We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!
Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Thirty-Two / PART B of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @mysilverylining. And stayed tuned next week for the conclusion of our story from @cheshirecatstrut!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!
Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Thirty-Two / PART A of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @mysilverylining. And stayed tuned next week for Chapter Thirty-Two/PART B, also from @mysilverylining.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO / PART A by @mysilverylining
Veronica looked at Logan and then back down to the safety deposit box. “Give a girl a drumroll?”
“Fresh out of sticks.” He shrugged and leaned closer, peering into the metal box as she flipped it open. “Well, that’s...anticlimactic.”
"What were you expecting? A signed murder confession?”
“What I feared was, ‘Logan Echolls: The Unauthorized Biography’, a scrapbook of magazine spreads going back to my birth, and the deed to all her frozen eggs at the fertility clinic.”
“Gross.” Veronica handed him a brownish document envelope with a string closure. “Would you settle for this?”
“If I must.”
Veronica got to work opening the second envelope.
READ THE REST OF THE CHAPTER ON AO3, BY FOLLOWING THIS LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132021/chapters/64066864
We’ve reached the next-to-last installment of our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors have taken turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafted their chapter and then “tossed” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knew what would happen, so we expected the unexpected!
The “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags contain all the previous installments, or you can read the story on AO3. --Chapter Thirty- Three(PART A) of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @cheshirecatstrut. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.33, part B of cheshirecatstrut’s installment, and the final chapter of the story!
____________________________________________________________
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (Part A) by @cheshirecatstrut
“Don’t worry, Meg,” Veronica said--and it felt great to speak the words out of determination rather than guilt. “I’ll find your daughter, and Duncan too, and I’ll figure out who killed Ruby. I inadvertently helped kick-start this mess a long time ago; it’s my responsibility to clean it up, regardless of whether you blame me. Celeste’s already agreed to field expenses, by the way, so don’t even offer to pay me. The way I see it, she owes us both for pain and suffering.”
Meg laughed, a bright and achingly-familiar sound. “And maybe once the dust settles,” V continued, “we could…catch up? It’s been awhile. And it’s not like I’ve made a million new friends in your absence.”
“That would be nice.” Meg’s tone was sincere. “I’ve thought a lot about you and Logan, over the years. Although I admit, it surprised me at first to think of you two TOGETHER.”
“You and me both.” V glanced sideways at her boyfriend, who was lounging with arms crossed, and watching her with total focus. Still, after all these years, his full attention made her flustered. “I’ll call you back at this number when I’ve got something to report.”
Briskly, she closed the phone and glanced sideways at Mac. “So what next?” she asked. “I don’t have the slightest idea how to keep the promise I just made. But Meg being alive makes this case personal.”
“And detectives can only solve personal crimes?” Mac rolled her eyes. “Mars Investigations would be broker than we are already…which is tough to fathom.”
“So what do we still need to figure out, in order to shed light on this coldest of cold cases?” V sprawled onto the couch, picking up a legal pad and pen. “The suggestion box is open.”
Logan lifted his brows, somehow managing to refrain from double entendre. “Personally, I’d like to know how Leo hid or stashed the money he extorted. Because that apartment was modest, and he drives a Hyundai, yet he lifted 500k from Celeste alone. Also, 50k from me,” he added. “Think he’s got a secret villain lair?”
“You’ve been warped by Ruby’s novel,” Veronica said. “It’s probably stashed in an offshore account like YOUR money.”
“Yes, but I’ve got Aaron’s cash in Switzerland because I don’t USE it,” he countered. “Although assuming I don’t re-enlist after my tour’s up in October, that state of affairs might change. Leo, on the other hand, worked hard for his ill-gotten gains. So why didn’t he at least buy a flashy car for his troubles?”
“Because he wanted to hide his crimes?” Veronica shrugged. “Not everyone cares about luxury as much as you do, Logan. Besides, cars that don’t blend are just hubris in law enforcement. If you plan to work for MI, you might need to buy a Hyundai too.”
Logan made a face and opened his mouth to rebut, probably some pungent statement about vehicles beneath his station; but Mac, glancing up from her own notepad, spoke first. “Before you get carried away with banter, here’s another question,” she said. “If Leo didn’t care about the manuscript, which seems to be the case….why did he break into Ruby’s apartment and steal her hard drive? What could she have possibly had on there, other than the book, that he might want?”
“Well, he did obsessively record all his phone calls, like every modern politician,” Veronica said. “Seems to me like you’re volunteering to listen to all of them, in order to answer your own question. And if so, don’t let me stand in your way.”
Logan cackled, and Mac groaned but grabbed her laptop and headphones in tacit agreement. “Meanwhile, I’ll ping all my law-enforcement contacts, and see what I can find out about Leo’s murder investigation,” V continued. “The detective in charge already hates me, so no need to tiptoe around his feelings.”
“Tell Norris I said hi,” Logan quipped as she pulled out her phone. Then he added, with a sigh, “In the meantime, I’ll polish off the rest of this potboiler. Clarence said the last part was interesting; so someone needs to bite the bullet and figure out why.”
[Excerpt from Ruby Jetson’s unpublished manuscript]
V’s whole face flinched, and she writhed in her attacker’s grip; he wasn’t much bigger than her, but he was determined and—EW—impassioned, and his grip wouldn’t loosen no matter how much she scratched and kicked. “Uh-uh-uh,” he chided, voice the barest of mumbles, hot and repugnant against her ear. “You’re not going anywhere just yet. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you or anything, at least not right away…first we’ll have a little fun. Or at least I think it’ll be fun--you might disagree.”
“Veronica!” Mac called, her voice quavering like maybe the attacker hit her too. V bit the hand covering her mouth hard, drawing blood, and her assailant shrieked and yanked it away.
“The killer’s in here!” she yelled, kicking back at his knee, making him curse and stumble. “He’s got me! Run!”
“Now why’d you have to go and say that?” Bad Breath dragged her backwards as the cage rattled and a door slammed. On the floor to her left, Norris groaned. “Don’t you realize you just signed your friend’s death warrant? Can’t have her figuring out who I am, and spilling incriminating details, before my entertaining chess game is done.”
He licked the back of her neck to punctuate, and Veronica head-butted him hard enough to make her ears ring. The cartilage in his nose crunched, and he dropped her abruptly, stumbling away with a growl. She sprawled onto the frigid floor and crab-crawled sideways, searching along the surface for something she could use as a weapon. Her fingers closed around a cold metal rod---fireplace poker, the one Carrie was hauling around for protection…she must have left it behind when she suited up for her snowmobile ride. V jerked as rough fingers closed around her wrist, and she swung from the shoulder as hard as she could, connecting with a crack. The killer shrieked, voice rising rapidly in pitch, and then the lights came back on, blinding everyone.
Follow THIS LINK to read the rest on A03. And see you next week for the finale!
We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!
Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Thirty-One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @nicemom93. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.32 from @mysilverylining - tag, you’re it!
Cat-rimmed eyes peered out through the slats of a shelf at the end of the closet. That was what had first caught his attention. Now, Logan stared at his own face looking back at him from beside those eyes. Eyes that looked like Carrie's, but were not.
"Oh, man. I thought the crazy-ass murderer wall was insane."
Veronica pushed past Ruby's glittering dresses and reached behind the shelf.
"Where in the hell did she get this?"
The eyes moved back and forth, then vanished briefly, before appearing again, hiding Veronica from his gaze as she pushed whatever it was out to him.
"Take this."
"What is it?" He reached toward her and realized she was handing him a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Ruby, dressed up in her Bonnie DeVille hair and make-up, wearing a short black dress. "Oh, you have to be kidding me."
"I wish I was."
He took cardboard Ruby from her, and she immediately reached behind the shelf again, pulling a second cardboard shape into the open. "And if things weren't already bad enough..."
She balanced the second cut-out beside her, holding it upright with an arm around the waist as she looked up at the cut-out version of Logan, conservatively dressed in slacks and a cream button-up, and shook her head. "I shudder to think what cardboard you and cardboard Ruby have been doing in the last year."
"Oh fuck, no." Logan backed out of the closet with Ruby's image, and Veronica followed with fake him under her arm. Back in the larger bedroom space, she leaned Logan's image against the wall and took Ruby from him, tucking them together before stepping away to admire her handiwork.
"You're a matched set," she said with a grin, and he saw with dismay that she was right. His cardboard doppelganger's hand rested near his hip, and a narrow strip had been cut in the space between his arm and body where Ruby's hand tucked in, notching the shapes together.
"You know what this is from, don't you?" Veronica asked, and Logan nodded.
"It's the date you brokered for me to keep yourself out of jail," he replied. "Where did she get these?"
"I'm guessing Etsy," Veronica said. "You can get pretty much anything you want on the internet."
"You can have life-sized pictures of people made without their permission?"
"You were in the picture together. The poor sucker who created this probably just thought you were a couple."
"Nonononono." He hunched his shoulders up and out, trying to shrug away the idea of he and Ruby as a couple, glaring balefully as Veronica laughed. "I'm glad you're enjoying my pain."
"Oh, quit whining." She stepped back to the cardboard pair, pulling them apart, then began to run her hands over the cut edges of Ruby's figure, from the top of her head, down to the floor. "Why am I not surprised that the Balboa Sheriff's Department's work is getting shoddier and shoddier. If they'd found these little gems, they probably would have hauled you in already as a person of interest in Ruby's death."
"And they actually got to turn the lights on," he answered. "But, ya know, this little reveal probably would have looked worse on you. Like maybe you needed to get rid of your competition."
Veronica turned back toward him, now frowning. "Oh. That's actually plausible."
"Uh-huh."
"Should we take them with us? Or at least yours?" She side-stepped to the Logan cut-out and began her process again, running her hands down the cut edges from his head to the widened base at the floor.
"If we take it, we're gonna light it on fire, right?" Logan responded, but Veronica's answering laugh was suddenly silenced.
"Oh, wow, I think I found something." She knelt on the floor, leaning down to peer closely at the area around cardboard Logan's calf level. She nodded and looked up with a grin. "Yup. Apparently, you were more than just eye candy to Ruby."
"Well, that's certainly a relief," Logan said, and she nodded, then focused on the cut-out again.
"The cardboard is corrugated, so there are little tunnels of space between the front layer and the back. This one—“ Her face twisted in concentration as she dug her finger between the layers. "—has a little something extra hiding in your leg." Her fingers pinched together, and, with a triumphant smile, she pulled out a key.
"That's probably why she hid us in the closet," Logan theorized.
"Yeah, that makes sense. I wondered why you weren't standing guard over her as she slept."
"I know, right?"
Veronica chuckled, then looked down at the key in her hand. "Now, what do you open, little key?" She glanced up at Logan. "It looks to me like some kind of private storage. A little safe, maybe? I think it would be hidden too, or else someone could just walk off with it."
"If it was here and wasn't hidden, I would think the cops would take it in," Logan suggested, and Veronica nodded.
"Yes, that should be true, with a competent department. With this group, they would still probably take it to see if there was anything in it they wanted." She turned the key in her hand. "There’s a number on it, so if we figure out where to look, we’ll be able to match it up. N3754G."
“Hang on, let me see that.”
Veronica held out her hand, and Logan shined the light on her palm with the small key. The quick look was all he needed.
"That's from the Neptune Grand. They have private storage boxes on the first floor...at least they did when we lived there. Even if you're not living there, they'll let you rent the box. That gets a little pricey though. I guess they figure that anyone who doesn't want to rent a safe deposit box at a bank, or get their own safe, probably has something pretty questionable to hide and is willing to pay to do that."
"Huh." Veronica closed her fist on the key and shoved it into her front jeans pocket. "So, if I show up with the key, will they just let me open the box?"
"You need to know the name the box is rented under, and you need to be that person, or on their list of approved alternates." Logan raised an eyebrow. "Now, I'm not the detective here, but my guess is—" He pointed the phone at the cut-out of Ruby. "—the box was rented by Ruby Jetson—" He moved the light over to his own image. "—and the guy she trusted with the key is an approved alternate."
Veronica nodded and stretched up to give him a quick kiss. "I think that's some pretty good detecting, Lieutenant."
He leaned down for a longer kiss. "Thanks. Now can we put these back where we found them and get out of here? I'd rather not be trying to sneak out of here after the sun's up. We can head straight for the Neptune Grand and see what Ruby's left for me. There always used to be 24/7 access to the boxes, at least as a resident. I guess it could have been different for non-residents, but I'm not sure why it would be."
Veronica stepped back and grabbed her own phone out of her back pocket. "Why don't you put them back while I make one more loop through the room...make sure we didn't miss anything. Then we can head over to the Grand." She grinned at him. "Do you think the restaurant still makes those three meat breakfast skillets like they used to?"
Logan nodded and grabbed his cut-out, heading back to the closet. "I wouldn't be surprised. They serve twenty-four hours; are we eating before we use the key, or after?"
"Oh, before, definitely. I don't want a big break in the case to keep me from my breakfast."
"Yeah. We must have our priorities."
***
The skillet had four meats now, so Veronica was feeling good as she and Logan approached the front desk of the Grand.
"She came to me with the novel...are you sure that you're her key alternate and not me?" she asked again.
Logan shrugged one shoulder. "This isn't the CIA, Veronica. We can probably just tell them that Ruby Jetson left us the key, and Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars are here to collect the contents of her box. As long as one of us is listed, I'm pretty sure this will work out fine."
"I hope you're right."
At 5:49 AM, there was no one at the front desk, but Logan gave the reception bell a quick 'ding', and Veronica leaned her crossed arms against the counter to wait. Logan squared up behind her, hands on her hips.
"This makes me think of the old days," he murmured in her ear. "You're here to bully something out of the clerk, and I'm here to watch admiringly."
"You're here to back me up," she responded. "It's what you do."
"It is," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. He reached to strike the bell again when a voice from behind them stopped him.
"Oh geez, I knew the two of you were going to show up. Why did it have to be on my shift?"
Veronica spun toward the voice, pushing Logan away as he stepped to cover her.
"Logan, stop, it's fine." She stepped around him to face off with the newcomer. "Ratner."
"Mars."
"Still working at the local hotel, I see."
"Still managing the finest hotel in Neptune, you mean."
"Potato..." She paused, then gave her long-ago nemesis a wry smile. "You've been expecting us? Why?"
He shook his head at her. "Uh-uh, you tell me."
She dug into her front pocket and held up the key. "I believe we're on the list."
"Whose list?" Ratner queried, and Veronica laughed.
"You look like a hotel manager, but you question like someone with a criminology degree. What are you still doing here, Ratner?"
He shrugged. "It's unusual for someone to work outside the scope of their degree? The Grand was more lucrative. In the end, it made more sense to stay here. Especially once that one—" He jerked his head at Logan. "—and his brain-dead buddy cleared out of here. I live in the '09 now, Mars. So, stop questioning my life choices and tell me what you want."
"You know what we want, Ratner. The private box of Ruby Jetson, AKA Della Pugh." She shook the key at him. "I believe this should get us beyond your velvet rope."
"Do you know the secret password?"
Veronica glanced over her shoulder to give Logan the evil eye—you never mentioned a password—then back to Ratner again when he laughed.
"Relax, Mars, I'm just giving you a hard time. You got all the pieces. No secret password." He walked past them, moving behind the counter. Veronica followed, watching as he dug around in a deep drawer, coming up with a set of keys. "All right, let's go."
Veronica turned to follow him as Ratner headed toward the bank of elevators. She caught Logan's hand as she moved past him, and they exchanged hopeful looks. This may be the break we've been looking for.
"So, Ratner. Why were you expecting us?" Veronica asked as he unlocked a door beside the first elevator and led them inside.
"I'm the manager, remember, Mars? I know every customer we have in our privacy boxes, and when they have an alternate I'm familiar with, I know that too. When I saw the news about Della's death, I assumed you'd be along directly."
"I'm a little surprised that the untimely demise of a customer doesn't make you lock the box down," Veronica said. "What if whoever killed her comes looking?"
"If whoever killed her has the key and was previously designated, they're gonna get the box. That's just the way the system is set up. I mean, there's probably a lot of these boxes here solely because the client was worried about getting murdered. You know the type. 'In the event of my untimely demise...' But really, it's no big deal to us. We just have to hope the client made a good choice and didn't pick the person who was out to get them." He stopped at another door and paused, tossing a skeptical look over his shoulder at them before unlocking that door. "I will say, I've never been too sure about Della's decision-making, and when I saw she'd chosen the two of you..." He huffed a short laugh. "This choice was no exception."
"You have to know we didn't kill her," Logan said indignantly, and Ratner raised an eyebrow, but overall, his body language didn't seem to show any real stress, so Veronica was pretty sure he was just tormenting Logan. And it's working. "How well did you even know her anyway?" Logan continued, and Ratner stopped with the door only partially ajar, his face now scornful.
"Oh, now you're some kind of white knight?" Ratner asked, shaking his head. Logan bristled and took a step forward, but Veronica reached for his wrist, and he fell back again. Ratner shook his head as he watched the exchange, then rolled his eyes. "If you must know, we frequented some of the same establishments," he said, then pushed the door fully open and waved them inside. "She told me she had something big happening and needed a place to stash some evidence. I offered her one of our boxes."
"Karaoke much, Jeff?" Veronica asked with a smirk as she moved into the room, fingers still tight around Logan's wrist. The room was empty, except for a high table in the center, and another door at the opposite end. She turned to face Ratner again and noticed that his cheeks had colored slightly.
"My private time is my own, Mars," he said, closing them in and moving across to the other door. "You two wait in here, I'll bring out the box and give you your privacy."
As soon as he disappeared, Logan turned to look at her. "Does that mean you think that Ruby and Ratner..." His eyebrows bobbed suggestively, and Veronica wrinkled her nose.
"I'd rather not think about that."
"I dunno. From personal experience, boyfriends are a natural suspect."
"True, but from everything Clemmons and my mom had to say, it seems like we've got plenty of other people willing to whack Ruby without us dragging Ratner into it."
The man in question returned to the anteroom and placed a rectangular metal box on the table. It was around the length of his arm, about half as wide, and around six inches deep. "All right, I'll leave the two of you to do your business. Take the contents, or leave it, it's up to you. If you're leaving it, just lock the box up when you're done, and I'll put it away again in case one of her other designees comes in later. If you take everything, you can leave the key also. There's no reason for you to keep it if you don't leave anything in the box."
"Other designees? Does that mean there are other keys out there?" Veronica wondered who else Ruby might have trusted with her secrets.
"No, only one key, but some clients designate multiple people. Then, whoever on the list ends up with the key can come in and be entitled to look."
"Who were Ruby's other designees?" Logan asked.
"That's confidential information," Ratner said. "Unless she left a list in the box. That happens sometimes."
"That could be interesting," Veronica mused. "Set it up so one of your friends finds the key, gets directed here, and then part of what you leave for them is instructions on how to set up the next person. A post-mortem scavenger hunt. That sounds fun."
"Oh, God, no," Logan groaned, and Ratner laughed.
"Only you would think scavenging after death would be fun, Mars. Give Admiral Moneybags here a break and just leave a will like a normal person."
"Boring," Veronica singsonged, then made a shooing motion. "Go on, Ratner, get out. We've got some post-mortem scavenging to do."
Ratner scoffed and moved to the door. "Happy hunting," he said and slipped out of the room.
"Okay, now, let's see what Ruby left us." Veronica pulled the key back out of her pocket and inserted it in the lock.
"Please tell me you're not going to do anything like that," Logan said. "Send us off on some crazed hunt after-death."
"Nah," she answered as she turned the key. "You guys won't appreciate it enough to make my effort worthwhile." She tried to raise the lid, but it stuck, and she pushed the box toward Logan to let him fight with it. "You know, really, you guys should all be doing that for me. I'm the only one who would enjoy it."
"I'll take that under advisement," Logan said, as he found the extra latch on the back of the box and released it, then pushed the box back toward Veronica. "Okay, you ready for the results of Ruby's scavenger hunt? Hopefully, this gives us what we need to figure this out."
"Cross your fingers," Veronica answered, and she opened the box
We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!
Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Five of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @kmd0107. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.26 from @jeanie205 - tag, you’re it!
Duncan slid the heavy dresser into place, blocking off the secret entrance to the room. He’d already locked the door and tucked a chair under it for good measure. He did not want to be interrupted.
The free-standing gilded mirror was perfect for what he needed right now. A pep-talk. The pep-talk.
He pulled a gold tube of lipstick out of his pocket. He closed his eyes, brought it to his nose and inhaled, letting her scent permeate his senses. He then swiped it across his lower lip and rubbed them together, ending with a little pop and looked into the mirror.
“Donut, what are you doing?”
“I needed to see you, Lilly,” Duncan said, taking a cleansing breath as he took in the image of his sister. She always appeared in her pep squad uniform and with her hair matted with blood. The last memory he had before he’d come to awareness after her funeral. He reached out for her hand. “I don’t know what to do.”
She watched where their fingers met at the cool interface of the mirror and smiled sadly. “Tell Lilly all about it. Did Veronica break your heart again?”
Duncan sniffled. “I just…I love her, Lilly. She should be with me. Not Maso—I mean, Logan.”
“Role-playing never really was your strong suit,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “And red is not your color.” Her hand reached up to rub at his lips with her thumb. Her touch made his heart stutter.
Duncan looked down at the lipstick on his thumb. He let his eyes drift shut and, with a trembling hand, brought his thumb to his mouth, sucking the waxing texture on to his tongue. A deep shudder rocked his body. He raised his eyes to meet Lilly again. She looked a little dimmer, not as fully present as she’d been a few moments before; he was running out of time.
“I’m the one. Her one.”
Lilly rolled her eyes at him. The gentleness of before was gone, replaced with that look. She was going to hurt him. “You’re far too boring for her.”
“No, I’m steady, reliable. I’m her prince. True love stories never have endings.”
She raised a brow. “You’re not looking so steady to me, little brother. What if Logan is the star of her love story?”
Red filled Duncan’s vision, his whole body boiling over with his rage. “Logan’s dangerous; his father killed you!”
“Oh, calm down, Donut,” she said, fanning her hand in his face. “You thought you had killed me until Veronica figured it out. I don’t really see how that disqualifies Logan. Besides, Logan—” her mouth twisted into a wicked smirk, and she winked “—he’s spicy! Veronica won’t ever be bored with him.”
“Shut up, Lilly, you’re supposed to be helping me here.”
“Did you think you could just come back and things would go back to the way they were?” she asked, her cruel gleam smoothed away behind a serious intensity.
“They did before.”
“You’re too late, Donut. You—” Duncan reached up and wiped the rest of the red from his lips silencing Lilly. That’s what he got for thinking she would be any help.
He reached into his pocket and looked at the ripped scrap of his character description.
‘—framing Mason for murder or failing that, killing him.’
We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!
Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Six of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @jeanie205. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.27 from @nevertothethird - tag, you’re it!
Business hadn’t exactly been booming at Mars Investigations lately, and even though she knew her dad was right, that the PI business, like almost everything else, was cyclical, Veronica still chafed under the inactivity.
She’d filled in her time the past few days with a flurry of office organization and some paperwork she’d been putting off for weeks, interspersed with a couple of bread-and-butter infidelity stakeouts. But either the unfaithful spouses had gotten stupider over the years, or Veronica had just gotten a lot better at sussing them out. Because while the pay had been good - great, in fact - it hadn’t taken her long to come up with the Money Shots.
So now she was at loose ends again. Even Mac had taken the day off after completing her update of the MI website, which she’d told Veronica was “a disaster.”
“They aren’t going to hire you if your site looks like it was designed in a high school IT class,” Mac had said, shaking her head.
For as much good as it’s done so far, Veronica thought, sitting alone in her office with nothing to do.
Her glance fell unconsciously to her bottom right-hand desk drawer. The deep one.
Well, maybe she didn't exactly have nothing to do.
There was a case of sorts, if she wanted to count guessing the ending of a whodunit written by the least likely mystery writer she could ever have imagined. An activity that Veronica had so far found not particularly entertaining. Mostly because the plot was already so convoluted that she doubted the eventual reveal could ever make much sense.
On the other hand, she’d become rather fond of Ruby Jetson, and knew they probably owed her for helping to exonerate Logan of murder. Besides which, she had promised.
With a guilty sigh, Veronica pulled open the drawer and hefted out a thick envelope.
Ruby had brought her the manuscript nearly a week earlier, eager to know if the story was good enough to “fool” the seasoned detective. Although she’d shown up without an appointment, Veronica had taken the time to read several chapters, Ruby smiling delightedly whenever she’d frowned in puzzlement.
“I knew it was a good mystery,” Ruby had boasted gleefully. “That even you wouldn’t be able to figure it out.”
By then, it had become apparent that Ruby expected her to read the whole damn book right then and there! Thank god Mac had soon caught on and poked her head in the office door, reminding Veronica about “her appointment.”
Ruby had looked disappointed when Veronica carefully re-stacked the loose manuscript pages and slipped them into the large envelope, stowing everything away in her bottom drawer.
“I’ll finish it soon,” she’d promised faithfully.
But she never had, although Ruby had called every day, looking for an update.
“Hurry up, Veronica,” she’d complained only the day before, the exasperation clear in her voice. “I need to send it to my publisher.”
Veronica had been surprised. Ruby already had a publisher?
As she slipped the manuscript out of the envelope, quickly flipping to the red post-it she’d left to hold her place, she fleetingly wondered who in hell might actually want to publish Ruby’s novel.
Picking up where she’d left off, Veronica noted the same peculiarity that had struck her the week before. Ruby’s chapters often varied so wildly in both style and format that it was almost like they’d been written by different people. She paused in her reading, considered for a moment if Ruby might have some kind of dual personality disorder. After all, the woman did have two names.
Or... maybe the answer was much simpler. Maybe Ruby had a collaborator, the same person, Veronica thought with growing certainty, who’d passed along all the personal information that Ruby could never have dug up, no matter how much “research” she’d done.
And that was another thing. Veronica’s annoyance rose as she came across yet another intimate-sounding encounter between book-Veronica and book-Logan. Ruby had promised her faithfully that the names in her roman a clef-slash-murder mystery would definitely be changed in the next draft. Veronica sure as hell hoped she followed through. Otherwise, the fledgling author was going to be bombarded with lawsuits. And Veronica Mars would be at the head of the line.
She sighed, turning back to the story just in time to find that... Ruby had killed herself off!
Or at least, she’d killed off Della Pugh.
Veronica’s eyes narrowed in surprise at this fictional turn of events. Was this some sort of symbolic “killing” of her original self so that her Ruby persona could thrive? She shook her head, finally deciding she was no better as a psychologist than she was a literary critic. She flipped quickly to the next chapter and soon wished she hadn’t. A delusional, Veronica-obsessed Duncan Kane was not exactly pleasant company.
Veronica was considering with wry amusement how the man himself might view his portrayal (should he ever see it) when she was startled by the ringing of a phone. Not the office land line but the cell phone that she had to dig out from the depths of her well-loved but totally inconvenient studded black leather bag.
She might not have even bothered had the sounds of the Perishers’ “Sway” not told her it was Logan calling. She’d assigned him that ringtone in a burst of nostalgia the same day she’d updated his photo from pukka beads to dress blues.
The fact that he was calling was in itself unnerving. If Logan wanted to communicate with her during the day, he almost always texted. So of course her mind went immediately to the worst-case scenario.
“Logan! Is everything okay? Is my dad...”
“Veronica!” Logan cut in on her abruptly. “Are you watching the news? Turn on the news!”
“Wh-what? You mean, like... CNN?”
“No. The local news. It’s a breaking story on a continuous loop.”
“Okay.” Mystified, she grabbed the remote from a drawer and powered up the wall TV that she hardly ever used.
And there was that creepy newscaster, the one who invariably reminded her of Vinnie Van Lowe.
“... a tragedy right here in Neptune last night when promising new writer Ruby Jetson was murdered in her own home.”
Veronica gasped. It couldn’t be!
“Veronica! You still there?”
“Yeah, Logan, I’m here. I can’t... I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it. And there’s more. Keep watching.”
Onscreen, the newscaster was just beginning the introduction of an “important witness” to the tragedy.
“We’re fortunate to have with us here in the studio the man who discovered the body of Ms. Jetson. Neptune’s very own school principal turned book publisher, Mr. Van Clemmons.”
Veronica nearly fell off her chair. Holy shit! Clemmons was Ruby’s publisher?
She quickly turned up the volume, desperate to hear every word.
“I understand you were about to publish Ms. Jetson’s first novel, Mr. Clemmons?” the Vinnie-clone asked in that fake tone of sympathetic interest that all newscasters somehow managed to perfect.
Clemmons nodded.
“That’s right. Of course, I’d known her as Della Pugh back when she was at Neptune High, but she’d made some changes in her life, and if she preferred to be Ruby Jetson, who was I to say she shouldn’t?”
Veronica rolled her eyes. Right, Van. You were always so forward-thinking.
“And the book?” the newscaster encouraged, refusing to be shifted off-topic by anything about the actual victim herself.
“Well, ah, Ruby came to me with the idea. Some kind of murder mystery. Very popular genre, of course. But the story was to be based on people she’d known in high school. I thought it sounded... promising. And she was just about to deliver the first draft. Said she’d finished it but was waiting for some feedback from a trusted friend.”
Veronica blinked. A trusted friend?
She wrenched her mind away from dwelling on the sheer... unexpectedness of Ruby regarding her as a friend, because Clemmons was still talking and she didn’t want to miss a word.
“Ruby kept delaying turning in the first draft, so I stopped by last night to see if I could... hurry her along.”
Clemmons paused briefly, and for the first time looked visibly shaken.
“And that’s when I... found her.”
The newscaster nodded slowly. “Not a pleasant experience.”
“No, indeed,” Clemmons agreed.
“And the book?” Vinnie’s doppelgänger was not to be thwarted.
Clemmons shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen after all. Only Ruby had copies of the manuscript, but there weren’t any in her apartment. And her laptop was missing, too.”
“The police...?”
“Didn’t find anything, either.”
“So the book won’t be published.”
Clemmons shrugged. “I can’t publish what I don’t have.”
The newscaster paused to make sure that viewers caught the significance of his next question.
“Do you think it’s possible that poor Ruby was killed because of something in that book?”
Clemmons hesitated. “I suppose it could be,” he said finally. “But I guess we’ll never know. If there ever was a manuscript, it’s gone forever.”
Veronica stared at the screen for long seconds before she muttered the words under her breath.
“No, Van. Not quite fucking gone.”
She switched off the television and picked up her phone. “You still there, Logan?”
“No, I’m here,” he said, appearing suddenly in the office doorway. “Thought maybe I should come by.”
She nodded, and as one their eyes fell on the loose pages still sitting in the middle of Veronica’s desk.
In seconds, she’d scooped them up and shoved them back into the envelope. But this time, the manuscript wasn’t crammed unceremoniously back into that deep bottom drawer. This time, Veronica opened their rarely-used safe and locked the thick envelope securely inside.
Veronica thought Logan must have sensed how shaken she suddenly felt because he was across the room like a shot, and in seconds she was wrapped in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Veronica,” Logan said softly, breathing the words into her hair.
“Yeah, me, too,” she murmured into his shoulder.
Then she took a deep breath and stepped back from Logan’s arms, determination stiffening her spine as she gazed up at him.
“Somebody killed Ruby over that damn book, Logan. And we’re gonna figure out who the hell did it.”
Hey friends! Silvery needs one more week for her magnum-opus Murder, We Wrote chapter. So in the meantime, everyone enjoy the lovely cover art created for the fic, by the wonderful @veronicamarsfanart !!!
And please check back next week, when the story will FOR SURE resume!!
We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!
Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Four of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @livinginsunnyhell. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.25 from @kmd0107 - tag, you’re it!
Carrie Bishop was pissed off that she was in this situation. Not only had she been about to make it big in her singing career (her manager had just booked her the music spot on SNL), but she’d started seeing a hot new male model who found her both charming and talented. He’d invited her to spend the weekend with him down in Palm Springs at a little villa he’d splurged on, but instead she was here, being hunted by some psycho killer.
Thanks Susan, again.
She turned to look around the room and spied Dick who was mixing another round of Godiva chocolate martinis. God, she was sick of those things. All they were doing was adding to her anxiety about the situation.
And giving her bad gas. She kept having to go to the bathroom to relieve herself. Right on cue, her stomach cramped in pain and she scowled as Dick asked the room who else wanted some chocolate martinis.
“Susan, I have to go to the bathroom,” Carrie announced pointedly raising her eyebrows at her friend who was chatting with Kimmy and Cole.
Susan frowned, “Carrie, can’t you take Dick or someone? What use would I be fighting off some killer?”
Carrie sighed and rolled her eyes, “Remember how in high school I told everyone I slept with that creepy weirdo teacher to cover for you? Remember that! Well now, I’m asking you to come with me to the freakin toilet! Is that so hard?”
When Susan just stared at her, Carrie huffed and stood up.
“God, Susan, can you be more self-involved?”
With that, she left the three 09ers and walked toward Dick who was shaking the martini mixer vigorously and shaking his hips. She doubted he even realized they were being hunted and taken out one by one.
“Dick, come with me to the bathroom,” she demanded.
“Seriously? I’m busy here, Carrie. Ask someone else, like Casey or Luke,” Dick said pouring the martinis out and handing her one.
She waved it away and looked around the room to find someone to escort her to the bathroom. Watching her old classmates lazing around, flirting with each other, she decided what the hell and grabbed a fire poker as a weapon.
Anything was better than listening to Cole drone on about life at some small school in Rhode Island or Luke try to convince people he didn’t have same sex tendencies or Gia’s obsession with her shoes.
Exiting the room, she advanced into the mansion looking around for the bathroom. Every time she left that room, it seemed further and further away.
She used her phone as a flashlight to light the way and nearly screamed when she ran into Veronica and Logan coming from the kitchen.
“What are you guys doing?” she snapped.
“Snacking, thinking, trying to figure out the mystery of who is trying to kill us,” Veronica said eyeing the poker in her hand.
“Where are you going?” Logan asked, tightening his hold on Veronica who was leaning into him to keep her weight off her ankle.
“Bathroom, Susan wouldn’t come with me,” Carrie said rolling her eyes.
Veronica and Logan traded looks and looked at Carrie with concern.
“We’ll come with you,” They said in unison.
Carrie rolled her eyes and muttered a ‘whatever’ before moving forward and going toward the bathroom. She glanced behind her to see Veronica and Logan waiting right where she’d run into them. Giving them an uncharacteristically grateful look, she stepped into the bathroom.
It was dark and she wasn’t sure where the lights were. No matter how many times she’d been in here since this whole thing started, she couldn’t remember if the switch was on the right or left hand side.
Stumbling further into the bathroom, her hand felt something mushy. Suddenly, something was falling on her and a warm liquid dripped down her front. “What the--” she began, her hand finally finding the switch.
Light filled the bathroom and her eyes landed on the dead body of a woman who she’d never seen before. Her neck had been sliced and blood had flowed down the front of her body, covering her clothes in dark liquid. She screamed alerting Logan and Veronica, who raced over and peered over her shoulder.
“Who is that?” Veronica asked as Carrie hurried forward to the sink and began to wash the blood that had gotten onto her clothes.
She screamed again when it didn’t come immediately off. “That’s all you have to say? She could’ve attacked me!” Carrie howled in anger.
By now, the rest of the partygoers had made their way toward the screams and were peering into the bathroom.
“Bummer, Carrie,” Dick said, drinking his martini and eyeing the woman on the floor. “Coulda just waited for Casey or I to go with you.”
“Does anyone recognize her?” Veronica asked, staring down at the bloody woman.
She frowned as she noticed the weird lopsidedness of her hair, her eyes were wide open in shock, and while her makeup may have been impeccably done before, now it was smudged from what Veronica could only assume were tears.
“Why’s she wearing a wig?” Logan asked and reached forward to remove the blonde wig.
Veronica moved to stop him so his hand prints wouldn’t be on anything and then grabbed a towel and removed it herself. “Don’t want your fingerprints on it,” Veronica muttered, removing the wig.
“What about my fingerprints?” Carrie whined as she finally got the blood off.
Veronica glanced at her, but chose not to respond. Instead, she stared at the ratty blonde wig and then back down at the dead woman. “Anyone recognize her now?”
“No, but winged eyeliner is so passe,” Kimmy said. Rolling her eyes, she stepped out of the bathroom. Carrie followed after her, not wanting to look at the body that had basically molested her.
That left only four people in the restroom, not including the body.
“Wallace? Mac?” Veronica asked as her two trusted friends advanced forward to look at the woman.
“That’s Della Pugh!” Wallace said upon closer inspection.
“Who?” Veronica asked, confused.
“You know, she was that one girl who was in the talent show when we were Juniors, I think. Everyone laughed at her when she tried to do a cover of some song...it was really bad,” Wallace said, frowning as he remembered how mean the 09ers had been. He shot Dick and Gia an accusatory glare as they giggled together, not in the least concerned about the dead body of an ex-classmate.
“I don’t remember this at all. What talent show? And what was she doing here?” Veronica asked, bewildered.
“And why is she dead?” Logan added.
They shared another look and then glanced at the rest of the 09ers who seemed to have lost interest since it wasn’t one of their own. Veronica watched as the last stragglers headed back toward the large room they had turned into their main headquarters.
“Should we check to see if she has anything in her pockets?” Mac added, looking at Veronica nervously.
“Maybe she was a guest?” Wallace said, bending down.
Veronica bent down as best as she could with her ankle and used the towel to touch the body, she couldn’t find any pockets or anything out of order, except for the blonde wig. However as Veronica continued to jostle Della’s blood soaked clothes, there was a soft clink of glass on the tile floor.
“Maybe she’s the one who has been watching us,” Logan suggested right as Veronica exclaimed out in triumph.
“What is it, bobcat?”
“I’m not sure, it’s a small vial of...something. I don’t think we’ll find out what unless we get it into a lab. Wait, there’s a label, it’s faded but I think that says…’arsenic?’” Veronica muttered squinting at it and then looked at the other three of them in alarm.
“She had arsenic in her pocket?” Logan asked, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer.
Staring down at the body, all four of them felt panic begin to rise and a question burned in their brains: Why had the woman had arsenic on her?
“So she wasn’t a guest...but the killer? But then who killed her? And why?” Logan asked.
“Maybe someone didn’t like that ratty ass wig,” Wallace muttered.
Veronica nodded. “Do you think she was watching us?”
The four of them shared a look, unease clouding their faces.
“Veronica and I were thinking that maybe--”
“Veronica! Come quick!” Kimmy shouted, darting back into the bathroom. She grabbed Veronica’s arm and yanked her forward causing her to stumble. Logan yelled and grabbed Veronica’s waist to stop her from falling and then glared at Kimmy.
“Cole! Cole! He’s gone!” Kimmy shrieked, tugging on her arm again to come back into the main room.
Veronica groaned and the five of them hobbled back into the room to find everyone looking agitated.
“We came back in here and Cole was gone! No one has seen him since we heard Carrie’s scream!” Kimmy yelled in a panic.
Veronica frowned as she looked around the room to see who else was missing. “Duncan’s gone too,” she said, turning to Logan who looked down at her.
“Do you think--”
“I don’t know,” Veronica whispered.
“We should go look for them!” Kimmy exclaimed, looking around the room.
“Nope, I’m staying here. Finding one dead body was enough for me,” Carrie said, rolling her eyes. She glared down at the offered chocolate martini from Dick and moved across the room to settle next to Susan.
Dick began to hand out martinis, until he came to Veronica and Logan. “Dude, you want one? I know your girl is working, but you can partake,” Dick waved the martini glass.
“I’m not sure if we should be drinking anything at all, we found arsenic in Della’s pocket,” Veronica said, glaring at Dick.
She didn’t really think that there was any arsenic in anything, whoever killed Della had obviously stopped her before she did anything since the liquid was still in the bottle. But she was tired of Dick’s comments and his drinking, so scaring him a bit was probably best for all of them.
His face blanched and he stared at her in shock. “You really think this is poisoned?”
Veronica shrugged, returning her focus to see if anyone else was missing from the room.
“We need to find Cole!” Kimmy kept shrieking again and again.
“And Duncan,” Logan added, as everyone looked at each other nervously.
“Probably not, but we can’t just leave them out there,” Wallace said looking at Veronica.
Veronica nodded and leaned against Logan. “We could split into two groups. The injured stay here and a group of four go and look?”
“I’ll go,” Kimmy said.
“I guess, I will,” Luke said. “Better than sitting around here and waiting to die.”
“Casey, Alexis, come with me,” Kimmy whined.
Casey rolled his eyes, but got up anyway and Alexis followed. The four of them looked around for a weapon, Kimmy took Carrie’s fire poker and then they left.
Veronica watched them go and then began to search the room for clues. With the help of Logan, who was supporting her weight to keep it off her bad leg, she moved around the room tentatively.
“What’s that?” Logan asked, bending down as he saw a slip of paper. It was half hidden under one of the couches, the very one Duncan had been sitting on earlier.
“What does it say?” Veronica asked.
Logan frowned. “It’s one of those character descriptions. It says… ‘Campbell Scott ex-boyfriend of Enid Curtis. Broke up when she found out he’d drugged and taken advantage of her at a party. Best friends with Mason, but stopped being friends when Mason stole Enid away from Campbell. Campbell is attending the weekend to convince Enid they should get back together and take out Mason. He plans on doing this by--”
“By what?” Veronica asked wide eyed.
“Paper’s ripped.” Logan said, handing it to her.
Veronica scanned the piece of paper again, unsure what to make of it. She looked up at Logan who was staring out the window. She frowned thinking that he should be more concerned that Duncan’s sole reason for being here was to get her back...but then she reminded herself it was initially just a game, right?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I think I see someone outside,” he said causing the remaining people in the room to come over to them.
Veronica squinted through the darkness searching for some figure in the storm that had picked up again and sure enough, she saw a large figure moving in the distance.
“Do you think it’s Duncan or Cole?” Wallace asked quietly.
“Or someone else entirely?” Logan added.
Looking up at him, Veronica could see he thought something worse was headed their way.
