“Thank you,” she said as she handed the holder back to the waiter. The three women continued to chat, and Geneva never noticed how long it took the waiter to come back with her card. The ladies were finishing up their champagne when two police officers made their way up to the table.
“Geneva Monroe? You need to come with us,” one of the officers said, looking directly at her.
“Excuse me?” she said. “What the hell are you talking about? I told those detectives today, they can’t talk to me without my lawyer.”
“Ma’am, you are under arrest for using a stolen credit card and for impersonation. You have the right to remain silent—”
Geneva stood up, laughing. “Oh, no, you got the wrong Mrs. Monroe. It’s the other one y’all want. She killed my husband.”
The officer continued as if he hadn’t heard Geneva, and his partner pulled out his handcuffs and went to restrain her. She yanked her arms out of his reach.
“Get your goddamned hands off a me! You can’t arrest me! I ain’t done nothin’!”
“Ma’am, one way or another, you are coming with us. You can make this easy, or you can make this hard. Your choice.”
Geneva was seething, her hand on her hip. “I ain’t going no-where until I talk to my lawyer.”
The second officer jerked her hands behind her and clamped the handcuffs around her wrists. “Call him when we get to the station. Let’s go.”
The two officers hustled Geneva out of the restaurant. Other diners were staring at the scene, fascinated by the whole spectacle. The remaining two women continued to sit at the table, stunned. Their waiter came over and cleared his throat.
“You still owe us for dinner. The total is four hundred seven dollars and fifteen cents.”
The two women looked at each other, pissed. Finally, Denise picked up her purse, pulled out her own credit card, and handed it to the waiter.
“Damn, Geneva is gonna owe me for this shit. I ain’t got that kinda money.”
Helen gave Denise a glum look. “Maybe she’ll give you a job at her cosmetics company.”
Matter Of Time…
Geneva was fingerprinted and had her mug shot taken. They claimed she’d been using a stolen credit card, and there was an investigation about identity theft. Finally, they let her make a phone call to Harvey, and after three rings, he picked up.
“What the hell took you so long?”
“Who is this?”
She rolled her eyes. “Geneva.”
“Oh…oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. What’s wrong?”
“I just got arrested. She done something. I don’t know what, but she done something.”
“Who?”
Geneva put her head down in her hands. She was starting to question if she’d chosen the right man to represent her.
“Kelly, fool. Kelly! Get down here and get me out.”
“Alright, alright. Fortunately, I’m still at the office, so it shouldn’t take me long. I’ll see you soon.”
Geneva slammed down the phone, now completely irritated. A female officer came over and grabbed her arm.
“Alright, let’s go.”
The officer walked Geneva back to her cell, and she cringed when the gate thundered shut. She sat down on the cold metal bench and stared unseeing at the wall. The longer she sat there, the longer she seethed about Kelly and what she’d done—whatever it was. There was no question she was behind this. Geneva sniffed. Patience. That girl would get hers—she’d see to that.
She stayed glued to the bench, revenge fantasies playing in her head in rich, colorful detail. Over an hour later, she heard someone call out her name. She looked up and groaned.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the illustrious Mrs. Monroe,” Bill Hanson said in a singsong voice. He stopped directly in front of Geneva and smiled. “Good evening,” he said as he crooked his arm through one of the bars. “What is this I hear about identity theft?” Hanson chuckled. “Pretty funny, considering.”
“How the hell you know I was here?”
He stepped back and gave Geneva an amused look. “Mrs. Monroe. Come now. You think we haven’t been watching you?”
Geneva narrowed her eyes at the young cop. “Don’t fucking talk to me. My lawyer will be here soon, and until then, I plead the fifth.”
He let out a low whistle and chuckled. “There we go with that pleading the fifth stuff again. And my, aren’t we testy this evening. I guess I would be too, if my husband, who no one knew I was married to, was murdered by his second wife, and then—” Hanson started to laugh, “—she managed to have me arrested for identity theft! I gotta hand it to Kelly Ross. She’s pretty damn smart.”
Geneva didn’t say anything for a moment, and then started to laugh herself. “I guess so, since you ain’t caught her yet.”
Hanson gave a non-committal wave of his hand. “Eh, that’s just a matter of time. She can’t run forever, and we’ll get her.”
He started to walk the length of the tiny hallway, the heels of his shoes echoing throughout the tiny concrete box. “Really, I’m much more interested in you, Geneva—may I call you Geneva? How long were you and Mark Monroe married?”
Geneva pursed her lips together and looked down at the gray floor.
“Was the plan for you and him to take Kelly for a ride? Is that why he married you?”
More silence.
“You and Mark Monroe had sex the day he died…in the bed he shared with Kelly. That’s how she found out. Did you two plan it that way?”
Geneva continued her muteness
“How did you meet? How did you choose Kelly?” Hanson banged on the bars with the heel of his hand. “Mrs. Monroe, I can’t hear you!”
Hanson stopped his stalking of the small hallway and curled his fingers around the bars separating him and Geneva.
“Why’d he marry you? Why’d he marry her?”
“He married me because he loved me. He was just using her.”
“Hmmm…interesting. Let’s try this again. What was going on with you two?”
“We were in love, and so we got married. It ain’t that complicated.”
He grinned. “How does it feel Geneva, huh? How does it feel to know that if it weren’t for you, Mark would still be alive today? If you could have managed to control yourself and not screw Mark Monroe in his and Kelly Ross’ bed, she might not have picked up that knife and stabbed him to death, would she?”
Geneva flew up off the bench and ran over to the bars until her face was just inches from his.
“Don’t talk like that. It wasn’t my fault that bitch killed my man—I didn’t put that knife in her hand.”
“You were really jealous of her, weren’t you? She’s beautiful—no, let me say this the right way—hot…loaded, and she got to go around as his trophy wife. You hated that, didn’t you? Did he taunt you with that? Maybe it turned you on that he did that. Was that part of the game you two were playing? Did you push Mark to do you in their bed because you wanted her to find out?”
“No. No! I loved him, I loved him more than anything in the world. We loved each other!” She was sweating now, furious at what he was saying.
Hanson leaned just a little bit closer until he was inches from Geneva’s face.
“And what about your son, Geneva? How does he fit into all of this?”
She sucked in her breath. “You leave him out of this,” she said through clenched teeth.
“What is he, nine, ten? Does he know about this game you and his father were playing? How do you explain all this to him?”
She reached out to grab him, but he was too quick for her. He bobbed away from her and leaned back against the wall opposite the cell, laughing.
“Don’t worry, Geneva. I’m going to figure out what was going on here, because let me tell you…one and one ain’t addin’ up to two here.”
At that moment, Harvey Jackson came striding in.
“Excuse me, Detective, but I would advise you agains
t harassing my client.”
Hanson held up his hands as if to indicate he was through. “She’s all yours, man.” He looked back at Geneva and smiled. “Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Monroe. I’ll be in touch.”
Hanson walked out and started to whistle, his footsteps clicking against the concrete floor.
Geneva’s breathing was heavy and loud as she tried to regain her composure.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Monroe?” Harvey asked.
She clutched the bars. “You getting me out of here or what?”
“I’ve posted bail, and they’re processing it. What is going on? Identity theft? How did that happen?”
Geneva shook her head, glaring as she thought once again of her nemesis. “I don’t know what that bitch did, but she is going to be sorry she messed with me.”
Plans Change…
Harvey felt a chill run through him as he saw something cold and empty slither across Geneva’s eyes.
It scared him.
He backed away a little and cleared his throat. “Umm…well, they should be down shortly to let you go.” Harvey fumbled with his briefcase, mentally urging the officer to hurry up and come down so he could get the hell out of here.
As if a stage director heard his pleas, a female officer materialized, jangling keys that indicated Geneva was free to go. Slowly, she walked out of the cell, followed by a reluctant Harvey. They had to wait while her belongings were processed and released to her, but they both stayed mute the whole time.
As soon as Harvey opened the door, he was blinded by the lights of TV cameras and an explosion of flashbulbs. He shielded Geneva’s face with his briefcase, but it didn’t stop a cadre of microphones from being shoved in their faces.
“Geneva, is it true you were arrested for trying to steal Kelly Ross’ identity?”
“Geneva, are you going ahead with your lawsuit?”
“What if Kelly Ross is found not guilty of murdering her husband? Will you proceed with your lawsuit?”
Harvey grabbed Geneva’s arm in an attempt to push her through the mob of reporters that had gathered outside the Olympia Fields police station. The throng inched across the parking lot towards Harvey’s car like a slow-moving blob.
“My client has no comment!” he yelled as he tried to deactivate the alarm on his Cadillac.
“Geneva, how did you meet Mark Monroe?”
“Was your marriage to Mark Monroe valid?”
“Whose credit card did you steal?”
Harvey managed to get Geneva inside the car and went around to the driver’s side. They continued to machine-gun questions at them as they glommed onto the car. He leaned on his horn in an attempt to make the rats scatter, but it didn’t deter them. It was only when he gunned the engine that the crowd dissipated and Harvey was able to maneuver out of the parking lot. He let out a huge breath.
“Man!” he said as he gripped the steering wheel. “What the hell was that? You okay?”
Geneva didn’t say anything, her heavy breathing the only sounds she made.
“This ain’t the way I planned this,” she finally whispered to herself.
Harvey glanced over at her, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Geneva, what are you talking about?”
She just clenched her fist, ramming it into her thigh, over and over. Harvey licked his lips, unease filling him up like air into a tire. He pressed a bit harder on the accelerator, hoping the light traffic would hold up until he dropped her off. He was relieved to see her gold Lexus still parked at the restaurant where she’d been arrested. She continued to sit next to him, staring out the front window, oblivious they had come to a stop. He cleared his throat.
“Geneva?”
“What?”
“We’ve got a lot to talk about. Be at my office tomorrow at nine. Geneva?”
She turned to look at him and blinked, almost as if she’d forgotten he was sitting next to her. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
She got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. He waited until she got into her own car and peeled out of the parking lot. Harvey gulped, overcome once more by that uneasy feeling, and was glad to drive off into the night, home to Hyde Park.
Score One…
She had remembered there was a Wal-Mart in Niles and finished what she had started at Sears earlier that day, only now with much more purpose. She bought a few pairs of pants, some tops, and a package of underwear. She also picked up a box of hair dye, some cheap makeup, and a pair of low strength reading glasses. She checked into a motel by the hour in Rosemont and locked herself in the room. She looked at herself in the mirror for a few moments before she got to work.
Her hair fell just past her shoulders and was naturally light brown, though she had been getting faint blonde highlights for the past couple of years. These days, she modified her look slightly, although when she was modeling, she’d changed her look with the seasons. Sometimes, the change was so radical that people who saw her every day didn’t recognize her. Magazines loved that she kept her look fresh, which was one of the reasons she got such good bookings.
“Let’s see if we can work the magic again, Kel,” she murmured as she pulled the scissors she’d purchased out of her plastic shopping bag.
She drew her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band. She took the scissors and, with some effort, managed to sever the ponytail from her head. Her hair was just below her ears now, in sort of a disheveled pageboy. She dropped the ponytail into the plastic shopping bag, planning to dispose of it in the morning before she left. She ripped open the box of jet-black hair dye and carefully mixed the activator with the black gel color. She squirted the liquid out of the plastic bottle and onto her head. Once her entire head was covered, she massaged the color into her hair before snapping a plastic shower cap over her head.
She turned on the hot water in the shower and eagerly stepped out of the outfit she’d been wearing for what seemed like years. She stuffed it in the same bag as her ponytail and jumped into the shower, relishing the warmth of the steaming spray as it washed away a day’s worth of grime, revelations, and fear; in a way, it felt like she was shedding a part of herself. She washed the dye out of her hair and then scrubbed her body clean.
Kelly got out of the shower and dried off, carefully wrapping a towel around her new hair color. She slathered herself with lotion and then put on a new pair of underwear, along with the sweatpants and t-shirt she’d just bought. She ran her fingers through her hair, frowning. Her hair hadn’t been this short since the early nineties. Oh, hell…it would grow back.
She pulled out the curling iron she’d bought and plugged it into the wall. She then switched on the motel blow dryer and blew her hair dry. When she was done, her hair jutted away from her face like she’d stuck her finger in the electric socket. Kelly smoothed down her distressed strands until they stuck out sideways. She touched her index finger to the barrel of the curling iron to see if it had heated up yet. Not quite. While she waited, she rummaged around in another shopping bag and found the glasses she’d purchased. She slipped them on and blinked several times to let her eyes adjust. She cocked her head to the side, looking at this new woman staring back at her. She took the glasses off and placed them on the counter.
She rubbed a little bit of pink lotion into her palm and worked it into her hair. Then using her fingers to section off pieces of hair, Kelly worked to curl her newly shorn ‘do. When she was done, her hair looked a little bit better. She raked her fingers through it to try and give it a little bit more style. She picked up the glasses and put them back on.
“Perfect,” she murmured.
She’d take care of the make-up tomorrow, which would complete the transformation. Kelly removed the glasses and set them down on the bathroom counter. She looked at the clock next to the bed. It was nine forty-five. She needed to watch the news to see if there were any updates she should know about. She flipped on the TV and channel-surfed while she waited for the ten o’clock news.
>
Finally, the opening for the Channel Seven news started, and she took a sharp inhale as she waited for any news about her.
She was the lead story.
“Another bizarre turn in the case of murdered attorney, Mark Monroe. Police continue to search for his wife, Kelly Ross, who is the prime suspect in the case. In a strange twist, a woman claiming to be Mark Monroe’s wife was arrested tonight for identity theft. Mel Hayes has been following this story and is live in Olympia Fields with the latest. Mel?”
“Andrea, this story has more twists and turns than a soap opera. Earlier this morning, a woman calling herself Geneva Monroe, a resident of Olympia Fields, held a press conference announcing that she’d been married to Mark Monroe for the past ten years and that she planned to sue Kelly Ross for the wrongful death of Mark Monroe. And earlier this evening, police arrested Geneva Monroe for identity theft and attempting to use a stolen credit card.”
Kelly leaned close to the TV, fascinated. A small smile began to form on her lips.
The story shifted to a shot of Geneva being led out of the police station by her attorney. The voiceover described how she’d been dining at a local restaurant with friends, but when the waiter ran the credit card, it came up as reported stolen earlier that day by Mrs. Monroe. Police were working under the assumption that Kelly Ross cancelled the credit card. Geneva was trying to cover up her face, and her attorney was trying to get her into his car. Just then, Kelly’s picture flashed on the screen.
“Police believe Kelly Ross killed her husband after finding out about his marriage. According to police, she was spotted Saturday at the Sunshine Inn in River North, and there are also reports that she picked up a three thousand dollar wire transfer from a currency exchange on Washington and was actually chased by police onto a northbound Red Line train this afternoon in the Loop. Later, a cab driver gave her a ride to a garage on Jackson, but she got away before he could stop her. Police say although she has eluded them thus far, it won’t be long before they catch up with her.”
Sweet Little Lies Page 13
