Page 10 of Wanting Daisy Dead
Lauren
Suddenly all our phones ping.
‘It’s a voice note on WhatsApp!’ Maddie’s staring into her screen, and her face pales.
‘What is it?’ I’m trying to see her phone. She taps the screen and we hear a woman speaking.
‘Hey guys, it’s The Killer Question – Tammy here. Thank you all so much for attending this special weekend.
‘So, don’t be nervous, just cast your minds back to the early 2000s, when everyone was using flip-phones and MySpace, and you were all students here at Exeter Uni.
I was just a young girl in first grade back home in Southern California, but for you guys, this was the beginning of the rest of your life.
The friends, decisions and choices you made here affected your future, and the people you became.
‘This weekend, we will be recording everyone, and will clip your conversations for the episodes, dropping them in to give the listeners a real feel for who you are and how you roll. We want you all to feel comfortable and try to forget the mics around the place. Just be yourselves, say exactly what you think, how you feel. But, most of all, remember – if you didn’t do anything scary, there’s nothing to be scared of. ’
‘I don’t feel I can talk, knowing it’s all being recorded,’ Maddie says in the silence after the voice note ends. ‘I might say something dumb!’
We all smile indulgently at her, but before anyone can respond, our phones are pinging again.
‘Tammy here. So, this weekend is a celebration of what would have been Daisy Harrington’s fortieth birthday, but it’s also something else.
We are starting our investigation at the beginning – those early days of friendship and communal living, when your beer was my beer, your cigarettes were mine, and sometimes so was your lover.
‘What we hope to uncover this weekend is what happened in those fourteen months you all lived with Daisy. Did you love her or hate her? Did you know her, or was she a mystery? And the ultimate killer question we hope to answer this weekend is: “If David Montgomery didn’t kill Daisy, who did? Who wanted Daisy dead?”
‘Since our podcast was launched, we’ve solved many cold cases, new cases and old cases, but this weekend is going to be something else.
Set up in memory of Professor David Montgomery, head lecturer in creative writing here at Exeter, our aim is to clear his name and find Daisy’s real killer.
Over the next three days, we hope to sift through the evidence and solve the mystery – through the recollections, conversations and theories kindly shared by you, our guests.
Thank you in advance for your input and your help in finding the answers. ’
I shift in my seat. There’s nothing ‘kindly’ about it. I’ve only come here because The Killer Question threatened to tell if I didn’t.
‘Then, on Sunday night, at the final dinner, we’ll present our findings. My sister Tiffany, my producer, is here as always, and I can assure you that we get answers ’cos we fight for them.’
After an initial stunned silence, we all look at each other in shock.
‘Our input and our help ? Fuck that!’ Georgie slams her glass on the coffee table. She has no control.
‘They aren’t asking for our input,’ I say. ‘They’re hoping one of us slips up, and drops themselves in it, so they can accuse whoever that is of killing Daisy.’
‘But they can’t do that.’ Dan is even more outraged than Georgie. ‘Apart from it being a violation of our privacy, it’s illegal – they can’t just record and then broadcast our conversations without consent, and accuse whoever they think is guilty!’
As horrified as I am by this whole prospect, I’m also conflicted.
Whoever sent the invites knows what I did, and the last thing I want to do is risk that getting out.
If anything does get out, that’s it for me.
I long to just grab my weekend bag and run but, at the same time, if I’m going to write another book and save my family from being homeless, I have to stay.
My name is still well known from my book, and there’s a chance that, if I do leave, these podcasters will broadcast what I did.
I’m panicking slightly, my heart’s beating fast, but as long as I stay calm I can work this out.
How can this podcast, this weekend, prove I did anything?
It’s not like I told anyone; even in moments of terrible guilt or fear, I’ve kept the promise I made to myself all those years ago – that I’d take my secret to the grave.
If anyone has an inkling of the truth, then I’ll just deny, deny, deny, because no one can prove a thing.
A voice in my head reminds me that denial didn’t work for poor David Montgomery. It got him locked up for life with a minimum of thirty years. I swallow hard and try not to think of the worst-case scenario.
Yes, I have to stay calm, and make notes while treading very carefully.
I’ll be taking a huge personal risk, but this could be the book.
The former friends and suspects in Daisy Harrington’s murder are lured to their old university for the weekend.
What they don’t know until they get there is that there’s a podcast judge and jury of listeners listening to their every conversation and working out who’s guilty!
Who will drop themselves in it? Who will drop their friends in it?
I’m excited, but not 100% committed yet because of my own risk of exposure.
Meanwhile, the others look horrified, and Maddie’s a flight risk and likely to disappear.
But for this to work as a book, everyone needs to stay and take part.
Across the table, the girls are already throwing their toys out of the pram.
‘No way – no way am I fucking staying here,’ Georgie’s saying, her language as fragrant as it ever was.
‘Me neither. This is stupid.’ Maddie stands up, and smooths her long blonde hair around one shoulder, just like Daisy used to.
Suddenly, our phones ring on WhatsApp.
‘Our phones are ringing!’ Maddie cries, like no one else has heard, and she picks up her phone and puts it on speaker, laying it down carefully in the middle of the table.
Then we hear Tammy’s voice again.
‘Hi everyone. We’re just taking a little break from recording to deal with some admin. So I’m handing you over to my producer, and sister, Tiffany.’
‘Hey guys! Tiff here. So, as my sister says, there’s some paperwork to deal with before we carry on. Before we go ahead, everyone must give their signed permission to be recorded.’
‘Ugh, they’re too much,’ I murmur to Maddie, who’s sitting next to me.
‘The documents giving permission to be recorded can be signed online, and have been sent to all your emails. So, for those of you who genuinely want to know who killed Daisy, please check your email and sign on the dotted line now!’
‘I’m not signing anything .’ Georgie looks terrified. How interesting .
‘Thanks, Tiff. So ...’ We all stop muttering as Tammy takes over the call. ‘For those who don’t want to find Daisy’s real killer, please leave the campus now.’
‘I’m going.’ Maddie starts. Not again. This is becoming quite attention-seeking.
‘But just one thing, guys ... If you walk out of here because you don’t want to know who killed Daisy ... is that because you already know?’
This hangs in the silence.
‘The choice is yours. I just ask you to think how it will look to everyone else, including the police, if you leave now, Maddie.’
Poor Maddie seems to shrivel up, and sits back down wordlessly.
‘Look, you all had your reasons for wanting Daisy dead,’ Tammy continues, ‘and that’s the only reason you all turned up tonight, because we threatened to tell everyone those reasons. And I hate to be that girl – but if you leave, the threat still stands.’
I look around the table, but no one meets my eye. So it isn’t just me? It seems all of us have something to hide.
‘Every single one of you has a secret,’ Tammy adds dramatically. I imagine her dropping the mic and waiting for the fallout, but there’s just silence until Dan opens his mouth.
‘Secrets?’ He looks at each of us with a surprised expression on his face, obviously trying to make out he didn’t have a reason to want Daisy dead. But I see the lie in his eyes.
‘Looks like we all have them, Dan,’ I reply quietly, a gentle shot across his bow.
Dan’s always had his secrets, and I won’t allow him to play games and pretend otherwise.
However, I’m more suspicious of his ‘lovely’ wife Georgie, who looks even more anxious than usual.
She’s in her default position of arms wrapped tightly around herself, but in addition she’s rocking slightly, like a runner waiting for the starting gun, desperate to leave, but something seems to be stopping her from actually going.
‘So, does anyone want to leave?’ Tammy’s saying down the phone. ‘You’re all free to go, we can’t keep you here against your will. It’s your choice.’
With that, the call ends and we all try not to react, which makes everyone look guilty.
‘Christ, I mean, it’s not like I have anything to hide,’ Georgie says, ‘but things might get twisted. They could say anything .’ She looks at each of us.
Then Maddie joins in, simply repeating what Georgie said. ‘They could say anything about any of us, guys.’
Dan keeps running his fingers through his hair and is now pacing around the small square living area like a caged animal. I’m conflicted too – it would be great to have a bestselling book, but at what price? Not if it means ending up in prison.
‘I’m going to take a look at the document,’ I announce, and, grabbing my phone, I open up my email. The paperwork is very formal, obviously written by a lawyer, and everything seems to be nailed down.
‘ Guests need to be aware of the areas where they may be recorded ,’ I read aloud. ‘ There is a detailed list with diagrams at the bottom of the document stating exactly where the recording equipment is situated .’
‘It would have been easier to have a diagram stating where there isn’t recording equipment. It’s everywhere!’ Dan says, reading his own email. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Yeah, but what’s the alternative?’ I say, raising my eyebrows, wondering why he’s suddenly so panicked. There was a lot of talk about Dan and Daisy in the weeks before she was killed. I’ve always dismissed it, but his reaction is interesting, and I’m fascinated to know the truth.
‘So ...’ Georgie goes down the list. ‘The recording equipment is only in the communal areas – the dining hall and open-plan kitchen and living room all have hidden mics. Only the bedrooms and bathrooms are safe. What the fuck?’
‘It’s like some sick game show on TV,’ Dan says.
‘Not even – it’s audio, no pictures, just us talking,’ Maddie adds.
They’re like trapped animals, and I feel the same, obviously. But I need the others to stay the weekend or I’ll have nothing for my book. So, in an attempt to seduce them into remaining, and at the same time make myself look innocent in front of the hidden mics, I give a rather hypocritical speech.
‘I loved Daisy like a sister,’ I start. ‘And I came here this weekend to be here for her. I want to tell her story, bring her to life again – she went far too soon.’ I give a little sniff.
‘We all had private feelings regarding Daisy, as we did for each other, but they weren’t necessarily dark secrets –just our way of keeping her alive inside, preserving her.
As much as The Killer Question wants to prove Professor Montgomery’s innocence, we want to prove ours .
So, as I have nothing to hide, as I’m sure none of you do, let’s stay and fight it out – prove our innocence to two million listeners.
I for one will be happy to stay the weekend, remember her, and try to help work out what happened. ’
‘And what if, over the weekend, these lunatics discover that you had a very good reason for wanting Daisy dead, and accuse you of murder?’ Georgie asks rather challengingly. I hear the catch in her voice. She’s scared. She’s also ruined my speech, but I don’t bite.
‘Like everyone else, I’ll just have to prove my innocence, Georgie.’ I smile, hoping no one can hear the fear in my voice.