by Lis Wiehl
As they took the trolley to Nordstrom, Elizabeth said, “So, like I said, I’ve been watching Channel Four news lately.”
Cassidy wanted to ask what she had thought of her but knew it would come across as needy. So she settled for humor. “You probably just doubled our number of viewers in the twenty-five to thirty-four age bracket.”
Elizabeth grinned, a flash of white teeth. “I did notice the commercials were all for old people’s products.”
“Yeah, it’s all bladder control drugs and electric scooters.” The joke—that wasn’t quite a joke—around Channel Four was that soon the news wouldn’t have any viewers because they all would have died. “If it weren’t for seniors and their maladies, we probably wouldn’t have any sponsors.” Cassidy sighed. “It’s all changing so fast. I got into this business to be a reporter. Now they want me to blog, answer viewers’ e-mails, Twitter, and do person-on-the-street interviews when half the time the average person doesn’t actually know anything. And I have to stand there holding the mike and nodding like they’re some genius. It’s starting to feel kind of desperate.”
“I’ll tell you what one of the problems was. You were the only good one on the broadcast.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I mean, take that Brad Buffet.”
“What do you mean?” Cassidy straightened up, a grin already tugging at the corners of her lips.
Elizabeth snorted. “He’s so stiff. It’s like they reanimated him and stuck him on camera. But when I listen to you, I feel like you’re talking right to me.”
“Thank you. Thank you,” Cassidy repeated, as the words settled in and a glow spread through her.
TV people were always thinking about themselves. It was a self-obsessed business. But the problem was that she hardly ever got any unbiased feedback.
“That’s something I really work on. See, when you’re on TV or the radio, you don’t want people to be able to tell you’re reading. So some people, like Brad, make an arbitrary decision to stress every third word or maybe every noun or whatever. Listening to him just drives me crazy. Because he just ends up talking like this. Singsong.” Cassidy warmed to her topic. “You don’t want to rip and read your copy. Instead, you go through it beforehand and find the words that really count.”
Elizabeth turned in her seat to face Cassidy. “What do you mean?”
“When you get home tonight, go into your living room and switch on the TV. Then go into the kitchen and start dinner. You won’t be able to hear every word, but you should be able to hear the important words. Maybe you’ll hear accident and Northwest Portland and two killed, and that will be enough to pique your interest because you live in Northwest Portland, so you’ll go back into the living room to see what happened. But if you were listening to Brad, he might accent completely random words—and no one will ever leave their kitchen for that.”
“So why aren’t you the anchor instead of Brad or that other girl, the one they said just came to Portland from—Delaware?”
Cassidy suppressed a wince. “Connecticut. Her name’s Alissa Fontaine. And even though they’ve made a big deal about bringing her in, they still give Brad all the important stories. If it’s a political story or a natural disaster, they have a guy cover it. Women get the fluffy stuff. I had to fight for the crime beat. Sometimes I think TV is still a man’s business. Just because you’re young and pretty doesn’t mean you’re not a serious journalist.”
“But since you’re the crime reporter,” Elizabeth said, “that must mean they believe in you.”
“I made that beat. It wasn’t there before I came along.” Cassidy thought of Jenna. “And I still have to fight for it.”
“You mean like with that intern you told me about?” Elizabeth asked. “Because she might try to get to a story before you?”
Cassidy felt listened to. “Exactly. Instead of making her own beat, it’s like Jenna wants to take over from me.”
“Like that’s going to happen.” Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re twice the reporter she could ever hope to be.”
The train pulled up at the stop closest to Nordstrom. As soon as they walked through the glass doors, Elizabeth lit up, obviously in her element. She was so self-confident and strong.
Cassidy felt a pang of envy. Why was she always filled with self doubt, hanging back, not committed enough? Why didn’t she go for it?
Elizabeth chose a half dozen outfits—most of them not even on sale—and encouraged Cassidy to pick up this and that. She obviously thought Cassidy made a lot more than she really did.
TV only looked glamorous. It was all fake. Up close, the studio carpet was stained, and the decal that showed the city skyline was peeling on the bottom corners. The chairs didn’t even have backs, so that if someone was off camera, the viewers didn’t see an empty chair.
But that fake glamour attracted so many people who were willing to work for crummy wages. Even, as in Jenna’s case, for free.
Cassidy picked up a few things, but Elizabeth’s arms were soon full. A saleslady hurried up to relieve her of her burden. “Do you want to share a dressing room?”
Cassidy most certainly did not. Elizabeth looked stunning in her clothes. How much better would she look out of them?
But before she could say anything, Elizabeth smiled and said, “That’s a great idea!”
As they tried things on, Cassidy used all her tricks to keep most of herself covered, while Elizabeth spent a good deal of her time wearing only a pair of panties.
Shoot, Cassidy thought sourly as she surreptitiously eyed Elizabeth’s mile-long legs, if I looked that good, I would charge admission.
And make a million bucks.
Feeling short and stubby, Cassidy tried on the “vintage matchstick cords” that the saleslady had suggested and Elizabeth enthusiastically seconded. With both of them watching, Cassidy had been forced to pick a size smaller than the one she normally wore. The pants were so narrow it was hard to get her feet through them, let alone her thighs. Finally, she got them pulled up and—ugh—buttoned. With her stomach sucked in, she took a few experimental steps around the dressing room.
Wiff, wiff, wiff.
At the sound, Elizabeth stopped zipping up her dress and turned her head. With horror Cassidy realized the sound came from her thighs rubbing together. She sat down on the narrow bench and began to extricate herself from them, hiding her struggle whenever Elizabeth looked her way.
By contrast, even things that looked terrible on the hanger looked great on Elizabeth. A short silver silk dress with a cascade of ruffles at the neckline showed off her long, slender legs. A delicate lavender cashmere cardigan exposed her elegant collarbone. A sea-foam zippered jacket from Nike emphasized her narrow waist. And this being Portland, it would fit in at the gym as well as at any Pearl District restaurant.
The saleslady outdid herself, going to other floors and other departments and then knocking softly on the dressing room door to make yet another offering to Elizabeth. A brown skinny suede belt. A pink crystal necklace that tied with ribbons. A pair of gray high-heeled fringed moccasins that seemed ridiculous when the saleslady held them out, and which suddenly looked cutting-edge glamorous once they were on Elizabeth’s slender feet.
Cassidy ended up with just a cardigan, twin to Elizabeth’s, only in a shade described as heather hydrangea. One hundred fifty-eight dollars she knew she shouldn’t be spending, but she couldn’t just go to the counter empty-handed. She would look cheap.
Elizabeth had the saleslady ring up everything she had tried on. For a total of $1059.78.
She opened her purse and began to rummage through it, leisurely at first, then with more agitation. “Oh no, I must have left my wallet at home.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to come back. Although I don’t know when I’ll have time again. My schedule is packed.”
“The sale ends tomorrow,” the clerk put in.
Cassidy found herself taking out her Nordstrom card. “I’ll get it.”
The saleswoman nodded and reached for the
card just as Elizabeth put her hand over it.
“You most certainly will not. That’s too much.”
A nagging voice inside Cassidy agreed, but instead she said, “Don’t worry. Besides, I’ll be getting your double points. Anyway, I know you’re good for it. Don’t forget I see you pretty much every weekday.”
CHAPTER 28
Ruth’s Chris Steak House
Elizabeth felt all eyes on her as she followed the waiter through Ruth’s Chris Steak House. She wore the silver silk dress, gray spike-heeled moccasins, and pink crystal necklace that tied with ribbons. The cashmere cardigan was loose around her shoulders. The admiring (from the men) or jealous (from the women) looks just confirmed what she had seen in her mirror earlier when she was getting ready. And she hadn’t paid a dime for any of it! Cassidy had even been eager to offer to pay.
Elizabeth knew that Cassidy would eventually start hinting about getting her money back. And then she might switch to demands. But that was theoretical and in the future. And Elizabeth was all about right now. She had seen an opportunity and taken it.
There were three types of people in the world, Elizabeth believed. Some, like Cassidy, were naïve and full of ridiculous scruples that held them back from ever enjoying life. Others, like that Allison and Nicole, were phonies who pretended to care about others. And some—only a few—were like her. Strong enough to take what they could. And smart enough not to get caught.
Smart enough to play The Game.
And Ian? Ian fell into his own special category. He looked good, and they looked good together. He had money and power and influence.
He also wasn’t stupid. He had caught her in a few lies, luckily only minor ones. She had gotten out of them by lying some more, lies designed to cajole and flatter.
To Elizabeth, lying came as easy as inhaling and exhaling. Just as she didn’t need to think about breathing, didn’t need to consciously slow her breathing down when she went to sleep or speed it up during boot camp class, the lies came out of her mouth as she needed them.
There was often a lot of truth in Elizabeth’s lies, because those were the best kind. Once people heard something they knew to be true, they tended to believe the rest. Occasionally, she even found herself saying something bad about herself. Sometimes it was true, or sort of true. Sometimes the very warp and woof of it was spun from lies. But the listener thought that if Elizabeth “admitted” to something bad, she must be telling the truth about the rest.
As they walked through the restaurant, Ian was a half step behind her, his hand on the small of her back. By the way heads turned to follow them, she knew they made the perfect couple. Even when Elizabeth wore heels, Ian had two inches on her. Tonight he was dressed in a charcoal two-button suit and an ivory shirt, open at the throat. With his dark hair going silver at the temples and a tan face that set off his pale blue eyes, he had the kind of looks that made women look twice.
And now he was all hers. Or he would be, as soon as Joey took care of Ian’s moneygrubbing ex.
Elizabeth had called Joey while the girl’s body was still in the trunk.
“Hello?”
Joey sounded nervous, Elizabeth had thought. Well, he was about to get a lot more nervous.
“I took care of your stupid girl.” She was driving on a narrow road somewhere next to the Columbia River. Somewhere out in the boonies. “The one you told about me.” She couldn’t believe that she had gone out of her way to make Joey some of her famous pasta salad. Tried to butter him up.
“What?” Joey’s voice cracked.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know about it.”
In her ear, silence. She turned onto an even less used road.
Finally Joey said, “What did you do to her?”
A laugh spurted from Elizabeth’s mouth. “What do you think? She’s dead.”
“But Jenna was only a kid!”
“You’re the one who brought her into this. Not me. Does anyone else know?”
“No! No! I swear it! I just wanted a little insurance.” He hesitated. “I just don’t know if I can kill anyone.”
“Don’t give me that. Remember your whole family?”
“You know that was an accident. I never meant for it to happen. But this—this is looking someone in the face and pulling the trigger. And what if her kid is there? I just don’t know if I can do it.”
“But I can.” The car jounced over the road, which by this point was nothing but potholes and gravel. As soon as she had taken care of the body, Elizabeth was going to have to go to the car wash, clean the car inside and out. It was one hassle after another. And she would have to hurry if she wanted to be back in time to meet Cassidy for their shopping trip to Nordstrom. “And you know what? If you don’t take care of this problem, then I will.”
“You’ll shoot her?” Joey’s voice was filled with something like relief.
“No, dummy. I’ll shoot you. So you had better take care of business.” Elizabeth would gladly kill Sara herself, and take pleasure in doing it, but only an amateur would think that the police wouldn’t figure that out in a minute. But no one would tie Elizabeth to Joey. On paper, the girl who had gone to school with him a decade and a half ago didn’t even exist.
“Okay, okay.” Joey’s voice rose in panic. “I will. I promise.”
By this time, Elizabeth was next to the river, and there was no one in sight. She pulled over, getting as close as she could. After killing Jenna, she had stopped at A-Boy hardware and bought some cement blocks and rope.
Now she leaned into the car and trussed the body, in its bedspread wrapper, into a neat package, tying the ropes around the body’s feet and shoulders. Then she carried the blocks one at a time to the edge of the riverbank. She had to haul and drag on the ropes to pull the body to the lip of the trunk. She let it tumble to the ground, and then, muttering curses under her breath, dragged it to the edge of the steep bank. After tying the blocks to the ropes—now a little looser from being tugged and pulled on—she rolled and shoved the whole thing until it fell into the river with a splash. Sure, the girl would probably be found sometime. But the only person who could tie Elizabeth to Jenna was Joey.
And she would take care of Joey soon. As soon as he did what she was paying him to do.
The rest of the day had gone more or less as planned. Elizabeth acquired a new wardrobe without paying a cent. And she sowed enough hints in Cassidy’s fertile imagination that the silly twit was sure to begin doubting her friends. It had been so fun to mess with her head.
And after she parted ways with Cassidy, she had found a pay phone a few blocks away and looked up Channel Four’s number.
“This is Jenna?” Elizabeth told the woman who answered, trying to imitate the girl’s annoying way of making even a statement sound like a question. “I’m really sick? Some kind of flu? Can you tell them I won’t be in this week?”
And when the receptionist transferred her, Elizabeth simply hung up.
Now the waiter stopped in front of a table. Pink rose petals were scattered over the white cloth.
“What’s this?” Elizabeth said as the waiter pulled out her chair.
“I told them I was taking a special girl out to dinner.” Ian smiled as he sat down opposite her and settled his napkin onto his lap. “So I asked if they could make the table special too.”
Elizabeth leaned forward and squeezed his hand. Could he be thinking of asking her to marry him? That was part of her plan, even though they had only been dating for two months. But Ian loved it when Elizabeth was impulsive. Maybe he was just trying to match her spontaneity.
The menu was eye-poppingly expensive. Everything was à la carte, meaning that to assemble a meal you had to order six or seven individual items. Elizabeth let Ian do the ordering for her—he loved to pamper her, and she loved to be pampered—but as the crab-stuffed mushroom caps were followed by lobster bisque, she wondered where she would put everything.
While they were waiting for their steaks, he put
his hand over hers. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
She tilted her head to the most flattering angle and gave him a smile she had practiced a dozen times in the mirror until she got it just right. “Yes?” He does want to get married, she thought with mounting excitement.
“Sara and Noah are going to be moving in with me. Temporarily.”
Elizabeth pulled her hand back. “What?” Giving him a look she had most definitely not practiced in the mirror.
Just then the waiter arrived. “Now be careful, these are about 500 degrees,” he said, setting down the heavy white plates.
The steaks sizzled and sang. Each was topped with a large pat of butter, which melted and ran down the sides, hissing when it hit the plates. The baked potato was so big it commanded its own dinner plate. Smothered in sour cream, butter, and bacon crumbles, it was the biggest potato Elizabeth had ever seen. But she wasn’t in the mood to be distracted.
“I told you about our new house burning down,” Ian said. “It’s a total loss. Sara and Noah have been staying at a hotel, but it looks like it’s going to take a long time to rebuild. She called to tell me she needed more money so she could pay for a place to stay while the house is being rebuilt. There’s insurance money, of course, but the company is dragging its heels because it looks like it was arson. I certainly don’t want to pay her any more. And then there’s Noah. I never see him enough as it is. There’s really only one solution.”
“Um-hum.” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, forgetting for a moment to keep her mask firmly in place.
“They’re moving back in tomorrow afternoon. Temporarily. They’re only going to live with me until the house is finished. I know it might make things a little awkward for us, but I need to make this as easy as possible on Noah.”
Right. Like the kid who lived a cushy life at Ian’s expense couldn’t stand to be camped out in a hotel with maid service. Elizabeth had looked it up. The hotel Sara and her brat were staying at cost easily three times as much as the dump where she had met Joey. This would not do. This would not do at all!
