The Pajama Affair

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “You mean besides the fact that a murderer has been leaving coded messages in my pajamas?”

  “Yes. Give me a legitimate reason, something believable.”

  Liza smiled and sat primly in the chair across from her friend. She could always count on Marion to cheer her up. “I’m tired, Mar,” she said.

  Marion nodded. “I’m sure you probably haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I actually have been sleeping well, oddly enough. That’s not what I meant. I meant I’m tired of fighting so hard to keep someone who doesn’t want to be kept.”

  Marion sipped her water and studied Liza with a thoughtful look. “You know what your problem is, Liza? Your problem with Dirk, I mean.”

  “Thanks for narrowing it down. No, what is my problem with Dirk?”

  “You never talk to him.”

  “What are you talking about? I talk to him every day.”

  “You ask him about work. You talk about your job. You talk about me and interesting stories you heard on the news. Have you ever told him really personal stuff like how you have different underwear for different moods?”

  Liza grimaced. “Why on earth would I tell him about my underwear categories?”

  “Okay, that was a bad example, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Have you ever told him how much it hurts your feelings that Bryce and your parents are so standoffish? Have you ever told him about the time we had that screaming match in college that lasted all night? Have you ever told him about the time you fell down the stairs in gym class and then had to do ten pushups for being late?”

  “Of course not,” Liza said, feeling keenly uncomfortable reliving all the memories. “Those things are all bad.”

  “Exactly,” Marion said. “You try and paint this picture of yourself as some perfect girl who has no needs or hurts of your own.”

  “I have to,” Liza said. “Dirk is perfect, and he wants a perfect woman.”

  “Dirk is not perfect,” Marion said. “I could list ten of his faults without even thinking about it.”

  Liza scowled. “I would rather you didn’t.”

  Marion rolled her eyes. “That’s the problem, Liza. You don’t want things to be real. You want to keep your house perfect, your body perfect, your life perfect. You want the perfect boyfriend and the perfect relationship. But none of that is real, none of it is deep.”

  Liza sat back and bit her trembling lip, willing herself not to cry. She and Marion had decided long ago to be honest with each other at all costs, but that didn’t mean they had to agree on everything. “So maybe I do want things to be perfect, but there’s nothing wrong with that. And it’s worked for five years. Maybe your policy of being yourself isn’t so great either, Mar. I mean, do you really think it’s fair to the guys you date that they have to be subjected to the chaos of your life?” She swept her hand around the disorderly house.

  Now it was Marion’s turn to pout. “Low blow, Liza.”

  They sat in uncomfortable silence until Liza’s phone rang again. By the ringtone, she knew it was Dirk. “I’m going to take this,” she said. She set her water glass on the table, stepped out of the house, and opened the phone.

  “Hey, Babe,” Dirk said.

  In answer, Liza burst into tears.

  Chapter 18

  “Liza? Liza, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you? What’s going on?”

  Dirk’s questions grew more frantic as Liza struggled to stop crying long enough to talk. Her first inclination was to get herself under control and pretend nothing had ever happened, but then she remembered what Marion had said. Why should she hide the fact that she was upset from him?

  “I’m having a bad day,” she said when she could finally talk.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it in surprise. “Aren’t you still at work?”

  “I am, but if you need me, I’ll come. I can be there in half an hour.”

  “I’m at Marion’s,” Liza said.

  “Oh.”

  Was it possible she heard disappointment in his tone? “But I can go home. I’d like to go home; I want to see you.”

  “I want that, too,” Dirk said. He sounded like he was smiling, and Liza smiled in return.

  They disconnected and Liza went back inside. “Marion, I’m leaving,” she announced.

  “Because we argued?” Marion asked incredulously. Arguments were nothing new between them.

  “No because Dirk is coming over. We’re going to talk.” She bit her lip. “I think maybe you’re right and we need to have a deep discussion about some things.”

  Marion smiled. “Finally. You’re going to give me all the details, right?”

  “Some,” Liza said. When Marion looked disappointed, she continued, “You don’t tell me everything about Puck, do you?”

  “Yes,” Marion said simply. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend.”

  Liza shrugged. “I don’t know. Some things feel like they should stay private between a couple.”

  “Like what?” Marion asked curiously.

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” Liza said. “I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for the offer of the room.” Now that she was feeling more emotionally intact, she shuddered at how close she had come to sleeping at Marion’s house. Never again, she promised herself.

  Liza drove home in a daze. She had always considered herself to be a rational person who didn’t put much stock in emotion, but lately she had been running on nothing but emotion, and she was drained. Between the fear, confusion, and frustration of the last few weeks, her reserves were dry. She needed a break. She needed nothing dramatic to happen so she could regroup and think clearly once again.

  But drama seemed to be in the cards for her once again today. She let herself in to her house only to find Link sitting on her couch.

  “What are you doing here?” she yelled, instantly furious.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “Have you been here all day?” The thought of him waiting in her house for the last couple of hours was disconcerting, to say the least.

  “Of course not. You’re bugged, remember? I heard you say you’re coming home to meet your boyfriend. We need to talk before you see him.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” Liza said. She edged toward the bedroom. If she could make it there, she could lock herself inside until he went away.

  “Liza, ignoring me won’t make me go away. I’m staying right next door, remember? I’m investigating this case, and I’m here to protect you. Now why don’t you let me do my job and come sit down so we can talk?” He patted the sofa seat beside him.

  Liza shook her head like an obstinate toddler. “No. You hate Dirk. You’re prejudiced against him.”

  “I have reason to be. I think he’s a cold-blooded assassin, and I think your life is in danger.”

  “He’s not,” Liza said. She wanted to stamp her foot and put her hands over her ears. “He’s a wonderful man, and he loves me.”

  “Has he told you that?” He backed off that line of questioning when she blanched and looked ready to cry. “He ignores you, and you don’t seem to care. That doesn’t sound like love.”

  “He’s very busy,” she said. “And I’m not needy. I have my own life. I don’t need constant reassurance.” Some reassurance would be nice, but this wasn’t the time or place for confessions.

  “He lies to you, and you defend him.”

  “He does not,” she said vehemently. “Dirk doesn’t lie to me; he wouldn’t. He’s a man of integrity.”

  Link studied her without seeing her, as if he was waging battle with himself. Finally, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. “Fine. I didn’t want to do this, but you won’t see reason. You won’t listen to the truth. What did Dirk tell you he was doing on his trip to Cleveland?”

  “Meeting with a supplier,” she said weakly. Her eyes were fastened on
the envelope. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know. “I have to get ready. He’ll be here soon.”

  “I’m not leaving until you see these.” He pulled out a stack of photographs from the folder. “It seems he had some time to socialize while he was away.”

  Liza shook her head. “No. I know what you’re implying, and I don’t believe it. Dirk would never cheat on me.”

  “I suppose some people wouldn’t consider dinner with another woman cheating. Maybe she’s his cousin.” He turned the photos to face Liza. She didn’t want to see them, but she couldn’t look away.

  She blinked, trying to bring moisture to her suddenly burning eyes. She swallowed to try and drown out the buzzing noise in her ears. “That’s not his cousin,” she said hoarsely.

  “You know this woman?” Link asked.

  Liza nodded. “It’s Scarlet.”

  By her tone, he knew she was upset. She held out her hand and he placed the photos gently in it, taking a step closer in case she needed support.

  Liza brought the photos closer with shaking fingers and began to sift through them. There was Scarlet, wearing the red dress that had become her signature, leaning forward, laughing, touching his forearm. And there was Dirk, smiling, looking impossibly handsome and incredibly happy. Five years later and they still looked like the perfect couple and, worse, they still looked very much in love.

  “Do you need to sit down?” Link asked. He was already regretting forcing the pictures on her. Any minute she looked in danger of keeling over from heart failure.

  Slowly she shook her head. She thrust the pictures back at him, pressing them into his chest.

  “You can keep them if you want,” he said.

  “I don’t want,” she whispered. “I think you should go now.”

  “Liza,” he began, but didn’t know how to continue. Sometimes he hated his job. Sometimes he hated being right. He hated it when innocent people like Liza became caught up in something sinister and beyond their control. He told himself he wouldn’t want to see anyone hurt, but the truth was he didn’t want to see her hurt. He wanted to protect her, to care for her.

  “Just go. Please.”

  He nodded. “But I’m right next door if you need me. Just call and I’ll be here. For anything.”

  When she didn’t respond, he lingered another minute until he heard a car in the driveway. Slipping out the back, he quietly closed the door and eased to the house next door. He stood in the living room of the neighbor’s house debating with himself. It was his job to listen in on her conversations, especially the ones with Dirk Xavier, but right now he felt like a voyeur. Something bad was about to happen, something Liza wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, and Link suddenly didn’t want to invade her privacy. But it was his job, and duty was duty.

  Reluctantly he turned on the earpiece and listened in.

  “Liza?”

  The front door slammed and Liza turned to look at it. Dirk came forward a few steps and stopped short when he saw the expression on her face. He had never seen that look before, and he had no idea what it meant.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Where to begin? Liza wondered. She studied his handsome face, wondering if she had ever really known him. Why did she love him so? Was it for the scraps of his personality he had allowed her to see? Or did she love him because of who she wanted him to be? Was she shallower than she thought? Did she love the status of being with a semi-celebrity? Did she somehow feel better about herself for being with someone who was so incredibly handsome and put together?

  “You’re just staring at me, not saying a word,” Dirk said.

  “I want to break up,” Liza said. Her voice sounded far away and off somehow, as if someone else had hijacked her voice and was now speaking through her lips.

  “What?” Dirk said.

  “I want to break up,” Liza repeated, stronger this time.

  “What?” Dirk repeated. His gaze slowly scanned the room, looking for an explanation. “Liza, what are you talking about? What could possibly have happened in the last few hours since you left my office? Are you not the same woman who just sat in my lap and kissed me goodbye?”

  “No, I’m not the same woman,” Liza said.

  “What is going on?” Dirk asked. “I feel like I’m on one of those hidden camera shows and we’re being secretly recorded or something.”

  Whether it was an innocent statement or a subtle reminder that he knew what was going on she had no idea. But either way it worked to jar her back to her senses. Link was listening, and she didn’t want to have this conversation in front of him.

  “I can’t talk about this right now,” Liza said.

  Dirk stared at her, unblinking, and the longer he stared, the angrier he became. “Of course you can’t. You can dump me after five years with no explanation, and I’m not even surprised. This is so typically Liza. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother with you at all and, to be honest, I don’t know why I’ve kept up the charade this long.” With that final parting shot, he turned and let himself out, slamming the door in his wake.

  Liza waited until his car started and then she picked up her keys, walked to her car, and drove back to Marion’s house. Letting herself in the front door, she called in the direction of the kitchen.

  “I’m sleeping here tonight.”

  “Okay,” Marion said. Her tone indicated she had questions, but fortunately she refrained from asking them.

  Liza sidestepped piles of magazines and bills as she picked her way to the guest room. She spent a long time moving clutter, creating a path from the bed to the door, and then she spent a while longer clearing boxes and clothes off the bed. When it was finally clear, she turned a blind eye to the pet hair lining the surface. Instead, she lifted the cover, crawled inside the bed fully clothed, and fell asleep.

  Sometime later she woke in the night. At first she sat up in alarm. Where was she? Had someone entered her bedroom again? But, no, she wasn’t at home. She was at Marion’s. As if to prove her surroundings, she inhaled and sneezed as her pet allergies kicked into overdrive.

  When she sniffed she realized her cheeks were wet. She was crying. She lay down, staring at the ceiling. How had she become the woman who cried in her sleep?

  Her heart was broken, and she was afraid it would never be whole again. He was gone. Dirk, the man she had fought so long to keep, was gone. And she, Liza, had been the one to send him away.

  Had she done the right thing? If the gaping hole in her chest was any indication, then the answer was no.

  “Liza, are you okay?” Marion opened the door and poked her head in without knocking.

  “Did I wake you?” Liza asked.

  “You’ve been crying a long time,” Marion replied.

  “I have? And you heard me?”

  “It was pretty loud. I’ve never heard you cry that loud before.”

  “I’m sorry,” Liza said. Tears were still leaking down her cheeks, but she didn’t feel like she was crying. She felt normal. Normal and sad.

  Marion came forward and perched on the edge of the bed. “So what happens now?”

  “I don’t know,” Liza said truthfully. For so long all of her plans had swirled around Dirk and keeping him in place. Now that he was gone, she felt at loose ends. “Maybe I need a hobby.”

  “I’ve been looking for a new hobby,” Marion said. “We could do something together.”

  Marion was notorious for starting a new hobby, becoming passionately involved in it, and then quickly giving up after about four weeks. “Do you have any ideas?” Liza asked.

  “Horseback riding?” Marion suggested.

  “I’m allergic to horses, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” Marion said absently. “How about skeet shooting?”

  “After finding out someone was murdered because of a message in my pajamas, I don’t really want to touch a gun for a while. Or ever.”

  “Okay,” Marion drawled. “How about skydiving?”

&nbs
p; “Perfect,” Liza said, surprising both of them.

  “I was kidding,” Marion said.

  “I wasn’t. I’m bored. I’m tired of doing the safe thing all the time. I want to do something crazy.”

  “Skydiving definitely fits the bill.” Marion tapped her lips with her index finger. “I know a guy who runs a skydiving school a half hour away. You have to take a couple of classes before you jump.”

  “Sounds good,” Liza said. “Maybe Puck will want to do it with us.”

  Marion shook her head. “He took a vow not to jump out of an airplane until all the POW’s are home from Vietnam.”

  “But why…” Liza started, but broke off when Marion gave her a look. There was really no understanding Puck; it was better not to try. “All right, just you and me, then.” She looked at the clock and saw it was almost her usual wakeup time. “I think I’ll just go home. Do you want me to strip the bed and put these sheets in the washing machine?”

  “What for?” Marion asked. “I don’t usually wash my sheets until they’ve been slept on a few times.”

  Liza bit her tongue, hoping she was the first to sleep on the sheets since their last washing. She tried to remember the last time Marion’s parents came to town, but then decided it was better not to know. “Thanks for letting me stay,” she choked out. She couldn’t wait to get home and shower.

  “No problem,” Marion replied. By her wry tone, she probably guessed what Liza was thinking. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Probably. Eventually.”

  “I’m here,” Marion reminded her.

  “I know,” Liza said. “Thanks.” They hugged. Liza grabbed her keys, intending to slip out of the house without turning any lights on. Then she tripped over a box as soon as she stepped out of the room and groped for the hall light as soon as she found her feet again.

  “Anything broken?” Marion called.

  “Me or your stuff?” Liza returned.

  “Either,” Marion said, coming to stand in the entryway of the bedroom.

  “We’re both fine, I think.” Only years of practice kept Liza from listing the hazards of keeping so much clutter in the hallway. Once upon a time she would have told Marion all the ways her life could be improved by becoming organized. Then she would have offered to help with the cleanup and organization. Now she kept silent and used more caution as she slowly made her way out of the crowded, disorganized mess.