Chapter Eleven: The Two Veronicas
It's strange and almost uplifting that in a mere three days time, I may have solved the fraternity case for good.
God knows why I'm so willing to believe Rob Lane this time around; after all, his Dean Murray evidence proved to be nothing but a hoax. But, all the same, something in his voice… There definitely was something in his voice to assure me that this time wouldn't be a dud-- sincerity, perhaps? The urgency? I don't know what it is, but I'm hoping for the best. The bastard responsible needs to be put behind bars. Please let it end, I think somewhat bitterly as I toss clothes into a hamper, Please let it end…
Mac moved back home with her parents last week. What with the reconciliation with her mother and self underway-- and the addition of new love interest, Dick Casablancas, things are going relatively well for her-- although I am still surprised and somewhat shocked by her decision to have kissed Dick at the frat party, I can deal with it. Sure, I might have gagged a bit the other day when I found them lingering in each other's arms at Mac's and I'd dropped by to take her to the new Indie French flick, but nonetheless…
I have more pressing matters on my mind anyway.
Wallace. The frat bomb. DC. The words enter and exit my mind in close succession; oftentimes overlapping and causing more confusion, more despair, more… hopelessness. It'd be so much easy to live life without-- feeling-- without having the ability to love others and try to protect them and if not, hold those responsible for their wrongdoings against them. God, I'm sounding like a goddamn psychopath here. I need to shut the hell up before I blow my brains out.
Breathe, Veronica. Just breathe.
Take life one day at a time.
Finally.
You'd never believe how draining it is at times waiting for the glorious "money shot;" okay, Mr. Rochester, let's give her a nice little kiss. One, two--
A smart series of three raps on the car window.
Damn.
Hastily stowing the camera away, I look innocently at the person responsible for interrupting my business. "Yes?" I ask, sweetly, rolling the window down. That act took years of practice to master, so don't try this at home, kids.
No worries.
Early twenties-ish girl, medium height, rail thin, blonde hair, brown eyes. Nothing to worry about.
"Are you Veronica Mars?" she asks, beaming.
"Sometimes," I reply as Mr. Rochester gets into a car and pulls out onto the road. Damn. I'll have to finish the case another day.
"Ooh," she points at the car, "are you on a case?"
"Yes," I hiss, pulling her hand down as Mr. Rochester's mistress is still waving goodbye at him, "would you mind being a little more discreet?"
"Sorry, Trina told me--"
"Trina. Echolls?"
She nods, beaming brighter still, "She said you two were old chums. The producers got Mayor Ferrer's okay to film on location in Neptune."
"Film. Film what?"
"The Veronica Mars/Lilly Kane/Aaron Echolls movie-- that is, the Heather Valette/Lilly Kane/Aaron Echolls movie."
"That? I thought it was axed."
"Nope, we just got green lit," she beams again, "Trina fought tooth and nail. She's producing-- and playing herself."
"Of course."
"And Trina--"
"Tipped you off on where I might be to give you an insight into my complicated character?"
She nods.
"And who are you?"
"Oh, Veronica. Sinclair. Imagine that! Two Veronicas!"
"Imagine. Sinclair-- you don't happen to be related to Madison Sinclair?"
"She's my cousin. Isn't she fabulous?"
I grimace.
Suddenly, she's slipped into the seat beside me.
"I--"
"Where are we going? Come on. Let's solve that case!" she takes out a little notebook and begins jotting things down with a pink pen. Help me, dear God. Please help me…
---
"This belong to you?" I ask, opening the door and dragging Veronica in with me.
Trina beams, facing me, "Oh, so, you've met," she turns to Veronica, "Veronica is my protégé," she pinches her cheek, "had I not been front-row center at the premiere of her production of the Cincinnati Players' Sound of Music, we wouldn't have had her."
Logan enters the room, "Trina. Veronica," he sees me, "Veronica," he repeats.
"What?" she asks.
I stare at Logan; his face is bruised, "Logan, what happened to your--"
"You know my little brother. A surfing accident. Imagine!" she beams, "Now, Veronica, we really must catch up. How have you been?"
"Fine. I--"
"Oh, I feel like a kid again. Look at us all… bonding." Trina beams at the possibility of all of us in the same room.
"I'm having the time of my life," I reply, rolling my eyes.
"Oh, you!" she lightly punches my shoulder.
"Veronica took me on a case," Veronica beams.
Logan rolls his eyes; our eyes meet and I almost blush.
"Look, sorry, Trina. I hate to leave this little… get-together but I've got to get home and… sort socks or something."
"That's too bad," her face falls, "Veronica never shuts up about you. It's 'Veronica this' and 'Veronica that;' isn't she a cutie?"
"Gorgeous."
"We're negotiating a sequel if this movie does well-- so many possibilities with that bus-crash. Cameo, perhaps?"
"I've always wanted to pull a Hitchcock, but if you don't mind… I'd better get going. Home. Socks. You know. I'd love to stay. Really," I turn to leave, "See you later, Logan," and I can't help but give a slip of a smile.
---
Logan's
Thankfully, Trina and Veronica are out for their third day of shooting. Trina acts like Veronica is some little lap-dog. What an annoyance-- unlike the girl whom she's portraying. He's such an idiot. What an idiot he is; he stares into the mirror, fingers a bruise and remembers.
---
The second his head hit the floor, he was knocked unconscious.
He woke about a half an hour later to find a forlorn Dick staring at him, slightly scared. "What happened, man?" he'd asked.
"Had a run-in with an ex-PCH'er."
"What're you gonna do about it?" Dick had asked, helping him to his feet.
"Nothing. I deserved it."
And continuing to grimace, he'd headed into the bathroom, showered and popped in a DVD, trying to get his mind off of things.
The next morning, Carol had called. She was blissfully ignorant of Weevil's "taking care of" Logan the day prior and her flirtations had both disgusted-- and slightly intrigued Logan. He'd nonetheless told her to get rid of his number because he was through with her.
Oh, well.
It's not like they'd been dating.
Stupid bimbo…
---
Logan stares out into oblivion, breathing it all in.
He hates his life so much sometimes it's insane.
---
"Veronica, wait up!"
I turn around, hearing my name called, and my stomach suddenly plummets a hundred feet.
Dear Lord, shoot me now.
Veronica Sinclair-- and Trina Echolls.
Why me?
"To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"
"We finished shooting for the day," Veronica says beaming.
"Her first onscreen kiss," Trina beams at Veronica.
Hmm, I wouldn't be surprised if it were her last.
"Why are you here?" I demand.
"We're coming along for the ride, Veronica."
"But-- but-- I--"
"Nonsense. Come along, Veronica."
And before I can protest, Trina's shot-gun and Veronica's in the back, staring at me eagerly.
"Hurry along, Veronica Mars," Trina slightly snaps, "I've got an interview at 10 to discuss my producing debut, childhood, aftermath, etc. I'll be glossing over the highly publicized and very dramatacized public drunken brawl with Britney Spears."
"Of course you will," I grit my teeth in annoyance and scoot into the driver's seat wanting to bang my head onto the dashboard until the point of unconsciousness.
---
Mac's
She still finds it difficult to believe how right their relationship feels; their lips and mouths are one. She pulls away, staring into his eyes and feeling so… changed.
He pulls away from her, "Your parents seem to like me."
She lies back down on the bed, "That's because they are oblivious to your beer-guzzling, womanizing, frat-boy ways. I don't even know how I can stand the sight of you."
His face falls, "Look, Mac. I'm sorry. I--"
"You don't have to," she warns, remembering the disastrous other occasion upon which he had attempted to pour out his soul to her.
"No. It's been hard ever since Cassidy jumped. Ever since… the truth came out. Mom leaves, Dad leaves, Cassidy's gone. I don't have anyone-- I didn't have anyone. And I'm glad I have you now."
"Cindy," her mom pops her head into the bedroom, "would your boyfriend like something to drink?"
"No thanks, Mrs. Mackenzie. I'd better get going-- we'd better get going. We have reservations at seven."
He gets up to leave and takes Mac's hand; she blushes crimson, "What a charmer," her mother whispers to her an undertone as they leave and Mac can't help but smile. A genuine smile; something she hasn't really felt in a long time…
---
"Veronica, is it true that you single-handedly solved the Lilly Kane case?"
"What? Yes, you could say that."
"It's for this cutsie little Q&A Veronica's doing for Entertainment Weekly. You'll be noted as 'anonymous' of course… unless you'd like a pseudonym, that is."
I roll my eyes in annoyance, "That won't be necessary."
And the list of questions goes on. And on. "How did you feel following the death of Lilly Kane?" "How did your father feel when he was reduced to a slummy PI hitting the Neptune scene?" "How did you react upon witnessing first-hand the bus-crash that killed several classmates?"
Did I mention I'd love to strangle her?
---
"That was amazing, Veronica," Veronica sighs.
"Yes, wonderful," I retort annoyed.
I finally managed to snap that money shot-- but not before I had had the chance for Trina and Veronica to squeal in delight at my cleverness.
We were almost caught.
Damn them.
Veronica and Trina get out of the car, "That was oodles of fine. We'll have to do it again sometime, Veronica. But, ciao for now. Veronica and I don't want to keep our interviewer waiting!"
They head into the hotel to smarten themselves up.
Oh. My. God.
---
The Sheriff Department
Keith stares at his face in the bathroom mirror before heading back into his office.
He looks like a mess; bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, is his hair grayer? What with the frat case and Liam Fitzpatrick on the streets, he can't say he blames himself for "letting himself go" as Veronica would say.
Veronica.
His heart aches at the name now; he fears for her every waking moment and refuses to tell her what he knows about Liam. He doesn't want her to try and capture the guy-- bring him to justice; it would be too dangerous. She needs to lead a calm, quiet life.
And there's one man who may be able to assist him in providing her with that.
---
It's today.
Trina's and Veronica's unwelcome presence in my life managed to drive the notion from out of my head. I check my cell-phone. Yep. Two weeks to the day. Wow. If he's not playing some twisted little joke, the case could be solved by this time tomorrow. Dad wouldn't have to be such a wreck anymore.
My hands shaking slightly, I grab my laptop off of the table and type in Brandon Beck's name and phone number.
A page to Douglas Applegate, subscription to Playboy Magazine (ew), and, bingo. Address.
What do you know? The answer to one of my problems may be a mere fifteen minutes away.
---
I pull out onto the freeway and the phone rings. Hyperventilating, I answer. But it's Veronica, "No, I'm busy. Some other time. I promise," I fling the phone to the floor. I hope he hasn't decided to pull another disappearing act. I will kill him.
My heart thundering in my chest, I pull into the driveway of the house; a light is on in the living-room as it's already dark out. Brandon, please come through for me kid.
The door's open but I knock any way.
No answer.
I head inside, "Brandon? It's Veronica."
Ugh. This house is so… perfect. Reminiscent of all houses in '09er-dom, every surface is spotless and glowing white. Framed pictures adorn the tables showing Brandon with his parents in various rich people resorts. Ah, the life of the rich and the fabulous.
"Brandon?" I enter the living-room; the source of the light.
That's when I see him.
A single, clean gunshot wound to the head, blood pooling from the fresh wound.
An unearthly scream makes its way out of me as I fall to the floor and check for a pulse; there is none. He's gone.
Tears streaming down my hot cheeks; surprised mingled with fury, I dial for the Sheriff Department.
And an epiphany hits me out of the clear blue-- it all fits; this time around, his evidence was legit-- Brandon knew something.
And whoever killed him was willing to go to great lengths to keep him quiet for good.