by Suzie Quint
The marker currently resided in a side pocket inside her purse, and she kept reaching in to touch it. Whether possessing it would make an actual difference in Annaliese’s case or not, it gave Cleo the sense that everything would turn out right, that her mother wouldn’t have to stand trial for Sebastian’s death. That she’d be home soon.
She wanted to walk into the condo and crow to Alec that her plan had worked, but . . . he wouldn’t be there. She’d really come to appreciate him. He’d proven himself more than the tabloid whore she’d initially taken him for. Capable of good work, but more importantly, always there, ready to back her up. She really wanted to share this victory with him. How was she going to suppress her excitement until he got home?
She pulled into Annaliese’s designated parking space and practically danced up the walk. “Jada?” She called as she closed the door behind her. “I’m home.” Sheesh. Could she sound more chipper?
No answer.
“Jada?”
The kitchen was empty. She pulled the marker out of her purse and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans before leaving her purse on the breakfast bar.
“Jada?”
The living room was empty, too, but there was a cup half full of cold tea on the coffee table.
“Jada?” Cleo started toward the patio to see if she was out there sunbathing.
“Sh. Jada’s sleeping.”
“Whaaa―?”
She looked up to see Willa leaning over the railing.
“—aat are you doing here?”
“When you said Jada was here alone”—Willa started down the stairs—“I got worried.” She held up a hand to fend off objections. “I know. She didn’t need me, but my mother hen instincts kicked in.”
Cleo pushed down her annoyance. Willa had done so much for them.
“I wanted to talk to you, anyway,” Willa said. “About Jada.”
“What about her?”
“Why don’t we sit down?” Willa perched on the edge of a chair near the couch, her hands clasped in her lap. She refolded them twice after Cleo sat, and Cleo’s annoyance slid into concern. Was there something about Jada she’d missed?
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. It’s only . . .” She bit her lip and her face creased into a look of concentration as if trying to figure how to approach what she wanted to say. “What’s going to happen to Jada when your assignment here is over? I mean, if Annaliese is still in jail?”
Cleo took a deep breath. Time to return to reality. Even without the marker to tag Annaliese with a motive, even if they could get them to consider Liz as a suspect, the police might not release Annaliese soon enough to avoid this issue. “I’ve thought about that, too, but I don’t have a solid answer. I could take her back to Denver with me”—or, if she was lucky, Tucson—“but Jada doesn’t handle change very well.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Willa leaned forward eagerly. “What would you think about letting her stay with me? I know my place would be new to her, but she’d still be in Vegas, you know? And with fresh ownership, things could change at the casino. It’s going to be awkward for Liz, going from the boss’s wife to . . . well, just another showgirl. She might leave, and then Jada would still be able to work. That would be good for her. Give her some stability, right?”
It actually wasn’t a bad idea. Cleo was a little ashamed of how appealing it was.
Not that she didn’t like Jada or want to be responsible for her . . . Well, yes, she didn’t want to be responsible for her. Jada was a major commitment, and Cleo wasn’t sure she was up to it. She didn’t even have a fish, not to mention being uncertain about her destination when she left Las Vegas. How was she supposed to be responsible for Jada when her own life was so unsettled? And wherever she went, she wouldn’t have the option of traveling for a story. She’d have to keep regular hours, so Jada could have a routine. Which meant she’d probably end up writing Elvis stories for the tabloid after all or, nearly as bad, local gardening pieces for The Sun.
She slid the tips of her fingers into her pocket and touched the marker. Her talisman. Why was she letting this get her down? Willa was giving her a way out. She felt her mood lift again.
“I think it sounds like a terrific idea. And maybe it won’t be for all that long. They don’t have a motive for Mom.”
Mom? Wow. How long had it been since she’d called Annaliese that?
Willa’s face went soft with sympathy. “Oh, I don’t think you should get your hopes up about that. I mean, this is Sebastian we’re talking about, you know? He was a womanizer. That’s about all the motive they need, you know?”
“But they can’t prove anything about her and Sebastian. I mean, at one time they saw each other, but even then it was off and on―”
“I think it was more on than you realize.”
“But—but she had Jada . . .”
“Yes, well, fidelity isn’t exactly your mom’s middle name.”
She really had hoped that had changed. That the deal with Sebastian had been a one-off.
“And besides”—Willa cocked her head and the sympathetic look deepened—“your mom . . . well, she owed Sebastian all that money.”
“You know about that?”
Willa nodded. “I know you scraped together enough to pay him off, but . . .” She sighed. “I was in the casino the day Jada gambled it away.”
“Oh lord.” Cleo covered her eyes for a moment. When she dropped her hand, she asked, “Who else knows?”
“Some of the people on the floor that night. They saw her gambling. And losing. But I don’t think any of them know where the money came from or what it was for.” She threw a scolding look at Cleo. “In spite of what people think, I can keep my mouth shut when it counts, you know?”
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. “Then the cops still don’t know about the debt. And they’ll never be able to prove it.”
“Well . . .” Willa drew the word out.
“What?”
“It’s just I’m sure Sebastian had a marker. Lending money without one, that wasn’t him. But there’s a rumor that he forgave all personal debts in his will.”
“He did?” If that was true, then the money in Annaliese’s account was unencumbered. She could pay back the tabloid’s advance. She’d be free. “That’s wonderful.”
“Well, not so much. It means Annaliese had a motive.”
Cleo looked at her blankly.
“She owed Sebastian money,” Willa said then added pointedly, “as long as he was alive.”
“But that shouldn’t matter. She had the money to pay him back. It’s there, in her account. The bank would have released it on Monday.” The universe couldn’t dangle her freedom in front of her then snatch it back. It just couldn’t. But a twinge of impending panic said it was all too likely.
Willa blinked. Twice. “She had the money? Where did it come from?”
Cleo explained about the tabloid’s signing bonus.
“Well, maybe. But I’ve watched those true crime shows. Once the cops decide who did it, they twist the facts to make them fit. They’ll probably say Annaliese wanted to keep the money. Or she didn’t want to be the cause of you taking a job that was so far beneath you.”
Cleo surprised herself by bristling at the slur against The Word.
“That marker―” Willa started.
“They don’t have the marker,” Cleo said.
Willa’s eyebrows rose. “How do you know?”
“Because I have it.”
Chapter 21
“What?” Willa looked stunned at Cleo’s announcement.
She hadn’t meant to tell Willa, but now that the words were out of her mouth, the excitement she’d felt on the way home came bubbling back up. “That’s what I was doing today. While everyone was at the memorial, I went through Sebastian’s penthouse.” She couldn’t help the grin that broke out on her face. “And I found it!” It felt so amazing to finally share that.
<
br /> Willa’s eyes opened wide. “You were in the penthouse? How did you get in?”
“There’s a back way in. A stairwell from his office to the penthouse.”
“But the doors—all the doors are security coded, you know? How did you figure out he uses—” She bit off the sentence.
“His anniversary? You knew that?” That would have been so helpful if Willa had volunteered that information sooner.
Willa tipped her head in an it’s-no-big-deal gesture. “That’s what it was when he was married to Candy.”
Cleo had forgotten Candy and Willa had been friends back then. Something niggled at her. “How many people know the code?”
Willa waved her hand as if the answer didn’t matter. “Oh, I don’t know. The head of housekeeping has it I’m sure. Maybe the house doctor. Probably some security honcho.”
And whoever had known past codes had a decent chance at guessing the current one, which widened the field of suspects exponentially. More people to weed through. Then again, more potential suspects had to be good, didn’t it?
“So you found the marker?” Willa prompted.
Cleo’s mood spiked again. “Yup.” Damn. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face.
Willa scooted forward on her chair. “Let me see.”
Cleo pulled it from her pocket.
Willa took it, read it, flipped it over to see the back. She almost looked disappointed. “It seems like it should be bigger. I mean, it’s . . . almost . . . anticlimactic, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Why was she disappointed in Willa’s response? She suddenly felt tired.
“What are you going to do with it?”
Cleo took a deep breath. “Destroy it I guess.” That was the smart thing to do. But she wanted Alec to see it first because, well, it was sort of a trophy.
“Oh no. You don’t want to do that.” Willa looked appalled. “What if the cops figure out she owed Sebastian money? What if they try to say it was more than it was? You’ll need to be able to prove she had the money to pay it all back, you know?”
Cleo hadn’t thought about that.
“But you don’t want to keep it here,” Willa said. “What if they decide to search the condo again? You need a safe place where they won’t look.”
An odd look Cleo couldn’t quite define crossed Willa’s face almost like a shadow. Her stomach rolled as the word sly popped into her head.
“I could keep it for you.” Willa held the marker close to her chest. “They don’t have any reason to search my place.”
A rush of possessiveness washed over Cleo. She’d gone through too much to give it up so soon. Even to Willa. “No. I don’t think so.” She held out her hand. “I’d rather keep it close to me.”
Willa held it for a few seconds then slowly offered it up.
Cleo tucked it back in her pocket. Was she being stupid about this? Maybe getting it out of the condo was a good idea. She needed to think it through, but Willa made her feel pressured. A few moments alone to pull herself together seemed like an excellent idea. “I need to visit the ladies room. Is there coffee on?”
“No, but I can start a pot. Are you hungry? I could make BLTs.”
She’d barely eaten breakfast, so a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich would carry her through until Alec got back. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
Cleo went to the guest bathroom and stared into the mirror. She looked almost as tired as she felt. Experience told her it was the letdown from the adrenaline her body had been dumping into her system off and on all afternoon.
Even though she had the marker, nothing had really changed. Annaliese was still in jail, still facing criminal charges. It was making her suspicious and untrusting. Like that look she’d imagined on Willa’s face. She’d actually felt queasy for a moment.
She wished she could just crawl into bed and sleep until Alec got home. Instead, she splashed cold water on her face.
The phone in the kitchen rang as she reached for a towel. A few seconds later, the murmur of Willa’s voice reached her ears.
“Cleo,” Willa called. “It’s a collect call from the jail.”
Oh God. Finally. “Accept it,” Cleo called. “I’ll be right there.” She swiped her face with the towel.
Her first instinct was to yell for Jada—she’d be crushed if she didn’t get to talk to Annaliese—but Willa had said Jada was sleeping, so Cleo grabbed her digital voice recorder.
In the kitchen, the coffee was already brewing, and bread was laid out for the sandwiches, all mayoed up and ready for filling.
As she took the phone from Willa, Cleo said, “Go. See if Jada’s fit to talk to Annaliese.”
With a nod, Willa scurried off.
Cleo punched the speaker button on the phone. As she replaced the receiver, she set the voice recorder on the counter and hit record. Jada would at least get to hear Annaliese’s voice.
“Annaliese?”
“Cleo?” Annaliese didn’t sound happy. Then again, she was in jail, so why would she be?
“I’m so glad you finally called.”
“Who answered the phone? Was that Willa?”
Okay, that wasn’t unhappy in her voice. That was mad.
“Yes, it was. Jada’s been too upset to―”
“I don’t want Willa there.”
Cleo had never heard that much cold steel in her mother’s voice. “But―”
“No buts. I want her out of my house.”
“But Jada―”
“The last thing Jada needs is Willa anywhere near her. I want her gone.”
Cleo picked up the receiver, automatically killing the speaker.
“Listen, I know you and Willa have issues but―”
“Get her out of my house. Now.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“Get. Her. Out.”
Cleo was already tired of this nonsense. “No.”
Annaliese started to say something, but Cleo overrode her. “Now you listen to me. Jada didn’t take your arrest well.” Annaliese tried again to say something, but Cleo didn’t allow her to break in. “It’s not just her overreacting. Liz pounded on her the day you got arrested. She said some ugly things that Jada didn’t handle well, so the casino doctor sedated her. She’s still fragile about it, but Alec and I both have things to do”—she bit her tongue to keep from throwing a barb about Annaliese’s arrest being the cause of this whole mess. There was no sense fueling her mother’s fire—“and we can’t be here all day. Willa has been kind enough to stay with Jada while we’re gone. I’m not going to throw her out like last week’s garbage.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Annaliese’s voice shook, but it didn’t stop her from sounding ten different kinds of angry. “Willa is not there out of the goodness of her heart. She’s trying to seduce Jada like she tried to do with Candy when she was married to Sebastian and Willa fell in love with her.”
“What?” Had she heard that right?
“That’s right. Willa fell for Candy. And Candy—she’s a nice kid but dumber than a gumball—never tipped to why Willa went out of her way for her like she did. And now Willa’s doing the same thi―”
The phone was suddenly gone. Cleo gaped for a second at her empty hand.
“If you’re reading Cleo the riot act— Stop talking, Annaliese, and listen to somebody else for once. Your daughter needed help because she’s been doing everything she can think of to get you out of the jam you got yourself into.”
Cleo stared. She’d never heard Willa sound so decisive.
“In fact,” Willa continued, “just today, while everyone was at Sebastian’s memorial, she snuck into Sebastian’s suite and found your marker, so now―”
It was already too late when Cleo lunged, grabbing the phone from Willa. “What are you doing?” She sounded every bit as aghast as she felt. “She’s calling from the jail. They record everything.”
Willa’s hand went to her mouth as though to shut herself up, but there
was something . . . a smugness, perhaps? . . . that made it look fake.
What was it Alec had said about Willa’s lying tells? That she’d stopped using her signature phrase. The phrase that made her sound a touch unsure of what she was saying. And on the phone with Annaliese, she’d sounded forceful. If Alec was right, Willa had known exactly what she was doing.
But why? Why would Willa betray her and sabotage Annaliese? Could her mother be right? Was Willa wooing Jada?
Cleo stood there with one hand over the phone’s mouthpiece for what seemed like an eon as she processed her thoughts, then she lifted the phone to her mouth. “Can you call me back later?”
Without waiting for an answer, she hung up. She stood, her hand on the receiver, thinking a hundred different things in the first three seconds.
How long had Willa been lying to her? At least since the night Alec had caught on to her tells.
She turned to face Willa. Her face felt cold, her expression locked, her emotions suspended as if saving themselves for some drama she sensed in the offing. “Jada wasn’t confused. You told her to spike Sebastian’s drink.”
“What?” Willa’s hands rose, palms up, fingers spread. “No. I never―”
“Let’s stop pretending. I know you did.”
Willa dropped her hands and her shoulders sagged. “Okay, yes. I lied. But there was a reason, you know? Your mother was doing something she shouldn’t have.”
“You mean the agreement she and Sebastian made to have a threesome.”
“You know about that?” Willa shook her head sadly. “Oh honey. I’m sorry. There are some things a child shouldn’t know about her mother, you know? You grew up knowing too much. I thought, well, that I’d spare you this one thing.”
Cleo almost agreed with her. She wanted, with everything she had, to believe her. But she didn’t.
“Why did you tell Jada to drug Sebastian?”
“What Annaliese was doing wasn’t right,” Willa said. “Jada didn’t want to do it, and that’s something she should have had the right to say no to. Except Annaliese wouldn’t listen to her.”
“So why didn’t you talk to Annaliese for Jada? Why―”
“Really? You think Annaliese would listen to me? Ha! That’ll be the day.” Willa stepped into the kitchen side of the breakfast bar, pulled a big-ass knife from the knife storage block. With one hand, she centered a tomato on the cutting board and started slicing as though taking years of frustration out on the tomato.
