“Well, Whitney was rich, right? I mean, did the money come from the trips, or was it just Whitney’s own money?” Melanie was careful to keep the excitement out of her voice. Sometimes, when witnesses were eager to cooperate, they’d say whatever they thought you wanted to hear. Best not to clue them in as to what that was, or you’d get unreliable information.
“Oh, Expo was giving Whitney money,” Trevor said definitively.
“How do you know?” Melanie asked, exchanging glances with Dan again.
“Brianna told me. She said every time Whitney went to Puerto Rico with Expo, she’d come back with, like, a lot of Benjamins and buy some amazing shit. Like, one time it was a Christian Dior bag with crystal charms on it, another time this kinda fetishy, like, Gucci dress. All stuff that cost thousands. And I saw it, really.”
“Brianna said Benjamins? Meaning cash?”
“Yes.”
“That was the exact term she used?”
“Yeah.”
“But isn’t it possible that Whitney was just spending her own money? That it didn’t have anything to do with Esposito?” Melanie asked.
“No. That stuff about the Sewards being so rich? Done! They’re burnt. The money’s gone-at least that’s what everybody says. It’s tied up in the apartment and the houses or something, and there’s not much else. That’s why Whitney was always hitting me up to pay for shit. Either that or she was really cheap, which I guess is possible.” He gave a harsh laugh, like a bark.
“Why would Esposito give Whitney such large amounts of money?” Melanie asked.
“Well, she was a hot blonde with a slammin’ bod, and Expo was definitely doin’ ’er.”
“You’re saying he was paying her for sex?” Melanie asked.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Trevor replied, shrugging.
“What else could it be?” Melanie asked.
“Well, okay, something weird happened this weekend,” Trevor said, kneading his eyes and sighing. “On Saturday I was supposed to hang with Brianna, right? But she texted me that morning and said she was on a plane to San Juan with Whitney.”
“She texted you from the plane?”
“Yeah. Both ways, going and coming.”
“It was just Brianna and Whitney? Did Esposito go also?”
“I think so. Because Brianna texted me Sunday, from the plane coming back. And she seemed scared.”
“Wait a minute, let me get this straight. Brianna, Whitney, and possibly Esposito traveled to San Juan on Saturday morning and returned Sunday at what time?”
“Really late. I think they missed school yesterday, actually.”
“I’ll pull the manifests of all possible flights and see if we can corroborate that,” Dan said.
“Do you happen to know which hotel they stayed in?” Melanie asked.
“Brianna said the El San Juan.”
“Okay. Now, explain to me what made you think Expo went with them,” she said.
“If you give me my phone, I can find the message.”
Melanie nodded to Dan. He pulled a small silver phone from an evidence envelope and handed it to Trevor. Trevor fiddled with the buttons and handed the phone to Melanie.
“Here,” Trevor said.
The message read: “Hey Tinks miss u DB is creeping me out with her fucked up shit her friend too you wouldn’t believe who’s here anyway she’s coming back to the seat in a minute if I ever see you again give me a brain transplant don’t let me do this again Friday for a fucking FB totally not worth it what was I thinking wanna smoke weed when I get home really really miss u luv bree.”
Melanie looked at Trevor. “Translate this for me. I don’t understand all the abbreviations.”
Trevor took the phone back. Tears began rolling down his cheeks again as he scrolled through the message. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, sniffling violently, as he read.
“DB is Whitney. Short for Diva Bitch. And FB is Fendi bag. Brianna’s saying, like, the bling isn’t worth it, because whatever Whitney has her into is so fucked up that it’s scaring her. Like, she realizes she made a mistake. And see, here it says ‘her friend too you wouldn’t believe who’s here.’ So somebody else was with ’em. I’m just guessing it was Expo.”
Melanie took the phone back. “What does she mean, ‘if I ever see you again’?” she asked Trevor.
“Beats the hell out of me. But it sounds like she’s scared, doesn’t it? Like she agreed to something thinking it was gonna be a big party, and now she’s in over her head.”
“What about ‘don’t let me do this again Friday’?”
“They must’ve wanted her to go back at the end of the week,” Trevor said.
“Where were these girls’ parents? I can’t believe they just let their teenage daughters go off with a thug like Esposito,” Melanie said, shaking her head.
Trevor shrugged cynically. “All Brianna had to do was say Whitney’s name, and her mom would be, like, How fast can I pay for your plane ticket? Buffy was pumped her daughter was hanging with a Seward. The Meyerses were Jewish, like me, and Holbrooke is WASP Central. Brianna didn’t fit in. Whitney taking her up changed everything for her socially.”
“What about Whitney’s parents? Were they totally out to lunch? I mean, these girls were only sixteen years old.”
“Yeah, Whitney’s parents were out to lunch. Out to something anyway. I was at her house a bunch, and I never once saw her parents. Her dad was always gone. Her mom stayed in her bedroom with the door locked, mainlining like OxyContin and vodka or some shit. If Whitney wanted to talk to her, she’d call her on the intercom, and most of the time her mom wouldn’t even answer.”
That certainly added up with the picture the tabloids painted of Charlotte Seward. Melanie briefly considered the implications of Whitney’s mother’s drug problem. Was it possible Charlotte had, knowingly or not, supplied the heroin that killed the girls? Perhaps she had a private stash and they swiped some? That would explain a thing or two-like why James Seward delayed calling the police.
“Dan, can you please make a note that we should interview Charlotte Seward right away?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, Trevor, did Esposito ever give any money to Brianna? Not Whitney. I’m talking about Brianna.”
A vein began to throb in Trevor’s temple. “I really wouldn’t know,” he said.
He avoided her eyes, and a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. Suspects held out on Melanie on a daily basis, but few were this obvious about it.
“I don’t believe you, Trevor,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Well, that’s rude,” he sputtered, flushing bright red. “Fine, then. Believe whatever you want. How should I know if Expo gave Brianna cash? I wouldn’t know that. Jeez.”
Melanie looked at him steadily. Trevor became even more uncomfortable and shifted in his seat.
Bridget Mulqueen had been shredding the label off a bottle of Poland Spring water, seemingly miles away mentally, but now she looked up. “Hey, Melanie, toss me that phone.”
“What?”
“Trevor’s phone. Chuck it over here.”
Melanie hesitated but then did as requested. Bridget began scrolling through the text messages.
“What are you doing, Bridget?” she asked nervously. All Melanie needed was Bridget erasing her evidence by mistake.
“I looked through these before. Hold on a second. Here it is. What’s this, Trev?”
Bridget held up the phone so Trevor could read the display. Without so much as a glance at it, Trevor thrust his chin out and said, “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“Let me read it to you, then, jog your memory. ‘That lechuga is in locker 4703 near the Delta counter but only get it if something really happens to me then blow it all on something nice in my memory wuv u Bree,’” Bridget read.