Lia hesitated. “Maybe I don’t want to see it after all.”
“It won’t bite. You know you’re going to watch it eventually. You might as well get it over with and save yourself the agonizing.”
Lia picked up the little phone and examined the still at the beginning of the video. It showed her hugging a weeping Desiree. “Something’s wrong with this.”
“What do you mean?”
"Someone was recording us before the fight started.” She hit play, watched the emotional moment turn into a brawl. Paused it. Pointed at the little screen. “See? You can just barely see a slice of Charlie’s back on the edge of the frame, and I bet Jose’s standing on his other side.”
“So?”
“Whoever shot this was well behind Charlie.” She looked up, scanning the far side of the park. “You said he used zoom?”
“Uh huh. Start it up again, you’ll see.”
Lia watched as the video closed in on Desiree’s very expensive brassiere. She hit pause again and looked up, squinting as she struggled to remember which way Desiree had been facing. She hardly remembered any of it, it had happened so fast.
“He was in the woods. With the slope on that side, he had to be up a tree to get that shot. I don’t think it was anyone we know. I bet The Watcher is Desiree’s Foil-man. Can you download and save YouTube videos?”
“I think so. You can use ClipGrab, but you need to be at your computer. You didn’t even want to look at it. Why do you want to save it?”
“He might decide to delete it. She needs to be warned.” Lia pulled out her phone and tapped out Desiree's number.
“Yesterday you gave her a black eye, now you want to protect her?”
“This is serious. If this guy is willing to climb trees just to look at her, who knows what he’ll do next.”
“Maybe it was you he was looking at.”
“It wasn’t my boobs he zoomed in on.”
“You think she’ll listen to you? Why don’t you let Peter handle it? I mean, it is his job.”
“Peter,” Lia gritted out, “is out of the picture.”
Bailey widened her eyes. She made an ‘O’ with her lips and said nothing.
The call went to voicemail. Lia left the information about the video along with a plea that Desiree talk to someone at District Five.
“Think that’s enough?” Bailey asked when Lia put the phone away.
“Who knows. But it’s the best I can do if she won’t talk to me.”
7
Monday, May 5
Desiree was sitting at her station when Lia arrived at the scoring center the following Monday. The swelling had gone down around her eye and the bruise had faded to a psychedelic yellow mess with green and purple blotches. She wore a skin-tight top the same virulent fuchsia as her bra from the park debacle. Lia wondered if she wanted people to recognize her from the YouTube video.
Desiree avoided meeting Lia’s eyes and even the appearance that she was aware of Lia’s presence. Ted came in after Lia. He turned around to drape his jacket over the back of his chair. “You look mighty pretty in pink, Desiree,” he said.
“Thank you, Ted. You’re sweet to say so.”
Blushing, Ted busied himself with his computer.
Eric came by, handing out work folders. He caught Lia’s eye, then darted a glance at Desiree in question. Lia shrugged one shoulder and rolled her eyes. Once everyone was settled in, she leaned over and whispered to Desiree, “Did you get my message Saturday?”
Desiree hissed, “I don’t see what the big deal is. People video stuff all the time. I just think you’re jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“That camera wasn’t focussed on your tits. That’s because he couldn’t find them, even with a zoom lens. I bet a microscope and a backhoe wouldn’t help.”
Lia’s jaw dropped. She snapped herself face forward, catching the tail end of a smirk on Avery’s face as he walked by.
Why did he do it? He’d never shared any of his women before. The Watcher sat in darkness, turned away from the sightless silver faces of his tiny populace, all attention on his YouTube page. Desiree’s brawl with her friend had over 11,000 hits, with new views every time he refreshed the page. And he still didn’t know what the fight had been about.
He wanted to share his magnificent warrior woman with the world. Proud, beautiful, ferocious, she was an Amazon queen. It was the crass comments, hundreds of them, that upset him.
Should he delete it? Not from home, that could be traced. Rage grew as he continued clicking through the foul, lurid comments. How dare they! Defilers! His mind screamed to respond, flame them all. Not good, not good. Not now. It can be traced. Maybe later?
He calmed. He could compose his response, upload elsewhere from a flash drive. He hunkered over the keys and set to work.
Lia’s shifts at Scholastic were conducted in an arctic silence that had her wondering why she and Desiree didn’t both get hypothermia. Eric shook his head frequently as each pretended the other did not exist. After two days he stopped suggesting that they confer with each other before either of them called him over for a scoring decision.
Desiree’s shirts got tighter and skimpier as the week went on and the YouTube hits climbed. She stopped wearing a sweater at her station, despite the over-active air conditioning vent. Lia could see goose flesh on Desiree’s arms, if she bothered to look in Desiree’s direction. Which she didn’t. At least, not very often.
Desiree’s creepy foil menagerie grew, spilling off her tower, onto the table the women shared. She cooed over them as she set them out each day, showing them off to Ted . The rest of the team seemed oblivious to the drama, as people kept their conversation to their scoring partners. Lia wondered why Avery never said anything about the aluminum clutter. It wasn’t like Scholastic encouraged people to personalize their stations.
Lia struggled to keep her focus while maintaining the Mexican standoff. So Desiree turned out to be a little trollop without a lick of sense. So what. It’s her life. If she likes having some weirdo stalk her as if he’s her personal paparazzi, that’s her business.
Terry was entertained by the situation, seeing it as a prime example of cultural anthropology and female psychology. He kept mental statistics on the percentage of flesh Desiree showed each day in relation to the number of YouTube hits the video received, and felt Lia should, as an artist, take some interest in the color-coordination or lack there-of, of Desiree’s bruise with her clothing. He talked about writing a paper on his conclusions once the impasse was resolved.
Bailey skipped mornings at the park now that her busy season was in full-swing. Other friends now had day jobs or were away on trips. Lia would not, could not, call Peter. She saw Peter’s neighbor, Alma, most days, and caught her giving Lia a puzzled look more than once.
She was lying on the sofa with Chewy on her chest, tugging his ears when Peter finally called. She put her hands around his head and waggled it back and forth, then let it go. Chewy snapped playfully at the air while she waited for the answering machine to click on.
“Lia, I don’t know if you’re there or not. I guess it doesn’t make any difference. Shutting me out is no way for an adult to act, and it’s no answer to our problems. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. I’ll see Asia with you, if you want. But I’m not going to chase you down this time. You know where to find me.”
Chewy continued to snap at her hands, though Lia was no longer paying attention. How was she supposed to explain herself when she didn’t understand anything except that she hurt? How could she tell Peter what she wanted when she didn’t know? She buried her hands in the Schnauzer’s overgrown coat, blinking moisture out of her eyes.
Lia had always enjoyed solitude before. Now she felt alone.
8
Monday, May 12
Bailey and Lia finally caught up with each other for a late breakfast at the Blue Jay. A Northside staple for more than 50 years, the diner had dark brown panelling
and big booths conducive to private conversation and leisurely meals. Lia was reviewing the menu when Bailey arrived, with grass-stained jeans and bramble-scratches covering her long, pianist hands, her swing of red hair tucked under a faded bandana.
Sarah, one of two waitresses who worked at the diner, came with tall glasses of water. Bailey drank half the glass before she set it down.
“Do you ladies know what you want?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know why I bother looking at the menu,” Lia said, laying down the laminated sheet. “I always get the same thing. Spinach and feta omelet with rye toast. Water is fine.”
“I’m starving. Eggs over medium, wheat toast, Jacob Special on the potatoes. Ice tea to drink.”
Sarah gone, Bailey leaned over the table. “Okay, out with it.”
“Out with what?”
“Last week you said Peter was out of the picture and you didn’t elaborate. I haven't been able to catch up with you since. It’s driving me crazy. What happened between you and Detective Hottie?”
Lia sighed. “I just don’t know, Bailey. Peter knew Desiree from his investigation into Luthor’s death. He failed to tell me about her, even after I met her at Scholastic and started hanging out with her.”
“No!”
“Yes. And it gets worse. He had my necklace made at the shop where she works and it never occurred to him that it would bother me. She said she helped make it.”
“Ouch!”
“Yeah, ouch.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. So I’m taking a time out.”
“That’s such a guy thing, you know? Not thinking it mattered.”
“Yeah, why should I care if she had her grubby little man-stealing hands all over his love-offering to me?”
Bailey snorted a laugh. “Well, she didn’t exactly steal Luthor, she only borrowed him. And you didn’t exactly want him at the time.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“What’s really bothering you about this?”
“Being blind-sided isn’t bad enough?”
“It is, but I know there’s more. Have you talked to Asia?”
Lia scoffed. “Like I have time for therapy with my schedule? I thought about it, but I just can't fit it in right now.”
“So tell me. That’s what friends are for.”
Lia ran both hands through her hair and considered her words. Their food arrived and she used eating as an excuse to stay silent. Finally, she said, “Luthor died because of me. I thought I’d dealt with it, but Desiree brought it all up again. I’m feeling raw. How do you fix something like that?”
“Oh.” Bailey pondered this while she chewed her eggs. She pointed her fork in the air for emphasis.
“I have a different take on it.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“You met Luthor at the park, right?”
“Right.”
“If you hadn’t started dating him, would he have stopped going to the park?”
“Probably not.”
“If you hadn’t started dating him, would he have still been the same narcissistic, lying wastrel that he was?”
“I guess so. What are you getting at?”
“Bucky liked to target people she felt contempt for, right?”
“Right.”
“She didn’t kill Luthor to get him off your back, no matter what she said. She did it because she wanted to. Were you dating any of the other people she targeted?”
“Well, no . . .”
“Luthor still would have landed on her radar, just by being who he is. She may have used you as an excuse, but it was really all about her. No other reason.”
“I don’t know, Bailey . . . .”
“Look, if she had asked, would you have ever said, ‘I want Luthor dead’?”
“Of course not.”
“Exactly. It wasn’t about you. It was never about you. But I don’t think that’s what’s really going on.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t get your back up. I’ve just noticed that you take every little excuse to push Peter away.”
Lia gaped, speechless, her mug halfway to her mouth.
“Lia, he’s not your father. He’s not Luthor, He’s not anyone else you’ve ever been with in a relationship. Why are you hanging their baggage on him?”
“I’m not—“
“Sure you are. Stop sputtering. If Luthor had pulled a stunt like that you would have rolled your eyes and moved on. So why are you so hard on Peter when he doesn’t measure up?”
Lia set down her coffee mug. She stared at the fake walnut paneling, seeing nothing, blinking as her eyes watered up and threatened to spill over.
“It never mattered with Luthor. I never loved him.”
Bailey leaned back in the booth, took a sip of coffee, let Lia process what she’d just said, waiting until her friend had her emotions under control.
“He’s not your father.”
“You already said that.” Lia spoke to the remains of her omelet. Her voice was small.
“Scares you, doesn’t it?”
Lia choked out a whisper. “It freaking terrifies me.”
“So, are you going to forgive Peter?”
“I don’t know, Bailey. I hate it when he doesn’t tell me stuff. Every time we have a problem, it’s because he decided, in his infinite male wisdom, to keep something from me. How can this ever work if he’s going to let me be blind-sided like that?”
“Promise me you’ll talk to Peter about it.”
“I will, I just have to get my head straight first.”
Bailey squeezed Lia’s hand and gave it a shake.
“There’s hope for you yet, Anderson. Anyway, I had something else I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh?” Lia latched onto the change of topic gratefully.
“I had Trees trace the video,” Bailey said, referring to the hacker who was her long-distance boyfriend.
“Really? What did he say?”
“Inconclusive. The video was uploaded at the Westwood Branch Library. Chances are Desiree’s stalker logged onto their wi-fi. Trees says he may have done it from his car. Did you know he posted a rant a few days ago? That came from the library, too.”
“I’ve been avoiding YouTube and Terry just checks the number of hits it gets. Do I want to know what he said?”
“It was bizarre and kind of poetic. He called Desiree his green-haired Aphrodite and said the Philistines making crude comments about her weren’t fit to lick the dung off the bottom of her sandals.”
“Wow.”
“You get to be a goddess, too. He wasn’t specific about which one. Just something about how viewers should ‘tremble in awe,’ being privileged to witness a ‘war between goddesses.’ Or something like that.”
“Sounds like a non-starter.”
“Mostly. But he probably lives near the library.”
“That’s Terry’s neighborhood. Maybe we should ask him to walk around looking for empty Reynolds Wrap boxes on garbage day.”
“I know it’s not much,” Bailey apologized.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be cranky with you, you did what you could and I didn’t even ask you to get involved. It’s going to be a moot issue after tonight.”
“How so?”
“The current project is ending. The next one won’t start for a couple weeks, and I may not even be in the same room with Desiree. As far as I’m concerned, it’s her issue, and she doesn’t want my help.”
* * *
Peter stared at the phone like a terrier waiting for a rat to emerge from it’s hole.
“You should practice that look, brother, and use it during interrogation. It would kill all our suspects and we’d never have to take another case to court,” his partner, Brent said, sitting his sharply suited hip on the far edge of Peter’s desk, the edge away from vintage coffee rings and assorted mystery stains. A southern transplant, Brent’s voice whispered of mint juleps and
magnolia trees. “What did that phone ever do to you?”
Peter shook his head and exhaled audibly in self-disgust. “Every time Lia’s upset, she runs away and won’t talk to me.”
“You drew the line in the sand, brother. You need to stand behind it.”
“Some creep secretly videotaped her, and I have no idea who it is. He’s still out there.”
“You did what you could. Cynth traced the file upload to the Westwood Library. That’s miles from Northside. We know he’s not likely to live in her neighborhood.”
“That’s something.”
“Lia’s a big girl, she knows how to dial 911. And from that bruise on your elbow, it looks like she’s not shy with her kubotan. Then there’s that punch I saw her give Desiree. Damn, I sure wish she would have held off decking Desiree a little longer. That video is too brief.”
”You mean Desiree’s shirt is too brief. I catch you drooling over Lia on YouTube, and I’ll have to hurt you.”
Brent nodded at a musclebound officer entering the bullpen. “Lookie here. If it isn’t Captain America. Wonder what he wants with Heckle and Jeckle.”
“Captain America. That’s good,” Peter eyed the ex-marine chatting up a pair of detectives across the bullpen. He stood a head taller than his companions, and his build could only be the result of strenuous workouts.
“Think we should tell the new guy that his muscles are certain to squeeze out his brain if he doesn’t stop eating factory farm chicken? I hear those birds are pumped full of steroids.”
“Nah,” Peter said. “If he’s dumb enough to prefer big muscles and shriveled nuts, his brain isn’t worth saving.”
“Well, it’s nice that H and J have adopted a pet,” Brent offered. “I bet our large friend thinks H and J are slumming with a street cop because they recognize his potential and want to benefit his career.”
“I’m sure they recognize potential when they see it. Potential to benefit themselves.”
Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery) Page 6
