Mean Sisters: A sassy, hilariously funny murder mystery. Lindsay Emory
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I know, that may seem fairly basic, but not all sorority traditions have to involve obscure Greek phrases.
I booted up the Chapter Advisor’s computer, not really knowing what I’d find. All those years as a Sisterhood Mentor, I had focused entirely on the collegiate side of sorority life and had relatively little experience with the business affairs that came along with an advisor position. When the screen lit up, I could see from the desktop and a quick look at the saved documents that Liza hadn’t used the computer for any notes or correspondence. It looked like she used a web-based email system so I couldn’t even check any contacts for those long-lost relatives I had so briefly fantasised about. I wondered how that worked when someone died. Where did your Facebook and emails go? Did your Facebook stay suspended in the ether forever, a living testament to your last status update? What if it was something stupid, like ‘Going to the gym’? I shuddered at the thought of such an inadvertent legacy. I made a mental note to never post inane status updates and to leave my passwords with a good friend who could delete anything unfortunate in my browser history.
Poking around, I could see the last document saved was from Quick Books. Finally, something I knew I could recognise. Rows of dollars and cents. I pulled the spreadsheet open and briefly reviewed the chapter’s finances. They seemed a little spotty at first glance, to tell the truth, but if finances had been a concern, you could bet that HQ would have alerted me on that before I left for Sutton. When a chapter’s not financially solvent, that’s the first thing a Sisterhood Mentor has to address on her to-do list.
But something about the numbers caught my eye. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but my brain was yelling that it didn’t look right. It didn’t hit me right away, which is one of the main reasons why I kept turning down a headquarters job in accounting. My brain added up numbers differently. Yeah, my college algebra professor didn’t buy that either.
I was trying to focus, but then someone opened the door. Again. I guess Liza had had an open door policy. I wasn’t sure that was going to work for me.
Headed in the door, caught a little off guard, was the Chapter President herself, Aubrey St. John. I wiped the annoyance off my face. This was the girl who’d shown me where the office was and helped me get acquainted with everything.
She, on the other hand, was clearly startled by my presence. ‘I didn’t think you’d still be in here.’
I frowned at her. ‘The door was unlocked.’
‘Right.’ Aubrey looked back at the door, her cell phone clutched in her hand. ‘I lost the key Liza gave me.’ She smiled charmingly. ‘President’s privilege. Sometimes I like to come in here and study.’
What a good girl she was. ‘You know, I bet the girls in the chapter really look up to you, with all your good habits.’
Aubrey looked down at her toes in her Jack Rogers sandals, still immaculately pedicured, even in October. ‘I guess,’ she said.
‘I love your skirt,’ I said, admiring her wool kilt.
‘Thanks,’ she said, absently brushing the cloth. ‘You could borrow it if you’d like.’
I surveyed Aubrey’s figure. Although I was about four inches taller than her, we might be the same size around. ‘It would probably be too short on me,’ I said. ‘But thanks for the offer. I get so tired of my clothes sometimes, wearing the same things from my suitcase.’
Aubrey’s crystal blue eyes fixed on me. ‘Then come up and borrow something. Anytime. I’m used to sisters borrowing clothes.’
My heart squeezed a little at that, it was so sweet.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked. Something told me she hadn’t come in to study. Something told me maybe she just needed to talk to someone.
‘I … I just came to see if you needed anything. If you don’t understand something, let me know and I’ll explain it to you. If you want.’ I looked at Aubrey closely. The words were right, but something was off in the delivery.
‘I swear, you all are so helpful around here!’
‘What do you have there?’ Aubrey asked, looking at the computer.
‘Chapter financials,’ I said. ‘I did have a few …’ I was interrupted by the sound of two loud male voices coming from the hall.
Aubrey looked alarmed. Not a lot of men came into the Delta Beta house and when men didn’t enter often, their presence was mighty obvious. I was ready to storm out and set straight whatever sarcastic police officer thought he could barge in, but then I recognised the voice. It wasn’t a man, it was …
‘CASEY!’ I squealed, running to the door and straight into the arms of my best friend, Casey Kenner.
I couldn’t believe he was here. I turned to introduce him to Aubrey and saw that she had come around to my side of the desk and was staring at the computer screen, her face pale, her mouth open.
‘Aubrey? What is it?’ I ran back around to her and put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Are you ok?’ It seemed I was asking that question every third minute lately.
She saw Casey and was even more stunned, but she still couldn’t seem to close her mouth. I’d help her out, but that could be misinterpreted.
‘Aubrey, meet Casey Kenner, from headquarters. Casey, this is Aubrey St. John, Chapter President.’
Casey smiled at Aubrey, with a big movie star smile that darn near sparkled like a toothpaste commercial. Let me tell you this, Casey is gorgeous with a capital G. When I was a little girl, I used to watch classic movies with my Grandma Fredrick in the summer. When I met Casey, I told him he was a dead ringer for Cary Grant and Rock Hudson’s love child. And Casey is so classy, he knew exactly what I meant by that. I’ll tell you something else. Casey is a man.
I know, I know. You’re wondering why Casey isn’t my boyfriend if he’s so gorgeous and my best friend and he works for Delta Beta headquarters, right? You’re saying, ‘Margot, that Casey sounds like the perfect man.’ Unfortunately, I’m not Casey’s type. And if you’re wondering what that means, it means Casey likes men.
You might also be wondering how Casey works for Delta Beta when he is a man. He applied for the job and simply failed to mention that fact. Since he has a gender-neutral name, he got an interview. And once he had that? Well, Casey’s a lot like me. People don’t turn him down very often. Casey’s a Delta Beta woman in all but the extra X chromosome. He grew up surrounded by Debs – his mama, his two sisters, his mama’s mama. Unfortunately, his daddy’s mama was a Tri Mu. He doesn’t talk about her much.
Casey was a sight for sore eyes. He was dressed impeccably, as he always was. Today he wore a tweed coat with suede elbow patches, a purple striped Oxford shirt, loafers that probably cost more than a car payment and a scarf tossed just so over his shoulder. It takes a real man to wear a scarf.
‘What are you doing here?’ I squealed again before hugging him. I don’t really know why I was so excited to see him. Maybe I needed a break from all the grieving and dramatics at the house. I guess I was relieved to have my fun friend around to help me forget my troubles.
‘I brought the files from HQ you asked for.’ Casey pointed at the rolling briefcase behind him.
‘You’re too sweet,’ I said for Aubrey’s benefit. I’d known Casey for too long and knew that he drove across three states to bring me files he could have Fed Exed. Something big was going on, something he needed to be here for.
Like the sweet girl she was, Aubrey excused herself quickly and when she did, I locked the door behind her. Casey gave the lock a pointed look. ‘You wouldn’t believe how busy it’s been in here,’ I said to explain the locked door before turning to him and crossing my arms. ‘Now. Shoot.’
Casey’s