Why Isn't Becky Twitchell Dead? Read Online Free

for that night’s fight. I tried to stay calm. I told her I was serious. That the fights were over. I even pulled to the side of the road and tried to explain. She laughed at me, hit me, slapped me. I tried to stop her.”
    He walked over to me, head down, his hands out, pleading for understanding. “I hit her. Harder than ever before. She was unconscious. I got real scared.” He sat down and told the rest. He drove to a gas station to get some water. She came around but wouldn’t talk to him. Susan then spent fifteen minutes in the women’s room. When she came out, she ignored him and began walking away. He followed her and offered to drive her home or to a friend’s. She pushed him away, then swore at him and started swinging. He claimed he didn’t touch her or even lift a hand against her. He knew he couldn’t hit her. He said that by then he was crying, begging her to stop, to listen. Finally,
she told him he was an asshole jock, and aimed a last kick. He tried to dodge, but she got him in the nuts. While he bent over, she laughed at him, slapped him with her purse, and took off running. He didn’t see her again.
    After he finished, he slumped down in the chair. I asked a few questions on details.
    He drove around until one in the morning. He had no witnesses for this. He sneaked into the house, avoiding his mom, who’d fallen asleep on the couch. At home, Paul Conlan had left a message for him to call no matter when he got in. He’d called Conlan, who had a private phone in his bedroom. Paul told him they’d found Susan dead. One of the kids at the party had seen the police cars at Susan’s house and called Conlan. Paul told Jeff the police were hunting for him. Jeff guessed he’d be suspected, figured he’d better not hang around the house. He thought he’d try to hide at a friend’s.
    I told him about seeing the kids in the police station earlier. He snorted contemptuously. “They wouldn’t help last night when I needed them.” He continued the story. He couldn’t stay at home, he was sure the police would be there. He didn’t want the hassle he knew he’d get from his mom. He drove around most of the night. He tried a couple friends. No one, including Conlan, would let him in. He watched for his mom to leave for work, then he entered the house. He didn’t answer the phone or the door, but his mom went home at noon and found him. She got mad when he wouldn’t talk to her, then later the police arrived.
    I asked him about Susan’s blood in his car.
    â€œIn the fight, she got a bloody nose. They found my blood, too.” He rolled his sleeve up and showed me the gouges on his wrist and arm. “The police don’t believe I didn’t do it.”
    He claimed to know nothing about Susan’s activities after she’d left him. I tried various questions from different angles, but he stuck to his story. Finally, I asked whether there was anything else he could tell me.

    He hesitated. “One odd thing last night. After I called Paul, before I left the house, Becky Twitchell phoned. She almost woke up my mom. Becky told me to keep my mouth shut about the kids at the party. She warned me not to tell. You can’t be too careful with Becky. Bad things happen to people who cross her.”
    If they ever held auditions again for the Wicked Witch of the West, Becky would win. If a teacher strangled Becky in front of the entire student body at high noon, as long as there was one teacher on the jury, they’d never vote to convict. If there was a school rule she hadn’t broken, I didn’t know about it. Her mom is president of the school board. This explains a great deal.
    The teachers hate Mrs. Twitchell almost as much as they hate Becky. As a freshman, Becky had complained to her mom about one first-year math teacher. Becky had made the class a total hell, and her mom had made so much trouble with