dawn began to break purple over Neptune, he decided to forgo the drink and move straight to sleep.
He shuffled into his bedroom feeling an exhaustion that had seeped into his bones. He dropped onto the bed, holding his head in his hands for a moment, his eyelids straining to stay open. He was almost on the verge of sleeping upright when he remembered his cell, lying somewhere on the floor. He sighed, hoping it hadn’t shattered.
Bending forward, he searched the floor. Nothing. He bent further, pulling up the sheets that had flowed onto the floor to look under the bed. Nothing. His forehead creased. Had he thrown it? Hurled it against the wall? He shook his head, tiredly. It’s just a phone, Logan. It’ll keep till tomorrow. Or today. Whatever.
He flopped backwards, sliding his legs under the sheets. They felt like dead weights. He rolled onto his side, finally letting his eyelids slide shut.
It took him longer than it should, but his eyes soon popped open, looking in confusion at the nightstand, where his cell lay neatly closed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now
“Veronica, honey, are you home?”
“No, dad, I’m out.”
The door to her bedroom was pushed open. “Ha ha. That’s classic humour.”
“You know, you call yourself a private investigator, but you’re not very good. Car out front a clue for you, maybe?”
“Trail of debris from the kitchen to your room another?”
Veronica smirked. “Exactly. Like I said, terrible private dick.”
Keith moved further into the room and Veronica pulled her laptop shut. Her father stood silently for a moment, looking around as if he was searching for something.
“You lost, dad?”
Keith sighed. “Honey, do you know a Marjorie Ballentine?”
Veronica looked slightly taken aback. She cocked her head towards her father. “Sure,” she started slowly. “I met her a few times at a sorority.”
Keith blinked, momentarily silenced. He shook his head slightly before continuing. “She was killed, last night.”
Veronica turned in her chair to face her father more fully. “What? How?”
“It’s unclear. The Sheriff’s department thinks she killed herself.”
“And you?” Veronica asked without hesitation.
“I’m not sure. I don’t have all the details. How well did you know her?”
Veronica shrugged slightly. “Not well, I mean, I’d met her a few times and I knew people who knew her.” She began to squirm uncomfortably on her seat, looking away from her father and down to her desk.
“What?” asked Keith, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s nothing.”
“Veronica, don’t give me that. If you know something.” He stepped closer, crouching down at her feet to force her to look at him. “Honey, her father he’s.... He’s a very powerful man.”
Veronica looked back, chewing on her lip. “I... I accused her of something. Something I shouldn’t have and it got her kicked out of her sorority. It was stupid, but there’s no way she would’ve killed herself... Oh my god,” she finished softly, feeling the blood drain from her face.
“What?” Keith asked, urgently, shifting closer. “Veronica, what?” he repeated when Veronica didn’t respond.
Veronica stared at the wall opposite. “She called me. Last night. She called me to ask for help and I...” Veronica turned back to her father, looking stricken. “I... I said no. I said I couldn’t help her.”
“What time did she call, Veronica?”
“I...” Veronica gazed blankly back.
Keith leaned forward and gripped her shoulders. “It’s important, Veronica. What time?”
Veronica swallowed. “About 6.”
“Are you sure?”
Veronica blinked, the shock slowing her brain. “I’ll... I’ll check my phone.” She fumbled in her pocket, pulling her cell out and scrolling through the menu with shaking fingers.
“6:22 last night.”
Keith stood and Veronica’s gaze followed him. “God, Dad, why didn’t I help her? I could’ve helped her. I should’ve helped her,” she finished desperately.
“Veronica, if Marjorie was murdered, I’m glad you didn’t try to help, otherwise there would be two grieving fathers today, not one.” He leaned down and kissed her head, before moving towards the door.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Her father wants me to investigate, and... you don’t say no to him.”
“What can I do?”
Keith turned in the doorway. “Nothing, Veronica.” He said sharply. “I don’t want you involved in a case where a girl your age has been killed.”
“Dad, please. I have to. I have to help now. I didn’t help her then, I need to help her now.”
Keith sighed, gripping the door handle. “Ok, but you only help when I ask. I don’t want you doing anything off your own bat, ok, Veronica?” Her father pointed a finger at her. “I mean that.”
Veronica nodded. “Ok.”
“Ok.” Keith made to turn out the room. “Oh, the thing you accused her of? That got her kicked out of the sorority, what was it?”
Veronica flushed slightly. “So stupid,” she began, shaking her head. “Dealing drugs. I accused her of dealing drugs. Which is clearly completely - what?” She asked at the expression on her father’s face.
Keith wiped a hand over his mouth. “Marjorie died from a massive drug overdose.”
“What?!”
“So you don’t think she was using them?”
“No,” said Veronica, shaking her head vehemently. “I thought she had the smarts to be a drug kingpin, but she definitely wasn’t stupid enough to use them.”
“Ok.”
“You think someone killed her by-?”
“I’m not sure what I think yet, Veronica, but promise me you won’t start asking questions. If Marjorie was involved with something like this, I don’t want you attracting any attention. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with.”
Veronica nodded.
Keith smiled at her before turning and walking out the room, closing the door behind him.
Veronica stared after him for a long time, finally turning back to her desk and reopening her laptop. The screen flickered to life, displaying the results of what she had previously been researching. It took her a moment to remember why she was looking for it, until it came flooding back to her.
“Joshua Myers,” she murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This is Josh.”
Silence.
“Hello?”
“Is this Josh Myers?”
“Yeah, this is Josh, who is this?”
“Logan. This is Logan Echolls. We spoke-”
“Right, Logan, yes, how… how are you?”
Logan cleared his throat. “Can we meet? I… I have some questions.”
“Sure, I…” There was a rustle on the other end. “Today? I’m pretty free today if that’s good?”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
“It’ll take me a couple of hours to get to Neptune.”
“Ok. Call me when you’re near. We’ll arrange where to meet.”
“See you then, Logan.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was surprisingly bright when Veronica stepped outside and she was momentarily blinded. The last few days felt like they’d been coated in darkness, so it was nice to see the sun, even if it did feel like her retinas were burning. Opening her bag, she grabbed both her sunglasses and cell, slipping the former on as she dialed a number with her free hand. She pinned the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she refastened her bag.
“This is Logan, leave a message.”
The message bank had long since given its beep before Veronica began leaving her message. She was so unnerved by the lack of Logan’s usual inspirational message that she was surprised into silence.
“Oh uh…. Logan, it’s me. I… I haven’t heard from you since last night. Call me. I wanna make sure you’re ok.”
She disconnected the call and headed towards her car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan made it to the phone just as it stopped ringing. “How? How do you do that?” he muttered in frustration, snatching it up to see who had called. His expression softened when he saw who it was and was just about to hit speed dial one when the phone rang again in his hand.
“Veronica?”
“Logan, hey, it’s Josh.” The voice shouted, above the sound of a car engine.
Logan winced and pulled the phone away from his ear slightly. “Josh, are you here?”
“Yeah, just driving past the high school now.”
“Ok, turn right onto Washington Avenue and there’s a bar at the end by the railway, Palace Bar. You can’t miss it.”
“I’ll buy the first round.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Logan’s face. “Make them doubles.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Palace Bar was most likely named in a fit of irony as Logan couldn’t imagine it looking any different from its current rundown state. It must have been built that way. Logan parked his car near a blue Camry in the otherwise deserted parking lot and headed towards the door, pushing it open with one hand. The bar was dimly lit, most of the blinds drawn. Any sporadic shafts of sunlight were filled with smoky air. The bartender apparently didn’t think the smoking laws applied to him. He leant on the bar with one hand, flicking through a newspaper, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked up when Logan came in, a length of ash dropping on to the paper.
Logan looked around. The bar was practically empty, but he could’ve spotted Josh even if it was packed. He sat in a booth, nervously twisting the glass in front of him, his eyes flicking around. He caught Logan’s gaze and smiled questioningly. Logan moved towards him, sliding onto the bench opposite.
“Josh?”
“Yeah, hey.” Josh offered his hand across the table. Logan shook it firmly without smiling.
Josh pushed a beer towards Logan. “I hope you drink beer. It was the only label I could read.” Josh said, casting his glance over to the bar where the bartender was still watching Logan.
“Thanks.” Logan took a large swig from the glass, setting it back with a thud and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I haven’t been to Neptune much. Are all the bars this nice?”
Logan’s mouth twitched. “Some actually clean their glasses.”
“What a delightful town.” Josh peered at his glass closely before taking a large mouthful of beer.
Logan studied him in silence. He was older than Logan, maybe 25, with dark hair that curled slightly over the collar of his shirt. The glasses he wore had dark rims and he appeared to be in a constant fight to keep them on his face, pushing at them regularly. He caught Logan's eye on him, over the rim of his beer.
He lowered his drink slowly, watching Logan eyeing him.
“As much fun as it is to drive for two hours to have you stare at-"
“How did you know Charlie?”
Josh pushed at the bridge of his glasses. “We were at UCLA together. We shared a dorm room freshman year.”
“When was that?”
“Five years ago.”
“So you’re-?”
“24.”
“Charlie was the same age?”
Josh nodded, looking down at his glass.
Logan was silent, doing the math. Working out exactly when his father had officially become an adulterous shit. He snorted softly. How far back should I go?
“Did Charlie tell you about Aaron? About me?” Logan swirled the last few inches of drink in his glass, his heart pounding slightly.
“Yeah.” Logan looked up and caught Josh’s gaze. “Yeah, he did.”
Logan stared at Josh for a moment longer, but couldn’t decipher anything more from his gaze. He dropped his eyes back to the table. “So, that’s how you knew to call me?” he asked, uncertainly.
Josh sighed and shifted on his seat. “Not exactly, see-” He stopped as a shadow crossed the table. They looked up to see the bartender glaring down at them.
“Ah great,” Logan said with faux-brightness. “Two beers, my good man.”
“This ain’t no chew-and-spew and I ain’t your waitress,” he growled. “IDs”
Logan squinted at him slightly before pulling his wallet out of his pocket and sliding his ID out.
“Logan Echolls?” the bartender asked, with something close to amusement.
Logan remained silent and pulled several notes out of his wallet, folded them and slid them across the table to him. “Two beers,” he repeated. “Keep the change.”
The bartender stared at him for a moment before grunting a laugh and flicking his ID back. Bending he picked up the notes, flipped through them and raised an eyebrow at Logan. He turned back to the bar, returning a moment later and banging two glasses down, sloshing beer over the top.
Logan wiped a trail of beer off the table before it could make a beeline for the edge. “You should always tip your waitress.”
Josh smiled briefly, and then shifted again on his seat. “Charlie called me, a few days before… Before he died. He was… drunk, I think, rambling on about this and that. Nothing seemed to make sense. I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks-he’d just disappeared. Then he called, out of the blue.”
“Didn’t you try and find out where he was, when he was missing?”
Josh shifted again, pushing at his glasses. “Well, I… I didn’t think anything of it till he called and I realised I hadn’t heard from him in a while.”
“What was he saying, on the phone?”
Josh shook his head. “Nothing, it was all rambling. He talked about college, about his mom, about some peanut butter brownies he’d made.” Josh puffed out a small laugh. “Then he mentioned you.”
Logan swallowed. “But, he’d… he’d talked about me before?”
Josh shrugged. “Not much, man. Just that he had a half-brother from when his mom had slept with a movie star. At first, I thought he was messin’ around, but then he told me it was Aaron Echolls and you could… you could kind of see the similarities.”
Josh took a swig of his beer and Logan waited.
“He told me how you’d called him and wanted to meet, but when it came down to it...” Josh trailed off, looking at Logan with half-curiosity and half-awkwardness.
Logan took a swig of his own beer, but remained silent.
“Anyway,” Josh continued “when he mentioned you during this phone call it was the first time I’d heard your name since then. He said…” Josh looked out the window, looking thoughtful. Logan shifted impatiently. “He told me to call you, that your number was in his address book.”
Logan blinked as the story came to an end. “That’s it? He asked you to call me? Did he say why?”
Josh leaned back. “The whole conversation didn’t make sense, Logan. None of it. He asked me to call you then asked if I liked apples.” Josh shook his head. “Then two days later he was dead.”
Logan’s forehead creased in confusion. “Did he often get drunk and talk nonsense?”
“No. He rarely drank.”
“So, you just thought it was normal for him to go missing, get drunk, and call you to talk shit?!” Logan’s voice began to rise.
“Hey, listen. He was 24. It’s hardly unheard of for a 24-year-old to have one too many drinks and talk gibberish.”
Logan leant back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But why would he want you to call me? Why not call me himself?” he asked, half to himself.
“I don’t know.” Josh replied, softly. “Maybe he… Maybe he wanted to try and meet you again?”
Logan closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he saw that Josh was looking out of the window again. “How did it happen? How did he die?”
Josh looked back at Logan. “I’m not sure. He must’ve been driving back home when his car veered into oncoming traffic. Witnesses said the brake lights didn’t come on, like he didn’t even try to stop the car.”
“Or he was unconscious.”
Josh shrugged, half-agreeing. “No one would tell me anything. He was taken to the hospital, but by the time I found out, he was already dead.”
“What about his family?”
Josh looked at him steadily. “You were it. His mom died a few years back and he didn’t have any other siblings.”
Logan felt a sickening cold rush through him, felt the beer begin to churn in his stomach. “So what happened? What happened to his… his body.”
“It’s in the county morgue. No one…” Josh stopped, swiping at his face with one hand. “No one has claimed him for burial purposes.”
Logan felt the bile rising in his throat. “What?” he choked out. “No one has claimed…?”
“There was no will, no family, and so, in instances like that…” Josh looked down at his glass.
“I’m his family,” Logan stammered. “I’m his… Who do I call? What do I have to do?”
“I don’t-”
Logan pushed himself out of the booth. “I gotta go, I gotta sort this out.”
“Logan, wait-”
“No! You’ve left him waiting there long enough.”
“I’ve left him-?” Josh began to stand.
“Thanks for the beer.” Logan turned and strode towards the door, banging it open, sending sunlight crashing in to the bar.
Josh sank back into the booth looking stunned, watching through the window in silence as Logan’s black car peeled away from the parking lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Veronica rarely let her emotions show in public, but this was an exception she was willing to use to let fly. She heard her cell ringing again, locked inside the car.
“Dammit!” She yelled in frustration, banging the trunk with her fist. She glared at the car parked next to hers. She wasn’t sure how the driver of the blue Camry had managed to get quite so close, but between it and the wall on the other side she had no way of getting in.
She turned around and slumped against the car, folding her arms across her chest. Twenty more seconds and I’m moving it myself.
Something in her periphery caught her attention and she turned her head, watching as a guy in his twenties strolled towards her. He had his head tipped back, draining the contents of a take-away coffee cup and had yet to see her. His other hand was rummaging around in his pockets, finally extracting a set of keys. Veronica knew she had her man.
As his head came back level, he noticed her leaning on her car, glaring at him. He paused, taking in the situation. He came closer and when she was in earshot said, “Ah.”
“That’s it?” asked Veronica, pushing herself off her car. “Do you know how close your car came to being intimately acquainted with me?”
The Camry owner glanced at his parking in consternation. “I’m really sorry, it was an emergency. I-I didn’t think I’d be this long.”
“An emergency? At Starbucks? Did they have a coffee glut?”
“ No, I- that was an unnecessary luxury. I see that now.”
Veronica sighed. “Fine, just, move your car, I need to be somewhere that isn’t here.”
“ Let-let me make it up to you. Please? I-I feel really bad.”
“Really, I have to go.”
He grinned at her, jingling his keys at eye-level. “Looks like you’ll have to agree to me making it up to you first...”
Veronica stared at him for a long moment. “Is this you being cute?”
The smile dropped from his face and he lowered his hand, looking sheepish. “I was aiming for endearing.”
“Way off, pal. My car?”
“Ok, last chance-”
“Last chance?!”
“For me! For me, I mean-” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket, fumbling through it for something.
“Funny, thought we’d already crossed that line,” muttered Veronica.
“Here’s my number,” he said, tugging a card out of his wallet. It slipped out of his fingers and shot through the air at her, landing on the ground between them. “There’s my number. Dinner, my treat.”
“You’re throwing your card at me? Smooth.”
“Well, you- you’re not holding up your side of the exchange. Makes it harder.” He bent to pick up the card, holding it out to her once more.
Veronica twisted her mouth, ready to dismiss this guy once and for all when something caught her eye. She took the card from between his fingers, reading the name aloud. “Joshua Myers?”
“Josh.”
Veronica opened her mouth, but the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. “Great! Josh, move your car.”
“Sure thing, er… you are?”
“Late.”
Josh backed away, moving towards his car. “So, Late... I’ll see you around?”
“I think you can count on it,” murmured Veronica.
Josh grinned, climbing into his car and reversing out of the space.
Veronica let out a groan of relief and hurriedly opened the car door, reaching over the console to grab her cell.
Four missed calls from Logan Echolls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Keith Mars stepped up to the smiling receptionist. “Megan Copeland?”
“What name, please?”
“Keith Mars.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“She knows I’m coming.”
“Great. Take a seat, Mr. Mars. I’ll tell Megan you’re here.”
Keith stepped back away from the desk, but remained standing, listening as the receptionist dialed a number and did exactly what she said she would.
He turned to look at a fading poster on the wall behind him, pushing the thumbtack in more securely.
“Mr. Mars?” a woman’s voice asked. Keith turned to face her, smiling as he offered his hand.
“Mrs. Copeland?”
“Miss. It’s Miss Copeland, well, Megan, actually.” She took his hand, shaking it, slightly flustered.
“Well, nice to meet you, Megan.” Keith continued to grip her hand.
“Likewise,” she gazed up at him for a moment, before shaking herself slightly and dropping his hand. She gestured behind her. “Please, let’s head to my office.”
She led him up the short hallway to the office at the end, opening the door and gesturing him through.
“Have a seat. Can I get you a coffee?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” Keith sat in the chair facing her desk. Megan slipped behind it, lowering herself onto the chair, surreptitiously moving the paper on her desk into a pile.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward. “What can I do for you, Mr. Mars?”
“Keith, please. I’m here about Marjorie Ballentine.”
Megan leant back in her chair, her smile fading slightly. “Oh.”
“I believe you were the pathologist assigned to her case?”
Megan looked confused. “I’m sorry, Keith, under what capacity are you asking me these questions?”
“Marjorie’s father has hired me as a private investigator to determine who killed her.”
“Who-? Keith, you should know that the Sheriff’s department is treating Marjorie’s case as a suicide.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here to ask what you think happened.”
Megan gazed at Keith for a long time. “Keith, I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Keith, you used to work in law enforcement, tell me, how much time did you give to private eyes?”
“Megan, her father just wants the truth.”
“As do we all, but until her father creates a law that requires me to tell you that, I’m afraid there’s nothing more we have to say on the matter.”
“Judge Ballentine? I wouldn’t put it past him. Well, thank you for your time, Megan. I’m sorry we couldn’t discuss this further.” Keith stood, leaning over to shake her hand. He moved towards the door.
“I want to know what happened to Marjorie just as much as you do, Keith.”
“Well, hopefully one of us will find out before it’s too late.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Veronica banged on the door with the flat of her hand, not caring how obnoxiously loud it sounded. She was too tired for this right now and not being able to get hold of Logan was making things worse. They were like ships in the night, one voicemail message passing just ahead of the other.
She banged the door again as it flew open.
“Veronica, hey! It’s great to see you! Sorry, I was... I was...er...”
“Piz,” she said shortly, stepping into the room, not bothering to fill his awkward silence with any niceties. “Ok, shoot. This has to be quick, Piz. I have a million other things going on at the moment.”
Piz’s forehead creased. “But, this is about Wallace. I thought you’d care?”
Veronica sighed, dropping onto the bed. “Of course I care, Piz,” she all but snapped. “But so far you haven’t given me very much to go on. It’s almost like you want me to think Wallace is taking drugs, but you don’t have any proof.”
“No proof? Oh, I’ve got proof. Here, look at this.” Piz strode to Wallace’s desk, picking up a sheet of paper lying on the top of a small pile. He thrust it at her, almost triumphantly. Veronica stared at him for a second before reaching out and taking it.
She looked down. It was definitely Wallace’s handwriting.
“I don’t get it, this looks like... like lecture notes or studying or something. Piz, what am I looking at?”
“Look at the top left corner.”
Veronica sighed, glancing up at the corner and twisting the paper around at an angle to read what was written there. “Call S. Hiller.” She looked up again at Piz, her face twisted in a question. “That’s it? ‘Call S. Hiller’? Is that some kind of code? ’Cause I gotta tell you, Piz, you looked through all that paperwork and found that? That’s pretty good detective work.”
She stood up, dropping the paper on the bed.
“S. Hiller? Scott Hiller? Does that name not ring a bell with you?”
Veronica looked at him steadily. “What makes you think the S is for Scott?”
“How many other Hillers do you know at Hearst?”
“Gee, Piz, I don’t know. Got a directory?”
“Well, I’ll tell you. There’s only one.”
“So what? Wallace could’ve been calling him for something else.”
“Something else? Scott Hiller doesn’t have a ’something else.’ He majors in drug dealing, Veronica. That’s it.”
“You want me to nail him to a cross because he wrote a name down that sounds like a Hearst drug dealer?”
“No, I want you-”
The sound of Veronica’s phone ringing cut Piz off. They stared at each other for a moment before Veronica moved to answer it.
“Hey, Dad. No, I’m not, I’m on campus. Yeah, I’m at Wallace’s. Yeah, I know, sorry. I’ve... I’ve been here for a while. No, I should be home tonight. Ok, bye.”
Veronica snapped her phone shut and bent to pick up her purse. “Look, Piz. If you have any other proof then let me know, because right now, I have to go.”
“Ok, but listen.” Piz grabbed her elbow to prevent her moving past him. “Next time you talk to Wallace, keep it in mind. He’s really changed, Veronica. Maybe you just haven’t noticed yet.”
Veronica paused, before pulling her arm out of Piz’s grasp and opening the door. She shut it behind her, leaning back on to it and closing her eyes. When was the last time you spent any time with Wallace, Veronica? Or does BFF mean Big Fat Fake to you now?
She pushed herself away from the door with a sigh. She couldn’t think about this now-she needed to find Logan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan pulled his car sharply onto the side of the road. After his dramatic exit from the bar, he realised he had just been driving aimlessly around and around, not knowing what to do or where to go. He banged the steering wheel in frustration.
Grabbing his cell, he pressed speed dial 1, hoping this time to get an answer.
“Hi, you’ve reached Veron-”
He disconnected the call and dialed another number.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Mr. Mars.”
“Logan, everything ok?”
“Yeah. Uh, I’m looking for Veronica. I can’t seem to reach her.”
“You might try Wallace’s. She said she was with him.”
“Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
Logan snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He started the engine and peeled away from the side of the road, swinging the car around to head back the way he had come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ordinarily he wouldn’t appreciate being on “educational grounds” after hours, but he practically jogged towards Wallace’s room. He needed Veronica with him for this. He didn’t want to do it alone. He arrived, slightly out of breath, and knocked gently on the door.
He heard footsteps and his face lifted in a small smile. The handle moved, the door opened.
“Logan.”
Logan blinked, confused, looking past Piz into the small room behind him.
“Hey, I'm looking for Veronica.”
“She was around earlier, but I haven't-“
“Is she with Wallace?”
“He's out of town a-at a motel...studying.”
A smile appeared on Piz’s face. A smile of almost triumph. Logan’s hand twitched, itching to ball into a fist and knock whatever that smile meant of Piz’s face.
“Hey, 'cause Veronica's dad thought that, uh...”
Logan trailed off, looking into the room again, hoping to see something, anything that would convince him that Veronica hadn’t been here earlier, alone with this guy. He saw nothing but rumpled sheets and tried to force that thought from his mind. He glanced back at Piz. The smug smile was still present, albeit slightly smaller. He gazed back unblinking at Logan.
“Hmm.” He looked down at the floor, willing himself not to smash something. “Well, if you see her, a-ask her to call me?”
Piz nodded as Logan backed away, turning so as not to look at that smile any longer. He’d have to do this alone. He’d have to face this by himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Word Count: 5,970
Category: AU-ing Season 3. They didn't do it right
Spoilers: You should've watched the whole lot anyway, but this is only up to and including 3.07
Disclaimer: The characters were created by Rob Thomas and remain the property of Thomas, the CW, and Warner Bros. Television. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. But think of all the fun we'd have together...
Author's Note: Thanks as ever to my fantastic beta celtic_flicka, who must have the patience of a saint to continually have to correct my punctuation. All mistakes after the fact are mine. This story is part of a season 3 re-write that has now gone pretty AU. You can find links to the other chapters under the cut and I recommend you read them to know what the heck is going on (and then can you tell me?) :-) I apologise for the delay in posting. I got pretty caught up with my 101 goals in 1001 days, but finishing this is goal number 2!
Comments are like cupcakes - the more you get the more you want them. I love to hear what you guys think!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Previously on Veronica Mars: Episode 3.01, 3.02, 3.03, 3.04, 3.05, 3.06
Now
“Dammit!” Keith Mars bent to pick up the keys that had slipped from his hand in his haste to open the door. Balancing his lunch and paperwork in one arm, he finally turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. The phone was still ringing. He hurried through to his office, dropping his load on the desk, praying that his sandwich survived under the weight of the folders.
“Mars Investigations?” he asked, remembering just in time that his keys were dangling from his teeth.
“Keith Mars, please.”
“Speaking.”
“Keith, this is Franklin Ballentine.” The familiar voice rumbled down the phone.
“Judge Ballentine, hello. What can I do for you?” Keith tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Franklin, Keith. I...” There was a pause on the other end of the phone followed by a deep intake of breath. “My daughter has died. The Sheriff’s office is claiming it was at her own hand, but I know my daughter, Keith. I know she wouldn’t do that.”
“Franklin, I’m so sorry to hear that. What can I do?”
“I need you to prove she didn’t kill herself. I need you to prove that Marjorie was murdered.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then
It was funny, how his brain worked. He assumed he should be thinking about the actual events of the last hour. His brain could have been processing it at some level, but all he could focus on was how the necklace around Veronica’s throat caught the light as she moved. As her chest rose and fell, the metal caught the overhead light and winked back at him. Rose and fell. Rose and fe-
“Logan?” His arm being jostled shook him out of his trance. He flicked his eyes back up to meet Veronica’s.
“Yeah?” He answered dully.
Veronica licked her lips, regarding him silently. “Logan,” she began eventually. “I... I don’t... A brother? You have,” she paused, checking herself. “Had a brother?”
Logan moved past her to stand at the railing of the balcony. “Half brother. Aaron-” He stopped, gripping the rail and dropping his head. He felt Veronica’s hand on his back, pressing gently.
“You don’t have to say anything-”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Logan said, more sharply than he intended. He heard Veronica’s quick intake of breath and he sighed, turning to face her. “Sorry,” he mumbled, catching her hand in his and lacing their fingers together.
She half-shrugged. “S’ok.”
Logan took a deep breath. “Aaron, like the great man he was, thought it a good idea to have an affair with an air hostess, and bang, instant brother. Guess he must have misunderstood the whole banana thing in health class.”
“How long have you known?”
“About my father’s inability to suit up?”
Veronica’s eyebrow twitched, but she remained silent.
“Or do you mean, Charlie?” Logan glanced sideways, as if in thought. “About three years, I guess.”
“Your brother’s name is Charlie?” she asked softly, almost to herself. Logan held her gaze for a beat, a small smile his only affirmative.
“Three years, Logan? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Logan snorted, “Right, tell you that my dad really was a shit? Or tell you that I didn’t have the balls to go through with meeting my brother? That I blew him off and never got the chance to speak to him?” Logan looked sideways again. “And now I never will.”
“What happened?”
Logan let out a breath, shaking his head, “I found out by accident, pretty much. Aaron was using Charlie to punish my mother. And me. He suggested I sign some legal documents, and when I questioned him…” Logan absently rubbed his forearm, shrugging slightly. “I eventually asked my mom who Charlie was. She… She didn’t want me to meet him. Didn’t want me to have anything to do-” Logan broke off, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Veronica stood silently, rubbing her thumb across his knuckle. The gentle circles she was making were having the desired effect: Logan felt the lump dissolve and his heart begin to slow. Then, her hand was gone, replaced by cool air. Logan looked back. Veronica was chewing on her thumbnail, looking thoughtful. He waited for the questions he knew were forming in her mind.
“How did you find out? Tonight, I mean. How did you find out about Charlie tonight?”
“His friend, Josh, I think, called. Said Charlie was driving and then... then there was an accident.” Logan shrugged slightly. “I didn’t really catch anything after that.”
“So you’d still have his number? This Josh?”
“I guess. What difference does it make, though? Charlie’s dead.”
“Well, don’t you wanna find out more?”
“More? What’s more to find out?”
“The circumstances? Or maybe why Charlie’s friend called you?”
Logan stared at her, blinking rapidly. “Not everything’s an investigation, Veronica.”
“I know, but-”
“No. No buts. Not everything has another layer to dig into.”
“But aren’t you curious?”
“No, Veronica!” Logan wiped his hand over his mouth. “I’m not, ok? I can’t go back and do it over. Finding out what happened isn’t gonna change anything, alright?” Logan let go of her hand. “Please, just leave it. You scratch under the surface and you’ll only make it raw.”
Veronica twisted her mouth. “Ok,” she finally said in a low voice.
“Look, let’s...let’s take some time out. I need a drink. Then I need to sleep for about a year.” Logan pushed both hands back through his hair.
Veronica smiled slightly. “You want some company?”
Logan let out a breath and cupped her shoulder with one hand, drawing her closer. “No, it’s ok. I think I just need some time by myself.” He tucked her head under his chin and looped his arm around her back.
Veronica rubbed her cheek on his chest and matched her breathing to his. “Alright,” she said into his shirt. “I’ll grab my stuff. Call me, if you need anything, ok?” She pulled back and looked up at him.
Logan nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“And Logan, about last night-”
“Yeah, I... I know. We need to talk. We will, but not now.”
Veronica held his gaze for a beat, playing with the necklace around her neck, before nodding. She disentangled herself and stepped around him, heading towards the door. “I’ll talk to you soon?”
Logan turned back to look out over the balcony. “Ok.”
He heard the door close behind her and a few minutes later heard the door to the suite shut. Then silence.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but when the dawn began to break purple over Neptune, he decided to forgo the drink and move straight to sleep.
He shuffled into his bedroom feeling an exhaustion that had seeped into his bones. He dropped onto the bed, holding his head in his hands for a moment, his eyelids straining to stay open. He was almost on the verge of sleeping upright when he remembered his cell, lying somewhere on the floor. He sighed, hoping it hadn’t shattered.
Bending forward, he searched the floor. Nothing. He bent further, pulling up the sheets that had flowed onto the floor to look under the bed. Nothing. His forehead creased. Had he thrown it? Hurled it against the wall? He shook his head, tiredly. It’s just a phone, Logan. It’ll keep till tomorrow. Or today. Whatever.
He flopped backwards, sliding his legs under the sheets. They felt like dead weights. He rolled onto his side, finally letting his eyelids slide shut.
It took him longer than it should, but his eyes soon popped open, looking in confusion at the nightstand, where his cell lay neatly closed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now
“Veronica, honey, are you home?”
“No, dad, I’m out.”
The door to her bedroom was pushed open. “Ha ha. That’s classic humour.”
“You know, you call yourself a private investigator, but you’re not very good. Car out front a clue for you, maybe?”
“Trail of debris from the kitchen to your room another?”
Veronica smirked. “Exactly. Like I said, terrible private dick.”
Keith moved further into the room and Veronica pulled her laptop shut. Her father stood silently for a moment, looking around as if he was searching for something.
“You lost, dad?”
Keith sighed. “Honey, do you know a Marjorie Ballentine?”
Veronica looked slightly taken aback. She cocked her head towards her father. “Sure,” she started slowly. “I met her a few times at a sorority.”
Keith blinked, momentarily silenced. He shook his head slightly before continuing. “She was killed, last night.”
Veronica turned in her chair to face her father more fully. “What? How?”
“It’s unclear. The Sheriff’s department thinks she killed herself.”
“And you?” Veronica asked without hesitation.
“I’m not sure. I don’t have all the details. How well did you know her?”
Veronica shrugged slightly. “Not well, I mean, I’d met her a few times and I knew people who knew her.” She began to squirm uncomfortably on her seat, looking away from her father and down to her desk.
“What?” asked Keith, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s nothing.”
“Veronica, don’t give me that. If you know something.” He stepped closer, crouching down at her feet to force her to look at him. “Honey, her father he’s.... He’s a very powerful man.”
Veronica looked back, chewing on her lip. “I... I accused her of something. Something I shouldn’t have and it got her kicked out of her sorority. It was stupid, but there’s no way she would’ve killed herself... Oh my god,” she finished softly, feeling the blood drain from her face.
“What?” Keith asked, urgently, shifting closer. “Veronica, what?” he repeated when Veronica didn’t respond.
Veronica stared at the wall opposite. “She called me. Last night. She called me to ask for help and I...” Veronica turned back to her father, looking stricken. “I... I said no. I said I couldn’t help her.”
“What time did she call, Veronica?”
“I...” Veronica gazed blankly back.
Keith leaned forward and gripped her shoulders. “It’s important, Veronica. What time?”
Veronica swallowed. “About 6.”
“Are you sure?”
Veronica blinked, the shock slowing her brain. “I’ll... I’ll check my phone.” She fumbled in her pocket, pulling her cell out and scrolling through the menu with shaking fingers.
“6:22 last night.”
Keith stood and Veronica’s gaze followed him. “God, Dad, why didn’t I help her? I could’ve helped her. I should’ve helped her,” she finished desperately.
“Veronica, if Marjorie was murdered, I’m glad you didn’t try to help, otherwise there would be two grieving fathers today, not one.” He leaned down and kissed her head, before moving towards the door.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Her father wants me to investigate, and... you don’t say no to him.”
“What can I do?”
Keith turned in the doorway. “Nothing, Veronica.” He said sharply. “I don’t want you involved in a case where a girl your age has been killed.”
“Dad, please. I have to. I have to help now. I didn’t help her then, I need to help her now.”
Keith sighed, gripping the door handle. “Ok, but you only help when I ask. I don’t want you doing anything off your own bat, ok, Veronica?” Her father pointed a finger at her. “I mean that.”
Veronica nodded. “Ok.”
“Ok.” Keith made to turn out the room. “Oh, the thing you accused her of? That got her kicked out of the sorority, what was it?”
Veronica flushed slightly. “So stupid,” she began, shaking her head. “Dealing drugs. I accused her of dealing drugs. Which is clearly completely - what?” She asked at the expression on her father’s face.
Keith wiped a hand over his mouth. “Marjorie died from a massive drug overdose.”
“What?!”
“So you don’t think she was using them?”
“No,” said Veronica, shaking her head vehemently. “I thought she had the smarts to be a drug kingpin, but she definitely wasn’t stupid enough to use them.”
“Ok.”
“You think someone killed her by-?”
“I’m not sure what I think yet, Veronica, but promise me you won’t start asking questions. If Marjorie was involved with something like this, I don’t want you attracting any attention. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with.”
Veronica nodded.
Keith smiled at her before turning and walking out the room, closing the door behind him.
Veronica stared after him for a long time, finally turning back to her desk and reopening her laptop. The screen flickered to life, displaying the results of what she had previously been researching. It took her a moment to remember why she was looking for it, until it came flooding back to her.
“Joshua Myers,” she murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This is Josh.”
Silence.
“Hello?”
“Is this Josh Myers?”
“Yeah, this is Josh, who is this?”
“Logan. This is Logan Echolls. We spoke-”
“Right, Logan, yes, how… how are you?”
Logan cleared his throat. “Can we meet? I… I have some questions.”
“Sure, I…” There was a rustle on the other end. “Today? I’m pretty free today if that’s good?”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
“It’ll take me a couple of hours to get to Neptune.”
“Ok. Call me when you’re near. We’ll arrange where to meet.”
“See you then, Logan.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was surprisingly bright when Veronica stepped outside and she was momentarily blinded. The last few days felt like they’d been coated in darkness, so it was nice to see the sun, even if it did feel like her retinas were burning. Opening her bag, she grabbed both her sunglasses and cell, slipping the former on as she dialed a number with her free hand. She pinned the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she refastened her bag.
“This is Logan, leave a message.”
The message bank had long since given its beep before Veronica began leaving her message. She was so unnerved by the lack of Logan’s usual inspirational message that she was surprised into silence.
“Oh uh…. Logan, it’s me. I… I haven’t heard from you since last night. Call me. I wanna make sure you’re ok.”
She disconnected the call and headed towards her car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan made it to the phone just as it stopped ringing. “How? How do you do that?” he muttered in frustration, snatching it up to see who had called. His expression softened when he saw who it was and was just about to hit speed dial one when the phone rang again in his hand.
“Veronica?”
“Logan, hey, it’s Josh.” The voice shouted, above the sound of a car engine.
Logan winced and pulled the phone away from his ear slightly. “Josh, are you here?”
“Yeah, just driving past the high school now.”
“Ok, turn right onto Washington Avenue and there’s a bar at the end by the railway, Palace Bar. You can’t miss it.”
“I’ll buy the first round.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Logan’s face. “Make them doubles.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Palace Bar was most likely named in a fit of irony as Logan couldn’t imagine it looking any different from its current rundown state. It must have been built that way. Logan parked his car near a blue Camry in the otherwise deserted parking lot and headed towards the door, pushing it open with one hand. The bar was dimly lit, most of the blinds drawn. Any sporadic shafts of sunlight were filled with smoky air. The bartender apparently didn’t think the smoking laws applied to him. He leant on the bar with one hand, flicking through a newspaper, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked up when Logan came in, a length of ash dropping on to the paper.
Logan looked around. The bar was practically empty, but he could’ve spotted Josh even if it was packed. He sat in a booth, nervously twisting the glass in front of him, his eyes flicking around. He caught Logan’s gaze and smiled questioningly. Logan moved towards him, sliding onto the bench opposite.
“Josh?”
“Yeah, hey.” Josh offered his hand across the table. Logan shook it firmly without smiling.
Josh pushed a beer towards Logan. “I hope you drink beer. It was the only label I could read.” Josh said, casting his glance over to the bar where the bartender was still watching Logan.
“Thanks.” Logan took a large swig from the glass, setting it back with a thud and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I haven’t been to Neptune much. Are all the bars this nice?”
Logan’s mouth twitched. “Some actually clean their glasses.”
“What a delightful town.” Josh peered at his glass closely before taking a large mouthful of beer.
Logan studied him in silence. He was older than Logan, maybe 25, with dark hair that curled slightly over the collar of his shirt. The glasses he wore had dark rims and he appeared to be in a constant fight to keep them on his face, pushing at them regularly. He caught Logan's eye on him, over the rim of his beer.
He lowered his drink slowly, watching Logan eyeing him.
“As much fun as it is to drive for two hours to have you stare at-"
“How did you know Charlie?”
Josh pushed at the bridge of his glasses. “We were at UCLA together. We shared a dorm room freshman year.”
“When was that?”
“Five years ago.”
“So you’re-?”
“24.”
“Charlie was the same age?”
Josh nodded, looking down at his glass.
Logan was silent, doing the math. Working out exactly when his father had officially become an adulterous shit. He snorted softly. How far back should I go?
“Did Charlie tell you about Aaron? About me?” Logan swirled the last few inches of drink in his glass, his heart pounding slightly.
“Yeah.” Logan looked up and caught Josh’s gaze. “Yeah, he did.”
Logan stared at Josh for a moment longer, but couldn’t decipher anything more from his gaze. He dropped his eyes back to the table. “So, that’s how you knew to call me?” he asked, uncertainly.
Josh sighed and shifted on his seat. “Not exactly, see-” He stopped as a shadow crossed the table. They looked up to see the bartender glaring down at them.
“Ah great,” Logan said with faux-brightness. “Two beers, my good man.”
“This ain’t no chew-and-spew and I ain’t your waitress,” he growled. “IDs”
Logan squinted at him slightly before pulling his wallet out of his pocket and sliding his ID out.
“Logan Echolls?” the bartender asked, with something close to amusement.
Logan remained silent and pulled several notes out of his wallet, folded them and slid them across the table to him. “Two beers,” he repeated. “Keep the change.”
The bartender stared at him for a moment before grunting a laugh and flicking his ID back. Bending he picked up the notes, flipped through them and raised an eyebrow at Logan. He turned back to the bar, returning a moment later and banging two glasses down, sloshing beer over the top.
Logan wiped a trail of beer off the table before it could make a beeline for the edge. “You should always tip your waitress.”
Josh smiled briefly, and then shifted again on his seat. “Charlie called me, a few days before… Before he died. He was… drunk, I think, rambling on about this and that. Nothing seemed to make sense. I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks-he’d just disappeared. Then he called, out of the blue.”
“Didn’t you try and find out where he was, when he was missing?”
Josh shifted again, pushing at his glasses. “Well, I… I didn’t think anything of it till he called and I realised I hadn’t heard from him in a while.”
“What was he saying, on the phone?”
Josh shook his head. “Nothing, it was all rambling. He talked about college, about his mom, about some peanut butter brownies he’d made.” Josh puffed out a small laugh. “Then he mentioned you.”
Logan swallowed. “But, he’d… he’d talked about me before?”
Josh shrugged. “Not much, man. Just that he had a half-brother from when his mom had slept with a movie star. At first, I thought he was messin’ around, but then he told me it was Aaron Echolls and you could… you could kind of see the similarities.”
Josh took a swig of his beer and Logan waited.
“He told me how you’d called him and wanted to meet, but when it came down to it...” Josh trailed off, looking at Logan with half-curiosity and half-awkwardness.
Logan took a swig of his own beer, but remained silent.
“Anyway,” Josh continued “when he mentioned you during this phone call it was the first time I’d heard your name since then. He said…” Josh looked out the window, looking thoughtful. Logan shifted impatiently. “He told me to call you, that your number was in his address book.”
Logan blinked as the story came to an end. “That’s it? He asked you to call me? Did he say why?”
Josh leaned back. “The whole conversation didn’t make sense, Logan. None of it. He asked me to call you then asked if I liked apples.” Josh shook his head. “Then two days later he was dead.”
Logan’s forehead creased in confusion. “Did he often get drunk and talk nonsense?”
“No. He rarely drank.”
“So, you just thought it was normal for him to go missing, get drunk, and call you to talk shit?!” Logan’s voice began to rise.
“Hey, listen. He was 24. It’s hardly unheard of for a 24-year-old to have one too many drinks and talk gibberish.”
Logan leant back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But why would he want you to call me? Why not call me himself?” he asked, half to himself.
“I don’t know.” Josh replied, softly. “Maybe he… Maybe he wanted to try and meet you again?”
Logan closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he saw that Josh was looking out of the window again. “How did it happen? How did he die?”
Josh looked back at Logan. “I’m not sure. He must’ve been driving back home when his car veered into oncoming traffic. Witnesses said the brake lights didn’t come on, like he didn’t even try to stop the car.”
“Or he was unconscious.”
Josh shrugged, half-agreeing. “No one would tell me anything. He was taken to the hospital, but by the time I found out, he was already dead.”
“What about his family?”
Josh looked at him steadily. “You were it. His mom died a few years back and he didn’t have any other siblings.”
Logan felt a sickening cold rush through him, felt the beer begin to churn in his stomach. “So what happened? What happened to his… his body.”
“It’s in the county morgue. No one…” Josh stopped, swiping at his face with one hand. “No one has claimed him for burial purposes.”
Logan felt the bile rising in his throat. “What?” he choked out. “No one has claimed…?”
“There was no will, no family, and so, in instances like that…” Josh looked down at his glass.
“I’m his family,” Logan stammered. “I’m his… Who do I call? What do I have to do?”
“I don’t-”
Logan pushed himself out of the booth. “I gotta go, I gotta sort this out.”
“Logan, wait-”
“No! You’ve left him waiting there long enough.”
“I’ve left him-?” Josh began to stand.
“Thanks for the beer.” Logan turned and strode towards the door, banging it open, sending sunlight crashing in to the bar.
Josh sank back into the booth looking stunned, watching through the window in silence as Logan’s black car peeled away from the parking lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Veronica rarely let her emotions show in public, but this was an exception she was willing to use to let fly. She heard her cell ringing again, locked inside the car.
“Dammit!” She yelled in frustration, banging the trunk with her fist. She glared at the car parked next to hers. She wasn’t sure how the driver of the blue Camry had managed to get quite so close, but between it and the wall on the other side she had no way of getting in.
She turned around and slumped against the car, folding her arms across her chest. Twenty more seconds and I’m moving it myself.
Something in her periphery caught her attention and she turned her head, watching as a guy in his twenties strolled towards her. He had his head tipped back, draining the contents of a take-away coffee cup and had yet to see her. His other hand was rummaging around in his pockets, finally extracting a set of keys. Veronica knew she had her man.
As his head came back level, he noticed her leaning on her car, glaring at him. He paused, taking in the situation. He came closer and when she was in earshot said, “Ah.”
“That’s it?” asked Veronica, pushing herself off her car. “Do you know how close your car came to being intimately acquainted with me?”
The Camry owner glanced at his parking in consternation. “I’m really sorry, it was an emergency. I-I didn’t think I’d be this long.”
“An emergency? At Starbucks? Did they have a coffee glut?”
“ No, I- that was an unnecessary luxury. I see that now.”
Veronica sighed. “Fine, just, move your car, I need to be somewhere that isn’t here.”
“ Let-let me make it up to you. Please? I-I feel really bad.”
“Really, I have to go.”
He grinned at her, jingling his keys at eye-level. “Looks like you’ll have to agree to me making it up to you first...”
Veronica stared at him for a long moment. “Is this you being cute?”
The smile dropped from his face and he lowered his hand, looking sheepish. “I was aiming for endearing.”
“Way off, pal. My car?”
“Ok, last chance-”
“Last chance?!”
“For me! For me, I mean-” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket, fumbling through it for something.
“Funny, thought we’d already crossed that line,” muttered Veronica.
“Here’s my number,” he said, tugging a card out of his wallet. It slipped out of his fingers and shot through the air at her, landing on the ground between them. “There’s my number. Dinner, my treat.”
“You’re throwing your card at me? Smooth.”
“Well, you- you’re not holding up your side of the exchange. Makes it harder.” He bent to pick up the card, holding it out to her once more.
Veronica twisted her mouth, ready to dismiss this guy once and for all when something caught her eye. She took the card from between his fingers, reading the name aloud. “Joshua Myers?”
“Josh.”
Veronica opened her mouth, but the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. “Great! Josh, move your car.”
“Sure thing, er… you are?”
“Late.”
Josh backed away, moving towards his car. “So, Late... I’ll see you around?”
“I think you can count on it,” murmured Veronica.
Josh grinned, climbing into his car and reversing out of the space.
Veronica let out a groan of relief and hurriedly opened the car door, reaching over the console to grab her cell.
Four missed calls from Logan Echolls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Keith Mars stepped up to the smiling receptionist. “Megan Copeland?”
“What name, please?”
“Keith Mars.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“She knows I’m coming.”
“Great. Take a seat, Mr. Mars. I’ll tell Megan you’re here.”
Keith stepped back away from the desk, but remained standing, listening as the receptionist dialed a number and did exactly what she said she would.
He turned to look at a fading poster on the wall behind him, pushing the thumbtack in more securely.
“Mr. Mars?” a woman’s voice asked. Keith turned to face her, smiling as he offered his hand.
“Mrs. Copeland?”
“Miss. It’s Miss Copeland, well, Megan, actually.” She took his hand, shaking it, slightly flustered.
“Well, nice to meet you, Megan.” Keith continued to grip her hand.
“Likewise,” she gazed up at him for a moment, before shaking herself slightly and dropping his hand. She gestured behind her. “Please, let’s head to my office.”
She led him up the short hallway to the office at the end, opening the door and gesturing him through.
“Have a seat. Can I get you a coffee?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” Keith sat in the chair facing her desk. Megan slipped behind it, lowering herself onto the chair, surreptitiously moving the paper on her desk into a pile.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward. “What can I do for you, Mr. Mars?”
“Keith, please. I’m here about Marjorie Ballentine.”
Megan leant back in her chair, her smile fading slightly. “Oh.”
“I believe you were the pathologist assigned to her case?”
Megan looked confused. “I’m sorry, Keith, under what capacity are you asking me these questions?”
“Marjorie’s father has hired me as a private investigator to determine who killed her.”
“Who-? Keith, you should know that the Sheriff’s department is treating Marjorie’s case as a suicide.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here to ask what you think happened.”
Megan gazed at Keith for a long time. “Keith, I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Keith, you used to work in law enforcement, tell me, how much time did you give to private eyes?”
“Megan, her father just wants the truth.”
“As do we all, but until her father creates a law that requires me to tell you that, I’m afraid there’s nothing more we have to say on the matter.”
“Judge Ballentine? I wouldn’t put it past him. Well, thank you for your time, Megan. I’m sorry we couldn’t discuss this further.” Keith stood, leaning over to shake her hand. He moved towards the door.
“I want to know what happened to Marjorie just as much as you do, Keith.”
“Well, hopefully one of us will find out before it’s too late.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Veronica banged on the door with the flat of her hand, not caring how obnoxiously loud it sounded. She was too tired for this right now and not being able to get hold of Logan was making things worse. They were like ships in the night, one voicemail message passing just ahead of the other.
She banged the door again as it flew open.
“Veronica, hey! It’s great to see you! Sorry, I was... I was...er...”
“Piz,” she said shortly, stepping into the room, not bothering to fill his awkward silence with any niceties. “Ok, shoot. This has to be quick, Piz. I have a million other things going on at the moment.”
Piz’s forehead creased. “But, this is about Wallace. I thought you’d care?”
Veronica sighed, dropping onto the bed. “Of course I care, Piz,” she all but snapped. “But so far you haven’t given me very much to go on. It’s almost like you want me to think Wallace is taking drugs, but you don’t have any proof.”
“No proof? Oh, I’ve got proof. Here, look at this.” Piz strode to Wallace’s desk, picking up a sheet of paper lying on the top of a small pile. He thrust it at her, almost triumphantly. Veronica stared at him for a second before reaching out and taking it.
She looked down. It was definitely Wallace’s handwriting.
“I don’t get it, this looks like... like lecture notes or studying or something. Piz, what am I looking at?”
“Look at the top left corner.”
Veronica sighed, glancing up at the corner and twisting the paper around at an angle to read what was written there. “Call S. Hiller.” She looked up again at Piz, her face twisted in a question. “That’s it? ‘Call S. Hiller’? Is that some kind of code? ’Cause I gotta tell you, Piz, you looked through all that paperwork and found that? That’s pretty good detective work.”
She stood up, dropping the paper on the bed.
“S. Hiller? Scott Hiller? Does that name not ring a bell with you?”
Veronica looked at him steadily. “What makes you think the S is for Scott?”
“How many other Hillers do you know at Hearst?”
“Gee, Piz, I don’t know. Got a directory?”
“Well, I’ll tell you. There’s only one.”
“So what? Wallace could’ve been calling him for something else.”
“Something else? Scott Hiller doesn’t have a ’something else.’ He majors in drug dealing, Veronica. That’s it.”
“You want me to nail him to a cross because he wrote a name down that sounds like a Hearst drug dealer?”
“No, I want you-”
The sound of Veronica’s phone ringing cut Piz off. They stared at each other for a moment before Veronica moved to answer it.
“Hey, Dad. No, I’m not, I’m on campus. Yeah, I’m at Wallace’s. Yeah, I know, sorry. I’ve... I’ve been here for a while. No, I should be home tonight. Ok, bye.”
Veronica snapped her phone shut and bent to pick up her purse. “Look, Piz. If you have any other proof then let me know, because right now, I have to go.”
“Ok, but listen.” Piz grabbed her elbow to prevent her moving past him. “Next time you talk to Wallace, keep it in mind. He’s really changed, Veronica. Maybe you just haven’t noticed yet.”
Veronica paused, before pulling her arm out of Piz’s grasp and opening the door. She shut it behind her, leaning back on to it and closing her eyes. When was the last time you spent any time with Wallace, Veronica? Or does BFF mean Big Fat Fake to you now?
She pushed herself away from the door with a sigh. She couldn’t think about this now-she needed to find Logan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan pulled his car sharply onto the side of the road. After his dramatic exit from the bar, he realised he had just been driving aimlessly around and around, not knowing what to do or where to go. He banged the steering wheel in frustration.
Grabbing his cell, he pressed speed dial 1, hoping this time to get an answer.
“Hi, you’ve reached Veron-”
He disconnected the call and dialed another number.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Mr. Mars.”
“Logan, everything ok?”
“Yeah. Uh, I’m looking for Veronica. I can’t seem to reach her.”
“You might try Wallace’s. She said she was with him.”
“Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
Logan snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He started the engine and peeled away from the side of the road, swinging the car around to head back the way he had come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ordinarily he wouldn’t appreciate being on “educational grounds” after hours, but he practically jogged towards Wallace’s room. He needed Veronica with him for this. He didn’t want to do it alone. He arrived, slightly out of breath, and knocked gently on the door.
He heard footsteps and his face lifted in a small smile. The handle moved, the door opened.
“Logan.”
Logan blinked, confused, looking past Piz into the small room behind him.
“Hey, I'm looking for Veronica.”
“She was around earlier, but I haven't-“
“Is she with Wallace?”
“He's out of town a-at a motel...studying.”
A smile appeared on Piz’s face. A smile of almost triumph. Logan’s hand twitched, itching to ball into a fist and knock whatever that smile meant of Piz’s face.
“Hey, 'cause Veronica's dad thought that, uh...”
Logan trailed off, looking into the room again, hoping to see something, anything that would convince him that Veronica hadn’t been here earlier, alone with this guy. He saw nothing but rumpled sheets and tried to force that thought from his mind. He glanced back at Piz. The smug smile was still present, albeit slightly smaller. He gazed back unblinking at Logan.
“Hmm.” He looked down at the floor, willing himself not to smash something. “Well, if you see her, a-ask her to call me?”
Piz nodded as Logan backed away, turning so as not to look at that smile any longer. He’d have to do this alone. He’d have to face this by himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~