Page 48 of The Ghostwriter

Margot hesitates, as if making a decision, and then says, “A week or so before she died, Poppy told me your father pulled a knife on Danny. Pressed it against Danny’s chest.”

I wanted to kill Danny.The note from the margin of my father’s manuscript floats through my mind.

“She was rattled,” Margot continues. “Scared. She said things were getting physical between her brothers, but that Vince was the one instigating. Coming after Danny.” Margot looks at me, her expression willing me to see things the way she sees them. To see the threat she so clearly sees.

“So you think Danny was his target and Poppy got in the way?”

“I’m certain of it,” she says. “I think your father would have killed him a hundred times over, if given the chance.”

I wanted to kill Danny.A confession?

“Why?” I ask.

“I never could figure that out. Danny was fun. Handsome. Poppy worshipped him.” She gives me an embarrassed smile. “So did I for a while.”

I choose my words carefully. “My father never spoke much about Poppy or Danny, or about that time. But the things he’s been telling me recently lead me to believe Danny was the dangerous one. That Poppy was scared of him, and my father was too.”

Margot thinks for a moment, then says, “Poppy was growing scared of both of them. Danny could sometimes be cruel, but Vince was truly frightening.”

I sit with that for a moment, thinking again of how tricky memory can be. Of how our brains will lead us toward a story that fits into our own worldview, and no amount of evidence can convince us otherwise. I lean forward in my chair. “I’ve always wondered, why didn’t you go back to the house and look for Poppy?”

Margot looks sad. “I don’t know. I’ve thought a lot about that over the years, because it’s certainly something I would have done. But Poppy had been so troubled that week. It wasn’t very cold that night, so I figured she just used the excuse of a sweater to get some space.”

“In one of the interviews, you communicated skepticism about my parents’ alibi. Do you still feel that way?”

Margot sighs. “I think when you have a county coroner who is abusing drugs while doing autopsies, it’s not a big leap to question the time of death. Mark Randall overheard your father making plans to meet Poppy at the house. And after that conversation, that’s where Poppy went.”

“Wait. What?” I ask. This is new information, and it unsettles me, how easily my father’s narrative is unraveling, and what could have happened if I’d accepted it at face value and published it. “No one saw my father go to the house. Or leave it?” I say. “According to my parents and their teacher, they were all in the oak grove.”

Margot shakes her head, as if I’m not understanding. “Vince would never have stood Poppy up.”

“Who would my father have prioritized?” I press. “He’s supposedly in a huge fight with a girl that he worships. If she’s demanding they gosomewhere to hash things out, is he really going to make her wait while he goes to talk to his sister?”

Margot looks out the front window at the people passing by the store—some carrying shopping bags, others just window-shopping on a beautiful spring day in Ojai, and I wonder what she’s really seeing. Perhaps two young girls from long ago, arms linked, laughing and sharing secrets. Believing they’d have decades more of them to share. “You can know something in your bones and not have any concrete evidence to prove that it’s true,” she says, looking back at me. “I believe your father was in the grove with Mr. Stewart and Lydia. But I also think he killed Danny and Poppy. Which means it was the coroner who got it wrong.” Margot looks down at her hands. “Your father killed them,” Margot continues. “I don’t know why—there could have been any number of reasons. He was a messed-up kid. But if I could prove it, he’d be in jail.”

I decide to switch gears. “I heard there were rumors that my mother had an abortion and that the baby wasn’t my father’s. Do you think it’s possible Poppy found out who it was and told him?”

Margot gives me a weak smile. “It would definitely explain her behavior that last week,” she says.

“Who do you think the father was?” I ask.

“Poppy and I spent a lot of time theorizing about that, but I really don’t want to speculate.” She shakes her head, at a loss. “Honestly, I’m not even sure if Lydia was ever pregnant. It was a rumor and nothing more. You know how kids are.”

“But what if it was true?” I press.

“Lydia spent all her time either at the track or with Vince. Near the end, I think Poppy was beginning to suspect Lydia’s coach, Mr. Stewart. Your father was certainly jealous of that relationship. But then Poppy died and the idea that Lydia might have had an abortion just…didn’t matter anymore. No one cared.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I think again of the diary.I think Margotand I are right about the father of L’s baby.“Her track coach?” I ask. “The same one who gave them the alibi?”

“Mr. Stewart, yes. But looking back at it now, the idea seems absurd.” She shakes her head. “We were teenage girls. We loved a good scandal and Ojai was pretty boring.”

I’m not so sure she’s right, but I leave it for now. “I found Poppy’s home movies,” I say.

Margot’s expression sharpens. “Where were they?”

“Under the floorboards in her closet.”

Margot gives a hollow laugh. “Poppy loved her hiding places.” Then she looks at me. “Was there anything interesting on them?”

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