The Perfect Liar

by Brenda Novak

  “How’d you find out about the poisoning?”

  “I received a call at work. I didn’t have the money to continue my education the way I’d originally planned, so I’d gotten a job at Bank of America as a teller.”

  “She called to confess or—”

  “No, it was my father. My real father. When they arrested her, she didn’t reach out to me. She turned to him.” She frowned. “That should’ve told me something.”

  A wave of sympathy caused Luke to lower his voice. “The whole thing must’ve come as a terrible shock.”

  She flinched despite an apparent effort to conceal the depth of her hurt. “I refused to believe it until I heard what she yelled out in court as they took her away.”

  “What?”

  “‘He owed me that money!’ The guilty verdict had already been read, but it was that line that convicted her in my mind. Until that moment, I’d stood by her regardless of the evidence.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be. I’m fine now. I’m past it.”

  She wasn’t even close, but he let that go. “Why’d she do it?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” She shook her head. “She was miserable. I don’t think she ever got over my father. She had a hard time seeing him move on to one woman after another without giving her a thought. So she finally quit waiting for him to realize he’d lost the love of his life and married again. And, well…you met Pete. It was a disaster.” She toyed with her sunglasses. “My father had fidelity issues and he was shallow, but he was also dashing, debonair and full of life. Pete is a slug. He gave her nothing emotionally or financially. He claimed he had an injured back and couldn’t work, so he sat in front of the TV all day while she worked at the neighborhood elementary school, in the cafeteria, and sold Tupperware on the side. They got behind on their bills, argued constantly. Then she began cleaning houses on weekends. He claimed he had a settlement coming for a worker’s comp injury, but that never materialized. She was really counting on the money and when she found out he’d been lying all along just to avoid work, she decided he’d pay up one way or another. His life insurance was how she’d get a fresh start and—” she winced again “—help me afford school so I could finish.”

  Ava obviously felt some personal responsibility for the situation. “How old were you when they got together?”

  “I was in high school but left for college soon after. That’s why I didn’t know their relationship was as bad as it was. Although I mostly put myself through college, my mother would send me money every once in a while. She’d insist she was doing fine. And of course I’d visit on weekends and holidays. But…” The slight tremor in her voice told him she was close to tears. He’d broken down her defenses because he couldn’t stand to be shut out and now he felt guilty for dredging up a subject that was so painful for her.

  Reaching across the table, he took her hand. He expected her to pull away. She was determined not to need anyone, to shoulder her burdens on her own. But she allowed him to move his fingertip lightly over her palm. “Sometimes people get desperate,” he said. “Sometimes they make bad decisions.”

  “Bad decisions?” she echoed. “She tried to kill him!”

  The anger and bitterness she carried inside were more than apparent. But so was the longing she felt for the mother she’d once had. The attempted murder had occurred when she was probably at her most self-absorbed, focused on her schooling and the hope of a good career. From what he could sense, she didn’t blame her mother as much as she blamed herself—for not seeing her mother’s desperation, for not being there to relieve it before it cost them each other.

  “It might be easier if you’d forgive her—and yourself,” he added and, just like that, she closed up again. Yanking away her hand, she got up and stalked to the restroom and Luke was left with the sensation of her fingers slipping through his.

  Ava didn’t want to leave the restroom. She hadn’t known Luke long but he had a way of making her feel as if there was nowhere to hide. She kept trying to convince herself he was as shallow as her father, nothing more than a handsome face, but then he’d catch a nuance her father would’ve missed, and that forced her to respect him. Even Geoffrey took what she said about her mother at face value. It was Luke who’d immediately driven to the heart of the matter. And he was right. She couldn’t forgive Zelinda, but she held herself more accountable than anyone. She’d let her mother down; because of that Zelinda had become so needy and desperate she’d committed a terrible act, and now their lives would never be the same.

  Could she have changed the situation if she’d been more observant? More supportive? A better daughter? Those were the questions she asked herself time and again, but the answers never came. There was no way to go back and rectify the situation. That was the worst part of all.

  Knowing she had to go out and face Luke again, she stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. When they’d walked into the restaurant, the hostess had looked her up and down as if she couldn’t quite believe they were together. And Ava didn’t blame her. They were a mismatch. That was clear to everyone. But it didn’t stop her from craving his touch. This morning, when she’d opened her eyes and found him standing over her, every nerve had come to life.

  The door opened. “Ms. Bixby?”

  Ava turned to see the hostess. “Yes?”

  “Are you okay? Captain Trussell wanted me to check.”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’m fine. Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

  What the heck was wrong with her? She couldn’t stand there in the restroom mooning over Luke. She had work to do.

  If only Pete hadn’t shown up today. Then Luke would’ve left and she’d be home by herself….

  After splashing some water on her face, she walked out, but her cell phone rang before she could cross the restaurant. Staying near the restrooms so she wouldn’t disturb the other diners, she pulled it from her pocket and touched the Talk button. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Bixby?” It was a male voice calling from a 480 area code—Arizona. The rest of the number she didn’t recognize.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Detective John Morgan from the Mesa Police Department in Arizona.”

  The only person she knew from Arizona was Kalyna. Had something happened to her?

  Flashbacks of the call she’d received the day Bella Fitzgerald hanged herself hit with startling impact, and Ava’s knees went weak. Had it happened again? Had she completely missed the signs that a second human being was living so close to the edge?

  She could see Luke watching her from across the room, noted the concern on his face as he got up and came toward her, but she stayed where she was. “Don’t tell me you’re calling about Kalyna Harter,” she said, scarcely able to breathe.

  “I’m afraid so,” Detective Morgan responded. “How well do you know Sergeant Harter?”

  Trying to concentrate despite the worst-case scenario that had instantly appeared in her mind, Ava pressed the fingertips of her free hand to her temple. “I work for a victims’ charity in Sacramento. She came to me last Monday, claiming she’d been raped. That was the first time I’d ever met her.”

  There was a brief pause while he absorbed this information, but Ava couldn’t wait for him to formulate his next question. She had to know what was going on. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

  “I have no idea,” he said. “I haven’t seen her, although I’d like the chance to speak with her. It seems she left early this morning. Just about the time her mother was murdered.”

  22

  “What is it?” Luke asked when Ava had finished her conversation.

  She hit the End button and glanced up at him. “Kalyna’s mother is dead. Someone killed her early this morning.”

  He grew even more alert. “You’re kidding me.”

  “No. Her husband found her on the kitchen floor when he got up at nine. There were signs of a struggle. Her money was gone. So was her we
dding ring.”

  “Was it Kalyna?”

  Ava slipped the phone into her pocket. “They don’t know yet, but…she’s a suspect. She was there last night.”

  “She’s not there now?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, God.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s psycho, completely nuts.”

  “You may be right.”

  “Who called to tell you?”

  Two diners kept looking at her, so she pulled Luke farther into the alcove by the restrooms. “A detective from the Mesa police. Kalyna’s sister, Tati, told him I was working with Kalyna. He thought she might’ve tried to contact me. That I might be able to tell him where she is.”

  “The air force sure as hell can’t tell him.”

  “No.”

  “What does he think happened?”

  “He doesn’t know yet. He said Mr. Harter insists it had to be Kalyna. Tati claims it could be someone named Mark Cannaby.”

  “Who’s Mark Cannaby?”

  “From what I was told, he used to work for the Harters. He hasn’t for several years, but he only lives three miles away and works just down the street at the cemetery.”

  “The detective told you all this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t they usually pretty tight-lipped?”

  “Professional courtesy. He’s familiar with TLS. He once met Skye at a forensics seminar in Scottsdale.”

  “Why would Tatiana blame this Mark Cannaby? Did she see him skulking around the house or yard or—”

  “She didn’t see him. She had no clue there was anything wrong until her dad cried out. But there’s plenty of animosity between Cannaby and the Harters and has been ever since he was let go. When Kalyna was sixteen, they suspected he was messing around with her, so they started watching him very closely.”

  “And caught the two of them in the act.”

  Ava lowered her voice. “No, they caught him in the act. But he wasn’t with Kalyna. He was having sex with one of the corpses.”

  Luke blanched. “That’s too sick to even contemplate. I hope they turned him in.”

  “No, they were afraid the negative publicity would adversely affect their business, so they simply fired him and agreed to say nothing so long as he kept his distance.”

  “But it didn’t end there.”

  “Detective Morgan said that, according to Mr. Harter, things settled down for a while. Cannaby was gone, out of sight. But then he got a job at the cemetery, so the Harters would bump into him now and then. When he started dating a girl from Mrs. Harter’s church, it was too much. She couldn’t stand to see him every Sunday, acting as innocent and normal as everyone else. So she went to the girl privately and warned her.”

  “I don’t blame her, but…” Luke gave a low whistle. “I can’t imagine that went over very well.”

  “No. He called up, ranting and raving, saying she was a bitch who deserved to die. And then he threatened her—told her to keep her mouth shut or he’d make her pay for trying to ruin his life.”

  “When was this?”

  “Sounds as if it was just a few weeks ago.”

  Luke shook his head. “Wow. Does Cannaby have an alibi?”

  “I don’t know. Morgan hasn’t talked to him yet.”

  He stroked his chin, scraping the stubble. He hadn’t been able to shave. It wasn’t his usual look, but Ava liked seeing him a little rough around the edges. “If Kalyna goes to jail, I can’t imagine my case will proceed to court,” he said.

  “What happens with your case will depend on whether or not the prosecutor believes there’s enough evidence to proceed. But I’m betting Ogitani would drop it instantly. The military has too much invested in you.”

  “And I’m innocent,” he reminded her with a slightly wounded expression.

  She managed a smile. “That, too.”

  He stared at the floor. “Part of me hopes she goes to jail.”

  This statement surprised Ava. Since Kalyna’s incarceration would very likely make the rape charges disappear, she would’ve expected him to be all for it. “And the other part?”

  “I don’t like the idea of her being in prison while she’s carrying my baby.”

  Ava knew it was silly, but she experienced a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Kalyna having such a permanent and very personal tie to Luke. “It would solve any custody issues.”

  That seemed to offset his concerns. “Good point. What else did the detective tell you?”

  “Nothing. That’s all he knows. Except that he believes Kalyna might be on her way to California. He’ll get in touch with the air force, just in case she shows up for work, and he asked me to give him a call if I hear from her.”

  “They can’t reach her on her cell?”

  “She’s not picking up. But Tatiana spoke to her earlier.”

  “And?”

  “She acted surprised by their mother’s death.”

  “If she just learned that her mother’s been killed, wouldn’t she be on her way back to Arizona—not here?”

  “It didn’t sound like they were expecting her.”

  “Wouldn’t most people turn around, considering the circumstances?”

  “You already know Kalyna isn’t like most people,” Ava said. “She and Norma were estranged. Besides, she’s absent without leave so she has a very good excuse to continue on to the base.”

  “I don’t care if she has a good excuse or not. To my mind, that makes her look even guiltier.”

  “I agree. I’m just telling you how the police see it.”

  Luke leaned one shoulder against the wall. “She said she’ll kill anyone I’m involved with.”

  “You told me you’re not involved with anyone.”

  He tilted up her chin. For a second, she thought he might kiss her. But he didn’t. “She thinks I might be involved with you.”

  And she’d done nothing to destroy that assumption when she’d spoken on his cell phone last night. “No…she’s got to realize that can’t be.”

  “Why not?” He grinned. “I have seen you in your underwear.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He leaned closer. “Does it matter that I want to see you that way again?”

  “Don’t joke about this.”

  “What makes you think I’m joking?”

  Their eyes met, and Ava felt butterflies. “You’re a client,” she said to cover her reaction.

  “That’s not what concerns me.”

  “What does concern you?” she asked.

  Putting his hand on her waist, he guided her back to the table. “The fact that there might be a homicidal maniac out to kill anyone I touch.”

  Tatiana Harter stared at her mother’s bloated body. At least two or three times a week, her father picked up a corpse from the morgue. It was routine, part of the business. Today, however, that process would happen in reverse—a body would be taken from the mortuary to the morgue. And it wouldn’t be a member of someone else’s family. It would be Norma, one of the central figures in Tati’s life. After the autopsy, they’d be able to bring her home—here, where she’d spent the past thirteen years—but only to dress her for burial.

  Her artist’s eye already dictating what she’d use, Tati imagined applying Norma’s makeup as she did every Sunday before church. Maybe she wasn’t the best make-up artist in the area, but she knew what Norma liked. She’d apply a thicker foundation than normal to hide all the bruising. Then she’d go with a pretty pink blush and matching lipstick, and pencil in her eyebrows with a high arch the way Norma preferred. From there she’d create some definition around the eyes using brown shadow and a touch of green at the outside corners. But first she’d dye her hair to hide the gray. Norma hated going gray.

  Tati had done her mother’s makeup for years. But now that Norma was dead, this would be the last time she’d perform this service, and she wasn’t sure how she’d get through it. She’d finally established a relationship with the woman who�
�d adopted her at the age of six, finally gained an appreciation of her strengths and some tolerance for her weaknesses.

  And now Norma was gone. It wasn’t fair. How could Mark, or anyone else, have done this?

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Tati glanced up to see her father watching her closely. As skinny as Norma was fat, he looked more shrunken than usual, the lines on his face etched more deeply than before. Wearing the same black polyester slacks and button-up shirt he’d had on yesterday, as if he’d scooped them off the chair next to his bed, he’d slicked his dark hair into place but somehow still looked disheveled, bewildered, old. Someone else might never have noticed the change. But to Tati he seemed to have aged a decade in a matter of hours.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what to think. This seems…unreal, like a nightmare.” Realizing that he probably felt as lost as she did, and just as robbed, she conjured up a smile. “What about you?”

  “I always thought I’d be the first to go. I never dreamt it would be like this.”

  The deputy coroner had just pulled the van around to the loading area. He threw open the back doors and strode in to get the gurney, and Dewayne followed, obviously planning to help.

  The phone rang. Tati’s eyes shifted to the counter, but she hesitated to answer for fear the police had discovered who’d done this terrible thing, and it wasn’t someone as far removed from her as she hoped.

  When she made no move, Dewayne switched directions, but somehow Tatiana found the energy to intercede. “I’ve got it,” she mumbled, and motioned him back toward the van. “You go with Mom.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay, call me on my cell if it’s important,” he said.

  She nodded as he left. Then she forced her wooden legs to carry her across the room. “Hello?”