Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 122, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 745 & 746, September/October 2003

“Sure. After twelve and my stomach was growling. I went round to the front of the house and—” He stopped. “Wait a minute. I did see someone. A couple of teenagers. I was sitting in my truck eating lunch. I saw them in my rearview mirror as they walked past me. They headed up the driveway of that house across the street and went in the front door. I didn’t think anything about it till now. I figured they were coming home from school for lunch.”

“Can you describe them?”

“She was pretty,” he said. “Long brown hair. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. The guy was older. Lanky build, red hair, tattoos on his arms, pierced ears.”

I’d caught a glimpse of the two Brandon daughters when I’d interviewed their parents. One was old enough to drive a lime-green Beetle. She had dark, knowing eyes and wore her dark brown hair short with bangs. The other looked younger, and she had light brown hair falling past her shoulders.

“What happened after they went inside? Did you see them come out?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I heard rock music. Really loud. Ate my sandwich, finished trimming hedges, cleaned up the cuttings. I was working on the shrubs in the front when the housekeeper went into the house next-door. It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before she ran out the front door screaming that there were dead bodies in the house. I whipped out my cell phone and called nine-one-one.”

“So you never saw the two teenagers leave the house?”

He thought for a moment. “Not actually leave the house, no, I didn’t. But I saw them outside. I’m not sure when. It’s all mixed up after I called the cops. I had to wait around and give a statement. Didn’t get out of there till after four. There were a lot of people around. But sometime after the cops got there, I saw that girl and the guy. Hard to miss him, with that red hair. They were on the cross street, getting into an old car.”

Henry said the car was a Plymouth Barracuda, blue decorated with rust stains. I thanked him and drove over to the neighborhood where the Terrells had lived. I didn’t see the Plymouth in the vicinity, but the Beetle was parked in the driveway of the Brandons’ house. I parked near the corner and waited. It was summer now. The two Brandon daughters were out of school. Half an hour passed. Finally the girl with short hair came out the front door, got into the Beetle, and fired up the engine. She backed out of the drive. I started my car and followed her.

She drove to South Shore Center and parked near the department store located at one end. I intercepted her as she got out of her car. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

She looked me over. “I remember you. The private eye who came to talk with my parents about Mr. and Mrs. Terrell.”

“I didn’t get your name that day. Or your sister’s.”

“It’s Sasha. My sister’s name is Missy.” She pointed to her right. “There’s a Starbucks over there.”

Sasha led the way to the espresso emporium. I ordered a latte for myself, a triple mocha with extra whipped cream for Sasha, and threw in a couple of biscotti for good measure. Once we were seated, I laid my cards on the table.

“The day the Terrells died, someone saw a girl with long brown hair at your house. Would that be Missy?”

Sasha sighed. “It would.”

“She was with a guy. Lanky build, red hair, tattoos on his arms, and pierced ears. Ring any bells?”

She made a face. “Cody. He’s way older than Missy, eighteen or nineteen. Mom would burst a blood vessel if she knew.”

“Missy and Cody were seen going into your house around noon, before the bodies were found. And again after the bodies were found. It was a weekday. You and your sister should have been in school, unless Missy came home for lunch. All afternoon would have been a long lunch.”

“She cut,” Sasha said. “One of my friends told me about it later that day. She said Missy split after her third class, when Cody showed up.”

“What do you figure they were doing at the house that afternoon?”

“Each other. Having sex.” Sasha poked her biscotti through the thick layer of whipped cream to the coffee below. Then she drew it out and bit off the end with great relish.

“What makes you think that?”

“When I got home from school, I went looking for Missy, to bawl her out for cutting classes. She’d pulled all the sheets off her bed and washed them. They were piled on her bed, still warm from the dryer.”

“How do you get from there to Missy and Cody having sex?”

“Like Miss La-Di-Da would be doing laundry for the hell of it? Right. Only one reason she’d be washing sheets in the middle of the afternoon on a school day. She and Cody were screwing their brains out up in her bedroom.”

I gave Sasha points for deductive reasoning. I’d come to the same conclusion without the sheets. “I’d like to talk with Missy and Cody.”

“You think they saw something?”

“Maybe. Any idea where I can find them?”