We sit there for a minute or two and hear footsteps coming closer. Then a woman says, "You called for me?" We can't see her from our angle. She isn't fully in the doorway yet.
"Yes, I'd like you to meet my guests." Mrs. Sterling points to us.
The woman steps into the room, stares at us, and widens her eyes.
I mimic her expression when I realize Cynthia is Fake Mother.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My foot fell asleep while sitting here waiting for the police, and now I'm flexing it to return it to normal, but it's not helping much. Of course the jitteriness in my stomach doesn't help my overall mood much either. It's not that I'm anti-police. I'm just anti-Detective Kevin Burton, and guess who showed up when Jeeves called?
Mrs. Sterling's assistant, Fake Mother, aka Cynthia, took off as soon as she spotted Serena and me. I mean, she turned around and booked out the front door without a sound. No purse, no "see ya." She just hauled butt. And now Kevin and his partner, Detective Sanchez, are here, and they're asking Mrs. Sterling a bunch of questions. It's only a matter of time before I have to smell Kevin's hostile breath.
I can't hear what Mrs. Sterling is saying because she's in the foyer with them, standing beneath the seventeen-ton crystal chandelier. I mean, how does anyone clean that thing? I guess it's pretty telling the kind of life I lead when all I can think about is the manpower necessary to keep a fortress like this running.
Serena and I are still seated on the blue sofa, still in the same spots. I haven't moved because Serena seems to be existing in a state of frozen shock, and I figure she could use any support I can give. Even if it's the butt-numbing kind.
When the detectives have pumped all the info they can from Mrs. Sterling, Kevin and Sanchez move on to Serena. This conversation I hear perfectly. Especially the part where she tells the cops that I'm the Fake Thomas's assistant.
"Is that so?" Kevin asks, shining his death-ray glance on me. If glares could singe, I'd be ash right now. "You seem to be everywhere."
Serena blinks a few times. "You know each other?"
"Unfortunately," I say under my breath, but everyone still hears me.
Sanchez goes as far as to smirk. That puts me a bit at ease. He seems like a really cool man, so he has to see his partner's assery.
They spend the next fifteen minutes grilling Serena about Fake Thomas. Unfortunately, Mrs. Sterling doesn't know Cynthia's son's name. She's only seen him twice from afar and hasn't been introduced to him. So referring to him as Fake Thomas will continue until the darn ghost decides to show himself again. As for poor Serena, her face has turned red, and she looks like she's either going to start crying or screaming due to the questions. It's not because they're hard to answer but because they keep asking the same thing over and over but in slightly different ways.
Like, "When you met, how did he introduce himself?" and "He approached you at the party and said what?"
It's exhausting to listen to.
After they've drained her, they turn their faces to me. Kevin's mouth moves slightly, like he's scratching his teeth with the inside of his lips. He's dying to ask me something but holds back. As if they share some form of telepathy, Sanchez pats his partner on the shoulder. Kevin obediently steps back and allows Sanchez to get closer.
The older man sits on the edge of the coffee table. He's a big guy, kinda stocky, so our knees almost brush against one another. This means I have to stop shaking my leg and sit still.
"Ms. Mancini, you worked with the Thomas Sterling impersonator? How long have you known him?"
"I don't know him and 'worked with' is a stretch."
"Yeah, he died shortly after he hired her," Serena says, telling them the lies I told her.
How exactly am I going to get out of this mess? If I admit that I don't know him at all, I won't have a way to explain how I knew things that Fake Thomas told me. And then I have to deal with Serena knowing I lied to her. She won't help me, even if inadvertently, figure out who killed her fiancé. Although I'll admit that I'm starting to wonder if I should even bother. I'm so confused as to who is who and what's going on. I need a scorecard.
If I lie to the cops and tell them everything Serena believes then they'll assume that I know more than "nothing" about him, and that's not true. Besides, Fake Thomas isn't here, so I can't even fake it. I sigh. I'm screwed no matter what I do, so I decide on pleading the fifth and keeping my mouth shut. More or less.
"How well do you know him?" Sanchez asks.
"What's his name?" Kevin asks.
"I don't know his name."
Kevin crosses his arms over his chest, obviously not satisfied with my answer. Hey, I wouldn't be satisfied with it either, but for once, I'm not lying.
"There has to be a way for you guys to figure out who he is, especially since you now know who his mother is."
Sanchez nods a couple of times and says, "We will, but in the meantime, it would help us greatly if you told us everything he ever said to you."
I think back to our conversations, to see if there was anything pertaining to his life before death, and the only thing I can recall is, "He loved Serena a lot."
"That's helpful," Kevin says. The sarcasm is thick, and if anyone else had said it, I would chuckle.
Serena smiles, and the red on her face starts to dissipate. It's helpful to someone.
"What work was he having you do?" Sanchez asks.
Technically he wanted me to help Serena, but I can't say that. Great. Here's the part where I have to look uncooperative.
"Well, that's hard to say."
Kevin scoffs. "Try harder."
I stare into Sanchez's big brown eyes and wonder what he thinks of me. This is the second dead person case we've spoken about. Does he find it odd that I seem to be involved in this one too? I don't bother wondering what Kevin thinks because then I'll probably need a good hosing down.
I shake my head slightly. I really can't help them. "I don't have anything to say."
* * *
Suffice it to say, they don't take my refusal to talk well. They say a few more words with Mrs. Sterling, tell Serena they'll be in touch, and drag my butt downtown. Sheer glee explodes on Kevin's face when Sanchez suggests I go back to the station with them. I think he's going to start dancing a jig. They insist I leave my car at the Sterling estate and ride with them. Joy.
When they usher me into one of the interrogation rooms, Sanchez offers me coffee, but I decline. My jitteriness has catapulted into a near seizure so the last thing I need is caffeine.
Kevin pulls out a chair from across the metal table. Its legs scratch against the tile creating a nails on chalkboard effect that even Sanchez grimaces at.
"I understand there may have been things you didn't want to say in front of his fiancé," Sanchez says while taking a seat directly across from me. "So now we're alone, and you're free to tell us whatever you know."
I look into each of their gazes quickly. Part of me hates what I'm about to say because I know they won't believe me, and this will only escalate until Kevin is breathing down my neck, but what other choice do I have? I know nothing.
"There's nothing to tell. I wasn't being evasive back there. I simply don't have answers to your questions."
Kevin clenches his jaw. "That's a lie."
Sanchez glances to his partner and then back to me. He uses an extra calm voice. "I don't know what you're afraid of…"
"I want to talk to my lawyer." I cut him off.
Kevin's eyes gleam. "You have something to hide?"
"Only that you're dumb. Oh wait. Everyone already knows that." Okay, so that might've been unnecessary. Thank goodness Sanchez is a reasonable man, or one day Kevin might arrest me for smarting off. I fold my arms over my chest and slink into the seat, trying to find comfort on the aluminum chair. I have no idea if Julian's boss, Mr. Hamilton, will come down here. He helped out Izzie last time, so I'm hoping.
"You're not under arrest," Sanchez says. "You don't need a lawyer."
/>
"I do if you're going to make me sit here and discuss things I can't because I don't have answers."
Kevin jumps up and starts to protest, but Sanchez cuts him off by placing his cell phone in front of me. "Make your call."
I stare at the black rectangle and think about my perfectly good phone that's sitting in my purse at my feet. Does he want me to use his so there's a trace of the call, or is he not thinking and just being polite?
Either way, I pick up his phone and dial Julian. Luckily he's not screening his calls and picks up the unknown number. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me. I need your help. I'm at the police station. Can you get in touch with Mr. Hamilton?"
There's silence, and for a moment I wonder if the call disconnected.
"Are you there?" I ask.
"Yes. Are you alright?"
"Fine. It's just routine questions." I glance at the detectives. Sanchez is simply watching me with no expression I can decipher, and Kevin looks like he ate something bad. What else is new?
"On my way." The call clicks off before I can remind him I need Hamilton more than him, although I'll be much happier to see Julian. I put the phone on the table and slide it to Sanchez.
Then we all settle in for a staring contest.
* * *
Twenty minutes later there's a knock on the door, and a uniformed officer peeks his head in. "Her attorney is here."
Sanchez and Kevin rise. I stay seated.
The officer widens the door and steps back. Mr. Hamilton and Julian walk in.
"He's not a lawyer," Kevin says as he glares at Julian.
Mr. Hamilton looks extra sharp in a black suit with a silver tie. "Is my client under arrest?"
"No," Sanchez says. "We're just trying to find out some information that she may have."
"Then there's no reason why Mr. Reed can't join us for a moment."
With that said, Julian hurries over and takes the chair beside me.
Sanchez motions for him and Kevin to leave. When the door shuts behind him, Julian asks, "What's going on?"
I fill them both in on everything that happened tonight.
Mr. Hamilton sits in Sanchez's seat and listens intently. But when I get to the part about not being able to give them the answers they need, I stop. How do I explain that I can't because Fake Tom is a ghost that's been talking to me?
I look to Julian and plead with my eyes, but since he can't read minds, he hasn't a clue as to what I want to say in private. So I take a risk and say it out loud. "This has to do with my friend."
He immediately understands that and looks to his boss. "There are things involved that can't be explained."
Mr. Hamilton raises his slightly bushy brows. "You're going to have to do better than that if I'm to help you."
I nibble at the inside corner of my mouth and contemplate blurting out the truth. My truth. But then I remember where we are and how there's a camera in the wall. I don't know if it's on or not. It shouldn't be, but I can't take that chance, so I grab Julian's hand and squeeze it. "Go somewhere private, and tell him everything."
He doesn't respond at first. He seems to be considering what I said, so I just continue to hold his hand. It's warm, and I wish he was holding me close to him. "You're sure?" he asks.
I nod and let him go.
He and Mr. Hamilton step out of the room, and I just sit here and wait. And wait.
A mix of emotions run through me. I hate sharing my secret. It's left me friendless in the past. Not that Mr. Hamilton and I are going to braid each other's hair anytime soon, but it still makes me feel itchy. Like I'm a snake shedding my skin. I've never gotten over my ex-BFF, and now Kevin's wife, Hilary, blabbing my secret in high school. It's also through Hilary that Kevin learned the truth, the reason he arrived at my apartment drunk that night. He doesn't know for certain that I can see the departed, but he suspects. And I'm sure my ghost pals scaring him didn't help. I laugh at the memories. Ah. That was a fun time.
When the door reopens, my heart feels like it's beating inside my throat. Mr. Hamilton is running his hand through his hair over and over again. His faraway gaze makes him look a bit stunned. I don't blame him. If Julian told him I see dead people, he has every right to be stunned. He sits beside me. Julian doesn't reenter, but Sanchez and Kevin come back in.
Mr. Hamilton pats my hand and offers a half smile. The look on his face is blank. I have no idea how much Julian told him or if he believes him.
Sanchez asks, "So now that your attorney is here, can you please tell us what you know about the Thomas Sterling imposter?"
I glance to Hamilton who pats my hand again.
"Ms. Mancini doesn't know anything about him."
Kevin rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something when Hamilton raises a hand to cut him off. "Before you start ranting and raving, Detective…"
I choke back a chuckle. Even Hamilton knows what a jackwad Kevin is.
"Let me explain," he continues. "Ms. Mancini told Miss Tate that she was this imposter's assistant, but that is untrue. Ms. Mancini has never met the imposter. She only heard of his death and existence after the explosion, which occurred a few blocks from her home and family business."
Sanchez frowns and scratches his temple. "But why would you lie about that?"
"She's been working for me," Mr. Hamilton says without any indication that he's lying.
I stare at him and hope my face doesn't look as surprised as I feel.
"Excuse me?" Kevin asks.
"I employed Ms. Mancini to help us with a case. I cannot discuss it in detail—attorney-client privilege. But I can say that Ms. Mancini was going to apply to be the imposter's assistant. She just never got the chance."
Darn, he's really good at the lying. Not even a muscle twitched.
The detectives just sit there and digest this information. Finally Sanchez asks, "But why lie to Miss Tate?"
I wait for Hamilton to say something, but he must be out of fibs because he just glances at me and nods. Oh, so it's my turn?
"Um, because I was trying to find out what I could from her. I didn't know if she knew the truth about him or not."
That seems to interest Sanchez because he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "And what did you learn?"
"From what I can tell, she had no clue. She's been extremely upset since his death. You know she almost overdosed. Julian…my friend and I found her and called an ambulance. That wasn't fake. She was admitted to the hospital and held for observation."
Sanchez nods and looks into the distance for a moment. I seem to have stumped Kevin too. Good.
"Is that all?" Mr. Hamilton asks. He pushes his chair out and rises to his feet. Guess it doesn't matter if it is or isn't because he gingerly touches my elbow, guiding me to my feet as well. "If you have more questions for Ms. Mancini, please call my office."
He doesn't leave his card or anything. He opens the door and allows me to walk through first.
I glance back one last time. Both of the detectives have risen as well. But while Sanchez isn't paying us any more attention, Kevin is staring at me. That shouldn't be a big deal. It's becoming his permanent expression, but I admit it unnerves me for a moment. Is it possible he's figured out that my undercover case with Hamilton has something to do with Fake Thomas's ghost?
* * *
Julian and I sit in his car outside my apartment. He blasts the heat, and I'm toasting my fingers over the vent. Somewhere between this afternoon and tonight it's become cold, as if it's winter and not the middle of fall.
"How did Hamilton react when you told him I can see ghosts?" I still can't believe he knows the truth and acted as if it was an everyday thing in the interrogation room.
Julian smirks. "I think I blew his mind, but he's very good at not showing his emotions."
Makes sense. He's a lawyer and needs a poker face for court.
"He didn't question it. He didn't seem to think I was crazy. He just accepted it and told the detectives
you and he are ready to continue. I'm not sure if he believes it, but he acted like he did."
It's a lot to ask of someone, especially a stranger. I think my family deals so well partly because they've had years to digest it and because they love me. They don't have a choice.
"Thank you," I say. "Not just for talking to him but for finding him and showing up."
His brows move closer to one another. "Of course I'd show up. I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?"
When he talks like this, I start to forget the reason I'm mad at him. Not fully. I know his secrecy almost cost Izzie her freedom, but I need to believe he would've come forward in the end. He made a mistake. How long am I going to hold it over him?
My thoughts jump to Ma and Carly. It's been over a decade since Carly hurt Enzo, and Ma still treats her like the plague. I don't want to be like that.
Without another thought, I unbuckle my seat belt and lean into Julian's space. I place one hand on the console between us, so I don't fall onto him completely. I'm not ready for that. Then I awkwardly place my other hand on his thigh and softly press my lips to his.
He sighs ever so gently and pushes toward me, deepening the kiss, but he doesn't take control. He allows me to say how far it will go, and that makes me linger longer.
When I pull back, I stare at his shut eyes. He opens them and smiles.
I return to my side of the car fully and grab the door handle. "I should get going."
If he's disappointed, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling. "I'll drop off your car first thing in the morning. I'll get a buddy to help me."
I frown. He's never discussed buddies before, and I haven't asked. "You have friends?"
He chuckles and fills his car with that delicious sound. "Wow. Do you think I'm a loser?"
"No. I just don't have any friends, so I'm a little envious. Besides, that means there's a part of your life I know nothing about."
He brushes the back side of his knuckles down my cheek. "They aren't actually hang-out friends. At least not yet. Just a couple of guys from Hamilton's office. Co-workers."
Two Ghosts & a Love Song (Dead by the Numbers Mysteries Book 2) Page 14
