Liar, Liar, Heart's Desire

by Suzie Quint

  Though Cleo coaxed her to eat, Jada only finished half her sandwich and barely touched her soup.

  “Do you want to go back to bed?” Cleo asked.

  Jada nodded dully, but she didn’t move until Cleo took her arm. When Jada’s feet hit the floor, she wobbled, so Cleo helped her up the stairs to her bedroom.

  Cleo was gone long enough for him to brew a pot of coffee. He poured two cups and sat back down. Half of Jada’s sandwich lay abandoned on her plate. Quien no malgasta, no pasa necesidades, his mother always said, which loosely translated to waste not, want not. He picked up the remains of the sandwich and took a bite. When he finished that off, he slid Jada’s soup in front of him. Still warm. After that was gone, he rinsed the dishes. When Cleo walked back into the kitchen, he said, “She’s sleeping too much.”

  “It’s her way of coping,” she said as she sat down.

  He didn’t buy the calm with which she said it. “Do you want to call her doctor?” He started loading the dishwasher but kept one eye on her. “Maybe she needs something more than a sedative.”

  “It’s only been a day.”

  Why was he butting in? This wasn’t his business. But from the first, Jada had possessed a Marilyn Monroe quality that struck his protective instincts so hard he could practically hear the metallic gong. “I don’t get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “Jada was pretty shook up when she thought Annaliese was arrested before, but she didn’t need to be sedated. What hit her so hard this time?”

  It hadn’t seemed like a complicated question, but the silence that followed lasted long enough that he turned to look at her. Her lips had tightened and the hard look in her eyes tipped the scales. She was mad at someone. He hoped it wasn’t him. A quick mental review revealed no serious missteps on his part, but women weren’t always predictable about those things.

  “Someone at rehearsal told Liz about the arrest,” she said, her voice tight.

  Liz. Koblect’s widow. Whew! And then he remembered she was also Jada’s dance captain.

  “After that,” Cleo continued, “it got ugly fast. I wasn’t there, but one of the girls gave me the highlights. Liz ranted and screamed and said some pretty mean things to Jada. A couple of the girls thought Liz might actually hit her.”

  Alec scrubbed his hand across his face. No wonder Jada had melted down.

  Cleo’s palm slapped the countertop. “I’d like to punch Liz in her smug, self-righteous face. She’s such a bitch! I can see her blaming Annaliese, but Jada had nothing to do with Sebastian’s death. She’s the sweetest person on the planet. She doesn’t have a clue how to protect herself. Not physically. Not emotionally.”

  Alec silently agreed, but he also saw the other side. When you’ve just been told someone you know murdered your husband and that person’s lover was standing in front of you, it was pretty human to lash out.

  “Jada wasn’t even really upset about Liz,” Cleo said. “She was upset because Annaliese is in trouble.” Cleo’s mouth twisted. “And because Liz said she hoped Annaliese fries.”

  He winced. “That’s harsh.” But still understandable in the heat of the moment. It occurred to him, however, that regardless of what happened, Liz was going to be disappointed; Nevada executions were done by lethal injection. Somehow, this didn’t seem like a good moment to mention that.

  He needed to shift the conversation. He flailed mentally for a second before asking in too hearty a voice, “So what did Annaliese’s lawyer say today?”

  Cleo took a deep breath and filled him in. When she told him about the autopsy results, about the bruising found on Sebastian’s neck, his gut clenched. “So someone held him underwater.” And dollars to donuts, the pattern of the bruising fit a woman’s hand.

  “And Annaliese sent a message for Jada,” Cleo said. “She wants her to be a trooper, to buck up and go to work, to have faith that things will work out.”

  “I don’t think having her go to work is a good idea right now.”

  “No, not if Liz is going to be abusive.” Cleo sighed. “I guess I have to tell Liz to back off.”

  “Think she’ll listen?”

  “All I can do is try.” Another long pause. “Annaliese also wants Jada to remember her promise.”

  “What promise is that?”

  “Danny didn’t know, and when I told Jada about it, she said she didn’t remember. It might not be anything noteworthy, but Jada takes promises to heart. Annaliese uses them to make sure she understands when something’s important. Like never walking away from something on the stove.”

  “I doubt she’s reminding her of that from jail.”

  “True. But it could be something equally simple. She wasn’t happy when Jada called me before, so it might be something to do with how she handled that.”

  “Then let’s not worry about it. Did you talk about bail?”

  “Danny says we might not get it at all, but if we do, it could be a million dollars.”

  Alec loosed a soft whistle. That was a lot of money, even if all they paid out was the bail bondsman’s fee, but an exclusive would give The Word a boost in sales they could stretch to multiple issues. He could make a case for the outlay.

  “He says he’ll try to get it reduced,” she said, “but it’s such a high-profile case . . .” Her throat moved as if she was trying to swallow a vile-tasting lump.

  Mierda. This wasn’t a great topic either.

  She gulped in a breath. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t come up with that kind of money.”

  “Hey, don’t go borrowing trouble.”

  She gave an anemic laugh then in a choked voice said, “I don’t need to borrow any. I’ve already got plenty.”

  “We’ll come up with the bail.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m serious. The Word pays people all the time for interviews. This is a big story. If Annaliese agrees to give us exclusive rights, that’s worth more than pocket change.”

  “A million dollars—even a hundred thousand—is a lot more than pocket change.”

  “I know. I’ve already talked to Nigel.”

  She lifted her head to flash him a hopeful look. “You have?”

  “Yup.”

  She took a deep breath. “That’s the first good news I’ve had all day. Thank you.”

  “De nada.” His phone trilled. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the number. “Speak of the devil,” he said as he answered the call.

  “You’ve got the interview,” Nigel said without preamble.

  “Great.” Alec grabbed the pen on the counter and wrote down the details.

  “I’ve overnighted you a copy of the contract,” Nigel said. “And you can pick up the cashier’s check at the local branch of our bank on Tropicana.”

  “No problema. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Liz is selling her story.” He flipped his phone into the air and caught it on its way down, like a juggler showing off. “To us.”

  “Do you have some sort of fairy godmother working overtime?” Cleo asked.

  “I was raised Catholic. We call them guardian angels.”

  She took a deep breath. When she released it on a long exhale, it seemed to take her physical tension with it. “Well, there it is. Our next step.” She paused. “Your next step.”

  Was she feeling left out? Liz was his interview. They both knew it had to be that way. Even if Nigel was willing to give it to her, Cleo as the interviewer would be a deal breaker. Alec wouldn’t even blame Liz. How objective could Cleo be when her mother was accused of killing Liz’s husband? Not to mention, Cleo clearly wasn’t ready to be publicly linked with a tabloid.

  “Do you need help prepping for the interview?” she asked.

  “All I need is a little uninterrupted time to make sure I’ve got all the points I want to cover firmly in my head.”

  “Consider it yours.” She slid off her stool and went into the living room.


  He’d done this sort of interview often enough most of the bullet points wrote themselves. He was halfway through the list when he realized he was thinking about what questions Cleo might ask if it were her interview. How would they differ from his? What would her deeper understanding of the people involved lead her to ask that didn’t even occur to him?

  He started developing a sort of double vision about his questions, and by the time he was done, the last two felt obvious and inane. He was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with them. That the problem was in him, but he kept thinking Cleo’s interview would be more insightful and relevant.

  He wasn’t used to his work being inferior to anyone’s, and that it might be—even if no one else suspected it—became an itch he couldn’t scratch.

  What he needed was to do more research.

  Chapter 6

  Alec opened the cabinets until he found a bag of popcorn and an air popper. It couldn’t hurt to butter Cleo up. An image of her naked, all oiled up and glistening, popped into his head. He forced it down. He had a mission and it wouldn’t be served if he walked out of the kitchen with an obvious hard-on. He set a large bowl in front of the air popper to catch the kernels, and went looking for Cleo.

  He found her sitting at the dining room table, poring over Jada’s jigsaw puzzle.

  A third of it was done, which he found somewhat miraculous since most of the one thousand pieces were shades of orange, yellow, and rust. He picked up the lid of the box and studied the picture of the Grand Canyon. Great photo, but as a puzzle, it was a bitch.

  He sat down on Cleo’s right. He hadn’t done a jigsaw since he was probably ten years old and watching someone else work on one was about as interesting as watching hair grow.

  “All done?” she asked as she tried unsuccessfully to fit a piece into the puzzle before discarding it.

  “Taking a break.” He picked up the piece she’d just abandoned. It had striations of orange and rust. They were the right shades for the places she’d tried them, but it was impossible to tell up from down with the piece. He flipped it and tried it in one of the same spots. It snapped into place. “Aha.”

  “Good eye.” She picked up another piece and tested its fit a couple of places before tossing it down. Absently, she rubbed her temple and frowned.

  The faint brrr of the air popper stopped, so he got up and went into the kitchen, where he salted and buttered the popcorn. The smell filled the kitchen. He flipped a kernel into the air and caught it in his mouth. Then he dug into Cleo’s purse and retrieved her glasses.

  “Thanks,” she said when he handed them to her.

  “Do you really need those?”

  “If I don’t want headaches, yes.”

  “You could have come in and gotten them.” He set the bowl of popcorn on a chair he pulled catty-corner between them.

  “I know,” she said, “but I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working.”

  “My concentration isn’t that fragile.” Which was a lie. She distracted him whenever she was around. But now, he needed to focus, so he could pick her brain. Preferably without her noticing because he didn’t want to admit he needed her help.

  He picked up a puzzle piece and went to work, letting a companionable silence grow into a minute, then two, before he asked, “Do you really think Willa was immune to Sebastian?”

  “Some women were.”

  “What kind of woman would that be?”

  She looked at him over the rim of her glasses. That was so hot, he forgot what he’d asked. Oh yeah. Willa. Sebastian. To cover his momentary lapse, he said, “After all, most women think a man with money is a good provider. And of course, he had status in the community.”

  Cleo pushed her glasses up and picked up another puzzle piece. “Not all women think that lifestyle is all they want from a marriage.”

  “All other things being equal, most women think a man who can provide them with money, status, and the lifestyle that goes with it is better than a man who can’t.”

  She snorted. “All things being equal only works in theory, not in the real world. In general, men who can achieve the money, status, and lifestyle Sebastian had also have traits that make them undesirable as spouses.”

  “Says who?”

  “Annaliese, actually. But I think she’s right. Sebastian was driven. He valued practicality and business over romance and relationships, which meant he wasn’t good marriage material. And he had four ex-wives to prove it.”

  “And yet, there were undoubtedly women out there who would have stood in line to be the next Mrs. Koblect because you women always think you’re the one who can change a man and make him better.”

  “All that and-they-lived-happily-ever-after crap is fairy tale thinking,” she said.

  “You’re too young to be that cynical.”

  “I’m not cynical. I was just never indoctrinated to think I’ll automatically get a happy ending.”

  “So what do you think you’ll get?”

  “I hope I’ll get what I earn.”

  “Yeah, that’s working out well for you.”

  She looked up from the puzzle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you worked your ass off and turned in a kickass story, but instead of working your way up as an investigative journalist at The Sun, you’re stuck at a tabloid.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe a tabloid was a bad place to be.”

  “I don’t. But it isn’t what you were aiming for, is it?”

  She looked at the puzzle piece she held as though, if she studied it hard enough, it would give up its secrets. “No, it isn’t.”

  This topic hadn’t gone where he’d expected it to. He hadn’t meant to kick her while she was down. They needed something else to talk about. “Tell me about Sebastian.”

  She found a home for the piece in her hand and picked up a fistful of popcorn. “Everything about his life is already being hashed and rehashed. I don’t know what else there is left to tell.”

  “That’s all public knowledge. You knew him. Maybe he wasn’t front and center in your life, but he was on the periphery for a long time. Tell me how you saw him.”

  She was silent for almost a minute as she ate the popcorn in her hand. “I was nine the first time I met him. He’d just gotten divorced from his first wife. He and Annaliese were going golfing.”

  “Like a date?”

  “Kind of. I guess. I don’t really think of Annaliese as ever dating. Mostly she had . . . extended hook-ups. A guy might be a one-night stand, or he might hang around for a while. Not exclusively, mind you. I don’t know that she’s ever done exclusive. At least not until Jada.”

  “So she’s exclusive with Jada.” He inflected it as a statement then waited for Cleo to confirm it, though if she did, her claim not to believe in fairy tales was a lie because she’d clearly chosen to believe what she wanted rather than ask for confirmation.

  “I hope so,” she muttered as she tapped unassembled puzzle pieces in her search for something that suited the corner she was working on.

  “Were Annaliese’s boyfriends ever . . .?”

  “Ever what?”

  “You know. Too friendly. With you.” His stomach clenched unexpectedly. The dangers of bringing strange men who had sex on their minds around young girls were real. He hoped Cleo had never had to fight one off.

  She picked up a puzzle piece and studied it. “The guys before Sebastian weren’t interested in me.” Then, in a rush, she amended, “In us.”

  “Us? You mean you and . . .?”

  “Uhm, Patty. Me and Patty.”

  He’d almost forgotten about the tragically dead cousin she had invented on the spur of the moment the day he’d found a picture of ten-year-old Cleo with Annaliese.

  “We hung around together a lot in those days,” Cleo continued. “Annaliese’s friends seemed to see me—us—as something that had to be scheduled around.”

  His stomach relaxed. “Okay. So back to the first
time you met Sebastian . . .”

  She dropped the piece she held and picked up another, talking while she tried to fit it in. “Annaliese wasn’t quite ready that day, so Sebastian came in to wait. He was nice. To us, I mean. Me and Patty.”

  He caught himself before he could smile. She was clinging to her fabrication for all it was worth.

  “When Annaliese was finally ready to go,” she said, “he insisted we come along. Because of us, they went miniature golfing instead. I was awful at it. It was a nice day, though.”

  She dropped into silence, appearing to concentrate hard on the puzzle. Alec picked up a piece and tried it in a few places. It didn’t fit, so he turned it top to bottom and tried it again. No go.

  “For a while,” she said as though she hadn’t let the conversation lag, “he’d show up every few days. Then he disappeared and there was a string of other guys. I was used to that, though, so it didn’t surprise me. It was, oh, I guess nearly a year before I saw him again. He came around for a while then nothing for six months or so. That’s how they were. If they did something kid-friendly together, he didn’t mind me—I mean us—tagging along. Not that there was a lot of that after the first run. I think by the time he showed back up, it was mostly about sex.”

  “So you never thought he’d be . . . Patty’s new daddy.” He’d almost said your instead of Patty’s. Hopefully, she’d overlook the hesitation in the middle of his question.

  He was relieved when she laughed though it didn’t hold real humor.

  “No. Annaliese didn’t encourage that kind of thinking. He didn’t try to play the father either, if that’s what you’re wondering. He had two grown kids; he was emphatically not interested in raising another.” Her tone softened. “But I liked him. He didn’t talk down to me. I think he was the first person I told I wanted to be some kind of writer. He told me I was a smart cookie—for some reason, he always called me a smart cookie even when the only thing smart about me was my mouth—and I could be anything I wanted to be.”

  For the first time, Alec thought he might actually have liked Sebastian. “That’s nice. Every kid should have someone to encourage them.” He shuffled some loose pieces around, absently grouping them by subtle hues. “Maybe he called you cookie because you were sweet. Like a dessert.”