The Princess Game (Faraway collection)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2020 by Soman Chainani

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Amazon Original Stories, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Amazon Original Stories are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN: 9781542020961

  Cover design by Micaela Alcaino

  She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it.

  —“The Little Mermaid,” Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H. P. Paull

  The following audio files were recovered from Callum Pederson’s iPhone and have been transcribed in full.

  CALLUM

  “Check, check, one, two, is this working? (playback) Check, check, one, two, is this working? Sweet. (Clears throat.) Detective Callum Pederson here, recording notes for Case B7-221, a.k.a. ‘Princess Killer.’ Lieutenant Chang suggested I switch to voice notes after misplacing my notebook—shit, I’m supposed to do time and date and all that. Dammit. (pause) Thursday, April 23. Left Chaminade High School at 4:45 p.m. after eight missed voice mails from Chang, telling me they’re bringing them down to the station. Now arriving at the Middletown precinct at 5:01 p.m. . . . Oh man. That’s definitely Eric Triton’s car. White Land Rover. And that’s Phillip Aurora’s blue Porsche, license plate BRUHHH. Adam Master’s here too. Whooo . . . this is gonna be a party. My heart rate’s like 180. Shouldn’t have chugged that Red Bull at halftime, but thought I was gonna play a full game before Chang went batshit and blew up my phone. (Clears throat.) Detective Pederson now parking at 5:04 p.m., about to enter the station for suspect questioning . . .”

  ERIC

  (Door opens.)

  ERIC: Dude! They got you in here too?

  PEDERSON: Um, depends on who “they” is . . .

  ERIC: They put Phillip and Adam in the other rooms. Think I saw Naveen and Flynn too. It’s like they went rounding up Chaminade boys. But you know they’ve gone full-blown psycho when they suspect Callum Pederson as the Princess Killer.

  (Door opens.)

  ERIC: Mr. Chang? What are you doing here?

  CHANG: Sit down, Eric. This is an interview with Eric Triton on Thursday, April 23, at 5:11 p.m. at the Middletown precinct on 16 Cedar. Pederson, you show him the pictures?

  PEDERSON: Uh, I thought you had the file.

  CHANG: Christ. What are you wearing?

  PEDERSON: Had a game. Didn’t think we were questioning them today. Just got here.

  ERIC: We?

  CHANG: A game, Pederson? We got four murdered girls, posed as fairy-tale princesses, and you’re busy with a lacrosse game?

  PEDERSON: You told me to keep cover at all times, like when you stuff your face with Ho Hos in the faculty lounge and flirt with Miss Seldy before eighth period—

  CHANG: Score any goals?

  PEDERSON: Three, actually.

  CHANG: If only those dead girls were there to watch.

  PEDERSON: Don’t be a dick.

  ERIC: Bro, Callum, what the hell is happening?

  CHANG: I’ll get the file. Get him to sit down, at least. Bro.

  (Door opens and closes.)

  ERIC: Callum! Why is my chemistry teacher here? He’s acting like you and him—

  PEDERSON: It’s Detective Pederson.

  ERIC: What?

  PEDERSON: As long as you’re here, it’s Detective Pederson of the Middletown Police. Chang is my lieutenant. We’ve been undercover at Chaminade, investigating the Princess Killer. We’d like to ask you some questions. I suggest you sit down.

  ERIC: You’re a cop. You. Who played Red Dead Redemption till one a.m. at my house last night.

  PEDERSON: That game is really addictive.

  ERIC: Who pregamed with us before Spring Fling. Who painted his whole body gold with me and Phillip so we could be sports trophies for Spirit Day. Who texts back “hilarious” when Kristoff sends porn on the group chat.

  PEDERSON: “Hilarious” seems to be the accepted response to everything.

  ERIC: You, who puked in Cheryl Isenhour’s pool last weekend. You’re a cop.

  PEDERSON: The spiked punch that they were saying was kombucha? I actually thought it was kombucha.

  ERIC: How old are you?

  PEDERSON: Twenty-one.

  ERIC: Bullshit. Your voice hasn’t even changed. Nice prank, Callum. Who put you up to this? Phillip? Flynn? Is that why they’re here too? (Laughs.) Punked me good.

  PEDERSON: I’m in training at the academy. Pulled me on the case as an undercover officer because I looked the part. This isn’t a prank. Girls are dead, and we have questions.

  ERIC: Where’s your badge, then?

  PEDERSON: In my backpack. My firearm too.

  ERIC: What a load of shit.

  (Sounds of rustling.)

  ERIC: That’s your gun.

  PEDERSON: And this is my badge.

  ERIC: That loaded?

  PEDERSON: I’ll tell you after you sit down.

  ERIC: I want a lawyer.

  PEDERSON: Did you murder all those girls?

  ERIC: Fuck no.

  PEDERSON: Then sit down and answer our questions and get out of here. Don’t make shit complicated. Chang hates lawyers almost as much as he hates you.

  ERIC: I made one joke in class. Weeks ago. No one cares.

  PEDERSON: Putting a Chinese food take-out order on the back of your chemistry test?

  ERIC: Can’t arrest me for a joke.

  PEDERSON: But he can go off duty before your lawyer gets here, which means your ass stays in jail overnight.

  (Eric sits; door opens.)

  CHANG: Let’s start with the first victim. Ariana Merced. Slumped over a wooden spinning wheel in an empty warehouse on Chalmers Street, a spindle through her throat. Here, I brought some snacks for you while you stare at photos of her body.

  (Sound of food splattering.)

  ERIC: What the fuck! On my Supreme shirt!

  CHANG: “Kung pao chicken. Beef and brocc.” Exactly what you ordered. Sorry it’s late.

  ADAM

  CHANG: Official interview with Adam Master, 6:18 p.m. on Thursday, April 23, at the Middletown—

  ADAM: I barely knew Ariana. If that’s what you’re asking about.

  PEDERSON: You told me you had sex with her. Twice.

  CHANG: What? That isn’t in the file.

  PEDERSON: It was in the notebook I lost. Forgot to add it to the file.

  ADAM: I said I hooked up with her twice. And I told you that man-to-man.

  PEDERSON: In the locker room with twenty guys around.

  ADAM: So now you’re the hookup police too. Can’t talk about girls I’ve fucked, because there’s cops in our locker room pretending to be midfielders on the lacrosse team.

  PEDERSON: So you did have sex with her.

  ADAM: Isn’t there some pedophile law against that? Adults hanging with minors at school? Should have known you were a rat when you wrote that gay poem in Miss G.’s class.

  PEDERSON: It wasn’t a poem. It was a soliloquy for Hamlet from the grav
e. And that was the assignment.

  CHANG: You forgot to file case notes on a suspect, but you had time to write a speech for a dead Shakespearean prince?

  ADAM: Hold on. Callum said I don’t need a lawyer. And now you’re saying I’m a suspect? I’m gonna make a call—

  CHANG: Did you text Ariana twenty-eight times after she blocked your number?

  (Silence)

  ADAM: She stopped talking to me. I wanted to know what was up. That’s all. She wouldn’t answer me and was ignoring me at school.

  CHANG: Your last blocked message was sent two days before her murder.

  ADAM: How did you see my texts? Don’t you need a warrant for that? (Laughs.) This is horseshit. She was killed March 22, right? I was at Flynn’s house, eating dinner with his folks. And you know that, otherwise you’d be arresting me.

  PEDERSON: Was Ari spreading word that you were a bad hookup?

  ADAM: I heard she was talking shit, yeah. But girls do that.

  CHANG: You weren’t offended?

  ADAM: I know my skills. Why would she chill with me twice if I was so bad?

  PEDERSON: Kelly Blake said you were rough with Ariana the first time.

  ADAM: Was Kelly there? I was drunk. So was Ari. Barely remember it. Not a big deal. And like I said, she came back for more.

  PEDERSON: Kelly told me Ariana was upset. She didn’t want to go as far as you did. That’s why she hooked up with you again. Kelly said it was her way of getting past it. Do it with you on her terms, then ice you out and tell people what a creep you were.

  ADAM: Yeah? Tell Kelly she’s a wench with cankles who no guy would touch if she paid him. Look, what’s happening to these girls is screwed up. Whole school is freaked out because there’s a serial killer on the loose, cutting people up, and you guys are wasting time with me and my friends. You don’t think a whole lotta pervs had their eyes on Ariana?

  CHANG: And you don’t think twenty-eight is a whole lotta texts to a girl who’s not responding?

  ADAM: Ari played games. Acted like she was queen of the place. Like she could do whatever she wanted with no consequences. Teasing guys. Playing like she wanted it, then saying she didn’t. Messed with my head. Figured if I kept texting, she’d come around. You know how girls are. Good luck finding who killed her. She pissed off everyone at school. Probably pissed off every guy in town.

  CHANG: But you were the last one she pissed off.

  ADAM: So I killed her and three other girls? Oh yeah, you got me. I axed Ari like Sleeping fucking Beauty. Welcome to story time, kids! Where would I get a spinning wheel? And when? Between meat loaf and ice cream at Flynn’s house? And why do ’em like fairy-tale princesses?

  CHANG: Princes.

  ADAM: What?

  CHANG: Chaminade’s team name. The Chaminade Princes. Twisted joke to kill the girls as princesses, don’t you think?

  ADAM: About as funny as a chemistry teacher being a cop.

  CALLUM

  “April 24, 6:52 a.m. On the way to the precinct. This is Detective Callum Pederson, by the way. Should have said that first. And it’s Friday. Voice note for Case B7-22 . . . oh, whatever. Chang wants me to keep voice notes, so this is my voice note, and sorry if it isn’t like proper formatting. My cover is officially blown after yesterday’s suspect party. Told Chang we should have waited, just so we could get a few more days at school, but now the cat’s out of the bag. Pretty ironic. When I was in high school at Brookside, slumming it with the rest of the poor folk, I would have killed for Chaminade kids to know who I was. Well, I got my wish. Someone already made a ‘FuckCallumPederson’ Insta, posting pictures of my face on farm animals humped by, um, larger farm animals. My phone is being hammered by anonymous death threats like ‘Hope the killer gets u next,’ along with thirty spam messages every hour for penile-enlargement devices. Plus, I got blocked from the Princes’ group chat, which makes sense, obviously, but still sucks, because they’re not seeing my side of this. Last week, I was Prince Cally Cal. Eric even put that in his phone. I was their boy. Flynn gave me my own towel ’cause I used his pool so much, and Phillip let me joyride his Porsche, and Adam and I had our own dap . . . and now . . . Yes, I know I’m technically ‘investigating’ them, and it must be a kick in the balls to have your bud suddenly checking you out for murder . . . I mean, I get it . . . I just thought we had a bond . . . What the hell am I saying? Get your shit together, Cally. How do I delete— (ringing sound) Shit. Rebecca.”

  PEDERSON: Hello?

  REBECCA: Did my dad know?

  PEDERSON: What?

  REBECCA: Did my dad—the principal of the school that you have been attending as a “student”—know that you were a cop?

  PEDERSON: Yeah. Rebecca, look—

  (Click)

  NAVEEN

  CHANG: For the record, this is Wednesday, April 29, at 4:18 p.m. Lieutenant Joseph Chang and Detective Callum Pederson present. Thank you for bringing your son down to the precinct, Mr. Malhotra. I know last week was a little chaotic.

  Mr.MALHOTRA: Chaotic! You trap half the lacrosse and basketball teams and interrogate them about dead girls without a lawyer! Pretending to be teacher and student so you can lurk around a school like goons? I knew it when I came to Parents’ Night. All the other teachers give proper syllabuses and talk intelligently about what they’re teaching. But not you! Shifty eyes, gibbering nonsense, with no syllabus, like a buffoon: “I’m going to follow the textbook!” I should have known you were a crook! And now you’re dressed as a cop, telling me my son’s the criminal! Ha! Eric and Adam and these other boys are too stupid to know their rights, but I do!

  NAVEEN: Dad, calm down.

  Mr.MALHOTRA: And now, maybe my son is as stupid as the others, because today he tells me he wants to come in and talk to you alone!

  NAVEEN: About the girl you found yesterday.

  PEDERSON: Kelly Blake. Fifth victim.

  NAVEEN: I thought I could help.

  Mr.MALHOTRA: He didn’t even know this Kellari girl! And now the news is saying she was drowned in the lake with her voice box cut out. Five teenage girls killed! Killed! We know who does these things. Old men with dirty minds. And here you are fooling around with young boys! Look at Naveen. He’s straight-A student, treasurer of Student Council, and won Most Improved for his basketball team. You think he’s out killing girls when he’s doing volunteer service at the animal shelter twice a week! And now you have him in the same room you bring drug dealers and thieves!

  NAVEEN: Dad, can you wait outside?

  Mr.MALHOTRA: And let them turn and twist you! The only Indian boy at his school! I’ve seen what they do to boys like you. I watch it on Netflix! I’m staying here the whole time. I know your rights.

  PEDERSON: He has the right to an attorney, not to his father.

  NAVEEN: Dad, please. Ten minutes.

  Mr.MALHOTRA: You think you can help. Like some Bengali detective! What a fool. How will you do in jail, huh? That’s where they’ll put you. You think anyone will help you then? I’m calling Prabhu to come on the next flight out. He’s the top lawyer in all New York City. Fake teachers who are police! He’ll have both your badges taken away!

  (Door slams.)

  PEDERSON: Told you to have a syllabus.

  CHANG: Catching a murderer doesn’t leave much time to make one.

  NAVEEN: How’d you end up teaching chemistry . . . if you’re a cop?

  CHANG: I needed a way undercover, and your chemistry teacher was about to go out on maternity leave. Principal Walker said it was the only option. Lucky my son’s in AP Chem at Mission Science. Been teaching me at nights. He graded your tests. I took it seriously. Did the best I could. You all learned, didn’t you?

  NAVEEN: My tutor said you didn’t know what you were talking about.

  (Silence)

  CHANG: Kelly Blake was your lab mate in my class.

  NAVEEN: Not by choice. She was awful at chemistry. I would have taken anyone else.

  PEDERSON: Hold up—I asked
you to be my lab mate, and you said no.

  NAVEEN: A guy can’t be lab mates with another guy.

  PEDERSON: Why not?

  NAVEEN: It’s Prince code. Ask any jock like Eric or Adam or Flynn. Pair up with a girl, and she’ll do all the work for you. Pair up with a guy, and you’d have to work, like, together. Suppose you screw up a titration, or you’re lost on the assignment? You’d have to admit it, and that would be so . . . awkward. With a girl, you can relax. Not have to try and act cool.

  CHANG: In my day, you acted cool for the girls, not the guys.

  NAVEEN: You can be yourself with a girl.

  PEDERSON: Huh. I figured you were all using lab to test out prom pairings or something.

  NAVEEN: No offense to a girl who just got murdered, but Kelly wasn’t who I’d take to prom. Only reason I got her as a lab mate was because no other guys wanted her, and I get last pick since I’m not, you know . . . white.

  CHANG: So you’re telling me that even though you’re the smartest kid in class, the boys won’t pair up with you because it’d be awkward, and the girls get assigned based on ethnic status, so in the end, the best student gets stuck with the worst.

  NAVEEN: Welcome to Chaminade.

  (Silence)

  NAVEEN: I think Adam did it.

  PEDERSON: What?

  NAVEEN: Killed Ariana. It might have been him.

  CHANG: No, it wasn’t.

  NAVEEN: He hated Kelly too.

  PEDERSON: He didn’t kill Ariana or Kelly. We have tails on Adam. During the time Kelly was killed, he was volunteering with Phillip, Eric, and Flynn at the church on Cristobal.

  NAVEEN: Mount Zion. Adam was there? Makes sense. Phillip’s dad is the deacon. Phil takes guys to help out at the church. Easy way to get your community service hours, and looks good on college applications. He never takes me, though. First time I met Phillip’s dad, he made lots of veiled comments about “radical Islam.”

  CHANG: You’re Muslim?

  NAVEEN: No.

  CHANG: So that was what you wanted to tell us? That Adam killed Ariana?

  NAVEEN: I just thought . . . You know. See something, say something.

  CHANG: But you didn’t see anything?

  NAVEEN: He had issues with two of the girls. But like you said . . . guess it wasn’t him. The other guys you keep bringing in are pointless. None of them could kill that many girls and get away with it. Adam’s the only one that seemed plausible.