Prescription:  Dancer

by Molly Rose Morrissey

“17 year old female under the name of Lexi Barder. Found dead last night at…Shawl-Anderson Dance Center,” Callahan says as he pulls out graphics from the crime scene.

“Looks like she was strangled,” I respond, leafing through the photos of my newest case. “Look at the bruises on her neck.” I pass the close-up photo of Lexi to Callahan.

“Yeah, we have the body over at the lab on Sixth if you want to check it out. Listen, the parents are a mess. They want a finger to point and they have no one. I want you to get on this ASAP. Find the guy behind this; give this family some relief.” With that, Callahan walks out of my cubicle, leaving me with my newest mystery to crack.

Always at the beginning of a case I find myself overwhelmed. Where to start? Whom to call? The possibilities are endless. Just thinking about this makes my pulse quicken. I pop one of my anti-anxiety pills and leave the office.

Outside the air is crisp; low, water-swollen clouds hang over the city of Berkeley threatening rain. Zipping up my fleece jacket, I head to my beat-up Toyota. I turn on the ignition and start driving west toward Sixth. The music on the radio fades as the DJ comes on to talk. I always hate those guys; why do they think what they have to say is more important than the rest of us? With my finger poised to switch the channel, I hear the name Lexi Barder.

“It seems like the Bay Area has experienced a murder mystery of its own,” the DJ broadcasts. “This poor girl was found dead in the changing room at Shawl-Anderson Dance Center in Berkeley. I guess bad things really do happen in the strangest places. That’s about as much as we know so far. I hope whatever detective assigned to this case cracks this clue ‘cause we’re all waiting for an answer—” I quickly turn the radio off. Who the hell does this asshole think he is? As if it was that easy.

I pull up to the crime lab and enter the dimly lit building. The ceilings are low, and the loud drone of fluorescent lights is audible. The elevator takes me up to the cadaver lab. I inhale sharply before walking into the room, as if to somehow ward off the imminent smell of death and assure that it won’t be taking me any time soon. Inside Lexi Barder’s body is zipped tight, ready and waiting for me on a metal table.

“Carter. Always a pleasure,” Jonathan greets me. He’s examining a body near the back of the large room. Coming closer, he hands me a toxicology report. “You’re looking into this Barder girl, right? Turns out this case just got a little more interesting.”

I look down at the results. My eyes search the page: negative, negative, POSITIVE…methamphetamine. “This girl was a meth user?” I asked, shocked.

“Yes, she used meth, but this definitely did not cause her death. You see, her level was only 15 ng/ml, a low level dose. 100 ng/ml is the toxic level, anything above that; well let’s just say you’re high as a kite. At 15, Lexi was probably just feeling the buzz: more alert, euphoric; a high that most habitual users would be immune to. This leads me to believe that she didn’t use regularly.”

The last part of Jonathan’s analysis puts a red flag up. “Can I take a peek?” I ask, motioning toward Lexi’s body.

“By all means. It’s not pretty sight, but you know the drill.”

I nod as I approach her body. Unzipping the bag, I’m taken aback by how skinny Lexi was. Her skin hangs thinly over her bones, and her face is gaunt, sinking deeply in at her cheeks. Her dull, white-blond hair dull lies on her shoulders; her emerald green eyes stare back at me. I close the lids, shuddering as I come in contact with her icy skin. Beginning my examination, I look again at the bruises on her neck. The bluish purple has darkened overnight and the thick and large finger marks indicate that whoever killed her was male. I look at her arms for track marks but find none. Opening her mouth, I see no discoloration or damage to her teeth that could signal long-term meth use. Jonathan’s words echoed in my mind. But why just once?

“Thanks for the info,” I call out to Jonathan as I exit the lab.

With a house visit next on my list, I head toward the Berkeley Hills. I park in front of a large, attractive house with a tiled roof and lush garden. The house, I estimate, must be worth over $1 million. Ringing the doorbell, I am greeted by two teenage girls. “Hi, I’m Carter Smith from the Berkeley Police Department investigating the murder of Lexi Barder,” I say as I flash them my badge, “Are your parents home?”

“Oh, no, their not our—we’re, well, we were Lexi’s best friends. I’m Haley,” the brunette tells me, her eyes swollen and red, “and this is Meg. I can get you Lexi’s parents. I think they’re upstairs.” She disappears, leaving me with Meg.

“You can come in,” Meg says, leading me inside. The house is just as grand from the inside; I am welcomed by sweeping views of the glistening bay through large, white-paneled windows. And older woman and man come down the stairs with Haley in tow.

“You must be Carter,” the woman says. “I’m Joan, Lexi’s mom.” Her voice catches on the last word, “Please…excuse me,” she manages, walking into the kitchen. I can hear her muffled sobs.

The grief is heavy in this house, weighing down the high ceilings; I feel claustrophobic. Discreetly as possible, I pop another anti-anxiety pill.

“Hi, I’m Tim.” Lexi’s father says, firmly shaking my hand as if offering his full and complete trust to me. “The house is open to anything you need to do, I just want you to find this bastard.”

“Thank you, sir,” I respond. “If you wouldn’t mind, I have a few questions first. I just got back from the lab and have found that Lexi’s blood contained traces of methamphetamine. Did you know Lexi had been using?”

Tim’s mouth drops open, “Methamphetamine? My baby? No, this couldn’t possibly be right!” His eyes cloud with anger, but I keep my focus on him unwavering and strong. After a moment, his face falls, “I guess with everything that has happened in the past 24 hours, anything could be true.”

“Had you noticed a change in Lexi around the time of her death?” I question.

“Yes, well, now that I think of it, we had noticed something was different about, I’d say, two months ago. Lex had begun to lose weight very quickly. She just wasn’t herself -- antsy, moody, and ill focused. Joan and I just blamed it on the stress of dance and college applications. She had so much ahead of her…” He began to shed silent tears, “I’m sorry. This is all just too much. I’ve lost my baby, and now this?”

I nod, showing my sympathy, but my pulse jumps at the new information. “Well that’s about all I need from you right now,” I respond, anxious to do some sleuthing. “Can I take a look at Lexi’s room?”

“By all means. She’s just the room upstairs, first on the right.”

Smiling, I make my way up the stairs and into her room where I am greeted by Haley and Meg who are on Lexi’s bed. Haley lies propped up against a pillow, staring blankly ahead, her tears glistening against her pale skin. Meg sits beside her flipping through a magazine. “Hello, again, girls,” I say, moving awkwardly into the room, uncomfortable with the unexpected company.

“Hi,” Meg responds without looking up.

I can feel eyes on me as I go to her dresser. Opening the upper right drawer, I find little but socks. Still, I reach my hand further back into the drawer until I come in contact with what feels like plastic. I pull out an orange medicine bottle with the prescription name Adderall.

“What’s that?” Meg asks from behind me.

“Just something I found in Lexi’s drawer,” I respond, intrigued by her newfound interest.

Meg walks over to me. “That bitch!” she exclaims and snatches the bottle from my hands, her grasp surprisingly strong, “This is mine!” With that, Meg stomps out of the room.

I turn to Haley who is still lying on Lexi’s bed, seemingly unaffected by the sudden absence of Meg. “What was that all about?” I ask.

She sighs as more tears run down her face, “We’re all sorta addicted to that shit.” She stops to finally look at me, “This is confidential right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay. Well, we all dance together and there’s tons of pressure to be thin. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s true. You just can’t do well in dance if you’re not skinny. And yeah, you could say that we weren’t huge to begin with, but compared to other dancers, we knew we had to do something drastic.” Haley is now sitting up, completely engrossed in explanation. “We heard that our friends had starting taking Adderall because it like totally makes you not want to eat annnythinngg. We also heard that some druggies at Berkeley High were selling it, so we all started together. I mean, this stuff works, although it sorta turned us into zombies. I feel emotionless most of the time, and once you come down from it, you feel like complete shit. But I lost 10 pounds in a month! And Lexi, well, she looked amazing.” Her face falls. “But, for Meg, it hasn’t really worked. She has hardly lost any weight and still eats like a cow. But her personality has changed; she’s definitely not herself anymore.”

“Why do you think Lexi had Meg’s Adderall?”

“Meg has tons of bottles at her house. I’m sure Lexi thought Meg wouldn’t notice if she took one bottle. I’ve done it before”

“Did Lexi like Meg?”

“Of course. Lexi liked everyone. She was such a golden girl. We’ve all been friends forever. But, as I said before, we just haven’t been the same lately. Meg’s been a real bitch, especially to Lexi. She was just jealous that Lex looked better than her.”

“I want to tell you something in hopes that you can provide some insight,” I continue. “Did you know that Lexi’s blood tested positive for methamphetamine at the time of her death?”

“What!?” Haley exclaims, “Meth? You’re lying. That’s crazy.”

“But you do realize that you take a lower dose amphetamine everyday right?”

“I guess. But it’s not the same! Meth is so horrible!” She begins to cry.

“Do you have any idea as to why Lexi would start taking meth and where she would ever get it?”

“I guess she could’ve gotten it from one of the dealers at our school. And as for why, I don’t know. I really don’t want to think this could be true, but…. maybe she was trying to up her dosage to stop her appetite permanently. I mean doesn’t meth make you like HATE food? She was really serious about dance, we all thought she would become a professional.”

“I see,” I respond, clearly understanding the need to go to the scene of the crime to be able to put all of the pieces together. “Thanks for your help. I’m going to try my best to find the perpetrator.” Giving her a wave, I make my way outside. I drive towards Shawl-Anderson, hopeful that I can crack this case.

I arrive at a garishly painted large house; a small sign reads “Shawl-Anderson Dance Center.” Finding a parking spot close by, I make my way towards the blue and yellow building. I can see the crime scene tape blocking off the entrance. Many reporters are clustered around the building trying to get a peak into the studio or an interview with one of the teachers. I approach one of the officers from the station who’s guarding the door. “Sanders, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good, except for all of these asshole reporters trying to get a story,” he responds.

I laugh. “You mind if I go inside? I’m on this case.”

“Be my guest,” he says and opens the door.

My nostrils flare as I walk inside, perturbed by the smell of feet and dried sweat. The house is dimly lit. I see two studios on my left and right and a sort of makeshift lobby that sits in between. All three areas are empty. Heading upstairs, my lungs shrink, the air in here is humid, and the smell is getting to the best of me. I pop another anti-anxiety pill just for good measure and walk into the dressing room at the top of the stairs. Lexi’s taped outline has been marked on the ground. I notice a sink and toilet, but nothing close to seeming uncharacteristic of a normal dressing room. The room is quite narrow and has two entrances, one directly leading to the stairs, and one near the back. I open this door and see women and men sitting in a circle on the ground. They notice me and stop talking. “Hello, my name is Carter Smith. I’m the detective on the case of Lexi Barder.”

A woman with short brown hair gets up and offers a hand, “Hi, I’m Jill Teal, the director here at Shawl. The staff and I were just having an impromptu meeting about Lexi. It’s really just been a horrible couple of days, what with all of the reporters, and of course a deceased member of our dance school -- just horrible.”

“My condolences. Would you mind me interviewing Lexi’s main teacher at the studio? I know she spent a lot of time here and any more information about what could have caused this tragic event would help me out.”

“Certainly,” Jill responds. “Candace, Mr. Smith would like to have a word with you.”

A tall, older woman stands up and makes her way towards us. “Hi. Candace Jones. How can I help you?”

“Would you mind stepping outside and answering a couple of questions about Lexi?”

“No, I guess that would be fine.”

We make our way out of the studio and down the stairs. I find a bench in the lobby. Sitting down, I examine Candace. Her thin hair is fashioned in a tight bun and her eyebrows slant upwards, as if her hairdo has pulled them taught. Her eyes flash a dark gray. She stares unreservedly back at me.

“So, what do you want to know?” she asks.

“What was Lexi like as a student?”

“Oh she was a talented girl. Probably the best in the Ensemble.”

“Ensemble?”

“Yes. Here at Shawl we have a Youth Ensemble designed for girls that we believe have great potential. Lexi fit in perfectly. I knew Lexi would become a professional dancer. It’s quite a shame how things have turned out.”

“How often was Lexi dancing?”

“Every day after school and on the weekends from nine to five. She was progressing so nicely; all of us were very pleased.”

“It seems like a lot of pressure, no?”

“Oh, of course. But that is what comes with the art form. I always expect only the best of my girls.”

“Was Lexi pressured to be thin?”

She laughs, “Pressured? I don’t think so, but she was a smart girl.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Well, she knew that one must be in good form to make it. She was smart, that’s all.”

I decide to move on, “Who else is in the Ensemble?”

“Four other girls, all about Lexi’s age, but none match her talent.”

“Haley and Meg are in the Ensemble, correct?”

“Haley is, but not Meg. No, we just haven’t seen potential in her yet. Awkward girl.” She clucks her tongue in distaste.

“So when Lexi was killed, was anyone else in the studio?”

“Not that I am aware of. I was teaching the girls in Studio B, upstairs to the right. It was around eight, so there was no one in the lobby and I assumed no one else would be in the building. I had music playing when Lexi asked to use the restroom. She was in a strange mood, unfocused and jumpy, but I didn’t take too much notice. Ten minutes later when she still hadn’t come out, Haley went in to check on her. And that’s when… well, she found her.” Candace looks down, her mouth softening as tears form in the corners of her eyes.

Her pain is raw and genuine. Crossing her off the suspect list, I know exactly what I have to do. “I’m so sorry, Candace. Just for more investigative reasons, can I get a contact list of all of the students in the teen division?”

“Of course,” she replies, getting up and making her way behind the counter across from where I sit. She flips through some files and finally pulls out a piece of paper. “Here it is,” she says, handing me the contact sheet. “And please, let me know when you figure out the person behind all of this.”

“I will.” I walk out of the house, nodding at Officer Sanders who is still guarding the entrance. Heading west, I make my way toward Albany. 956…954…952. I find the small house and pull over, cutting the engine as I survey the neighborhood: small houses line the block, all either colored white, brown, or gray; each house has a well-manicured lawn. I approach 952 Talbot Ave. and knock on the door.

A tall woman with large eyes hesitantly opens the door. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. Yes, I’m Carter Smith from the Berkeley Police Department. Is your daughter here? I just have a few questions for her regarding the murder of Lexi Barder.”

“Why, yes,” she responds. “Let me get her for you.”

Soon, I hear the familiar stomping as she greets me with bugged eyes, “What do you want?” she asks.

“Hello again, Meg. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about Lexi. After you left, I had the chance to talk to Haley, but I never did get to talk to you.”

Her mouth turns into a thin line; I notice tension in her neck. “Let’s talk outside. My mom is bothering me.” She leads the way down the block and to the right. Finally she stops and turns around. “So, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask you what you were doing last night at 8pm when Lexi died.”

“I was at home. I had a ton of work to do.”

“So you weren’t at the studio at any time yesterday?”

“Well, yeah. I took Teen Modern 2 that gets out at 7:15 just like I always do. But, like I said, after it was over, I went home and did homework.” She has her hands on her hips trying to play it cool.

“Alright. Do you mind me asking about your use of Adderall? This is confidential, of course.”

“I take it. It doesn’t work, though.” She kicks a pebble on the sidewalk.

“It doesn’t work?”

“Yeah, well as you can see I’m still fat. Unlike Haley or Lex—”

“Unlike Lexi, who lost weight, right?”

“I guess, jeez, a little harsh?”

“Sorry. I’m just trying to understand. Why did you get so angry when you found Lexi had your pills?”

“Because they were mine! She didn’t even need them. She was so perfect. The golden girl. Lexi this, Lexi that. Did you know she was like a fricken professional ballerina?”

“Yeah, I heard,” I respond, trying to find a way to push her buttons and coax her into telling the truth. “So Lexi’s always been more talented than you?”

“Hey! I’m not talent-less or anything.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just saying, Lexi found it easier to excel in things than most people, right?”

“Obviously. That little bitch deserved what happened to her.”

“What? You think she deserved it? Why?”

“Do you know what it feels like to always be number two? Never to be good enough? Pretty enough? Talented enough? Well I do; Lexi made me look like a loser. I was sick of it.”

“You were sick of it? What does that mean?”

“I was sick of always being second best.” Her eyes brim with tears and her hands shake violently.

“Meg. What did you do?”

“I did the only thing I could! I killed her! Okay?! I killed her!” She is crying now, gasping for air as she crumples to the ground.

“Meg Lair, you are under arrest for the murder of Lexi Barder.” She wails as I cuff her hands, adrenaline pulsing through my body by the colossal confession.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Meg screams, but it is too late; the crime has been confessed, and I have cracked yet another case.

*************

“Good job, Smith,” Callahan says as he pats me on the back. “The parents finally have a finger to point and justice will be served to Meg Lair. Another case brilliantly solved. You are certainly the best. Ready for your next case?”

“Yes sir,” I respond, popping an anti-anxiety pill just in case.