Schooled In Lies

by Angela Henry

“Is that why you ran off this morning like the police were after you? You thought you overheard us talking about a murder?” She started laughing. It was a harsh condescending little laugh accompanied by the slow deliberate shake of her head meant to mean that she couldn’t believe how stupid I was. I could feel my blood start to boil.

  “That’s what you get for spying on us and dipping into our conversation. All up in our Kool-Aid and don’t even know the flavor.” She laughed even louder. I just gave her the death stare until she finally shut up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “We weren’t talking about Ms. Flack or that crazy Clair Easton. We were talking about Sunny Abou.”

  “Sunny who?” I asked. The name did ring a bell. Then it came to me. Sunny Abou was the receptionist at Wheatley Financial. “Sunny the receptionist?” Cherisse nodded.

  “Sunny and Gerald had a four-month-long affair. That’s why his last marriage ended. Sunny’s pregnant. She thought Gerald would marry her.”

  “And he isn’t?”

  “Gerald never had any intention of marrying Sunny. He thought she was bluffing about being pregnant. And even if she isn’t, he’s not about to pay child support for another kid. When she found out, she got nasty and started making threats.”

  “What kind of threats?”

  “Threats to ruin his career.”

  “How?”

  “Sunny runs things in that office. She has keys to everyone’s offices and knows everyone’s passwords and access codes. She was able to get into Clair Easton’s account and routed a bunch of her money into an account in the Cayman Islands with his name on it. She made it look like Gerald stole it. Gerald’s been scrambling trying to figure out a way to get Ms. Easton’s money back before his boss finds out. Sunny just sat back and started waiting for the phone calls from Clair Easton about her money. Every time she called, Sunny handed Gerald the message and told him he could make it all go way. All he had to do was buy her a ring and set a date.”

  “What did he do to her that was so brutal?”

  “He reported her to the INS. She was here on a student Visa that expired two months ago. Some INS officials showed up at work yesterday and took her into custody. She’s being deported.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Yeah, I feel really bad for her. She just wanted Gerald to do right by her and the baby. Can you imagine what’s going to happen to her when she gets home, having been deported with no degree, unmarried, and pregnant?” That took me be surprise. Weren’t Cherisse and Gerald an item? She saw the look on my face and answered my unspoken question.

  “Gerald isn’t my man. We just hook up now and then when we’re both between relationships, or in Gerald’s case, marriages.”

  “Even after how he and his friends treated you in high school?”

  “It’s just sex. It’s no big deal. We’re just having fun. Besides, I know he respects me more than those other chicks because I’m hip to his game.”

  “His game?”

  “Yeah,” she said, laughing. “You know how men are. They’ll do and say anything to get laid. They’ll pretend to be everything from your savior to your soul mate to get into your pants. It’s only after they’ve gotten what they want, and can’t get away from you fast enough, that you realize it was all just a bunch of bullshit. Gerald’s no different. He’s good at spotting a woman’s insecurities and working them to his advantage. But I’m not like Gerald’s other chicks. I can see way past all his crap.” She laughed like it was a big joke.

  However, her slumped shoulders and sad eyes told me the joke was on her. She was in love with him. And had done a pretty good job of convincing herself that she wasn’t like all of the others when in fact, she was worse because she was still hanging on hoping for an upgrade in her booty call status. Poor Cherisse.

  “That still doesn’t explain why this was in your bathroom,” I said, holding up the silver compact.

  “She must have left it at my house.”

  “I saw her with this the day she died. The last thing she told me was that she was leaving town in a hurry. Why did she come to see you when she was so hot to get out of town?”

  She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “Can you hear yourself? You honestly believe I could have murdered Ivy Flack? Me?”

  I looked at her closely without speaking. She started biting her thumbnail and wouldn’t look at me. I was making her awfully nervous for some reason. Only someone who had something to be guilty about would act so nervously. Something wasn’t right. I was looking at this all wrong. I thought about that nasty abortion rumor about me in high school. I’d cried on Cherisse’s shoulder about it the day I went to study at her house. She’d comforted me because she thought I was going to be her new friend. When she’d asked me if I was okay the next day, I’d blown her off because Lynette and I were friends again and I didn’t need her anymore.

  “You were helping Ms. Flack, weren’t you? You two were in on it together. All that stuff you told me about her blackmailing you over an affair with your old boss and you thinking she pushed Julian off the roof was just a smoke screen so no one would suspect you two were partners, right?” She just stared at the ground. I pressed on.

  “You were sleeping with Gerald and he confided everyone’s secrets to you, didn’t he? And you told her everything he said, including that old rumor about me having had an abortion. For her it was about getting the money to start over someplace else. But for you it was a way to get back at us all for the way we treated you in high school, not to mention everyone thinking you were to blame for Julian’s death.”

  She suddenly smiled and looked quite pleased with herself. She started clapping. “Give that girl a gold star. You figured it all out, didn’t you? You’re just so damned smart. For your information, Ivy Flack was probably the only real friend I ever had back in high school. I would spend hours crying in her office. She always knew just what to say to cheer me up. My own twin sister ran off and left me, but Ivy was always there for me. We kept in touch after high school. I went to see her at work the day she found out her ex-boyfriend was getting out of prison and she told me his sister was threatening to spread lies that would ruin her.”

  “My God, Cherisse,” I said softly. She didn’t hear me and continued on.

  “It was my idea for her to fake her death and disappear, but she needed money. So, yeah, I gave Ivy the information to blackmail the reunion committee. I was even the one who made all the phone calls telling them how much they needed to pay to keep their secrets buried and why the hell not? Audrey’s husband makes a lot of money, Dennis’s family is rich, and Gerald wastes so much money trying to live the good life it wouldn’t kill him to give up a few thousand, and then there was you.” She gave me a disgusted look that made me flinch.

  “But you knew that rumor about me was a lie. Why would you set me up to be blackmailed?”

  “I didn’t know it was a lie,” she replied innocently. “All I had was the word of some chick who used me and pretended to like me, to get back at her best friend. And how reliable is the word of someone like that? I decided a long time ago that the rumor about you must have been true. Your uncle has that nice restaurant. I figured you could get money from him. I never thought you’d go to the police.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. “Cherisse, I am so sorry about what I did to you. It was so long ago. I was just a thoughtless kid. What’s your excuse for the way you’re acting now?”

  “You’re right. It was a long time ago. But the scars will last me a lifetime. Do you know I’ve been in therapy for years over what happened in high school? But you better believe that I will not be used or made fun of ever again. Do you hear me?” She stepped forward so abruptly I was forced to take a step back. “All the people who wronged me got exactly what they deserved, or soon will,” she said cryptically. She turned and walked towards the building.

  I called out after her. “Did you kill her? Was she supposed to split the blackmail money with you and didn’t
? Was she supposed to take you with her and wouldn’t?”

  She didn’t stop walking until she got to the door, then she turned back. “She just came over that day to tell me good-bye. She gave me the compact to remember her. It was a gift. As you’ve already pointed out, it was never about money for me.” She smiled and then turned and walked into the building.

  Chapter Nineteen

  BEING ON SOMEONE’S SHIT LIST is not fun. However, being on someone’s shit list and not knowing it, is even worse. I had no idea Cherisse had been holding a grudge against me for all these years. I could have told her the truth about her so-called friend Ivy Flack, but why bother. If Ms. Flack had been able to comfort her during her dark high school days, then who was I to take that away from her? She had certainly been a better friend to her than I had. Maybe Ms. Flack was trying to make up for what she’d done to Maurice Groves, when she was just a teen herself, by befriending another troubled teen.

  As I drove, I tried to decide if I should tell Harmon about what I’d found out. There was absolutely no proof that Cherisse had aided Ms. Flack in her blackmail scheme. And to be honest, I did believe her when she said she didn’t kill her, which brought me back to the same questions: who killed Ivy Flack, and was her death related to Clair Easton’s murder? Beyond Gerald, I could see no clear connection between the two women, and even that connection wasn’t a strong one because of what Cherisse had told me about Sunny Abou being the one who really stole Clair Easton’s money. There had to be something else that linked them. But what was it if it wasn’t Gerald Tate?

  I almost felt sorry for Gerald. Almost. He’d messed with the wrong women. Sunny was being deported and would likely take the account number to the bank account in the Cayman’s with her. Even though Clair Easton was dead, all his boss would have to do is follow the trail Sunny left right back to Gerald. And Cherisse may be in love with him, but in a twisted act of passive aggressiveness, she’d helped her friend Ivy Flack blackmail him for something he didn’t even do. I’d bet money it wasn’t just to get back at him for the way he treated her in high school, either. Most likely it was so he’d cry on her shoulder and make her feel needed. Ain’t love grand?

  I arrived home tired and cranky. My wrist was still throbbing and I took a couple of ibuprofen and lay down on my couch. A couple of hours later, I was awakened by the sound of movement from down below in my landlady Mrs. Carson’s house. My living room was directly over her kitchen. Figuring it was just Mrs. Carson puttering around making her dinner, I turned over and started to go back to sleep. Then, realizing Mrs. Carson was still on her cruise, not due home until Sunday, and it was only Thursday, I sat bolt upright.

  I got on the floor and pressed my ear against the Oriental rug by my couch to see if I could hear anything else. After a few seconds of silence, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps in the kitchen down below. Mrs. Carson was not a wealthy woman and had nothing much of monetary value to steal. But she did have a prized sterling silver tea set that had been passed down through her family from her great-great-great-grandmother. If a thief made off with that tea service, it would probably kill her. I should have called the police. But when do I ever do what I’m supposed to do? Instead, I got up and grabbed the keys to Mrs. Carson’s house, that she’d left so I could water her plants, and the baseball bat that I kept for protection because I refused to get a gun, and headed out my door.

  I crept down my steps all the while peering in the darkened window of Mrs. Carson’s kitchen. I saw a shadow move quickly past the thin white cotton curtains. I rushed down the remaining steps with the bat slung over my shoulder like I was about to hit a homerun. I arrived at Mrs. Carson’s slightly ajar front door at the same time as the man who was coming out of it. Without even waiting to see who it was, I started screaming and swinging at the man’s head like it was a piñata, while he danced around ducking and swooping like a large bird.

  “Heifer, are you crazy!” yelled the man, who turned out to be Mrs. Carson’s youngest son, Stevie. Notice I didn’t say Stevie wasn’t a thief. That’s because Stevie Carson’s fingers were so sticky he could touch his own head and leave behind a bald spot.

  “Stevie? What are you doing here? I thought you were in jail.”

  Stevie straightened up and looked around nervously. Come to think of it, Stevie always looked nervous and with good reason. Someone was always after him. Sometimes it was the police; most of the time it was people he’d either stolen from, or sold stolen merchandise to. He was a wiry, rail thin, middle-aged man of average height, with a pencil thin mustache that outlined his full upper lip and beady little eyes that darted around so much he never really looked you in the eye. He was dressed in a black sweat suit that was covered in what looked like cat hair, black combat boots, and a fishing hat covered in lures. His thinning Afro was peeking out from the sides of the hat. Mrs. Carson had four other hardworking and law abiding children, but for some reason Stevie was by far her favorite. Go figure.

  “Got out two days ago, if you must know.” He pulled the hat down further on his head and looked over my shoulder nervously. I turned and looked, too. No one was there.

  “Are you staying here?”

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “Came by to drop off that crazy ass cat. My old lady, you know Sweetie, doncha?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. I shook my head no. Stevie had been living off and on with the same woman for more than twenty years. But since Mrs. Carson automatically hated every woman her favorite son had brought over, Sweetie, had never been welcome in her home.

  “I said I’d take care a that cat for my mama while she was gone. She had my sister drop it off at Sweetie’s crib before they left on that cruise. By the time I got out a the county lockup that dang cat had clawed up Sweetie’s curtains, pissed all over her house, and killed her pet parakeet. She told me it was her or the cat. So, I brought it back home. I’ll come by and feed it, but it can’t stay with me.”

  Stevie wasn’t the most reliable person in the world. I knew in order to save Mrs. Carson from coming home to a dead pet I’d have to step up even though Mrs. Carson’s Siamese cat, Mahalia, and I hated each other with a passion.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll feed her until your mother gets back.”

  “Good lookin’ out,” he said, grinning at me and exposing perfect straight white teeth. Stealing and dental hygiene appeared to be the only things Stevie took seriously. He pushed past me on his way down the porch steps.

  “Oh, and Stevie,” I called out after him. He stopped and looked back nervously.

  “My name’s not heifer.”

  “It is when you swingin’ a bat at my head.”

  I guess he did have a point.

  I went inside Mrs. Carson’s house and flipped on the light switch. That small movement sent searing pain through my wrist, which hadn’t felt too bad when I’d been awakened from my nap but was now throbbing again due to my batting practice with Stevie’s head. I flexed it and it felt stiff. I was alarmed to see it was also starting to swell. I don’t know what I was thinking swinging that bat around like I was Xena Warrior Princess. I’d re-injured my wrist. I looked around for the cat, not bothering to call her because I knew she wouldn’t come to me, and finally found her perched on top of Mrs. Carson’s china cabinet. She was staring down at me with almond-shaped blue eyes filled with their usual distain.

  Instead of trying to coax her down (she could stay up there forever as far as I was concerned), I went into the kitchen and rummaged around the cabinets looking for cat food. I located a half-filled bag of Meow Mix in the pantry and filled her monogrammed food bowl. I also filled her matching water dish to the brim and started to scoop out her fake jewel encrusted litter box but was happy to find it didn’t need cleaning. When I went back to the pantry to put the cat food away, I happened upon a flat blue case sitting on the counter. I’m too nosy to resist such temptation and didn’t try. I opened it.

  Inside was a collection of leather cat
collars, one for every day of the week, and each with a different charm hanging from it that read: My name is Mahalia Carson. On the back was Mrs. Carson’s address and phone number. I’d never paid enough attention to the little monster to notice she had a whole wardrobe of collars. No wonder Mahalia was such a diva. She was spoiled rotten. I heard loud purring that sounded like a busted carburetor coming from down below and looked to see Mahalia sitting at my feet. She looked up at me and started hissing as if to say, “Stay out of my shit.”

  “Don’t hiss at me you ungrateful fur ball. I’m the only one between you and starvation.” I closed the blue case. Mahalia ignored me and started grooming herself.

  By now, my wrist had swelled to twice its size. I needed to get to the emergency room. I switched off the lights and headed out the front door, looking back briefly to see the glow of a pair of indignant blue eyes staring at me from the top of the television.

  Three hours later I was back at home with a tightly bandaged wrist, an ample supply of ibuprofen, and some gel filled ice packs. Thankfully, my wrist wasn’t broken, just badly sprained. I popped two more ibuprofen and slept on my couch so I could keep my wrist elevated by resting it on the back of the couch. I dreamt I was lying curled up on the hearth of a fireplace. I was cold and stiff. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I was frozen. All I could see of my surroundings was the inside of the fireplace I was lying next to and a stiff dog tail. I soon realized I was the dog. The tail was mine. And I wasn’t just any dog, either. I was Clair Easton’s dead dog, Jeeves. I tried to make a sound but couldn’t. I heard a voice coming closer. It was Clair Easton’s voice.

  “Here you go, Jeeves. Here’s a nice playmate for you.” She bent down near my tail and set something next to me on the hearth.

  I could see enough of Clair to see she had a pair of hedge clippers sticking out of the side of her neck. Every time she spoke, blood poured from her mouth. But I couldn’t turn away.