Lying With Strangers

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “What?” Bernie shouted at the dogs to be quiet. “You mean he’s dead?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What happened? He wasn’t sick, was he?”

  “He was in a convenience store during a strong-arm robbery, and was shot.”

  “Oh, boy.” Bernie took a couple of audible breaths. “I don’t know what to say. How terrible. You have my condolences.”

  “Thank you. I know you left a message for him about some crime. You should probably call his office to make sure the right person gets the information. I can give you that number.”

  “Uh, thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” Bernie hesitated. “This was something Roy wanted himself. Personally.”

  Diana had been about to say that made no sense. But then, nothing about Roy made sense to her any more. “Maybe if I knew what the crime was I could help you.”

  “I guess there’s no harm. It’s been in the news. At least here in Georgia. Miranda Saxton, daughter of the senator— she was missing for a number of years. Her remains were discovered recently.”

  Diana had seen the headlines but hadn’t paid a lot of attention. She’d had more pressing concerns than a long-ago disappearance on the other side of the country. But she remembered now that Roy had followed the story, both in the paper and on the news.

  “Why was Roy was interested in that case?” she asked.

  “He’s had feelers out about the Miranda Saxton disappearance for a number of years. I kept him apprised, but mostly there was nothing to report until the bones were discovered.”

  “Are you with the police?”

  Bernie laughed. “Ex. Now I’m private. Much better arrangement for everyone.”

  Diana was gripping the phone so tightly her hand was beginning to hurt. She switched to her other hand. “What did Roy want to know?”

  “What was happening with the investigation. Some people get a bee in their bonnet about an old crime and they can’t let go.”

  But for that to happen, there was usually some connection. “You said something about a necklace.”

  “Right. The remains, well there wasn’t much but bones and a skull. Some clothing fragments and a silver sun charm on a braided leather cord. That hasn’t been made public, but I’ve got a friend on the inside. I told Roy and he asked me to send him a picture of it, so I did.”

  “Was it Miranda’s?”

  “Her father swears not. The police believe it might have belonged to her killer.”

  “The picture you sent Roy—was it to his office or home?”

  “A post office box. I’ve got it somewhere.” Bernie shuffled a few papers and then read off a number in Oakland. He cleared his throat. “I also sent along an invoice.”

  Was this what Roy had done with their savings? Diana couldn’t imagine a private detective would cost that much, but what did she know?

  “I’ll look into it,” She told him. “If you could give me some idea of the amount.”

  “Just under five hundred. I wasn’t really able to do much for your husband until recently. And even that was pretty limited.”

  So the money hadn’t gone to Bernie Fusco. Where then? And what was Roy’s interest in Miranda Saxton? Diana tried to recall what she knew about the disappearance of the senator’s daughter, and found it wasn’t much. She’d been a sophomore at San Jose State at the time, and while she’d been aware of the disappearance, Georgia seemed a long way away.

  Turning back to her computer, she began an Internet search. She’d just started reading a newspaper account of the discovery of Miranda’s remains when Emily wandered up behind her.

  “Mom, I don’t want to miss my plane.”

  Diana quickly clicked to minimize the screen, but not before her eyes caught the phrase, “known to family and friends as Mia.”

  Diana’s heart jumped and then skipped several beats. Mia! The name Roy had murmured in his semiconscious state at the hospital.

  “Mom!”

  “You won’t miss it,” Diana said. “Give me a few more minutes.”

  “You said we needed to leave by one and it’s already one-fifteen.”

  Where had the time gone? Reluctantly, Diana pushed back her chair. The news account would have to wait. “Okay, let’s hit the road.”

  “What were you doing? Looking at porn?”

  “Of course not!”

  “You sure acted guilty, clicking off the screen like that.” Emily leaned over and brought the screen back up. “It’s a newspaper article.” She seemed disappointed.

  “Something for work,” Diana explained.

  “Too bad. I thought for a minute there I had you.”

  Porn might have been easier to explain than the truth, Diana thought.

  *****

  The traffic was light and Diana hit most of the lights right, so they made the airport in record time.

  “You can just drop me off at the terminal,” Emily said as they approached the airport.

  “I’ll walk in with you and see you off.”

  “Mom, I’m eighteen years old! I don’t need you to walk me in. You can’t go past security anyway.”

  “Well, okay. Take a twenty out of my purse for the cab ride to campus.”

  “A friend’s picking me up.”

  “One of your roommates?”

  “A guy I’ve been seeing.”

  Diana’s head swiveled to look at Emily and she almost hit the car that changed lanes abruptly ahead of her. “You’re seeing someone? As in, dating?”

  “Why is that so unbelievable?”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “You sure acted like it. Like ‘dull Emily, who’d date her?’ ”

  “That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that I would have expected you to say something before this.”

  “I came home for Roy’s funeral. It didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up.”

  Diana’s head exploded with a thousand questions. How serious was it? What year was he? Where was he from? What was his major? What was his name? But she knew better than to ask.

  “Nice guy?” she asked instead.

  “I think so.”

  “That’s wonderful, honey.”

  “Can I take the twenty anyway? I could treat Dog to dinner as a thank-you for picking me up.”

  “Dog?”

  “That’s his name. Well it’s actually something else, but everyone calls him Dog.”

  Diana was afraid to ask why.

  Chapter 26

  Diana was pleased that Emily had a boyfriend—her first, as far as Diana knew—but she also felt a bit apprehensive. What kind of young man went by the name of Dog?

  A nice guy, according to Emily, which wasn’t all that reassuring from Diana’s point of view. Hadn’t she thought the same thing about Emily’s father at one time? But if Emily liked this boy, Diana wasn’t about to voice criticism. Not yet, anyway.

  As Diana slid into the elementary school parking lot to pick up Jeremy, it was Miranda Saxton’s murder that occupied her thoughts.

  “I need to make a poster,” Jeremy said as he climbed into the car, tossing his backpack on the floor.

  “A poster for what?”

  “For school. About the solar system. I need it by tomorrow. Most kids have already brought theirs in.”

  Diana winced. With so many things on her mind, she’d forgotten about the assignment Jeremy’s teacher had sent home with students a week earlier. The last thing she wanted to do right now was tackle a time-consuming homework project.

  “We’ll make it tonight,” Diana said. “Do you know what you want it to look like?”

  “Big,” Jeremy said. “Really big. With lots of glitter. And sequins for the stars.”

  Diana sighed silently. A big, glittery solar system with sequins would entail a trip to the crafts store, fifteen minutes away. The poster was going to be a very time-consuming project.

  But it would have to wait. What couldn’t wait was Diana’s curiosity about M
iranda Saxton’s murder.

  *****

  When she’d fed Jeremy a snack and sent him outside to play with Digger, Diana called up the Google search she’d started earlier. The discovery of Miranda Saxton’s remains had been covered by most of the major media sources, but the stories were frustratingly similar, and short on details about her disappearance. A local paper, the Littleton Post, provided the most comprehensive coverage, but its online search function left much to be desired.

  Finally, Diana managed to piece together the basics of Miranda’s disappearance twenty years earlier. The girl had been a few months shy of eighteen when she disappeared the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. She’d gone to an end-of-the-season bonfire at the shore near a private estate where her family was vacationing. Diana got the impression that the party was mostly college-aged kids who’d been working at the town’s resorts for the summer. The group had partied well into the night. When Miranda failed to return to her room by the next morning, the police were called in. No one at the party recalled seeing her leave, but that wasn’t surprising, they said, because kids had been coming and going throughout the evening, either down to the water or back up to the parking lot to replenish food and drink supplies. Several of the kids admitted the partying had gotten fairly boisterous as the evening progressed, but they weren’t aware of any party crashers or fights or other disturbances. It was, by all accounts, just a group of two dozen or so kids having a good time.

  Diana found a photo of Miranda—a high school graduation photo from the looks of it—that had been circulated at the time of her disappearance. She had a heart-shaped face and long, straight hair, parted down the middle. She was pretty in a generic sort of way, but there was a sparkle to her eyes and a freshness about her that set her apart from many other, equally attractive young girls.

  Although Diana had been only a year older than Miranda at the time, she’d been three thousand miles away in California and only vaguely aware of the news about her disappearance. What she did know was largely because her mother had used the occasion to lecture Diana about the dangers that could befall young women who failed to use “good judgment.”

  Now that she was older, she could easily understand how Miranda’s disappearance would have rocked Littleton, and because she was a senator’s daughter, the nation. It was the sort of tragedy that struck at the hearts of parents everywhere, prompting them to confront their worst fears.

  But what interest would Roy have had in the case? Especially now, twenty years after the fact? Diana did a quick mental calculation. Roy would have been wandering through Europe around that time—his lost years, as he called them. Would he even have known that Miranda was missing? This was before the Internet and the emergence of twenty-four-seven news.

  Maybe his interest was Saxton himself, and not the daughter? The senator’s name had been floated at the last election as a possible presidential candidate, and there were those who thought he might actively seek the nomination in two years.

  Roy wasn’t involved in politics, even at the local level, but he might have been interested in a specific bill the senator had been instrumental in supporting. A search for Senator Saxton’s name brought up so many links, Diana was overwhelmed. And most of the recent links brought her full circle back to the discovery of Miranda’s remains.

  Jeremy tromped into the room. “When can we make my poster?”

  “Pretty soon. I’m just finishing up.” In the back of her mind, Diana wondered how she would ever manage to work full-time and be available for Jeremy.

  She printed out a couple of news articles on Miranda’s disappearance and was ready to close out the search when her eye caught a photo of the young man police had suspected of being involved with Miranda’s disappearance, and were now seeking for further questioning. When she clicked on the photo to enlarge it, her heart did a quick two-step and then stopped. She put her hand to her chest to assure herself it hadn’t stopped permanently.

  “Mom,” Jeremy whined. “Can’t you do that later?”

  “Go give Digger some fresh water. I’ll be right there.”

  Diana turned back to the photo, then hit print.

  Nine years ago when she’d met Roy, before she’d met him face to face, in fact, and had only seen him in passing at the DA’s office, the thing she noticed first was his smile. It came slowly, almost intimately, even when he was addressing a group of people. It tugged playfully at the corners of his mouth, lit up his eyes, and transformed his lean, angular face like the wave of a magic wand. His smile made Diana’s knees weak in the early days of their dating, and it was the memory of that smile she hung onto, tucked neatly inside, next to her heart.

  The same smile was on her computer screen now—on nineteen-year-old Brian Riley.

  It had to be a coincidence. Surely Roy wasn’t the only man with a magical smile.

  Maybe the strain of Roy’s death was playing tricks with her mind. Hadn’t she caught fleeting glimpses of Roy everywhere lately? A driver in a passing car. A father with his son in the vegetable aisle at the grocery. For a moment she’d even seen Roy in the man pruning trees near the park.

  But this wasn’t simply a passing resemblance. The closer Diana looked, the more young Brian reminded her of Roy. They had the same deep-set eyes, the same angular face and slightly cleft chin. Could he have had a brother? Or a cousin? That would account for Roy’s interest in the case.

  Yes, Diana decided, a relative. Or even—and it took Diana a good sixty seconds to concede the obvious—Roy himself.

  A sour taste rose in her throat. She was afraid she might be sick. Could her husband really have been Brian Riley, the murder suspect? It would explain why he’d adopted a new identity.

  Jeremy appeared at the door. “Please, can we work on my poster now?” he asked with a touch of impatience.

  “Just a minute, honey.”

  “But I need to start now!”

  “I said in a minute,” Diana snapped.

  “I wish Daddy was here. He’d help me.” Jeremy’s chin quivered and Diana immediately felt guilty.

  “I wish he was, too.” She pulled Jeremy toward her and held him tight for a moment, clinging to the memory of the Roy she’d known, not the Roy whose shadow flitted at the edges of her mind. She kissed Jeremy’s forehead. “I’m going to help you with the poster, honey. But we have to go to the store first to get the supplies we’ll need. Get your jacket and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Jeremy raced off and Diana turned back to the computer.

  It can’t be, she thought. It simply can’t. Her head was spinning and she was having trouble thinking rationally. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to, because so many pieces fit. Roy using a false identity. Retaining Bernie Fusco. Miranda Saxton’s nickname, Mia, rolling so easily off his lips. The money missing from their accounts.

  What would she have done if Roy had admitted to her that he was a suspect in a long-ago case of foul play? Could she honestly say she wouldn’t have thought any less of him? As far as she knew, Brian Riley hadn’t been indicted; he was merely a suspect. But would she knowingly have exposed her daughter, and then a new baby, to a man who had, conceivably, murdered a seventeen-year-old girl?

  Diana felt angry and sick. Angry at Roy for leaving her with so many doubts. Angry at herself for having those doubts. And sick about losing—both literally and figuratively—the man she’d loved and trusted.

  *****

  Chloe was working the register while Velma helped a customer in the beading section near the front of the store. The customer—a pinched-faced woman in a turquoise blue pants outfit—had been at it forever, selecting an array of cheap glass beads as carefully as though she were selecting gemstones. She held each bead up to the light, put it in her tray, then took it out again as she reconsidered. Chloe was glad to have been spared the task of waiting on her. She was sure she’d have barked at the woman by now.

  While she counted the small change the previous customer had unceremoniously d
umped on the counter, Chloe glanced at the clock near the door. An hour and half until the end of her shift, and once again she didn’t know where she would be spending the night. She was afraid to go back to the apartment. The chances that Weasel-face and his buddies would come after her so soon were slim, but she couldn’t take the chance.

  She knew Velma would let her stay for a couple of nights, even though Velma’s apartment was smaller than Chloe’s and she shared it with her sister. But Chloe didn’t want to impose on her only friend, and she didn’t want to face the barrage of questions Velma was sure to direct her way. So far, though, it was the only option she could come up with besides the ladies’ room at Best Buy, and she wasn’t going to do that again.

  All day Chloe had been feeling agitated and angry and scared, torn in so many directions she was surprised she was still standing. She knew it was wrong to be mad at someone who was dead, but she was. She was angrier with Trace than she had been since he’d gotten them into this whole mess. She still loved him, of course, and she missed him desperately, but if he’d appeared in front of her right then she would have hauled off and socked him hard.

  “This picture frame is on sale, right?” Another customer had stepped up to the register and was shoving a frame in Chloe’s face.

  Chloe checked the tag and nodded, then rang up the purchase and waited while the customer dug around in her oversized purse for her checkbook. Chloe never understood why people waited until the sale was complete to search for their checkbook. It usually didn’t bother her much when she was working the register—a few minutes rest was a nice break—but when she was behind people like that in the grocery line it drove her nuts.

  When Chloe happened to look to her left, toward the door, she stared for a moment then did her best to turn away.

  Diana Walker and her son, Jeremy, had come through the entrance.

  Did Diana now realize that Chloe had broken into her house the other day? Or maybe the cops had told her Chloe was the girlfriend of the man who killed her husband. Chloe wanted to die of shame and guilt.

  She tried to signal to Velma, but Velma had her head down, counting beads.