Liar, Liar, Heart's Desire

by Suzie Quint

  Cleo focused on folding her corners together as she asked the money question. “So you don’t think she did it?”

  Loretta’s attention zeroed in on Cleo as though she knew how much Cleo needed to hear her answer. And since Loretta knew Annaliese was her mother, Cleo figured it was silly to pretend otherwise.

  Loretta’s gaze stayed leveled on Cleo. “No, I don’t. Not in a hundred million years.”

  Cleo closed her eyes, trying to hide the relief, so much stronger than she’d expected it to be. “You’re the only one who believes she’s innocent,” she said so softly it was almost a whisper.

  “No,” Loretta said. She took two corners from Cleo, and Cleo opened her eyes. “Someone else out there knows she is.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any guesses who that might be?”

  “I don’t know. I think everyone is capable of murder if the provocation’s right.”

  Cleo had known the answer wouldn’t be that easy, but the disappointment she felt said she’d hoped anyway. “Liz?”

  “Yes, I can see Liz committing a crime of passion.” Loretta finished the sheet and sat down again, but she didn’t reach into the basket. “I can even see her committing a calculated murder.”

  “The other exes?” Cleo found her place on the couch again.

  “If they didn’t kill him while they were married to him, why would they do it now?”

  Good point. “What about other women?” Cleo asked, thinking Loretta might add a name they didn’t already have. “Maybe someone hoping to take Liz’s place?”

  “You’re guess is as good as mine about that. Probably better.”

  “Did Bales know her job was in jeopardy? Would she have killed him over that?”

  Loretta chewed on her lip. “I don’t think she knew, but she might have sensed something. I don’t know if she’d murder him over it. I imagine her job is on shaky ground with him gone, so it seems like a rather self-defeating response.”

  “Murderers don’t always think clearly.”

  “True.”

  “Maybe she thought she could follow in your footsteps,” Cleo suggested.

  “Knowing Sebastian, that’s always a possibility, but that’s true of so many women.” Loretta stood up. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Christopher doesn’t drink it, and it’s hardly worth making it just for me since the doctor only allows me one cup a day.”

  Cleo agreed, willing to be the excuse for Loretta’s guilty pleasure. While Loretta was in the kitchen, she mulled over their discussion. When Loretta came back with two cups, Cleo knew what she wanted to ask. “You said everyone’s capable of murder. So why don’t you think Annaliese could have murdered him?”

  “Because I don’t believe there’s a jealous bone in her body. There certainly wasn’t where Sebastian was concerned.”

  Which meant Annaliese had no motive. Cleo closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that from someone else. The relief came in a physical wave, washing from her head to her gut and sending tingles through her extremities.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d checked out of the conversation, but when she opened her eyes, Loretta was watching her speculatively.

  “You’re not writing a story, are you?” Loretta said. “You’re investigating on your own. You want to clear your mother.”

  “There’ll be a story, but . . .” What was the point of denying it? Her mother was more important than any story. Even one that would get her back to The Sun. “Yes, I don’t want to see them railroad her.”

  Loretta leaned forward though not too far because of her belly. “Tell me what you’ve learned. What wasn’t on the news?”

  Cleo bit her lip. She hadn’t realized how alone she’d been feeling. Talking to Alec helped, but keeping secrets from him was a burden, and if it came to a choice between the story and saving Annaliese, she didn’t know what he’d choose. Jada’s loyalty was unquestionable, but her ability to help was nearly nonexistent.

  In some ways, Loretta was the perfect confidant. She’d known Sebastian as both businessman and husband. She’d lived in his suite and knew things Cleo couldn’t even imagine to ask about. And she was sympathetic.

  So she told Loretta about the missing elevator data and the bruising on Sebastian’s neck. She mentioned the alcohol and prescription drugs found in his bloodstream. That might be too much even for Loretta.

  “I don’t know if Sebastian’s upgraded his security,” Loretta said. “He might have. He liked his tech toys, but he hated feeling spied on, even by casino security. He controlled the cameras in the elevator and in his suite.”

  “But someone else could have erased those recordings, couldn’t they?”

  “If they knew the system, but they’d need the passwords. That’s a short list of people.”

  “Liz would be on that list,” Cleo said.

  “So would Nancy Bales.”

  “Why would she know the codes?”

  “Because he can also control the system from his office. It fed into the flat screen on the wall,” Loretta said. “He could turn it on and off or even monitor the cameras without recording.

  “But that doesn’t mean Nancy knows the codes.”

  “How many passwords do you have for things?”

  “Urgh. Half a dozen I guess.”

  “How often do you change them?” Loretta asked.

  “My personal ones? As seldom as possible. The ones at the office have an automatic expiration, so I change them when I’m forced to.”

  Loretta cocked her head.

  “I get it,” Cleo said. Sebastian was the boss. If he didn’t want to change his password, no one would make him. Which meant if Bales knew Sebastian’s code for anything, she probably knew them for everything. “Who else would know them?”

  “Hard to say. Someone smart about security systems might be able to hack into it, but it may not matter if Sebastian turned the system off himself.”

  “Did he do that a lot?”

  “It depends. He’d do that for business sometimes if he was meeting someone and he wanted to keep it private, but he and Liz were divorcing, so it could have been personal as well.”

  “What you mean is, if he had a woman coming up. Someone like Annaliese.”

  Loretta nodded. “She was there that night.”

  “But not for sex.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Loretta was right. Cleo was having a hard time being objective because she didn’t want to believe anything sexual had been going on. “Do you think that’s why she was there?”

  Loretta shrugged. “If he turned off the cameras in the elevator because of her, it’s probably a good bet.”

  Cleo wanted to believe Annaliese’s relationship with Jada had put an end to the casual sex in her mother’s life, but she’d never asked for fear she wouldn’t like the answer. Now she was afraid she knew, and Loretta was right; she didn’t like the answer.

  “But he also has cameras in the bedroom,” Loretta said. “I don’t know if the police would have found those or if they’d just assume those recordings went to the same place.”

  Cleo caught her breath. “They don’t?”

  Loretta shook her head. “But maybe he didn’t have them on. He didn’t always.”

  It occurred to Cleo that Loretta would know firsthand what sort of things went on in Sebastian’s bedroom, but if there was some particular kink he’d liked, Cleo didn’t want to know. There was one other thing Loretta might know, however. How to broach the subject without tipping her hand was nearly impossible. She decided she had no choice but to ask outright. Even so, she couldn’t help trying to sound casual.

  “If Sebastian had a personal marker from someone, do you know where he would have kept it?”

  She’d asked as Loretta was taking a sip of coffee. Loretta set the cup carefully on the coffee table before meeting Cleo’s eyes. There was speculation in the look she gave Cleo. “You have a lead, don’t you? Someone owed Sebastian money,
and you think it will take the heat off you mother. Hm.” She tapped a forefinger against her lips. “Probably not someone on his payroll. That would go through the casino. Unless it was someone he worked closely with. Nancy, for instance. She’s well paid but her mother’s in a nursing home. That can’t be cheap.”

  Cleo kept her mouth shut and her face expressionless. While she’d love to ask for details, she’d prefer to appear as if she already knew about Nancy’s finances.

  “If Sebastian considered it a personal debt, something that wouldn’t show up on the casino’s books, it would end up in the safe in his bedroom.”

  She should have guessed there’d be a safe. But it didn’t help. LVPD wouldn’t have left a safe unopened. If Annaliese’s IOU had been in there, they already had it. She frowned. But if they had it, wouldn’t they have looked at Annaliese’s bank account by now? And if they had, wouldn’t they have already asked about the deposit she’d made last week? But they hadn’t yet. Of course, it hadn’t even been a week since the arrest, but until they did, she decided not to give up hope.

  “And if it’s not in the safe?” she asked.

  “Then I have no idea. Of course, if it was new or if it was getting paid, he might have taken it out of the safe.”

  Of course. He’d expected to get paid. Instead, Annaliese had told him she wouldn’t have the money until Monday. What if the marker was in Sebastian’s suite, waiting to be found? It could still be a wild goose chase. But what if it wasn’t?

  She needed to get in there.

  Her mind churned with need, distracting her from the conversation with Loretta. Somehow, she managed the polite phrases that would get her out the door without offending her hostess, but just as she stepped outside, one last question surfaced in her mind.

  Loretta had started to close the door but when Cleo turned back toward her, she paused.

  “You said everyone will kill under the right circumstances,” Cleo said.

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t think Annaliese killed Sebastian.”

  “No, I don’t. She had no reason to.”

  “What do you think would drive her to kill?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Loretta’s eyes locked onto Cleo’s. “She’d kill to protect someone she loves.”

  Chapter 9

  Though Willa was scheduled to work that night, Cleo had time, so she stopped at Walmart. The number one thing she wanted was something to sleep in. Preferably something non-sexy.

  It didn’t take any deep psychoanalysis for her to know guilt was the source of her need for new bedroom attire. Not that she’d been having sex since Annaliese’s arrest. Alec had been a paragon of understanding that she wasn’t precisely in the mood, but that wouldn’t last. She knew this because, when he held her in the night, his physical response wasn’t something easily overlooked.

  And while sex with Alec was great—so much better than anything she’d ever experienced—she couldn’t continue to indulge in something so personal, so intimate, when she was conspiring to pull a story out from under him.

  As many times as she told herself men didn’t attach the same significance to sex women did, she couldn’t help feeling having sex with someone she might end up betraying made her a bad person.

  And since the sex wouldn’t last beyond their time in Las Vegas, it was a no brainer what she needed to do.

  She picked out loose, gray sweatpants. A quick pass through the men’s department for an extra-large T-shirt and she had everything she needed.

  When she got into the car, she called Willa. “How’s Jada doing?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “You had to give her another pill?” Damn. She’d hoped Jada was snapping out of it.

  “Not ten minutes ago. She just got worked up, you know?”

  “No problem. I trust your judgment. I’m only five minutes from home. Why don’t you go ahead and leave so you’re not late for work. Jada should be fine alone for a few minutes.”

  Willa agreed. Five minutes later, when Cleo walked into the condo, she found Jada sitting at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” Cleo said as she dropped her purse on the stool beside Jada and reached for the coffee pot only to realize what was there was left over from breakfast. She dumped the cold remains and started a fresh pot.

  “No,” Jada said around a mouthful of cereal.

  “Didn’t she give you a pill?”

  “Didn’t take it.”

  Apparently, Jada hadn’t been as worked up as Willa thought. “I could make you a real meal,” Cleo offered.

  Jada’s eyes lifted for a split second before she pulled her bowl closer and spooned another bite into her mouth. “S’okay.”

  Her concern that Cleo might take the cereal away from her wasn’t totally groundless. Annaliese hadn’t been a strict mother by anyone’s definition, but she’d always been a little gestapo-esque about eating healthy. In her world, breakfast cereals were junk food, which meant they were a rare treat.

  Left unsupervised, Jada had naturally gone straight for the comfort food.

  Which wasn’t a bad idea at all.

  Cereal wouldn’t have been Cleo’s first choice. If she was going to sin, she figured she might as well sin big, but since she hadn’t picked up a cheesecake at the store, she grabbed a bowl and poured herself some cereal.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had Frosted Flakes, but after the first mouthful, she decided it wasn’t a bad alternative. Maybe she should make it a staple in her kitchen. What was it about the forbidden that always tasted so good?

  Jada was staring at her, wide eyed.

  Cleo grinned and took another spoonful.

  That seemed to encourage Jada. She poured another bowl of cereal, drowned it in milk, and started eating, looking a little less like a wild animal protecting its kill.

  When she finished, she started to pour herself a third bowl—at least it was the third Cleo had seen. Who knew how many there’d been before she’d walked in the door? Her bowl full, Jada shook the box. “We need to buy more.”

  Cleo doubted Annaliese would even remember how full the box had been. The thought stalled her. What if Annaliese didn’t come home? It wasn’t something she’d let herself consider before. She’d thought about her mother in jail, but on some level, she’d refused to see it as anything but temporary. A mistake that could be—would be—rectified. But what if it wasn’t?

  In stunned silence, she stared at Jada, who was worried she’d be in trouble for eating some stupid cereal. My God, who will take care of her if Annaliese gets sent to prison? That she might have to do it was overwhelming.

  “Cleo?” Jada said. “I’m not supposed to eat cereal. If Annaliese finds out, she’ll kill me.”

  She shook off her paralysis. This was where taking care of Jada started. “No, she won’t,” she said, trying to be as reassuring as possible. “She loves you.” The word hadn’t even left her mouth when she heard Loretta’s words again in her head.

  She’d kill to protect someone she loves.

  Someone like her daughter.

  Or Jada.

  Cleo barely registered the sound of her spoon clattering to the floor.

  “Cleo?” Jada’s voice rose, reminding Cleo how fragile the other woman’s calm was.

  She forced herself to focus even though her mind was spinning. “Don’t worry. We’ll get another box. Annaliese will never know.” She retrieved her spoon from the floor and rinsed it in the sink before getting another one. “Did you work last Sunday, Jada?”

  Jada nodded. “The early show.”

  “And what did you do after the show?”

  “Annaliese and I got ice cream. I had cookie dough in a sugar cone. With sprinkles on top.”

  Alarm bells rang in Cleo’s head. Ice cream? Growing up, Cleo had only been allowed ice cream as a reward. What had Jada done for her reward? “And then?”

  Jada’s mouth opene
d then closed, her lips pressing into a bloodless line.

  “Jada?” Cleo asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer, but knowing she had to pursue it.

  Jada dropped her head and peered into her bowl. “I’m not supposed to tell. I promised.”

  Oh God. Was this the mysterious promise Annaliese had reminded Jada of from jail? “Who aren’t you supposed to tell?”

  “Anyone.”

  “Well, I’m not anyone, am I?”

  Jada peeked at her without lifting her face.

  “I’m Annaliese’s daughter. I’m family. Family doesn’t keep secrets.”

  Unless it involved cereal-binging. What irony.

  “What did you do after you had ice cream?”

  “We went to see Sebastian,” Jada said in a tiny voice.

  Cleo went cold from head to toe. “Tell me, Jada. Tell me what happened.”

  ~***~

  When Alec walked into the condo, Cleo was sitting alone in the kitchen. The TV was on in the living room and, judging by the laugh track, tuned to a sitcom.

  “Is Jada feeling better?”

  “Yes.”

  Her listless voice made him look more closely.

  “Cleo? Is something wrong?”

  Her head lifted and he could see in her pale face and her pinpoint pupils the answer was an emphatic yes.

  He stepped to the opposite side of the breakfast bar and braced himself on his forearms, so he’d be eye-to-eye with her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Annaliese.”

  “What about her?”

  “Jada was with her.”

  “Where?” He didn’t know why he asked. There was only one where that mattered.

  “At Sebastian’s.”

  “The night he died?” Stupid, useless question, but it came out of his mouth anyway. Probably because he was clutching at straws, giving her every chance to tell him it was something else entirely.

  She nodded.

  “What else?”

  She cupped her hands over her face. He waited.

  “She did something . . . not good.”

  He touched her wrist gently and she let him draw her hands down.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, looking as though she’d steeled herself for battle. “Sebastian made a deal with Annaliese. He’d forget about the interest on the loan if . . .”