Best of Luck Elsewhere

by Trisha Haddad

  “So after Donnie went to bed, leaving me lying on the kitchen floor, I just kept thinking about how I could escape. I called Jane the next day, after Donnie went to work, to ask if she was the one to call the police. I told her how he beat me up and that I wanted her help to get away. She booked a flight for me. She even used her own credit card so Donnie wouldn’t know if he checked our statement online. She found the place out-of-state.”

  Sue pulled out a familiar note. “She put my reservation on a note in my desk here so Donnie wouldn’t see it at home. She even listed the people I wanted to tell on the note, too. My sister, my college counselor, and you or Ms. Li. I wasn’t sure who should receive resignations. I decided to tell you, though, because I really trust you. Don’t tell anyone, please, Eliza. Please. I plan to pretend to go to work on Friday, get on the plane, and never come back. Don’t even tell Ms. Li until Monday afternoon. I mean, if that’s possible.”

  “I won’t say a thing until Monday. And I’ll compose a glowing recommendation letter that you can take with you and use when you’re ready to get a new job.”

  “Thanks, Eliza. You’ve been just the best boss.” She lifted a pen from the cup on my desk and crossed my name off her list.

  What a great boss you are, my mind accused sarcastically. But I smiled, picking up the stack of manuscripts for her.

  “Here are the manuscripts that you wanted comments on. Maybe you can use them as a training tool for another intern before you leave. I included extensive comments on your…the manuscript you were especially interested in. I’m sorry it took so long. You can incorporate however much you’d like into your letter to the, um, author. Even add some of your own comments if you want.”

  “Sure,” she said hesitantly, her anxiety evident, though, by how quickly she grabbed the pages.

  I leaned across the desk. “Listen, Sue, do you need a place to stay tonight? You’re more than welcome to stay with me.”

  She waved it off. “No, no, though I appreciate the offer. The woman at the shelter said to sneak off without a trace. I have no excuse to give to Donnie about spending the night at your place. And I don’t want him getting suspicious. And if I stay with you, he might assume you helped me escape, and I don’t want you to be a target.”

  A target, I mused, feeling the old worry that I was the real target instead of Rain or Liam. I nodded, thumbing the pages of the author list. I was ready to get to the bottom of this and move on once and for all.

  Sue nodded towards the spreadsheets and CD. “Do the police think it was an author who killed Ms. Orwell?”

  “Maybe. It seems most likely. Could’ve been a rejected author. You know from checking cover letters that some authors can go off the deep end.”

  “The world is full of crazy people.”

  “You said it.”

  Sue stared past me as her hand moved up her neck to touch her bruised left cheek. Almost to herself she muttered, “You always think the bad guy is the anonymous stranger.”

  I looked away, feeling as though I were intruding on a personal moment.

  Sue then rose from the chair, lifting the manuscripts as she got up. “Thanks for this, Eliza. I really appreciate it. I can’t wait to read your comments.”

  “I appreciate your interest.”

  She skimmed through the stack and pulled out her manuscript, setting it on top. She saw me watching her and explained, “I’m just most interested in this one. I’ll read your comments on this first.”

  “Sounds good.” I looked down at the pages she’d given me. Will I find the murderer amongst these pages? Will the constant anxiety in the pit of my stomach finally be calmed?

  “Do you have any suspicions about who did it?” I asked Sue.

  Our minds had now gone in completely different directions, with me contemplating my new list of suspects and Sue excited to read comments on her novel. Which would explain why Sue assumed I meant “whodunit” from her own manuscript—as though I had read it and rejected it, but was intrigued by the mystery of the submitted first fifty pages. Without meaning to, I had given her hope that her manuscript had potential. Her face burst into a smile. “Well, Eliza, you’ll find out when it gets published somewhere else and you can read the rest!” She patted the manuscript, beaming with pride.

  “Oh!” I replied, realizing that we were on different pages now. “Okay.”

  She moved to the door and made her exit, but not before a friendly wink and a cheerful, “Just remember, it’s always the person you least expect.”

  * * *

  I checked the hard copy of the spreadsheets briefly before putting the CD she’d made into my computer to email the information to the police department. As though they’ll do anything with this information anyway.

  I typed in Detective Wilson’s email address and wrote a short note:

  Hello Detective:

  Per our recent conversation, please find attached the file of all authors who have been rejected in the past year. I have not looked at it yet, but will do so in the next few days. I’ll let you know if I notice anything suspicious. In the meantime, please feel free to contact me with any questions.

  Regards,

  Eliza Tahan

  J Press

  For some reason, holding the spreadsheets listing author names, locations, submission dates, and manuscript details, I was no longer scared. I most likely had the name of a killer in there somewhere, and it was only a matter of time until I figured out who it was. I was in control. I was closing in. And because our murderer hadn’t struck again, he must not know that I was getting closer.

  But what if he does know?

  I shook my head as if to clear the thought. This was not the time to overreact. I was at work. Not only did I not want that tendency to slip into my professional life, I wanted to correct it in my personal life.

  Just because you’re at work at this moment doesn’t mean that you’re no longer in danger. Doesn’t mean you’re safe.

  I was on the edge of succumbing to fear again, calling Cleo to have her talk some reason into me, when I got a call saying my car was ready to be towed from the police impound yard.

  “What time do you usually close?”

  “We close at five every weekday except Monday, when we close at seven.”

  She added that I should have my insurance pay for the repairs for the time being, that is, if the car could be repaired. If they caught the other driver, his insurance would reimburse the cost. That way I would not have to wait any longer than I already had.

  “When they catch the other driver,” I countered confidently. “Not if.”

  She was disinterested and already hanging up.

  It didn’t matter that she didn’t reply, because I’d remained calm. I had taken that my car might be totaled very well.

  My confidence was back.

  * * *

  “Cleo, my dear,” I said, trying to get my things together from my desk while cradling the phone on my shoulder.

  “Sounds like you want something,” she teased.

  Did my sister know me, or what? Luckily, I knew her, too, and was certain she’d have no problem with my request.

  “Yeah, yeah. Hey, I’m going to pick up my car on Monday. Sounds like it’s in pretty bad shape. Do you think if I had it towed up to Jorge’s garage, he’d have time to work on it?”

  “Hmmm…”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean for free! I’ll pay him whatever he charges everyone else. It’s just that I think if you trust him with your hot cars, I should trust him with my mine. I just don’t want to be taken for a ride, and I don’t know enough about cars to know if I am getting ripped off. Jorge is an honest guy, isn’t he?”

  “Y—Yeah. Let me give you his number.”

  She rustled through her papers and called out the digits and I jotted them down on a piece of paper. I almost said thanks and ended it there, but I caught myself on her hesitant tone. “So what’s going on with you and Jorge?”

  She brushed it of
f. “Oh, nothing really.”

  I waited, knowing she would follow with what was wrong.

  “It’s just that he’s been really busy. And I sometimes worry that…well, that it isn’t just his garage that keeps him busy. That maybe there’s someone else.”

  Apply sympathy. “Oh, Cleo! That’s awful! How could he?”

  “I know, I know!”

  Follow sympathy with a small dose of rationalization. “You know his time could easily be occupied with his job. He’s a guy passionate about his trade. That’s probably one of the reasons you’re attracted to him. You’re the same way about your job.”

  “I know. You’re right.”

  Complete treatment with a helpful offer. “Do you want me to do a little detective work on him? Or do you want to stay with me for a few days?”

  “No, that’s all right. I’m already keeping an eye on him. Maybe I’m misusing my government-supplied access to information, but I don’t think they’ll care. Everyone probably does it. And I’ll be down next week anyway. We can get together and talk more. But thanks. You’re a good sister.”

  Lace with solidarity. “And you are an amazing woman. If he doesn’t see that, he’s insane. And I’ll take my car to someone else. Even if Jorge isn’t unfaithful, he still ought to be treating you right, and so he doesn’t get any of my money.”

  Cleo sighed. “Thank you, Eliza. And speaking of asshole boyfriends, what happened with the girl at your work who you thought might be abused?”

  “She’s leaving tomorrow for the shelter. I offered to let her stay with me—”

  Cleo gasped. “No, Eliza! You don’t want the boyfriend targeting you! We already talked about that!”

  “I know. Sue Talley, the intern, said the same thing when I offered it. She said he might assume I helped her escape, and that she doesn’t want me to be a target.”

  “She’s right!”

  “Yeah. It’s nice of her. But hell, I know about it, don’t I? I’m covering for her, aren’t I? I think I’m past being part of her escape. If I’m a target, I’m a target. I can’t not do the right thing to help an innocent victim, just because I’m covering my own ass.”

  “She can take care of herself. Don’t get yourself hurt, Eliza.”

  “I’m not going to worry about it. She’ll be on the plane tomorrow morning, and this will be over. I just wish I could have been more help to her.”

  Cleo remained silent for a moment and then finally replied. “You’re a good person, Eliza. And I think you’re right—you don’t have to worry about David or whatever his name is—”

  “Donovan. Donnie.”

  “Right, whatever. That girl, Sue Talley, is safe, and so are you.”

  “I can’t wait for you to visit next week, Cleo.”

  “Me either, sista. We are due for some more bonding.”

  CHAPTER 16

  On Friday morning I was quite conscious of Sue’s absence. I pictured her in the air on her hour flight to Phoenix to her new and safer life. I felt so heavily her safety that I had forgotten that I still had a slight worry about my own.

  After a brief meeting with a colleague, a graphic designer responsible for many of the mystery department’s covers, regarding an author who didn’t like the font she’d chosen for his title, I returned to my office and Jane followed me in, shutting the door behind her.

  Instinctively, I scanned her hands for weapons, and instantly felt bad about it. This was the woman who had secured Sue’s escape. I forced myself to relax, and said, “Hi, Jane. I actually wanted to talk to you—”

  Jane flopped down in the chair, rested her elbows on the desk and let her head fall forward into her hands. Blonde ringlets followed the forward motion of her head.

  Is she going to cry or something? Should I say something?

  “She told me she’d told you she was leaving.” Her words were muffled.

  “Yeah, she told me yesterday. I wanted to thank you for what you did for her.”

  “Have you heard from her yet?”

  I looked over at my calendar to be certain it was the Friday. “No, it’s Friday. She should be on the plane right now. Why?”

  Head still in her hands, Jane said, “She’s not on the plane.”

  I froze. “How—how do you know?”

  “I checked online. We used my credit card to order the ticket, so I had online access. She never boarded.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said, looking up at me finally. Her voice and eyes plainly showed that she was on the verge of frustrated tears. “I was hoping you knew something!”

  “Did…” I started and then stopped, as though if I dared to say it, it might make it real.

  Jane wasn’t as careful. “—Donnie find out? I was wondering the same thing. So I called their place and no one answered. I left a message, thinking maybe someone was screening the call. I said I was calling from work and wondering why she was not in today. I’m so scared for her, Eliza.”

  I was surprised at her openness, possibly stemming from Sue’s trust in me or from the current, desperate situation. “I’m calling the police,” I announced, determined to take charge here. Whatever I did not do for Sue in the past I’d make up for right now.

  “I don’t think they’ll go over there again. Last time I called them Sue said everything was okay.”

  “Don’t worry. I know someone. He’ll help us.” I dialed my own personal contact at the police department.

  The phone rang twice before the authoritative voice answered. “Hello. This is Detective Wilson.”

  “Hi. This is Eliza Tahan, and no, this is not about Ms. Orwell’s murder. Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something else.” I explained that a colleague at work who had been consistently abused by her boyfriend was supposed to escape this morning to a shelter, but that she never boarded her plane. I asked if he could see if there was anything reported about her this morning. “If not, maybe you can get someone to go over and check her house. I just want to make sure she’s all right.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sue Talley. Her boyfriend is named Donnie. Or Donovan.”

  Jane made a face at the mention of his name.

  Detective Wilson surprised me by answering, “Is his surname Kelley?”

  I gasped, tapping Jane’s arm to show her something was up. “I…I’m not sure. Just a second.” I held the phone aside and asked Jane, “Is Donnie’s last name Kelley?” She nodded with as much fear in her eyes as I had in my heart. I confirmed the name with the detective. “Yes, Donovan Kelley. Tall and blond. A surfer-type guy, as though that narrows it down much in this city.”

  “Your colleague Sue is fine,” Detective Wilson confirmed. “She’s just shaken up. I can’t say the same for her boyfriend, though.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I can’t say much right now, but I suggest you check online at The San Diego Union-Tribune’s website. They’ll have the story with as much detail as I could tell you.”

  I wedged the phone between my head and my shoulder and immediately began typing in the site. “But Sue’s all right? She isn’t hurt?”

  “No, she isn’t hurt. And I don’t think she will have to escape anytime soon.”

  Once the website loaded and I had hung up with Detective Wilson, I turned my computer screen so that both Jane and I could see it. “He said I should look on The San Diego Union-Tribune’s site for information.”

  “But Sue’s okay?”

  “That’s what he said.” I scrolled down the page, searching for the familiar name.

  “I hope she cut off his—”

  But then both our eyes landed on the story. Donovan Kelley, a student at San Diego State, was bicycling to his part-time job early this morning when a driver going through a red light struck him. He died within the hour. There was a headshot of Donnie, probably from his university ID card or driver’s license. It was definitely him.

  “So he�
�s dead?” Jane asked weakly. “They’re sure?”

  I re-read the short article, thinking I might have missed something. “It looks that way.”

  “It didn’t say that Sue was okay.”

  “Yeah, but Detective Wilson said she was. The article doesn’t even mention her. If she was hurt, it would’ve mentioned her.”

  Jane slumped back in the uncomfortable chair. “Well…”

  “Yeah.”

  We were both unsure of how to feel. Creeping up on me was the same ambivalence that I’d felt when Rain was killed. A mixture of relief and guilt. Except with less guilt.

  Jane made no motion to leave. Just sat in the chair and stared absently at her hands. Finally she announced with a sigh, “If anyone deserved it, it would be Donnie.”

  I nodded, finally feeling only relief.

  “Eliza, thanks for calling your friend.”

  “Thank you for setting everything up for Sue. I’m sorry I thought you killed Rain.” I laughed at the words, which sounded so cheesy coming out of my mouth.

  “I’m sorry I thought you killed Rain.”

  The last few weeks of hostility drained away, and we were back to the way we’d been before Rain’s death.

  “Thanks for telling me that Sue hadn’t gotten on the plane.”

  “Do you think she’ll come back to the company?”

  “I don’t know. She can do whatever she wants now.”

  “She’s free.”

  “And she’s safe.”

  * * *

  Liam was feeling better, and had decided to spend the weekend with James at his apartment. They were polite enough to invite me over on Friday night, saying that they’d just be renting a movie and ordering out from Lotus Thai down the street. I thanked them both, but I declined. I certainly appreciated the offer even if there was no way I’d take them up on it. Besides, I wanted to get through the spreadsheets of rejected authors from San Diego to see if I could come up with a murder suspect.

  After a night of that, my eyes were crossing and I couldn’t even contemplate another day of it. I called Adam and he was up for a daytime hike, though he had work he had to finish that night. I took him up on the offer, even though I hadn’t been hiking in years.