by Rachel Woods
“Both.”
“I want to call Nick,” I said. “I have to find out if he would be willing to give a statement to the police.”
“And what if Nick refuses?” Icarus asked. “What if he doesn’t want to get involved?”
“Octavia can designate him as a fact witness,” I said, involuntarily formulating a potential legal strategy despite my promise to let Octavia handle my defense. “Then, she can depose him.”
Looking at his watch, Icarus said, “It’s almost noon. My shift starts at one o’clock. I get off at nine, but I’ll find out what Nick’s schedule is, and I’ll try to talk to him. I can ask him about giving the cops a statement. What about that?”
“I guess that could work,” I said. “I still wish I had asked Nick to come to the meeting. I could kick myself.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”
After giving me a quick kiss, Icarus left. I’d barely closed the door before I was calling Lisa. I got her voice mail. Shit! Frustrated and annoyed, I left a message telling her to call me, ASAP. Tossing the phone on the couch, I started to pace. Nervous and apprehensive, my mind swirled with regret. Why hadn’t I asked Nick Presso to come to the meeting? Normally, I would have made sure Nick was present, available to recount his claim about Sam killing Stazia. If Nick had been at the meeting this morning, the detective might not have believed him, but he probably would have investigated his claims, I thought, taking another slow lap around the tufted divans. Sam Collins was a much better suspect than I was, and some way, somehow, I had to get the police to take a long hard look at him as the possible murderer of Henri. How the hell was I going to manage that?
Grabbing my cell phone, I scrolled through my phone log, found Nick Presso’s number, and sent him a text, asking if he had time to talk. Minutes later, my cell phone chimed, signaling an incoming text message. Damn near diving for the phone, I grabbed it, dropped onto the couch and accessed the message, my fingers trembling and heart slamming. We already talked.
Fighting discouragement, I responded. I know but I need you to tell the cops what you told me. Will you talk to the police? Will you tell them what Stazia told you about Sam killing Henri?
Nick’s next message came an excruciating fifteen minutes later. I read the message, my blood pressure spiking exponentially as I read it once more and then again. Staring at the words, one by one, I could hardly believe them.
Can’t go 2 the cops. Lied 2 u about sam killing henri. Stazia didn’t tell me that. sorry.
Breathing deep, I sent a response. What do you mean you lied to me? Why did you lie? Are you saying Sam didn’t kill Henri? Minutes that felt like lifetimes later, Nick texted his reply. Reading it, my pounding heart dropped into my stomach, a long, plunging descent that almost made me double over.
icarus told me 2 lie and say sam killed henri. u can’t trust Icarus.
“You need to listen to Nick,” Lisa said when she returned my call a few hours later. “He doesn’t trust Icarus and you shouldn’t, either. Can’t believe Icarus told Nick to lie to you about Sam killing Henri!”
Exhaling, I stared at the tray ceiling above me. I’d been unsuccessfully attempting to take a nap when Lisa had called, and I hadn’t bothered to get out of bed as I updated her on the nightmare that my life had become.
Continuing, Lisa ranted, “No, actually, I can believe it, because Icarus is a lying blackmailing murderer!”
I wasn’t sure what to believe, but I remembered Icarus being upset about me talking to Nick. He had been shocked, as though he’d never suspected I would seek Nick out to talk to him.
I couldn’t help but wonder when had Icarus told Nick to lie to me? Why would Nick go along with what Icarus wanted him to do? Why would Icarus want me to think Sam had killed Henri if it wasn’t true? Did Icarus want to deflect suspicion onto Sam and away from … himself?
Lisa thought so, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe Icarus was that sinister and manipulative. I’d gotten past thinking he was the blackmailer, and I didn’t want to revisit those old doubts I’d had about him.
Hours later, about a few minutes to ten o’clock, Icarus stopped by my suite. Sitting next to me on the divan, he looked handsome and weary, and for a moment I wished we were together in a setting of domestic bliss, far away from blackmail and murder and suspicion. Again, even though it was counterproductive, I allowed myself to imagine I was his wife and he was my husband, home from a long, exhausting day at work, happy to see me and the glass of scotch I would have poured for him in anticipation of his arrival. I was more than willing to be a good, faithful, loving, attentive wife, but that was a crazy pipe dream, worse than a fantasy. It was a delusion, and I had to be realistic.
The reality being, I had to talk to Icarus about Nick Presso’s text. There was no getting around it, as Lisa had said, and she was right. But would Icarus tell me the truth? If, as Lisa suspected, Icarus was a lying liar who was constantly lying to me, then could I really expect him to be honest?
“Did you get a chance to talk to Nick?” I asked, not ready to bring up Nick’s text just yet, still not sure about the best way to confront Icarus. “Is he willing to tell the cops what he knows about Henri’s murder?”
“Nick didn’t show up to work,” Icarus said, slouching against the back of the divan. “And he didn’t call to say he wasn’t coming, so …”
The apprehension I’d felt earlier returned, but I resolved to push it away and get on with the business of telling Icarus about Nick’s text.
“Icarus,” I started and then swallowed. “I need to tell you something. Show you something, actually.”
Icarus’s confused frown made me hesitant, but I stood, went into the bedroom, got the cell phone, and returned to my spot next to Icarus on the couch. “I got a text from Nick earlier, saying that he was sorry for missing the meeting.”
“Yeah, right,” Icarus mumbled, shaking his head.
“He said something else, too,” I said, my fingers trembling as I accessed Nick’s last text to me. “You should look at this.”
“Look at what?” Icarus asked, but he took the phone and stared at it.
As Lisa had advised, I watched Icarus’s expression, looking for some sign of feigned surprise or fake indignation, but all I saw was sincere confusion and frustration.
“What the fuck is this about?”
“Well, I, um …” Clearing my throat, I said, “I thought you could tell me. Why would Nick say—”
“I have no idea,” Icarus said and then tossed the cell phone on the coffee table and stood. “But, I’m going to find out.”
“What do you mean?” I stared up at him, my pulse racing as Icarus headed toward the door. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”
“I’m going to look for Nick,” Icarus said. “And when I find him, I’m going to make him tell me why the hell he sent you that text.”
DAY FOURTEEN
Chapter Thirty
“You okay?” Icarus said the following morning, around ten o’clock. When I opened the door and saw him, I hesitated just a bit before stepping to him, allowing him to embrace me. I was reluctant to pull away from him. Holding hands, we walked to the couch and sat.
“Did you talk to Nick about that text he sent me?” I asked, observing him, noting impatience beneath the tired expression.
Icarus nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
“What did he say?” I asked, tucking one leg beneath me as I angled my body to face him, so I could stare at him. Earlier, when I’d called Lisa to tell her Icarus had stormed out of my suite last night, hell-bent on demanding answers from Nick about the text he’d sent, she’d warned me again not to trust Icarus.
“Don’t just take what he says as the Gospel,” Lisa had advised, encouraging me to look for signs of deceit and manipulation. But I didn’t want to find any duplicity in his gaze. I didn’t want to see shifting eyes that couldn’t quite focus directly on me, or fidgeting, or nervous facial tics. I was looking for honesty and since
rity in his words and actions.
“Nick didn’t know what the hell I was talking about,” Icarus said.
Confused, I said, “I don’t understand.”
“Nick didn’t know anything about that text you showed me,” Icarus said. “He remembered texting you, but he never sent a text about me telling him to lie to you.”
“And you believed him?”
“He showed me his phone.”
“He did?” I asked, more confused than ever. What was going on?
“I saw the texts Nick sent to you,” Icarus said. “He didn’t send that text about me telling him to lie to you about Sam murdering Henri.”
“How can Nick say he didn’t send that text?” I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You still have the text?” Icarus asked. “You didn’t delete it, did you?”
“No, I still have it,” I said, standing. “Let me get my phone.”
After retrieving my phone from the bedroom, I went back into the living area and accessed the text Nick claimed he hadn’t sent.
“Can I see it?” Icarus asked. “Just want to check out something.”
“What?” I sat next to Icarus, handing him my cell phone.
“Well, now I know why Nick said he didn’t send that text,” Icarus said, after he’d scrolled for several seconds, thumb moving quickly across the screen. “It didn’t come from his phone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, taking my phone from Icarus, staring at the display screen.
“Nick said the last text he sent you was a response to your text about wanting to meet up and talk with him,” Icarus said. “The response was we already talked.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Then I responded back asking him if he would talk to the cops.”
“Nick said he decided not to respond to that text.”
“Well, if Nick didn’t respond to that text, then who did?” I wanted to know. “Because I got a response.”
“Take a look at the phone number associated with Nick’s text that says, we already talked,” Icarus said. “And then look at the number associated with the text saying that Nick lied about Sam killing Henri. The area codes are the same, but the last four digits are completely different.”
My heart thudding, I compared the numbers, noting the last four digits of Nick’s cell phone, 2364, and the last four digits of the number where the text had come from, 0007.
“So, whose phone ends with 0007?” I asked, irritated because I hadn’t thought to check the text log to confirm that Nick had sent the text.
“Let’s find out,” Icarus said. “I’ll call the number and we’ll see who picks up.”
“Put the phone on speaker,” I requested.
Moments later, shrill ringing echoed throughout the living area. “No one is answering,” I said, fighting disappointment. “Maybe we can subpoena phone records to find out who the phone belongs to.”
“Yeah, I’ll ask Tavie—“
An abrupt click interrupted Icarus, and then there was a voice message …
Hey, it’s Henri. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.
“Did Henri have a cell phone with the number having the last four digits of 0007?” Icarus asked Doris as she watered three potted Hibiscus plants near the left railing of her small porch.
Standing beneath the awning, Icarus, Doris, and I were shielded from the glare of the mid-morning sun, but not the heat, which had me perspiring even though I was wearing an A-line sundress made of loose, breathable cotton.
Thirty minutes had passed since Icarus and I had heard the voice message from beyond the grave. Hearing Henri’s voice, so clear and strong and alive, had unnerved me. Confused, for a split second, I wondered if Henri might actually still be alive, even though I’d seen his lifeless body with the knife in his chest and his blood all over the bed sheets.
Icarus brought me back to reality, wondering who might have Henri’s phone. And why would they use it to send a fake text from Nick? Who would want to make me think Icarus had forced Nick to lie to me? None of our questions could be answered until we found out who had Henri’s 0007 phone. We decided to start our search with Doris, who had received all of Henri’s possessions, everything he’d been wearing, and everything on his person when they’d removed his body from the house.
It seemed unrealistic to think Doris had sent a fake text pretending to be Nick, but we thought she might have sold Henri’s phone or perhaps given it away to a friend, or family member.
Icarus didn’t have to start his shift until five p.m., so we decided to head to Doris’s place, hoping she would be able to help us out.
“A phone with the last four digits 0007? Not that I know of,” Doris said, shaking her head. “Not that I can remember, but maybe. Henri had a lot of phones, though. He used to mess around with a lot of different girls, and I think he wanted them all to have different numbers to reach him. That way, if he was staying the night with one of them, he wouldn’t have to worry about another girl calling his phone. When he told me that, I said, boy that’s a lot of lies to keep straight. What if you’re with Jessica, but you accidentally grab the phone that has the number you gave Amy? Henri just laugh, he say, Doris, I know how to handle my shit. But, that wasn’t true, was it? Wouldn’t have got himself stabbed to death if he could handle his shit.”
Silence ensued, and a sudden somberness wafted through the little porch, as though carried by the breeze, settling around us. Doris’s mournful, pained expression chilled me, and I felt slightly selfish and uncompassionate. As determined as I was to find out about the 0007 phone and who had sent the text pretending to be Nick, I couldn’t forget Doris’s grief. She was still mourning her brother, and I felt sorry for her, even though her brother had made my life hell.
Clearing his throat, Icarus said, “But, the cops returned his things to you.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t no cell phone in with that stuff,” Doris said. “I got a list of what was in the box of stuff the cops gave me. Hold on, let me get it.”
Doris sat her green plastic watering can on the concrete floor near the welcome mat and then went inside. Minutes later, she returned with a thin yellow eight-by-eleven-inch piece of paper, the last page of some type of triplicate form, I guessed.
“The cop made me take the stuff out so he could check each item on the list, saying it was returned to me, then he made me sign for everything,” Doris said, handing the paper to Icarus. “He say, we do this so you won’t claim we stole something or didn’t give everything back to you. They kept the bloody shirt, though. Evidence, the cop say.”
“No cell phone,” Icarus said.
“Let me see,” I said, and took the paper from him, scanning it carefully, reading it several times, hoping to find those two words: cell phone. But, no phones were on the list.
“Why you want to know about that phone?” Doris asked, eyes narrowed, as though realizing she should have been more suspicious of us. “Does it got something to do with who killed my brother? You think whoever got that phone killed Henri?”
“Somebody sent Quinn a text from that phone,” Icarus said. “We called the phone to see if someone would answer, but we got voice mail. It was Henri saying to leave a message. That’s how we know it’s Henri’s phone that someone used to send the fake text.”
“Who was the text from?” Doris asked. “Maybe that person has the phone.”
“The text was from Nick Presso, but he claimed he didn’t send it.”
“Nick probably lied to you,” Doris said, derisive. “You can’t trust him. He was working with Henri to steal your money.”
“I talked to him about that,” I said. “Nick claims he wasn’t in Henri’s alliance.”
Scoffing, Doris said, “Another lie.”
“Maybe,” Icarus said, shrugging. “Listen, Doris, thanks for letting us see the list.”
“Wasn’t no problem,” she said. “Just wish I could have been more help.”
“Actually, you can be,
” I said, faltering just a bit when the doubt clouded her expression. “Whoever has that phone might be the killer, and they might be trying to throw suspicion onto other people. So, I’ll give you that phone number, and maybe you could call that number from time to time. If someone answers, see if you can find out who the person is, or if you recognize the voice, and if you do, let us know as soon as possible.”
DAY FIFTEEN
Chapter Thirty-One
Around nine the next morning, Icarus showed up with an excited expression.
“What is it?” I asked, after he’d walked in and I closed the door, my pulse jumping as some of his anxiousness seemed to transfer to me.
“I stopped by Tavie’s office to tell her about our search for Henri’s 0007 cell phone,” Icarus said. “Tavie told me she was given a list of all the evidence related to the case the police have, which she showed me.”
“Was the 0007 cell phone on the evidence list?” I asked, walking to the divan and taking a seat.
“The cops have two of Henri’s cell phones in police custody at the moment.” Icarus took a seat on the opposite couch. “Tavie called one of her sources at the police station to ask about the phone numbers associated with those two phones. Neither of the phones has 0007 as the last four digits.”
“So Henri had three phones,” I said. “Not surprising. Doris said he had multiple phones. Maybe the 0007 phone was stolen before the police showed up at Henri’s house.”
“That’s what Tavie and I think,” Icarus said.
“We still have no idea who has the 0007 phone,” I grumbled, “And we have no idea how to find out who has it, except to keep calling the number, hoping someone will answer, which is unlikely.”
“The person might answer,” Icarus said.
