The Ex's Confession

by L. C. Davenport

  She was still laughing to herself when she sat in the library an hour later. She didn’t have to be in the children’s section for another twenty minutes, so she sat at a table and tried to figure out what kinds of activities to do at the next story time. She stuck her hand into her bag in search of the banana she’d thrown in there that morning, and felt her phone vibrate. When she pulled it out, she had a text from Locke, sent just a few minutes before.

  Hey, Rebecca. Everything’s fine here. How was your date? Cassie told us you were seeing the infamous Aaron again. Hope he didn’t pop another tire for you. Write back when you want a break from the real world.

  Rebecca smiled. She hadn’t spoken with Locke since before she had seen Aaron.

  The date was fine, if you can discount the fact that he follows the White Sox. I’m starting to doubt my judgment. She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. How’s Elliot? I heard he was on hiatus for a few weeks.

  Locke’s response came back almost immediately. He’s at the house on the island. I think he wanted to give Nicole some space.

  Rebecca closed her eyes. Did she really want to know? Are they still dating?

  Do you care?

  Not really, Rebecca typed fiercely, ashamed of herself for asking. How’s she doing, by the way?

  You’re lying, but she’s great. The doctor says she should be able to go back to Chicago by the end of next week or maybe the beginning of the following.

  That was when Elliot was scheduled to resume his columns. I’m glad. Give everyone my love. I’ve got to get back to work.

  It took until a half an hour later before she realized that she still didn’t know if Elliot was dating Nicole or why he wasn’t writing his columns.

  ***

  Things were quiet without Cassie around, and by Thursday evening Rebecca had to admit to herself that she was bored. Her hand was halfway to her phone when it rang.

  “Rebecca, what are you doing tonight?”

  She smiled at the sound of Jen’s voice. Scott had come home from the hospital a few days before, and Jen hadn’t been back to work yet. “Nothing,” she admitted. “Do you already need an excuse to get out of the house?”

  Jen laughed. “No, things have been hectic enough around here lately. The detective assigned to Scott’s case is over, and he was wondering if he could ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure,” Rebecca said slowly. “I don’t think I’ll be any help, though.”

  “That’s what I told him, but he wants to talk to you anyway. How soon can you be here?”

  The drive to Jen’s apartment only took a few minutes and Jen opened the door before Rebecca had a chance to knock. “Thanks for coming so quickly,” Jen said before hugging her friend.

  Rebecca smiled at her and walked into the family room. Scott was resting on the couch, his arm supported by a pile of pillows, and sitting across from him was a very official-looking man who stood when they entered.

  “I’m Detective John Patterson,” he said, shaking Rebecca’s hand. “Thank you for coming. I believe Ms. Tennant told you I had some questions.”

  Jen rolled her eyes at his formality but kept quiet and sat on the floor between Scott’s knees. He ran his free hand through her hair.

  Rebecca hovered in the doorway, not sure what to do. Jen cocked her head at the love seat and Rebecca sat next to the detective, looking at him uncertainly.

  “I understand Mr. Tennant was working on some personal business for your family at the time of the attack,” he started, looking at a pad of paper covered in notes. “Why did you ask him to become involved?”

  Rebecca’s voice was steady as she answered. “My father recently sold his house because there was no money left to maintain it,” she explained. It wasn’t as painful to recount William’s profligacy with the family’s money as she expected. “It seemed strange to me that he and my sister could go through that much money so quickly, and I asked Scott to look over his finances to see if he could spot any irregularities.”

  Detective Patterson nodded and wrote as she spoke. “Does your father know about this?”

  Rebecca paused briefly before responding. “No, he doesn’t.”

  He looked up. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  She sighed quietly. “William is… mostly unaware of many things normal people pay attention to,” she said slowly. “Things like paying bills, or balancing the checkbook, or keeping track of his children. If there was nothing to find it didn’t seem necessary to trouble him with explanations that wouldn’t make any sense to him anyway.”

  “I see. Did you have the legal right to take these steps?”

  “Her name is on all the accounts involved.” Scott spoke irritably, as though he’d answered this question too many times already. “I wouldn’t have agreed if it wasn’t legal.”

  Detective Patterson scribbled something on his pad of paper. “And did you find anything unusual?”

  “I don’t know. Scott gave me a list of all William’s purchases a few weeks ago, but I recently moved and haven’t had time to find it again. There were a few things that didn’t make any sense, though.”

  His eyes lit up. “Like what?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure neither he nor my sister has been to Tahiti, and I know he didn’t own an Audi. I remember looking through the auctioneer’s notes, and there wasn’t one listed…” Rebecca’s voice trailed off. Didn’t Aaron have an Audi? That’s a strange coincidence. Lots of people owned Audis, didn’t they?

  “Could you find that list and get me a copy? It might help our investigation.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Sure, if you think it would do you any good. Can’t you get the one Scott had at work?”

  “We can’t find it.”

  She looked at Scott, her eyebrows raised almost halfway to her hairline. “I thought you were looking over it when you were shot.”

  Scott grinned sheepishly. “I was, but a lot of stuff fell off my desk when I passed out and some of it got covered in blood. It could have been thrown away.”

  Rebecca’s eyes fell on the detective. “I thought the police were supposed to be careful at a crime scene,” she said, trying not to sound too accusing. “Shouldn’t that have been saved?”

  “We’re doing the best we can, Ms. Done.” He gave her a business card and stood up to leave. “Please call me when you find those lists. And let me know if you think of anything that might be helpful. Good night, ma’am.” He nodded at Jen and let himself out the front door.

  The three of them stared at each other until they heard his car door slam outside. Then they started laughing.

  “He was terribly formal,” Rebecca finally said when she’d caught her breath.

  Jen wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Wasn’t he? I guess that’s good,” she added, looking at her husband. “Maybe a serious guy will focus on finding the jerk that did this and we can all sleep a little easier.”

  Rebecca stood and patted her on the head. “I think you’d better get him to bed. He’s almost asleep on the couch.”

  Jen laughed softly. “I appreciate your help, Rebecca,” she told her. “I should be back at work on Monday; make sure Sarah doesn’t give my job away before then.”

  Rebecca smiled. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.

  ***

  On her way home from work the next day, Rebecca thought about what Detective Patterson had asked her. Was there a connection between her father’s money and Scott’s would-be assassin? The detective certainly seemed to think it was possible. But very few people even knew Scott was investigating William’s affairs. She hadn’t even told Cassie. Rebecca rubbed her face with one hand and tried to focus on the road in front of her.

  Traffic was heavy with cars filled with people getting out of the city for the weekend, and pretty soon she was reduced to a crawl. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, Rebecca groaned. She only had half an hour to make it home, shower and change for dinner before Aaron arrived. And she still had
five miles to go until her exit. Her hand was almost on the phone to call him when it buzzed with an incoming text from Faye.

  Don’t forget the annual garden party next Thursday. Bring a date!

  Rebecca groaned. She’d successfully avoided the dreaded garden party during her college years, refusing to come home during the summers she was in Michigan. It didn’t seem like she had any way out of it this year, unless she faked a highly contagious disease.

  The parties weren’t all that bad; the food was always delicious, the band lively if a little old, and Faye spared no expense decorating the grounds of her home for her friends.

  It was the company Rebecca detested. Each of Faye’s many friends always seemed to have her on their radar, cornering her at some point during the evening in an attempt to catch up on old times. The only time she saw most of these women was at this wretched party, and the last thing she wanted to do was hear about their pets’ ailments–or worse, their own.

  Then, inevitably, the conversation would turn to her, all of them wanting to know with varying levels of tact why she wasn’t dating anyone seriously. Now that she had been graduated from college, she knew, the question would change to why she wasn’t married yet.

  I should make something up. Like that I do have a husband, but he has leprosy and can’t go out in public or all my friends will contract the disease. Or that I’m a Democrat. Faye’s conservative friends may never speak to me again, she thought in amusement. Maybe that’s worth a try.

  When she finally pulled up to her apartment with five minutes to spare, Rebecca hurtled up the stairs and into her bedroom. She glanced at the dress Cassie had given her and shook her head. It was a bit fancy for a pizza restaurant. She flew around the room, brushing her hair and re-applying makeup, finally sitting on the couch in the library only ten minutes past seven. It’s good that he’s not right on time.

  An hour and a half later, Rebecca wasn’t feeling so agreeable. No one had answered when she’d called his number. She had to keep reminding herself of the story she’d heard in college about the girl who’d been stood up for a date, only to find out later, after she’d called him all sorts of names on his answering machine, that the gentleman in question had been in a car accident and was in traction in the hospital. The story didn’t help her mood as much as it should have.

  The doorbell finally rang at nine o’clock, and Rebecca took her time answering it. She had changed into jeans and a t-shirt and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She cracked the door open only as far as the security chain allowed and looked at Aaron through the crack. “Yes?”

  Aaron stood there, a white rose in his hand and an apologetic expression on his face. He looked rumpled and mussed, like he had just gotten out of bed. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said without looking sorry at all.

  Rebecca just glared at him.

  Seeming to sense there needed to be more explanation, Aaron continued talking. “I had a bit of an emergency at home and couldn’t get away until just a little while ago.”

  She still didn’t say anything.

  “Can I at least come in so I can see more of you than just your nose?”

  Rebecca sighed and opened the door all the way. She stood in the doorway and gazed at him. “Faye’s set me up with some interesting dates before,” she said after he’d started to fidget. “But never with someone so blatantly rude.”

  Aaron swallowed and looked at her nervously. “Are you going to tell me to get lost?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I might. Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t?”

  “Let me come in and I’ll explain.”

  She stepped aside and watched as he stepped into her ridiculously green sitting room. He glanced around before handing her the flower he was holding. “This is an interesting color,” he commented, touching the wall with one finger.

  “I thought you were going to explain.”

  Aaron’s head snapped around, his face a mask of repentance. “I really am sorry,” he said softly. “I know I should have called, but things got pretty intense and before I knew it I was already an hour late.”

  “So instead of picking up the phone you decided that since you were already late, a few more hours wouldn’t make any difference?”

  Aaron half-smiled. “Well, the phone got knocked under the bed and it took me a while to find it. Come on, let’s go. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  Rebecca stared at him for a long time, wondering if she should let him have his way. He certainly seemed remorseful. He gazed back at her, regret rolling off him in waves. “Fine,” she finally sighed when her stomach growled loudly into the silence. “But you owe me one.”

  His grin could have charmed the flowers into an early bloom. “Thank you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Now come on, let’s go. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

  It didn’t take them long to get to Gino’s but all the way there Rebecca couldn’t help but look at his car. She wondered how old it was. “When did you get this car?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

  “Six months ago. Why? Do you want one too?”

  Rebecca laughed. “No, I’m afraid a car like this is out of my price range.” Six months ago, she mused. She was going to have to find that list Scott had given her when she got home. There were too many coincidences where Aaron Sharpe was concerned.

  The restaurant was packed, but Aaron somehow convinced the hostess to get them a table after only a ten-minute wait. He winked at Rebecca when she asked him how he had done it.

  “I have a certain power over women,” he said confidently. “She couldn’t say no.”

  Rebecca’s eyebrows rose. Did he really believe that? “I wouldn’t count on that power too much. I’m very good at saying no.” She turned to the wall next to their table, pretending to read some of the whiteout inscriptions left by previous diners. “I didn’t bring anything to write with,” she said, tracing a white heart with several initials inscribed on it. “I always thought this was a great idea. Tell your customers they can legally put graffiti all over your restaurant, and when there’s no more space, paint over the old stuff and let them start all over again. It makes you wonder how many times one person could immortalize himself.”

  Aaron watched her, smiling indulgently. He pulled a whiteout pen from his pocket and handed it to her with a flourish. “And what would you write?” he asked, his fingers trailing down to her wrist.

  Rebecca pulled her hand away a little more forcefully than she had intended. Aaron was an extremely handsome, charming man, but that didn’t mean he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted. “I don’t know,” she said, looking down at the table. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “I suppose my initials in a heart is out of the question.”

  Fortunately for Aaron, their server appeared with their pizza at that point, saving Rebecca from saying something rude. She wondered what kind of person he really was. At times he could he flirtatious and charming; other times he was self-absorbed and thoughtless. Which was the true Aaron Sharpe? There were too many aspects of his character to decide.

  Aaron stopped talking and looked at her strangely. “Are you zoning out on me again? I must be very poor company if you can’t keep your mind on what I’m saying.”

  Rebecca felt her cheeks warm. “I was paying attention,” she said half-heartedly.

  He cocked his head to one side. “Then what were we talking about?”

  We weren’t talking about anything, Rebecca thought. “You were saying how good Chicago-style pizza is.” She focused on her plate and only glanced at him when he started laughing.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know how, but you’re right. Now what were you really thinking about while I blathered on about our dinner?”

  Knowing she couldn’t tell him she was starting to wonder if he had split personalities, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “I was thinking about Faye’s garden party next week.”

  Aaro
n dropped his crust on his plate and wiped his fingers on his napkin. “Did she trick you into accepting an invitation? I’m glad it’s you and not me; the last time I went a bunch of little old ladies followed me around asking questions about my sexual orientation. They seemed to think that since I wasn’t married, I must be gay.”

  “I bet that was fun for you.”

  Aaron grimaced. “You have no idea.”

  Oh, I bet I do, Rebecca thought. All of a sudden, a wicked idea came to her. “You know, you should come with me. It’s next Thursday. I know Faye would be thrilled to see us together.”

  It was funny to watch him open and close his mouth. It reminded her of a fish. “I’m busy that day,” he finally managed.

  “It’s in the evening.”

  His mouth resumed its flapping motion. “I-I–”

  “You do owe me for being two hours late,” she pointed out. She was beginning to enjoy torturing him a little. “What’s the big deal? If you come with me you prove to all those old biddies that you’re straight, you make my aunt happy, and you don’t have to go to another one of her things for the next ten years. You can’t lose.”

  “Will anyone else from your family be there?”

  That was an odd question. “William and Elisa, certainly. They love this sort of thing. It gives them a chance to show off their finery. Cassie, on the other hand, is still in Michigan and has an excuse not to show.”

  “So Adrianna will probably come,” Aaron mused, more to himself than to her.

  “Adrianna Sawyer? I didn’t know you were friends with her.” Rebecca watched him closely, her conversation with Adrianna zipping through her brain. Was he going to confess something, or was she going to have to pry it out of him?

  “We’re not,” Aaron said quickly. “I met her when I visited your aunt a few weeks back. She’s a very interesting girl.”

  “You can say that again,” Rebecca muttered. “She seemed to know you better than that when I talked with her at Chili’s the other night.”