If a few months ago someone had told Clarence Weidman that he'd be sitting on a plane next to Veronica Mars, he'd have told them that he had some oceanfront property in Neptune, California to sell them for under a million dollars.
Two words: Not. Happening.
Not a snowball's chance in Hades. But here he was.
He hated flying. There was nothing normal about hurtling through the air in a heavy projectile with only water underneath you for thousands of miles. He snuck a glance down at the ocean below with a grimace. He could tolerate it, but it just wasn't natural. People were meant to stay on the ground. People weren't birds, for god sake.
To ease his mind, Clarence turned the other direction, but it did nothing to comfort him. He took in the small blonde snoring from the seat next to him. For the umpteenth time that hour, he wondered what in the actual hell he'd gotten himself into. And how the hell this was all going to end.
Veronica slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and trudged along, leaving Jordan Hall behind as she made her way south through the quad toward her dorm. She absently waved at a few classmates as she passed the iconic Memorial Church without even giving it more than a glance. It was beautiful, and life was peaceful, but her head was full at the moment. Her mind was on the Abnormal Psych lecture she'd just endured where it had taken significant concentration not to lapse into another bout of binge-diagnosing the entire population of Neptune, California, based on her professor's descriptions. It was a frustrating tendency she had when sitting in classes these days. One which had led her to miss more than a few minutes of note-taking during lectures and to contemplate changing her major just as often.
The number of neuroses, psychoses, character disorders, psychosomatic reactions, possible schizophrenia, and other abnormal personality patterns she'd already witnessed first-hand in the course of her high school career alone still made psychology the obvious choice of study. She couldn't have had more exposure without interning in a loony bin.
"Hey, Veronica!" a familiar voice called out. Veronica turned around to see Laurence approaching her. He was tall, dark, and good looking in a totally accessible way. He was wearing athletic shorts and a Stanford tee and holding a covered racket in his right hand. His smile reached from ear to ear as he jogged a few steps to catch up to her.
Veronica loved Laurence. He was the most low-maintenance friend ever. She'd met him last fall, and as a fellow-sophomore transfer student, they'd bonded right away. He'd been her first friend here other than her roommate Natacha.
"Laurence! Hi," she called out to him, turning to meet him halfway.
He pulled her into a big bearhug. "Where are you off to?" he asked her.
"Back to the dorm. I wanted to get in a run before dinner with Natacha," she said.
"Nice, I'm off to practice."
"Practice on the Friday afternoon before a three-day weekend sounds like cruel and unusual punishment if you ask me," Veronica responded.
"You won't get an argument from me. Are we still on for Juno tonight?" Laurence asked her.
"Of course. I need a break before I enter study-mode this weekend. Natacha and I are grabbing dinner downtown beforehand, so meet you there?" she asked.
Laurence nodded. "Yeah, I'll text you if anything changes. See ya," he called out, already turning in the direction of the tennis courts.
Veronica waved to him and then continued across campus. Seeing Laurence tugged at her heartstrings a little bit. She pulled out her phone and flipped it open, punching through menus until she landed on Wallace's name. The least diagnosable person she knew. She grinned at the phone as she hit the green call button on the upper right. He answered on the second ring.
"I was just thinking about you," he told her in lieu of a traditional greeting.
"Naturally," she replied. "As it should always be. How could you be my beck-and-call friend if you weren't waiting on-call at all times?" she teased.
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Veronica," Wallace lectured. "It's not all about you." He paused for a moment. She knew what was coming. "It's sometimes about me. Or Mac. Or...anyone else other than you."
Veronica narrowed her eyes for effect, though she knew he couldn't see her. "I don't understand," she told him, her voice even and steady, serious.
"Of course you don't," he played along. "I know you're all Miss Fancy Pants up at Stanford, but the rest of us plebs still are truckin' along down here, making the most of our empty existence without you."
"Always with the dramatics, Wallace," she drolled, turning to make her way around Crothers Hall. "You saw me last week..."
"I did," he replied. "And not that I mind meeting you half-way, but are you seriously never going to come back to Neptune? When I agreed to this trial-separation, I thought you'd...you know, come home occasionally from time-to-time."
"Maybe," Veronica hedged, "but you still haven't told me why you were thinking of me."
Wallace's voice brightened at that. "I just saw Mac. She told me to call you and say hi," he told her.
"Well, tell her hello from me," Veronica said. "I'll call her tomorrow after I've finished my essay. She's my reward."
"I'll let her know," Wallace said, suddenly sounding distracted. "Hey, V, I gotta jet. I have to hit up my history professor's office hours or I'll seriously bomb the first quiz next week. Can I call you later."
"Anytime," Veronica told him sincerely. "It was good to hear your voice."
"You too. Bye," Wallace said, disconnecting the call.
Veronica smiled, pocketing the phone. Her dorm was in sight and she couldn't wait to throw on some running pants and a hoodie and hit the track.
"No, you're joking," Veronica said, laughing and pushing Laurence through the door of Toyon Hall from behind. "There's no way."
"I'm serious," he told her. "Juno was essentially my high school experience. I mean, minus the pregnancy and the awkward make-out session on the field."
"I don't believe you," Veronica told him. It was too weird.
"Totally," he replied, shrugging.
"Oh please," Veronica countered, still discussing the movie they'd just seen. "No one had a high school experience like that. Where was the drama?"
"There was drama," he countered. "Wasn't there?"
"You know... " Veronica said. "Where's the intrigue? The backstabbing. The dog nappings. The rich kids setting things on fire?" The biker gangs. The rapists. The child abusers. The bus crashes. The millionaires-turned-murderer? she added silently, turning to Natacha for backup.
"Juno's not weird, Veronica. It's normal," Natacha replied. "I'm from the midwest. Things were pretty much like that." She glanced at Lawrence.
"Yeah, I dunno," he said, furrowing his brow at her. "Beaverton was pretty...painfully normal."
Veronica was at a loss. "Oh," she replied. Then she managed a smile. "Cool!" she said with a nod. She'd always known Neptune wasn't normal , per se, but she'd never understood how much of a divide was between her and her new friends.
Then again, it was true. Since she'd come to Palo Alto, there hadn't been any cases to solve, not that she'd sought them out. But she had to admit that no one had come to her with a missing...anything. Natacha and Laurence hadn't once asked her for a favor that went beyond copying missing notes or getting un-locked-out of their dorm room. And she hadn't asked anything of them either. It was wonderful. It was so easy.
They'd just crossed the foyer, and Veronica instinctively scanned the area. She noticed that everything was quiet. Everyone must be out partying elsewhere tonight or gone home for the weekend, both of which suited her just fine.
Laurence's room was located on the first floor, and he turned and gave Veronica and Natacha a big hug. "I'm beat, guys," he told them. "Practice wiped me out. Maybe I'll see you ladies tomorrow?"
Veronica nodded and said goodnight. Then she turned to Natacha. "I'll be up in a minute. I'll just hang out down here for a few and call my dad."
Natacha nodded. "Sounds good, V. If I'm already asleep, don't be surprised." With a yawn and a quick wave, she disappeared up the stairs to their shared third-floor room.
Veronica waited until her friend was out of sight and then she made her way over to the quiet common area. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she got a distinct feeling that she wasn't alone. A split-second later, her eyes caught a sudden movement from the sofa facing the television. Veronica narrowed her eyes and focused on the occupant of the couch. A man wearing what looked to be a full suit was sitting awkwardly, spine erect, on one of the mismatched sofas.
As if also sensing her presence, the man turned slowly. His gaze immediately found hers, but he didn't look as surprised as she felt. And of course he wasn't. He was here, after all, not the other way around. He studied her silently for a moment, seeming to take her in as well.
He stood up and closed the distance between them. He didn't look menacing, but his look wasn't inviting either. Veronica felt her breath intake sharply as she resisted the urge to back up. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.
Clarence Wiedman looked at the pint-sized girl before him. She appeared tiny standing in the archway leading to the large dorm foyer. He had to admit that she looked surprisingly well. She looked rested, less weary. Gone were the dark circles that had lived under her eyes in Neptune. He couldn't really put his finger on what else had changed, but she looked softer somehow. He momentarily felt bad about coming here. He hadn't wanted to do it. He'd avoided it as long as possible.
But this was reality. And he needed her. As much as he'd come to almost...admire her, her safety and well-being wasn't his responsibility. He'd have to remind himself of that.
"Can I have a word, Veronica?" He blinked at his own tone, momentarily taken aback when the words came out sound harsher than he'd intended, but he didn't flinch. Not your problem, he reminded himself.
Veronica took Wiedman in. He looked the same. Stiff and uncomfortable. Yet determined. He was scary, always had been. Lilly had always been put off by him when they were kids. But Wiedman and Veronica had come to an unspoken agreement of sorts a long time ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So why the hell was he here?
"Can I have a word, Veronica?" Wiedman asked her. He indicated the couch he'd vacated.
He wanted her to sit down with him? Right here in her dorm common room? Like this was no big deal?
"I don't really have anything to say to you," she told him straight. While she didn't hate the man, she didn't have a reason to trust him.
"It'll only take a moment," he said.
Liar, she thought. Nothing worth traveling across California for would only take a moment.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked him, leaning against the door jam. She was staying put. She felt more in control here.
"I need your help, Veronica," Wiedman said. He said it plainly. Like he did it every day. Like he needed directions. Like they were old friends who did one another favors, which she supposed they kind of were.
Veronica couldn't help herself. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. This really, really couldn't be happening. And whatever this was , wasn't good. Nothing good ever came of someone asking her for help. Not, she supposed, that he'd asked. He'd told.
"I'm giving you two minutes and then I'm going upstairs," she told him. "My roommate is expecting me."
"Have you had contact with Duncan Kane recently?" Wiedman asked her.
The statement took her aback. She hoped she hadn't cringed. It was honestly the last thing she'd expected him to say to her. Though, now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Wiedman was Jake Kane's man after all.
"No," she answered truthfully. "I haven't heard from him since high school when he left with...with his…" Veronica cleared her throat. "With his baby."
Had it really been almost two years already? His baby wasn't so much of a baby anymore, she realized.
She honestly couldn't say that she'd thought of Duncan in ages other than when she looked at high school photos or thought of her murdered best friend.
"Why would I have heard from Duncan?" she had to ask.
"I've had periodic, but regular, contact with Duncan since he left Neptune," Clarence said.
Why was he telling her this? What in the world could she know about Duncan that he didn't?
"Okay…" she trailed the sentence, still unsure.
"A few months after Duncan left Neptune, he contacted me to do some...contract work for him. After that, we made a deal. Monthly check-ins through secure channels in exchange for monthly checks to secure income for himself and his daughter. But he has failed to check in for the past several meetings. Something must have happened."
Veronica still didn't understand what this had to do with her.
"Well, like I said, I haven't heard from Duncan once since he left through the empty apartment in my complex almost two years ago," she reiterated. "Sounds like if one of us has more information than the other, it's you."
Wiedman studied her for a moment and then nodded, seeming to believe her about not having heard from Duncan.
"Well then," Clarence told her, leaning back against the sofa he was so uncomfortable on. "As I said, I believe I need your help".
Veronica laughed. A real laugh. "That makes no sense," she told him.
"Duncan wouldn't break contact unless something happened. And he left me with explicit instructions in this regard. If anything happened to him, he asked for you."
"Again, I call bullshit. You have infinite resources at your fingertips. What use could I possibly be to you in regards to Duncan Kane?" Veronica asked, astounded.
Wiedman leaned forward a bit. "Duncan said if anything happened to him, I should come to you."
Veronica shook her head. She lived in the real world now—far, far from the bubble of Neptune. A world without bum fights and day trips to Mexico for drugs.
"I don't really do that anymore," she told him.
"He asked for you, Veronica," Wiedman repeated.
"And my answer is no," Veronica repeated, just as soberly. "Duncan Kane is long gone. You don't need me. And I'm here...being normal. Living a normal life. I like it."
"I'm sure you do," he replied.
Veronica couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. She decided to err on the side of caution.
"Yes. It's a first for me. Not one of my friends or classmates has been murdered, raped, or jumped off a building for four whole months. I'm on a good streak. I'd like to make it an even six."
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't imperative. Duncan needs you. He needs us both."
Veronica snorted.
"I've exhausted my resources from here. I have no choice but to travel to Duncan's last known location and investigate. That's where you come in." Wiedman leaned toward her. "I've hit a dead-end," he admitted. "And I believe you're the key to the next step. My intuition says he set a situation in motion that requires Veronica Mars' intervention. To put it bluntly, I believe you can open doors that will remain closed to me."
Veronica couldn't help but smile. It didn't seem so long ago, all of a sudden, that the man before her had bugged her room and threatened her mom. This man who many feared, and for good reason, was asking her for help. She couldn't deny that the thought thrilled her just a little bit. Somewhere deep, deep inside. She felt momentarily drunk with power. And she liked it. She felt her own inner-Neptunian coming out.
Fighting to school her expression, Veronica said, "So you're asking for a team-up?" she asked,
"I'm asking for assistance," he clarified.
"Sounds like a team-up to me," she pressed.
Veronica could see Wiedman's jaw working. He was clenching it. Hard. His breaths were so even that she knew he was working hard to stay calm. This must be big—huge even—if he was this upset. If he'd come all this way just to ask her for help. It must have killed a little part of him.
"So you'll come?" he asked her.
"Not until you say team-up," she told him, smiling lightly, loving watching his squirm. Veronica hadn't made up her mind to go yet, but teasing him was too good to pass up.
Wiedman rolled his eyes. She'd never have believed it possible if she hadn't seen it first hand. He rolled his eyes!
"It's a temporary business agreement," he told her, crossing his arms.
"Then I'm not going," she told him with a shrug. Which was good because she hadn't made up her mind yet that she was going. But she couldn't deny that a part of her wanted to. A small part of her was already upstairs packing her leather studded tote and throwing her stun gun in for good measure.
But that wasn't her anymore.
Not her anymore at all.
"Veronica, don't be a child," he told her, frustratedly rubbing a hand across his forehead.
"I haven't been a child in years, CW. You of all people know that," Veronica told him. "In fact, I'd be willing to bet you had a hand in quite a bit of my coming-of-age story."
To his credit, Wiedman didn't look away. And he didn't deny it. Because she knew that he couldn't. She also knew that she had him right where she wanted him.
"So," he drawled, his eyes still on hers. "About this team-up …"
Veronica felt the corner of her mouth lift.
"You're in?" he asked.
She didn't know. Was she? It wasn't as though she spent her days, or nights, pining away for Duncan Kane. He was long gone and the door sure as hell hadn't hit him on his way out. She'd never heard a peep. They'd both gotten the hell out of Neptune, and she wasn't sure why he would want her roped back into this mess.
But she couldn't deny the intrigue. Beyond the power of Wiedman—and therefore the Kanes—needing her, there was the curiosity. Her curiosity.
Veronica's thoughts flew to Lilly. Lilly Kane. Her childhood best friend—another figure shrouded in mystery. Her best friend that it turned out had kept so much from her. Her best friend who she'd love until the day she died. Her best friend who would want Veronica to help her brother...and her niece.
Shit.
At least it was a long weekend. Veronica worked fast. They could be back by Monday. And it would be fun to see what white-collar money could provide...detective-wise. What she'd have given all those years of working for her dad to have a real budget.
"I'm in," she told him reluctantly but firmly. "But I want to know everything you know."
Clarence Wiedman just shook his head. "I'll let you know what you need to know."
"Then, again, we're at an impasse," Veronica told him, curiosity be damned.
Clarence Wiedman held her gaze, she could only assume, weighing his options. Weighing the minimum he could get away with telling her. They were both from Neptune, after all. She could read him like a book. She decided to wait him out. It seemed that she held all the cards, just as she liked it.
After what felt like an eternity, Wiedman let out a long breath. "I'll tell you what I know," he conceded. "En route," he added.
Veronica gave him a deep nod. "Excellent. Where do we start?"
Clarence Wiedman handed her a passport. She flipped it open to see her own name on the identification page. All the information was correct and complete. She couldn't help but love having a budget already. And Wiedman sure could get things done.
"You were pretty sure of yourself," she told him. "Is this thing even legit?"
Wiedman's only reply was an affirmative grunt. It was as close to a duh as she'd ever get from him.
"We start at SFO. Go grab a bag. Our flight leaves in two-and-a-half hours. Pack for sun."
"Sun?" Veronica questioned. In January? "Where are we going?"
"Two-hundred-fifty kilometers south of Sydney." Wiedman stood up and indicated the stairway with a nod of his head, silently beckoning her to hurry.
"What's two-hundred-fifty kilometers south of Sydney?" she asked him.
"Mollymook, Australia. The last known whereabouts of Duncan and Lily Kane."