Did she just say murderer? Andrea and I share a mutual gaze. Okay, I heard it correctly. Arming my lungs with air, I ask Mairead the most obvious thing. “Did someone kill your mom?”
“Yup,” she says with a pop of the p. She grabs a magnifying glass off the desk as she studies the monochrome photo. Suddenly, standing ramrod straight with the lens in front of her eye, she declares, “Let’s solve that mystery instead!” Mairead gingerly sits down at the desk and shuffles some papers around, tapping the stack on its end, to collect them into one neat pile.
“Where were you on the night of December the 31st, three years ago?”
Wait! What? “Mairead—” I don’t know how to answer this. Although, I knew exactly what I was doing around that time. Unintentionally, I become defensive. “Are you for real right now?” It comes out more derisive.
“Answer the question!” She holds the glass to the other eye with all the severity of an alley cat, who spots an unsuspecting bird within reach.
Okay, fine. I don’t have anything to hide from the obviously delusional girl. “Probably mourning my brother. He died only days before.”
She sets the prop down loudly. “I know!”
My eyes try to find my roommate, but she’s no longer in the same place. Instead, Andrea is edging around the perimeter of the room, ever so slowly. Maybe she’s trying to find a way out. Do we need to get out?
I focus on Mairead, trying to rationalize what to say next. “What do you mean,you know?”
Her bottom lip juts out, and she blows one of the red curls from her eyes. “I mean, I know, that your brother died. I understand. No one wants their family to die… but someone killed my mother and I’m 100% sure your family is to blame!” Now Mairead stands from the desk, looking as if she’s ready to pounce.
Andrea’s now by the only exit, pulling something from her pocket before positioning her front toward us. She appears to be fiddling with the door lock behind her back. Keeping my eyes trained on Mairead, I try to defuse this unfathomable situation.
“My family? My family are nobodies…they didn’t kill anybody. My parents are glorified real estate agents, while my uncle is an investor.” This whole conversation is unhinged, but I keep my tone calm and my words concise.
She throws back her head, laughing maniacally. At first, it’s a high pitch chuckle, eventually morphing into a low sorrowful groan. “Nobodies? You naive storybook princess, they’ve left you in the dark, haven’t they?”
Wow… maybe Mairead is one of those people who get angry when they drink. I can’t help wondering if the liquid courage that everyone flocks to consume each night is more of a filter remover. How easy things could be if everyone was simply moreforthcoming. Is it really so hard for others to come clean without a catalyst?
Where has the light-hearted girl gone, who easily befriended me when she started working at Star Mart? What changed? This person before me is cold, calculated, and seeking vengeance for a murder I had no part in.
Why didn’t I let Andrea know that Mairead was Eamon’s sister? Well, probably because I knew how she would react. She already didn’t like Eamon, why would she have less concern for his sister. Fuck. I was more worried about my friend than myself.
Just the same, I empathize with Mairead… so consumed by grief, she’s become disconnected, even paranoid.
Something twirls in her fingers that catches the light. It’s iridescent and long. A letter opener perhaps?
Mairead is focused solely on me, paying Andrea no mind. My roommate remains steadfast; her shoulders rise and fall as she works. Can she pick locks?
“Daddy and I agree… you're the reason mother is dead! You’re only still breathing because my brother thought he could get information. He had this stupid notion that we could get answers without anyone getting hurt… but I’m done waiting! His time is up.”
I hear a faint metal on metal click, just as a slice of fluorescent light pours into the dimly lit room.
Without delay Andrea moves, grabbing me by the shirt and dragging me into the hall. She slams the door behind us.
The distant sound of Mairead’s wild laughter is unsettling.
All at once, the door starts vibrating, likely banging from the other side.
Andrea and I take off down the hall, away from the worst escape room of all time.
The street is now illuminated by yellow streetlights.
Straight away, I find the nearest trash reciprocal and regurgitate all the skittles, tacos, and tequila that was left inside me.
Andrea holds my hair while rubbing quick circles on my back. I need a moment, but she knows better. “We have to go,” she rushes out… “now!”
We practically sprinted the whole way home from downtown. Despite the wintry temperatures, we both have a fine sheen of sweat on our brows.
Andrea fixes us both a cup full of water with baking soda, then procures charcoal tablets from bathroom medicine cabinet.
