Someone Is Lying

by Jenny Blackhurst

  ‘I’ve been out meeting potential clients. They told me they’d decided not to renew my contract that day – I finished at the end of that week. I’m pretty sure it was because of that podcast.’

  Miranda let out a sob and Alex held her at arm’s length, looked at her in a way he hadn’t in years. ‘I should have told you. I just didn’t want to worry you, because there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve had three possible offers anyway. And I never touched Erica, or anyone else. I’ve never cheated on you, I love you.’

  Miranda felt so, so stupid. She had confessed to wanting to hurt Erica in order to protect a man who she should never have doubted for a minute. He’d never given her a reason not to trust him, but that hadn’t stopped her taking fucking Cynthia Elcock’s word as gospel. Maybe she had just never believed that a man as good-looking and funny as Alex would only be hers, just hers. Next time she saw that woman . . .

  ‘So the baby was Jack’s then?’ Miranda’s entire body felt lighter as she and her husband lay on the sofa, their limbs intertwined, his hands stroking her hair.

  Alex chuckled. ‘Well, I didn’t say that, did I?’

  51

  It was true what they said about rumours being like fire, without fuel they fizzled and died. They were still waiting to see if Miranda would be charged, the only remaining smudge on the horizon of an otherwise blue sky.

  ‘So do you think Mary-Beth will come back now?’ Karla asked, taking a chocolate from the box on the counter and popping it into her mouth.

  ‘Now what?’ Felicity asked. She held up a hand in a ‘no thanks’ to the box Karla offered her.

  ‘Now that the podcast has gone away. That’s why she left, right? Because she was scared of what might come out? Or do you think she had a breakdown?’

  ‘I don’t know, she really doesn’t seem the type to have a breakdown, she’s just so buttoned up.’

  ‘She’s a pushover, you mean,’ Marcus said.

  Karla scowled.

  ‘That’s an awful thing to say, Marcus Kaplan. We didn’t push her around. She liked helping people.’

  ‘Don’t let the police hear you refer to her in the past tense,’ Marcus mocked. ‘You might be next on the suspect list.’

  Karla’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh God, you’re right, I did do that. Jesus, I knew I’d be a crappy criminal.’

  ‘Did you say Miranda was coming over?’

  Karla nodded. ‘I spoke to Alex. She’s terrified of seeing us after what she said to the police but I said she was going to have to, sooner or later. I mean, unless they are going to move away. She may as well come tonight and face it.’

  ‘What do you think, about what she did?’

  ‘What, getting Erica drunk?’ Karla shrugged. ‘I don’t believe Erica didn’t know. Even if she thought she was drinking non-alcoholic wine – which I’m not sure she did – she must have felt herself getting drunk. Everyone pours bigger measures at a party, it’s not a big deal. Erica knew she was drunk when she went into that tree house.’

  ‘Well, thank God it’s over now. I mean, I feel awful for Janet and Mike, obviously.’ Felicity flushed beetroot red. ‘I’m just glad we can go back to normal. I’ve even had a few new clients, so business isn’t ruined.’

  ‘What did I say about all publicity being good publicity?’ Karla said.

  ‘I’ll get that,’ Marcus said, in response to the doorbell.

  ‘Is Peter okay?’ Karla took the opportunity to hiss at Felicity as soon as her husband had left the room.

  ‘How would I know?’ Felicity whispered back. ‘I . . . well, it sounds like you can ask him yourself.’

  Peter, Marcus, Alex and Miranda entered the room one after the other, and Karla wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable. She jumped to her feet to hug Peter as Felicity crossed the room to embrace Miranda.

  ‘How are you holding up?’ she asked Peter, regarding him at arm’s length. ‘How are the kids?’

  Peter nodded. ‘We’re okay. The kids are coming home tomorrow, we have to start trying to get back to normal. They’ve already missed too much school and I need to prepare them for what the other kids might be saying.’

  ‘She’ll come home, Peter, you know that, don’t you?’

  Peter sniffed. ‘That’s what I’ve got to keep believing.’

  ‘The God’s honest truth is that I was jealous,’ Miranda was saying. ‘And believe me, it costs me a lot to say this but I was jealous of Erica. She was always so in control, she always had the upper hand.’

  Everyone in the room nodded.

  ‘And I know it was a terrible thing to do. Just like I know I shouldn’t park directly in front of the school and say horrible things about your gorgeous home-made cakes, Felicity. I’m sorry. It’s like I just can’t help but crave the feeling that people think I’m better than everyone else somehow. It’s like a drug, you know? When just one person says, “Oh, Miranda, you’re so organised.” When really I have to drive to Asda at least three times a week before school to buy new bloody PE kit so no one will know I’ve forgotten it again.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Miranda, I have to pay sixty quid an hour to get all that shit off my chest.’

  Felicity hugged her again. ‘Shut up, Marcus. I think it’s brilliant of you to be so honest, Miranda. You know we’re all just faking our way through it, don’t you?’

  ‘You liar,’ Karla snorted. ‘You’ve never faked it in your life. The only difference is that now Miranda’s a fuck-up like the rest of us we have to start making fun of you behind your back.’

  Miranda looked as though she was going to cry. ‘I . . .’ she sighed. ‘I was petrified you’d all think I was a total idiot.’

  ‘We thought that anyway,’ Marcus said. ‘At least now you’re a flawed idiot. Always more likeable.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Marcus.’

  ‘Well, I’m just glad it’s all over.’ Marcus pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed them to Peter and Alex. ‘Shit, sorry, Peter, not all over for you.’

  ‘No. I keep hoping that now there’s no more podcasts Mary will come back – perhaps she just couldn’t bear last year being dredged up again. We know how hard she took Erica’s death. I just can’t make sense of her leaving without telling us – if she’d wanted to get away, we could have all gone.’

  ‘She’ll be back now,’ Miranda said, placing a hand on Peter’s knee. ‘I’m sure she will.’

  ‘And when she is, we’ll have a massive party,’ Alex added. ‘A street party – although the weather’s not getting any better. Maybe you should host that, Marcus, it could be themed. I know, Cluedo! We could each dress as a character and have to figure out whodunnit.’

  He looked so ridiculously pleased with himself that no one wanted to tell him just how distasteful a Cluedo party would be. Besides, a party might be exactly what they needed – just one where they weren’t all dressed as prospective murderers obviously.

  ‘I just feel like I want to sleep for about ten years,’ Karla groaned.

  ‘I don’t think it’s over,’ Felicity whispered, but no one was listening.

  ‘Where’s the champagne, Karla?’ Marcus asked. ‘The Sunday Times stuff my agent sent. I think we deserve it.’

  ‘In the wine fridge. Right there, under your nose! Should I get strawberries? And I’ve got entrées in the freezer, I’ll get them out.’

  ‘I could go out for cake?’ Marcus’s phone rang. ‘Bran, you okay?’

  ‘There’s been another one, Dad.’ Brandon’s voice was grave. ‘Another podcast just went up.’

  52

  Welcome, listeners, to part four of The Truth About Erica.

  Last time we talked about what happened at the party once the other guests had left. We pieced together from interviews with some of the guests left at the party that shots had been taken, games played. Then a body is found at the foot of the tree house, a heel caught in the top step of the children’s hideout. Only, if those who were at the party were to cast their m
inds back they might remember a simple detail that sullies this picture of a tragic accident. Erica Spencer was dressed as an evil spirit girl, with white nightdress, long black hair falling in front of a pale face with black-ringed eyes. And black ballet pumps .

  So let’s look now at our suspects. Of the six, only four would have been wearing heels that night; Peter King and Marcus Kaplan wore boots. Does that rule them out? Perhaps not. But what we do know is that, at some point, either Erica changed into heels of her own accord – which has never been mentioned by anyone at the party – or someone planted one heel in the tree house and the other on the dead body of Erica Spencer.

  While I leave you to digest this information, I want to play you an interview with Simon and Gilly Barker.

  ‘It had only ever been Severn Oaks residents at Karla’s Halloween parties – the Kaplans held get-togethers for outsiders all the time, but never usually at Halloween. Which is why I was surprised when Gilly said that she’d seen someone outside that she didn’t recognise. A woman . . . right, Gill?’

  Gilly nods her agreement.

  ‘Yes, she was a pretty woman, I only saw her for a minute talking to Karla on the front driveway. She was blonde, she had no costume, she was wearing an expensive-looking jacket and lovely boots – I assumed she was one of their fancy friends, but Karla didn’t look pleased to see her. Their voices were raised but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. She got into a Range Rover and drove off, but when we walked home I’m certain her car was still parked around the corner.’

  So, could this mystery woman have anything to do with Erica’s death? Or is it a coincidence that the first year a stranger turns up to the Kaplans’ Halloween party is the same night a tragedy occurs?

  Well, my friends, I’m about to tell you.

  Karla pressed the ‘pause’ button on the podcast player and turned to her husband, whose face was slack.

  ‘Marcus, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What did you do, Karla?’

  Felicity looked between the pair, bewildered, then at Peter who gave a small shrug.

  ‘Why don’t you put it back on?’ Alex suggested. ‘I want to hear what he’s about to say.’

  ‘Alex,’ Miranda muttered. ‘It looks like Karla wants to explain something to Marcus before he hears it from a random stranger through his computer.’

  ‘Perhaps we should go,’ Felicity said, standing up. ‘Leave you two to talk.’

  ‘No,’ Marcus said, his voice firm. ‘You’re all going to hear it anyway – best we all listen together, not that it’ll make the situation any better. I’m guessing, from my wife’s horrified expression, that the woman she was talking to was my mother.’

  ‘Your mother? But I thought . . .?’ Felicity looked at Karla, who avoided her best friend’s eyes.

  Marcus pressed ‘play’.

  As regular listeners know, I have managed to get hold of a diary kept by the late Erica Spencer, in which she goes into great detail about the ‘Cult of Kaplan’, as it is jokingly referred to by teenagers outside of the area. We’ve heard about Erica’s thoughts on Karla – just to refresh: ‘Had an interesting conversation with Jess a few months ago who questioned if Karla had even read her own books.’

  ‘Jess’ refers to Jess Tandy, a well-known celebrity ghostwriter. Now, while this may be difficult for Karla’s legions of fans to hear, it is hardly a motive for murder – after all, plenty of celebrities hire ghostwriters for their book. And it’s nothing compared to the revelation Erica had for Marcus Kaplan. Because it was Erica who invited the mystery woman to the party, the woman who Karla was so desperate to make leave. That woman was Marcus Kaplan’s mother, Samantha Burgess.

  Those of you familiar with Marcus Kaplan – and who isn’t? – will know that he left his family home at the age of fifteen, after a horrifically abusive childhood. He doesn’t go into great detail in his books but it is enough that we know that young Marcus was often forced to eat dog biscuits because his junkie mother refused to spend a penny of her drug money on feeding her son. Beaten at the hands of her many boyfriends, he fled after one threatened to sell him to a paedophile to assuage his mother’s drug debts. Young Marcus, forced into a life on the streets, turned to drugs himself to cope, and was on the brink of death after an overdose when a kindly stranger gave him a notepad and pen. It was then that Marcus discovered his passion – writing – and it was this passion and his on-the-brink experience that led to the empire we see today.

  So, in Erica’s words, it was an ‘interesting day’ when she found out the truth. Here’s an extract from her diary.

  ‘Interesting day today. Spotted a woman hanging around outside the gates and obviously, as Neighbourhood Watch co-ordinator, went to ask what she was doing. She looked upset, said she wasn’t really sure. That she’d come to see Marcus but it was probably a bad idea. And that was when I noticed the uncanny resemblance to Marcus Kaplan and invited her in for coffee.’

  And what Erica found out that day had the ability to blow the Cult of Kaplan wide open. Because Marcus Kaplan’s real mother has never touched drugs in her life. Marcus Kaplan was brought up in a small village in Pembrokeshire, Wales, where he lived as Tommy Burgess until the age of seventeen when, unable to come to terms with his ‘simple’ life, he left home to live in London and attempt to make it big with several unsuccessful internet businesses. It was here that he met already wealthy Karla Kaplan outside a bar in East London, and, over the course of a drunken evening where the pair talked of their oversized ambitions, the Cult of Kaplan was born. Changing his name to Marcus Kaplan, growing out his teenage quiff and inventing a tragic past over which he had triumphed, Marcus’s blog was picked up by the likes of Ricki Lake, Trisha and eventually Oprah, rocketing Marcus quickly to join the ranks of self-help gurus such as Tony Robbins and Stephen Covey. A life built on a lie.

  So when Erica introduced her plus one on Halloween night as the one woman who could bring down the Kaplan enterprise, one can only imagine how Karla must have felt. Desperate to rid their lives of this woman, Karla offered to up the fifteen-hundred-pounds-a-month allowance the Kaplans had been paying Samantha Burgess to two thousand. Samantha reluctantly left – she had simply wanted to see her only son for a few minutes. That just left Erica to deal with. And deal with her she did.

  Only Karla and Erica know exactly what happened when Karla confronted her neighbour that night – a neighbour who ended up dead. What I can tell you is there was one head injury that Erica Spencer didn’t sustain in her fall from the tree house. One head injury that she described as ‘nothing, just a scratch’, despite it bleeding profusely. Erica attempted to stem the bleeding with a flannel, presumably from the Kaplans’ bathroom. Where did that flannel go? And how greatly did the head injury Erica sustained – along with the alcohol she never intended to consume – contribute to her lying dead on the grass less than an hour later?

  Stay tuned until next week, when we will find out why the other guests at the party had just as much reason to make sure Erica didn’t reveal their secrets to the world.

  Until then . . . stay honest.

  53

  ‘You hit her?’ Marcus turned to his wife. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? What did you hit her with?’

  Karla felt as though she was choking on her own guilt.

  ‘How was I supposed to know she was going to climb into the bloody tree house? She was fine! It was just a scratch – you heard him say it!’

  ‘He also said it was bleeding profusely,’ Peter pointed out.

  Karla wanted to hit him harder than she had Erica.

  ‘It was a picture frame. The edge caught her temple. I don’t know what made me do it – I’d never hit anyone before, I swear – but she looked so smug and—’

  ‘And you just wanted her to shut up,’ Felicity said quietly.

  ‘Yes!’ Karla breathed. ‘She was standing there holding this picture of Marcus and his mum, she was shoving it at me like some kind of trophy. I was upset from seeing Samant
ha here and I just lashed out. That must be why she fell out of the tree house, it must be. It was me, I killed her.’

  ‘It’s probably not.’ Felicity rubbed her friend’s arm. ‘I’m sure there were other factors.’

  ‘Wait! He said there was a bloody flannel?’ Alex asked.

  Karla groaned and covered her eyes. ‘Yes, well—’

  ‘But how would he know that? Unless he—’

  ‘Or she,’ Miranda interjected.

  ‘Or she, had seen Erica after you bashed her?’

  Karla cringed at the word ‘bashed’.

  ‘He’s right,’ Marcus said slowly. ‘How would he know about that? The fucker must have been in the house? Did anyone see anyone else in the house?’

  No one replied.

  ‘Maybe she told someone on the phone?’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘Why would she invite Marcus’s mother to the bloody party?’ Karla snapped. ‘Because she loved to cause trouble, that’s why. She literally had no motive except to piss everyone off for her own amusement.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Is it true?’ A voice cut through the discussion as Brandon’s face appeared at the door of the kitchen, his younger brother at his side.

  ‘We should go,’ Felicity said, standing up and indicating for the others to do the same. ‘Call me, Karla. Don’t go through this on your own.’ She hugged her best friend and tapped Peter on the arm. ‘Come on.’

  They moved past Brandon and Zachary one by one, none of them able to look the boys in the eye. When they were gone, Marcus spoke.

  ‘It’s true, Bran, every word. I’m so—’

  ‘You lied to us! You told us—’

  ‘I told you I’d fallen out with your grandmother. I never told you anything else – you read that yourself, in my book.’

  Brandon stormed into the kitchen to face his father. ‘Bullshit!’

  Marcus didn’t even attempt to tell him to watch his language in front of his brother.