Hex on the Ex

by Rochelle Staab

  “You must know Jarret’s parents then,” I said. “And the rest of his old friends?”

  “Most of our friends from school moved away, like Jarret. His parents and I stayed close. I used to see them around McHenry all the time.”

  “Marion and Bud are good people,” I said. “Did any other McHenry folks move out to L.A.?”

  “None that Jarret or I see.”

  People wandered into the gym, filling up the cardio machines. As the noise around us increased, I needed to get to the point with Gretchen before we were interrupted. I dropped the runaround and asked straight out, “Are you familiar with a woman from McHenry named Margaret Smith?”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “Never heard of her. Why?”

  “Jarret mentioned her name to me. Or maybe his mother did at one time or another. While we were married I didn’t spend enough time in McHenry to meet his old friends, like you. Actually, I think Margaret lived in Bull Valley.”

  “Bull Valley is miles away. All of my and Jarret’s friends lived in McHenry.”

  “What made you leave McHenry and your family?”

  “I don’t have family.” She looked away, then said, “I’m an only child. My father passed away when I was ten. My mother died of a heart attack last year. The Coopers sent me flowers. Then Jarret invited me out here for a visit, and I decided to stay.”

  Jarret invited her? Her story and his drifted farther apart. Something about her relationship with the Coopers struck me as fraudulent. If she was so close to Jarret’s family, why didn’t I hear about her years ago?

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” I said.

  “Don’t be. We weren’t close. I’m happier here.”

  “Then I’m glad you’re settled in.” I didn’t know what else to say. Gretchen was clearly smitten with Jarret and had nothing to offer about Margaret Smith. I stopped pedaling and stood up. “Have a good weekend, Gretchen.”

  “I will. You, too. What are your plans?” she said.

  Aside from my interrogation at the police station, hunting down Margaret Smith, or turning in Kyle for dealing? “Kicking back. Going to a party tonight. What about you?”

  “Jarret and I are having dinner.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I circled through the weight room to the back studio. Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” blasted over the overhead speakers. Earl slammed his gloved fists against the leather bag dangling off the ceiling in the corner.

  “I hope I didn’t make trouble for you with Kyle,” I said over the music.

  He punched at the bag. “He’ll get over it. So will I.”

  “I didn’t realize he’s so touchy about his office.”

  A double fist to the bag. “Yeah. Tuesday afternoon he went off on Laycee, too”—lower cut to the bag—“like the jerk he is.” Earl stopped and faced me. “Laycee flashed him a sweet Southern smile and more or less told him to shove it. Classic.”

  “She went into his office?”

  “She interrupted one of Kyle’s private meetings.” Earl smirked. He eyed a member at the far end of the studio and leaned in close, dropping his voice. “I’m sick of the secrecy and superior attitude around here. If Jarret Cooper knew what Kyle was up to in that office, he’d fire his ass. Jarret should let me run the gym. I can bring in the clientele this place deserves. My clients are clean and they have money.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Jarret,” I said. “Does he ever come in here?”

  “Never. Jarret hasn’t been around since the day Game On opened. If he wants to find out what’s going on, he should spend a day here and see for himself. Some of us trainers are talking about moving our clients to the new gym down the block. Things have to change if Jarret wants us to stay. The only one making serious money here is Kyle Stanger.” Earl spun around and kicked the punching bag with a wide leg swing.

  I backed away and unrolled a blue mat on the floor in front of the mirror to stretch. My muscles relaxed into each long stretch as my mind exercised possibilities about Kyle, steroids, Laycee, and Jarret.

  By seven-thirty, an unfamiliar weekend crowd jammed all three studios. I bought a bottle of water from the vending machine and as I gratefully downed cold water, my phone rang.

  “Did I wake you?” Mom said.

  “No, I’m just leaving the gym.” I tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin and walked outside.

  “Then you haven’t heard. Your townhouse burned last night.”

  “I saw the story on the news before I left this morning,” I said, getting into my car. “What a nightmare. I’m glad everyone got out.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this, dear. I drew the Tower in my daily tarot reading—unexpected events, a life-changing jolt out of the past. When I saw the news about the fire, I knew the Tower card warning was for you.”

  Mom’s morning tarot reads had little to do with fortune-telling and everything to do with whatever occupied her mind that day. Since I enlisted my parents’ help to clear my name, I wasn’t surprised she translated the card to fit me.

  I drove out of the parking lot east onto Ventura Boulevard. “Please don’t worry about me. I’m going to the station with Oliver today to talk to Carla Pratt. Nick and I picked up some new information yesterday about the symbol left on Laycee’s body. The details may not clear me, but I’m hoping Carla will move me to the bottom of her suspect list.”

  “That’s encouraging, dear. I worried we’d have to cancel your father’s birthday party tonight.”

  “Better bake a file into the cake just in case, Mom. Carla is relentless.”

  “We already set your bail money aside,” she said. We both chuckled, a welcome break from the underlying tension. “But dear, I can’t shake this sense of a threat from something or someone else. I felt unsettled energy in your new house the other day. That woman was murdered in the house you lived in with Jarret, and now your old townhouse burned. I’m afraid a malevolent force is seeking you.”

  “Unfortunate coincidences. I wasn’t in either house at the time. As soon as the plumber finishes my bathrooms, the disruption at home will settle.” I eased into the left lane and turned left on Laurel Canyon Boulevard toward North Hollywood.

  “Well, watch yourself, dear. And keep the doors locked. What time are you going to the police station?” Mom said.

  “Eleven. I’m meeting Oliver at ten. We’re going to the station together.”

  “Jarret left me a message yesterday. I have a mind to return his call and tell him what I think about all the trouble he’s causing our family.”

  “Don’t. Let’s not give him a reason to sic his lawyer on me again. I had dinner with Jarret last night. Get this, his apology for shifting suspicion on me came with an excuse that a scandal would ruin his career.”

  “I suppose the team frowns on—” Mom clucked her tongue. “Never mind. The nerve. As if your career is less important than his.”

  “Right? You’ll never guess who we ran into at the restaurant. Or literally, who ran into us.” I told her about our confrontation with Forrest.

  “They should have let him at Jarret,” Mom said. “Just on principle.”

  “Believe me, Forrest tried. I’d never seen him so uncontrollable. If he suspected something went on between Laycee and Jarret, he may have been after both of them that morning and only found Laycee. The problem is—”

  “Forrest didn’t murder his wife,” Mom said. “After we talked to you yesterday afternoon, your father and I went to the Sportsmen’s Lodge and asked the bell captain and the desk clerk if Forrest left the hotel early Wednesday morning. The bellman saw him go into the Patio Café at eight.”

  So Forrest had a solid alibi even if he had tracked Laycee to Jarret’s. I was left with drug-dealing Kyle Stanger, the untraceable Margaret Smith, a maybe jealous girlfriend in Gretchen, or a random intruder as possible suspects. As Oliver would say, I was sunk.

  “Is Dad home?” I said.

  “He’s right here.” Mom muffled the
phone. “Walter, your daughter wants to speak with you.”

  I parked at Nick’s curb as Dad came on the line. “Detective Cooper reporting for duty. How’s my girl?”

  “I need your advice.” I got out and walked toward the house, relating my office caper at the gym. Nick opened the door in a black T-shirt and jeans. When he heard me tell Dad about the drugs in Kyle’s desk, Nick threw up his hands and went inside, shaking his head as I followed.

  Dad exploded, blustering over the phone. “Stanger saw you?”

  I perched on the sofa arm, waiting for Nick to stop pacing in front of me and for Dad to stop yelling in my ear. “What do I do now, Dad? Do I warn Jarret? Tell Carla about the drugs?”

  “Screw Jarret,” Nick said.

  “Stanger is Jarret’s partner,” Dad said over the phone. “If Jarret already knows about the steroids, you’ll put yourself in a very dangerous position. If he doesn’t, why do you want to help the fool?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. That’s why I’m asking you. What’s the right thing to do?”

  “The smart move is to take care of yourself. Jarret can solve his own problems,” Dad said. “Consider how the information will affect Carla’s investigation.”

  “If Laycee threatened to tell Jarret about the steroids, Kyle had a motive to kill her. She made a snarky comment about Kyle’s income in front of Jarret the night before she died. We know Kyle had the garage door combination. Robin found proof connecting Kyle with the inverted pentagram.”

  “Definitely enough for Carla to interrogate Stanger again,” Dad said. “What’s important is how you conduct yourself with Carla today. She’ll be softer on you if she views you as cooperative. Make sure Oliver has my number if he needs me.”

  “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

  Nick stood over me, arms crossed and frowning. “Stanger caught you in his office?”

  “I had to find out what Kyle was up to. I found a chance to search his office and took it. Kyle didn’t see how long I was in there.” I started to get up. Nick stopped me.

  “I don’t like you taking risks. At best, Kyle will move the drugs out of the office so he won’t be caught.”

  “And ruin his business? I doubt it.” I tried to move around Nick. He wouldn’t let me.

  “At worst, you made a killer suspicious of you.”

  “Good. Let him show himself.” I faced Nick nose-to-nose, which in our case meant mine tilted up under his. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to clear myself. I got the information I wanted, and more. I had an odd conversation with Gretchen, Jarret’s old girlfriend from McHenry. If she stayed close to Jarret and his parents all these years as she claims, why was last night the first time I heard of it? I got the impression she’s trying to revive or relive a high school fling.”

  Nick shrugged. “Doesn’t make her a bad person. Did you ask her about Margaret Smith?”

  “I did. She didn’t know her. I can understand Jarret not knowing Margaret, but Gretchen lived in McHenry for years after he left. I wish Jarret’s mother would call me back.”

  “So we’re left with either Forrest or Kyle as a suspect. Or Jarret.”

  “Forrest is in the clear. A bellman at the hotel saw him in the Patio Café around the time of Laycee’s murder. And even if I’m right about Kyle’s motive, I don’t understand why he killed her at the house—unless he intended to frame Jarret.”

  “Or Jarret committed the murder,” Nick said.

  “The symbol makes the least sense of all.”

  “I’m not giving up on the Schelz connection yet,” Nick said. “There’s a chance Schelz’s daughter left a fake address at the prison. If we’re lucky, the woman who gave Weisel the pamphlet will show up at the liquor store and we can talk to her. Until then, maybe Jarret’s parents or one of the Smiths in Bull Valley or McHenry knows Margaret. We’ll find her.”

  I read the time on the mantel clock. “We better get going. You have to meet Stan at my house in a half hour, and I should take a shower and get ready for my meeting with Carla.” I froze, gut twisting with apprehension—if Carla had enough evidence to hold me, I might not be back.

  Erzulie hopped on the sofa behind me and purred. I knew she would be safe with Nick. But my practice, my house, my—

  “Liz?” Nick lifted my chin with his finger to face him. “You’ll be fine. Meet me at your house after you’re done.”

  “But what if—”

  “‘If they hang you I’ll always remember you.’”

  “What?”

  “Joking.” His eyes twinkled in affection. “It’s a Bogart quote from The Maltese Falcon. Have confidence in the truth, Liz. And know that whatever happens, we’ll get through this together.” He picked up his keys and left me with a short kiss, walking out the door like he was going out for a carton of milk.

  His light attitude and support calmed me. Smiling with confidence, I watched him drive away. I took a quick shower and dried my hair then put on slacks and a collarless white cotton blouse. As I added a touch of lipstick, Nick’s desk phone rang.

  After three rings his answering machine clicked on, echoing the message through the house. “Nicky? It’s Izzy.” Her voice, young with a Hispanic accent, came across as worried and questioning.

  “Please, please call me back. I just left a message on your cell. We have to talk today. I haven’t heard from you since Thursday and I’m going crazy. Did you have the conversation yet? You promised me you would talk to Liz before the weekend is over. I can’t hide anymore. Everyone will know soon. Please call me. Love you.”

  Click.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Love you? Be calm. Don’t overreact. Maybe I misunderstood. I set the lipstick on Nick’s bathroom sink, went into the living room, and replayed Isabella’s message.

  Nick promised her he would talk to me. About what? She’s tired of hiding. From what? Everyone will know soon. Know what? “Love you” wasn’t difficult to interpret. Or was it?

  The message ended. I stood dazed, her words racing through my mind. Battling old feelings of betrayal and emotional abandonment, I tried to center myself. Stop. Be logical. Quit overreacting. How would I advise a client faced with the same situation?

  Get more information. Talk to Nick. Face your fear.

  Erzulie, with an uncanny knack of sensing when my body was in the room but my mind was in outer space, jumped on the desk and stared at me. I stroked her head. “You heard the message. What would you do?”

  She jumped down and trotted away. Big help.

  I had thirty minutes to drive to Oliver’s Van Nuys office. In light Saturday morning traffic I could make it in twenty. Time to stop muttering to myself and get moving. Gathering my purse and keys, I left the house and traveled, head down, across the debris-ridden path to my car.

  Buckling up, I pulled onto the street then called Nick. His cell rang once. I’d tell him about the message. Second ring. Let him explain. On the third ring his phone went to voice mail.

  “Nick, it’s me. Liz.” As opposed to your other girlfriend or girlfriends. “I’m on my way to meet Oliver. Check your messages at home. Isabella called. She needs to talk to you right away.” So do I.

  I hung up without leaving my love, a substitute for you-better-explain-now. Instead of feeling better, I felt childish.

  My psychology training didn’t exempt me from runaway emotion. Intellectually, I understood my reaction: working myself up over Isabella’s call allowed me to avoid my apprehension over meeting with Carla. I needed to talk things out with someone rational. When Robin answered her phone, I gave her the high points of Isabella’s message.

  “I’ll kill him if he’s cheating on you,” she said.

  “Don’t do that. I’ll need your support in the aftermath if it’s true.”

  “Then I’ll have Dave kill him. He’ll be sad to lose his best friend but family comes first,” Robin deadpanned. “But we do nothing until Nick has a chance to explain. I see the way he treats you, Liz. He adores you
.”

  “So did Jarret.”

  “Do you hear yourself? Hello? Come join me here in the present. You’re not the same person you were during your marriage. You’re not stranded alone in a strange city, and Nick is nothing like Jarret, thank God. Where are you now? How much time do we have to talk?”

  “I’m passing under the Hollywood Freeway on Victory. We have about ten minutes to locate my common sense.”

  “No problem. Tell me how you feel.” Robin delivered my formula, solve-all psychology phrase with compassion in her voice.

  “You love throwing that line at me.”

  “What can I say? I learned it from you. Talk.”

  I let go, venting my fears, suspicions, and insecurities in emotion-chocked spurts. Call-waiting beeped. I ignored it. Robin listened to me without interruption until I repeated how much I trusted Nick.

  “Maybe you’re afraid of how much he cares for you,” she said. “You do trust him. You know he wouldn’t cheat on you. You’ll probably end up marrying the guy and you’re terrified. Heck, you bought a house to avoid moving in with him.”

  “Not true. My house is an investment.”

  “You and Nick could have bought a house together.”

  “Our relationship was too new, Robin. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Are you ready now?”

  “Not if he has another woman on the side.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” When I didn’t answer, she said, “Listen, I realize you’re afraid. Jarret stomped on your heart in the worst possible way. You trusted him and he cheated on you. So what? Ancient history. Forget about it and move on. Nick is amazing.”

  “Spoken like a woman with second chances on her mind,” I said. “Anything you want to tell me about you and Dave?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Let’s finish talking about you. It stinks that you heard Isabella’s message right before your meeting with black-hearted Pratt. Are you ready for her?”