She was startled awake by someone banging on the front door. The clock said 3:00 a.m. She got up.
She peered through the peephole. To her shock, it was Mary Ellen. Nicole looked at the chain lock. It was still fastened. That meant the girl had left the suite earlier, perhaps when Nicole was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. She unlocked it and opened the door.
Mary Ellen was wearing jeans and a light-weight jacket. Her face was flushed, and she looked as if she’d been crying.
“What’s up, Mary Ellen?” Nicole was careful to keep her voice neutral. No accusation, just a reasonable tone. “I thought you weren’t going out tonight.”
Mary Ellen refused to meet Nicole’s eyes, and she wore the expression of a little kid caught doing something forbidden. “No. I mean, I just met a couple of friends—um—down in the lobby. I’m on my way to bed now.” She looked down at the jacket she was wearing. Her eyes met Nicole’s, only to dart away again.
“I didn’t leave the hotel, ma’am,” the girl went on. “I promise. I told my friends I’d go out, but then I remembered what you all told me—about the media? So we just sat in the lobby and talked.”
“I hope you didn’t run into any problems,” Nicole said.
“No, ma’am. The place was empty. Nobody bothered us. I’m really tired. Goodnight.” She went into her room and softly closed the door.
Back in her own room, Nicole dialed the front desk, described Mary Ellen to the night clerk and asked if he’d seen her and her friends in the lobby.
“I did see a girl like that. She came down around—” he was silent, apparently thinking about it “—I’d say around midnight and left by the front door. I think she came back a few minutes ago, but I was on the phone, so I’m not sure. When I saw her earlier, she was alone. And we haven’t had anyone sitting in the lobby. I would have noticed.”
Nicole set her alarm for 7:00 a.m. As soon as she woke up, she checked on Mary Ellen. The girl was fast asleep. Since it was Sunday, Nicole planned to let her sleep until 10:00 before waking her. Then they’d go shopping. Today was their one chance to buy clothes for the girl to wear to court.
Her next order of business was to call Sue and tell her about Mary Ellen’s outing and the fact that she’d lied about not leaving the hotel.
“Damn,” said Sue. “I had a hunch all that humility and ‘ma’am-ing’ were too good to be true.”
“Look at it this way,” said Nicole, “now that we know we can’t trust her, we’ll take precautions. I’ll sleep in the living room tonight. The couch pulls out into a bed, and I’m a light sleeper. If she attempts to go out, I’ll try to talk her out of it. If she goes anyway, I’ll follow her.”
“Good idea,” Sue said.
Nicole ordered breakfast from room service and was just finishing when the phone rang. “This is Geneva Ford,” a woman said. “I’m an attorney with WAR. I’d like to speak to Mary Ellen Barnes.”
“She’s asleep,” Nicole said. “Can I take a message?”
“I’m downstairs in the lobby. I’d like to meet with her.”
Nicole introduced herself and said, “I’ll come down and talk to you, but I have to get dressed first. Give me ten minutes.”
“Oh, all right,” the woman said, clearly annoyed. Too bad, Nicole thought. She wasn’t going to let a stranger talk to Mary Ellen without checking her out. Why hadn’t the woman called ahead?
Nicole phoned Sue. “That is the name of the attorney,” Sue said. “But go down and make sure she’s the real thing before you bring her up to the suite.”
Nicole cleaned her teeth and ran a brush through her hair. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was still wavy from yesterday’s hot-roller session. She made a mental note to have her highlights touched up. She wasn’t beautiful, but she could do a fairly convincing job with makeup. No time for that now. Instead, she dabbed on some lip gloss and pulled a fake smile at her reflection. Her dimples appeared. Damn, she thought, they made it hard for people to take her seriously. As soon as they saw those dimples, they jumped to certain conclusions: that she was sweet, a pushover. Well, let them think so.
She pulled on one of the outfits she’d packed: a pair of white jeans, a blue knit top, and woven-leather sandals. Then she was on her way down to the lobby.
Even at first glance, it was clear Geneva Ford was the real thing. She was a well-preserved woman of indeterminate age who gave off a vibe of negative energy, impatiently tapping one of her strappy high heels and glancing around the room. Her close-cropped white hair was spikey on top, and she was wearing a smart, asymmetrically cut black dress with big buttons down the front. The outfit made her stand out among the casually dressed guests in the lobby. This was Santa Monica a.k.a. Silicon Beach. No one dressed up here, especially on a weekend morning.
“Let’s have some coffee,” Nicole said after she and Geneva exchanged introductions. A waiter was tending a nearby table; Nicole gave him a wave and he hurried over to take their orders. Nicole ordered a latte; Geneva just shook her head and motioned the waiter away. After he was gone, Geneva asked about Mary Ellen, and Nicole told her of the girl’s late-night excursion.
“That’s completely unacceptable.” The woman’s words were clipped with disapproval. “Mary Ellen promised us this case would get her undivided attention and that she wouldn’t contact other students until the trial was over.”
She stopped talking when the waiter arrived with Nicole’s order. The two women remained silent while he placed a small white china tray on the low table with the latte and a plate of assorted biscotti.
Geneva was tapping her foot again, clearly impatient to get back to business.
“You don’t have to worry,” Nicole said. “I’ve got things under control. I’ll sleep on the fold-out couch in the front room. She won’t be able to sneak out without waking me.”
Geneva went on as if she hadn’t heard. “I’m going to have a talk with that girl. We decided to back Mary Ellen’s case because we felt she’d make a convincing witness. She seemed so determined to see justice served. Frankly, I’m shocked.”
As Nicole listened, she selected a chocolate-dipped biscotti from the plate.
“We have five of these cases in progress.” Geneva spoke in a voice that reminded Nicole of Mrs. Fox, the dean of girls at her old middle school, unable to converse in a tone that wasn’t hectoring and argumentative. “Our goal is to make colleges and universities more sensitive to rape cases. They’ve improved, but they still fall down when college athletes or prominent academics are involved. I’m sure you know how much money top college football teams attract in TV rights, sponsorships, and alumni donations.”
They lapsed into silence. Geneva was gazing out the window at people strolling along the beach. Nicole wondered if the attorney was regretting her wardrobe choice. Probably not. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d kick off her shoes for a walk in the sand.
When Nicole finished her latte, she said, “If you’re ready, I’ll take you to the suite and wake up Mary Ellen.”
It took a while for Nicole to get Mary Ellen out of bed. “I’m so tired,” the girl said. “Just give me another fifteen minutes.” She burrowed head under the pillow while Nicole pulled back the covers.
At last Mary Ellen emerged from her room wearing the pink, flowered dress from the day before, now more than a little wrinkled. She wasn’t wearing shoes.
“Well, young lady.” Geneva didn’t bother to hide her irritation. “I don’t like what I’ve been hearing about you—leaving the hotel in the middle of the night. And then lying about it.”
Mary Ellen flushed and looked down at her feet. As if suddenly noticing they were bare, she covered one foot with the other and curled her toes under. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I’m sorry. It was such a hard day. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought the fresh air—” her voice trailed off. “I won’t do it again.” She sat down on the couch, tucking her feet under her.
“I should hope no
t,” Geneva said. “But I think I have the right to know where you went and who you saw.”
Mary Ellen worked her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Finally, she managed, “A couple of girls from school. We were planning to go to Hollywood, but Ms. Graves here and that other lady said I shouldn’t do that. So we just sat in the lobby and talked. But I didn’t say anything about the case, and no one saw us.”
“I’m sorry, Mary Ellen, but you’re not telling the truth,” Nicole said. “I checked with the night desk clerk, and he said he saw you leave the hotel, and there weren’t any people in the lobby while he was on duty.”
The girl flushed again. “I didn’t want you to worry about my going out. But we didn’t run into anyone. We just sat on the beach and talked.”
“Well, I’m astonished,” Geneva said. “After everything we’ve done for you, you’re sneaking out and lying to us. Not only that, but you agreed not to meet with anyone from the university, and you did just that. You might inadvertently say something that would damage our case. It would also be bad if the paparazzi caught you running around in the middle of the night. A lot depends on your image, the idea that you’re a nice, clean-cut girl.”
Geneva nodded before continuing, “Now we asked you this before, but I want you to think very carefully before you answer. Is there anything in your past—anything at all—that could undermine this case?”
Mary Ellen met her eyes. “No, ma’am.”
Apparently satisfied, Geneva stood and picked up her purse. “All right then. I’ll see you in court tomorrow morning at 9:00. Don’t even think of being late.” She paused to take in Mary Ellen’s wrinkled dress. “You have something more appropriate to wear in court, I trust.”
Nicole saw Geneva out. As soon as the door closed, she turned to Mary Ellen and they both spoke at the same time. But Mary Ellen said, “What a witch!” to Nicole’s “What a bitch!” They laughed.
A little while later, Nicole and Mary Ellen were in the limo, heading toward Century City to outfit the girl for her coming ordeal.
Three
The day’s shopping went well. Mary Ellen let Nicole choose the outfits she was to wear. When they were back in the limo heading for the hotel, Mary Ellen said, “Thank you for the beautiful clothes.”
“Don’t thank me, Mary Ellen,” Nicole said. “The WAR organization is paying.”
“I know,” the girl said. “But you have such good taste, ma’am, and you found some really nice things. You’re so pretty and well dressed. Do you think you could help with my hair and makeup tomorrow morning?”
Nicole wished the girl would stop calling her “ma’am” and trying to ingratiate herself. But she simply said, “I’ll be happy to.”
Back in the suite, Mary Ellen’s mood sank. Barely responding to Nicole’s attempts at conversation, the girl kept her eyes glued to the TV. After a while, she got up. “I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap.”
Nicole read for a bit, then went into her room to call Josh. They discussed how each had spent the day. Josh was just heading out to his parents’ for dinner.
After they hung up, she returned to the living room. Everything appeared in order, but she suddenly realized that she shouldn’t have left the front door unwatched. What if Mary Ellen had snuck out again? She knocked on the girl’s door. When there was no response, she knocked again and opened the door. Mary Ellen, lying on the bed, lifted her head and gave Nicole a startled look. “What?” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“I just wanted to be sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I was asleep.”
“Sorry,” Nicole said, gently closing the door. She killed some time reading the paper and doing a crossword puzzle. She called her sister. When the call went to voicemail, she left a message. Stephanie, she imagined, was probably out with a new boyfriend, of which there seemed to be an endless supply. To Nicole, they were all alike: incorrigible slackers. To a man, they displayed negative attitudes toward just about everything except Stephanie. Until she broke up with them. Then things could get unpleasant. Steph currently had two restraining orders against rejected suitors who refused to take “no” for an answer.
As soon as Steph acquired a new boyfriend, Nicole would do a background check on the office database. So far, none of them had criminal records, but they often had bad credit ratings and piles of unpaid traffic tickets. Many were divorced, some several times. A few had outstanding warrants for failure to pay child support.
At first Nicole had shared this information with Stephanie, who didn’t appreciate what she called Nicole’s snooping. “I’m not going to marry him,” Steph would say. “Do you think I’m that stupid?” More recently Nicole kept these background checks to herself, vowing not to say anything unless one of these men seemed truly dangerous.
Nicole was feeling restless. She wished she could somehow arrange for Josh to visit or, at the very least, get out of the hotel for a walk. But it was her job to stay close to Mary Ellen, and the girl couldn’t risk going out. Even if the press didn’t find her, anyone with a smart phone might recognize her from the news, take her picture, and tweet her location to the world. Nicole picked up her book again.
Late in the afternoon, Mary Ellen emerged from her room. Her eyes were red, her face swollen from crying. She immediately went into the bathroom. After a while she came out, looking slightly better. Nicole patted the couch next her. “Let’s have a chat and get your mind off things.”
Mary Ellen sat down, sniffling, and blew her nose on a tissue wadded up in her hand.
“Tell me about home,” Nicole said. “I’ve never lived in a small town. What’s it like?”
Mary Ellen considered this, then shook her head. “I hate it. When I started Oceanside, I hoped I’d never have to go back. Can we talk about you instead?”
“Sure, what do you want to know?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I do,” Nicole said. “In fact, we’re getting married later this year.”
“You are?” For the first time Mary Ellen smiled. The smile lit up her face, erasing the downcast expression she’d been wearing since she arrived. “Are you having a big, white wedding? What’s your dress like?”
“No white dress, I’m afraid. You see, I was married before, so I’m wearing lavender silk with a wreath of flowers in my hair instead of a veil. Actually, I can show you.” She flipped through the photos on her iPad to locate the one her sister had snapped of her in her wedding outfit the day they’d gone shopping.
Stephanie had been so excited about news of Josh’s proposal, that she’d insisted they visit some bridal shops right away. She’d tried to talk Nicole into a purple velvet sheath that bared one shoulder.
“Why don’t you get it?” Nicole had said. “It’s more your style.”
Steph had looked at the price tag and said, “Whoa! $900. No thanks.”
“Don’t worry,” Nicole had said. “I’m buying. You’re my maid of honor.”
When Nicole located the photo, she handed the iPad to Mary Ellen. “It’s beautiful,” the girl said. “Do you have a picture of your fiancé?”
Nichole nodded, searching through her photos until she found her favorite shot of Josh. Mary Ellen drew in a deep breath. “Oh, he’s so good looking, and he looks really nice.”
“He is. He’s wonderful.” Nicole smiled and flipped through some of the other photos of him and the two of them together. She never tired of looking at him. He was tall with wavy, light brown hair. He had expressive blue eyes fringed with pale lashes. His most striking features were his prominent cheekbones and an easy smile that started at one side of his mouth before spreading to the rest of his face. He was always smiling, except when—she dismissed the thought.
“You’re so lucky,” Mary Ellen was saying. “How did you meet?”
“By chance, on the street,” Nicole said. “A car was speeding around the corner, and Josh pulled me out of its path. After he saved my life, he asked me out.”
“What about that guy who helped us through the mob at the airport?” Mary Ellen said. “At first I thought he was one of the paparazzi, but it was like you two were friends.”
“We are friends,” Nicole said. “He’s a reporter. I met him about a year ago, when the paparazzi were after me.”
“They were? How come?”
Nicole sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got all day.”
“That’s true,” Nicole said. She described what had happened after a workmate was murdered and inexplicably left her a fortune. It got into the news, and the story went viral. She’d had to hide from the media and the killer, who thought she knew more than she did.
“Everything eventually worked out,” Nicole said. “I gave a final, exclusive interview to Greg Albee, the man you saw me talking to. He works for the L.A. Times.”
“What about the money you inherited?” the girl said. “Does that mean you’re rich?”
“Hardly. The estate is all tied up. The man who left it to me earned his money by blackmailing people, and he never paid taxes. The IRS has a hold on his property so they can collect what he owed them. Law enforcement is trying to confiscate the rest because he was involved in criminal activity. My lawyer is appealing, so I may get something after the house is sold, if it ever does. It’s been on the market for almost a year, but there aren’t many buyers for a house someone was murdered in.”
Mary Ellen’s eyes grew wide. “You mean he was murdered there?”
“Exactly,” Nicole said. “That’s one reason, among many, I’d never live there. The whole thing was pretty traumatic. I wasn’t as lucky as you. I didn’t have anyone to keep the media away or protect me from his killer; I had to go into hiding. I ended up staying with Josh. That was the real beginning for us.”
“Wow! That is so romantic,” Mary Ellen smiled again, leaning over to hug Nicole. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Why don’t we watch TV and order something to eat?”
Liar Liar Page 3
