Lying With Strangers

by Jonnie Jacobs

  Joel sighed. “I’m not doing so well, am I? I never do at this sort of thing.” He sighed again, spread his hands and leaned forward. “To be honest, there was a murder about twenty years ago, Senator Saxton’s daughter. You may have read about it in the papers. Her body was recently discovered in an area that was being developed.”

  “Yes,” Diana uncrossed her arms and leaned forward slightly. “I read about that.”

  “There was a suspect at the time, a young man by the name of Brian Riley. But without a body, the DA didn’t want to go forward and Riley was never charged.” Joel paused for a breath. “Your husband looks quite a bit like that man.”

  “My husband grew up in North Dakota,” Diana said.

  “That’s what I read in his bio, but here, take a look.” Joel pulled a handful of photos from his briefcase and handed them to Diana. “These are Brian Riley twenty years ago. And this”—he handed her one other photograph—“is an age-progressed photo of Brian. Don’t you think he looks a lot like your husband?”

  She was silent, but her hand holding the photos shook. Finally, she said, “There’s some similarity, yes. They both have dark hair and dark eyes, but so do a lot of men.”

  “And they have the same angular face and cleft chin.”

  Diana shrugged, but her body had tensed and her expression looked strained.

  “The suspect, Brian Riley, had a birthmark on his lower back, left side. Did your husband have a similar birthmark?”

  Diana regarded Joel blankly for a moment, and then her face crumpled. “Oh, my God.” She pressed the knuckles of her left hand to her mouth. With the other arm, she clutched her middle and folded forward in her chair as though she might be sick.

  Joel got to his feet. “Are you all right?” He felt terrible about what he’d done. A story was one thing, but seeing this poor woman’s distress reminded him he was dealing with people’s lives. “Can I get you something? A glass of water? Should I call Chloe?”

  Diana shook her head, gasped for breath. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t need this on top of everything else.”

  Amazingly, she managed a wry smile. “You’re right about that.”

  “Did you know?”

  “Not for sure, not until this moment. After Roy died, I started to suspect . . . well, a few things didn’t add up. But I hoped I was wrong.”

  “The police will be contacting you soon,” Joel said, sitting again.

  “The police?”

  He held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with that. I simply wanted to hear your story, see your reaction, find out how he’d managed to reinvent himself as Roy Walker. I wanted to get a feel for the human side before the whole thing exploded in the news.”

  “You wanted a scoop,” Diana said, sounding both weary and accusatory.

  Joel nodded. “I guess so. I got interested in the story when Miranda Saxton’s body was discovered. I grew up in Littleton. My father knew Brian’s father. He’d met Miranda, in fact. And the story sort of sucked me in. I spoke with people who’d known Brian, people who were at the party the night Miranda disappeared. It went way beyond the scope of my assignment at the paper.”

  “If you’d known my husband,” Diana said, “you’d know he could never have killed anyone. He was the most honorable, caring, righteous man you’d ever meet. He was a great lawyer, a fantastic dad and a . . . a wonderful husband.”

  She stumbled on that last bit, but Joel supposed that was to be expected given what she’d just learned about him. “A lot of people thought the same thing about Brian Riley,” Joel said. “They still do. Not the dad part, obviously, but that he was a good guy. Not someone who would have or could have killed Miranda Saxton. But the evidence says something different.”

  Diana’s shoulders sagged. “I read the news stories online. Brian was the last known person to have seen her alive. And he had no alibi for the hours after the party. But—”

  “There’s the silver charm Brian wore. It was found with Miranda’s remains.”

  Diana’s face froze. “A sun charm on a braided leather cord?”

  “Yes. Do you know it?”

  “It was Brian’s?”

  “He had one like it.”

  She looked even more dismayed. “I knew it had been found with Miranda’s remains. I didn’t know it belonged to Brian.”

  “My cousin went to high school with him,” Joel said, striving to make amends for the bad news he’d thrown her way. “He thought Brian was a good guy. In fact, he’s going to send me some photos he took the night of the party. I’ll make you copies.”

  Chloe and a boy about seven wearing blue dinosaur pajamas appeared at the doorway. The boy hesitated, and then sidled up to Diana. “Are you going to tuck me in?”

  “Yes, honey, in a bit. Ask Chloe to read you a story first, okay?”

  “I want you to read me one.”

  “I will, after Chloe’s done. That way you’ll get two stories.”

  The boy looked at Joel, and Joel felt a trickle of sour saliva pool in his mouth. He’d been feeling bad enough about breaking the news to Diana, and now it dawned on him that the ripples went even farther. He wasn’t going to get much of a story out of it, either, since the news would break soon anyway.

  The doorbell rang, and the boy ran to the window to look out. “Cops,” he announced.

  Diana paled and turned abruptly. “Chloe, call Allison and Len for me, would you? That’s the number I left by the phone for emergencies. Ask them to come over. Right now. And then take Jeremy upstairs.” She gave the boy a hug. “Mommy needs to talk to the police about Daddy. Legal stuff. You go with Chloe and I’ll be up as soon as I can.”

  Jeremy left reluctantly, looking back over his shoulder at Diana, who was rising to go to the door.

  “Chloe, if Allison is out, tell Len I need him anyway. His cell is in my Rolodex under Phillips.”

  “Len Phillips?” Joel blurted out.

  Diana gave him an odd look. “You know Len?”

  The doorbell rang again as Joel said, “I recognize the name. He was one of the college kids at the party the night Miranda Saxton disappeared. He and Brian Riley worked at the same resort.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, it’s in my notes. Stuff I got from the detectives who worked the case.”

  Diana opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. She called to Chloe to forget about making the phone call, and then she went to answer the door.

  Chapter 33

  Diana awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and a fevered need to speak to Len. She hadn’t expected to be able to sleep at all, but sometime around midnight she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  The police officer who’d questioned her last night, a heavyset man in his fifties named Simms, had apologized profusely for bothering her with what he’d referred to as “a crackpot request” from an out-of-town police department. Could Diana shed any light on the possibility that Roy had lived in Littleton, Georgia, twenty years ago? Did he have any relatives there? Did she know anyone living in that area?

  She had faltered for only a moment before deciding to cooperate with the police. Doing anything else, she decided, would only complicate matters and, in the long run, change nothing. She answered the detective’s questions honestly and then recounted her brief conversation with the mother of the deceased Roy Walker from North Dakota. Diana didn’t mention their depleted savings accounts, but since Simms hadn’t asked, she saw no need to voluntarily damage her husband’s reputation further.

  Simms had clearly been surprised, and then unabashedly electrified, to discover that his routine crank-call follow-up was anything but routine. Nonetheless, his manner remained courteous and sympathetic, and he promised to do his best to keep the discovery from the press until the department had confirmed Roy’s true identity—something he expected would happen rather quickly with the help of fingerpri
nts.

  Since the press had already gotten wind of the story, Diana didn’t see that an official “no comment” was going to have a lot of impact.

  Joel Richards had left not long after Simms arrived, but Diana had asked him to drop by later this morning. She had questions—personal questions—and at the moment, he was her best bet for getting answers. Joel and, eventually, Len.

  She hadn’t wanted to confront Len last night when she was still reeling from Joel’s revelation and feeling so hurt and angry she could barely breathe, but that was her first priority today. Talk to Len, find out what he knew about Brian Riley—then beat him to a bloody pulp for lying to her when she’d asked if he’d known Brian twenty years ago.

  Len first, then Joel. It was bound to be an interesting day.

  With that thought, Diana woke Jeremy, then brushed her teeth and showered. By the time she made it downstairs, Chloe was already in the kitchen, humming softly under her breath.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I made coffee. And I’m making Jeremy’s lunch but I can’t remember if you said apple slices or apple quarters.”

  “Quarters are fine.” Diana poured herself a cup of coffee and opened the newspaper Chloe had already picked up from the driveway. She scanned the two front sections. Not a word about Roy or the murder of Miranda Saxton. Thank God. She wasn’t ready to be publicly humiliated just yet.

  But the ramifications closer to home couldn’t be avoided.

  “You’re probably wondering what last night was all about,” Diana ventured, although she felt sure Chloe had overheard enough to figure it out.

  “Your husband,” Chloe said. “His murder, I mean.”

  “It’s actually more complicated than that.” Diana found she couldn’t bring herself to tell Chloe that Roy wasn’t who he claimed to be, and that he was wanted for murder. It felt too personal. “I’ll explain another time, but if any reporters come around, don’t speak them, okay? Don’t let them in, and don’t let them near Jeremy.”

  “No, of course not. I’m sorry about that man yesterday, I didn’t know he was a reporter.”

  “That’s okay. I meant other reporters. I’m expecting Joel Richards later this morning.” Diana hesitated, then added, “His father might have known my husband’s father.”

  If Chloe was confused, she kept her questions to herself, confirming Diana’s suspicions that Chloe had heard much of what was said last night. Not that it mattered. Soon the whole town would know. The whole nation.

  Jeremy hopped down the stairs with Digger at his heels and looked around. “Is the cop gone?” he asked.

  “Long gone,” Diana said.

  “What’d he want?”

  Diana brushed the hair from Jeremy’s face with her hand. “Just some stuff about Daddy. They want to make sure they have the right information.”

  “Oh.” Jeremy’s expression clouded. Seven-year-olds were blessedly resilient but it didn’t take much to bring sadness to the fore. Diana felt terrible for starting his day off with a reminder about his father.

  “Hey, Mr. Sunshine,” Chloe said brightly. “How about French toast for breakfast?”

  “Yeah.” Jeremy grinned. “I love French toast.”

  Once again, Diana was grateful for Chloe’s presence.

  *****

  Later that morning, Diana sat across from Len at a table she’d staked out in a quiet corner of a Starbucks in Berkeley—a location she’d suggested because she was sure neither of them would run into anyone they knew. She wanted a conversation without interruptions, and without friends eavesdropping.

  “What’s this about?” Len asked, handing her the tall cappuccino she’d ordered. “It feels a bit cloak and dagger, if you want to know the truth.” He smiled, and Diana felt grateful. She knew he was trying to break the ice. Meeting for coffee—just the two of them—wasn’t something they’d ever done before. Neither was heavy conversation.

  She licked the foam from the top of her cup. Best to get right to the point. “Remember when I told you I thought Roy looked like the guy who was the main suspect in Miranda Saxton’s disappearance?”

  Len nodded.

  “Well it looks like he probably was that guy. The cops somehow got wind of the fact that Roy resembled him. They’re trying to make a final determination as we speak. Roy Walker isn’t his real name.”

  Len rocked back in his chair. “Jesus. Are you kidding me?” He let out a whoosh of breath. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s not all,” Diana told him tersely.

  Len raised an eyebrow and gave her a quizzical look.

  “You were in Littleton the summer Miranda Saxton disappeared, weren’t you?”

  Len had been ready to take his first sip of coffee, but now he set the cup down, untouched. His broad face grew pale but his expression remained carefully casual.

  “In fact,” Diana continued, her tone hardening, “you knew Brian Riley, the young man whose photo I showed you. You worked with him.”

  The muscle in Len’s jaw twitched. For a moment he didn’t move, then he spread his hands on the table and stared at them before looking at her. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want to know the truth. How could you have kept this from me? How could you have lied to me!” Diana realized her voice had risen. She lowered it again. “You and Allison are my closest friends. I count on you. I trusted you.”

  “I’m not the bad guy, here, Diana. Don’t yell at me.”

  “I’m not yelling.”

  “You were.”

  It was easier to be mad at Len than at Roy, but that wasn’t fair. “Just answer me,” she said. “Were you friends with Brian Riley?”

  There was a stretch of silence, then Len said, “I worked at a resort in Littleton. It was the summer after my sophomore year at Yale. I’d met Brian but we weren’t friends by a long shot.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me when I showed you his picture? You implied you knew about Brian Riley only because of what you saw on the news.”

  “Tell you what? And to what end? You and Allison are friends. I like you. I wanted to spare your feelings.”

  “But you acted like I was way off base.”

  “As far as I was concerned, you were. So what if Roy looked like Brian? I couldn’t say for sure that’s who he was. And Roy is dead. Why would I want to rub salt in your wounds?”

  “But at some point, you must have suspected Roy was Brian.”

  “Why? Like I told you, I didn’t know Brian well. We worked at the same resort but I was a lifeguard, one of the college crowd who partied as hard as we worked.” Len paused with a self-effacing roll of his eyes. Diana had always liked that about Len. He was never too full of himself.

  “Brian was a townie,” Len continued. “He bused tables. Our paths hardly ever crossed. When Miranda disappeared and the cops zeroed in on him, he was big news. Everyone had a story then, but if that hadn’t happened, he’d never have been a blip on anyone’s radar.”

  “You’d met him, though. You could at least have told me that.” Diana knew she sounded peevish, but she was angry she’d been misled, even though she supposed she could understand Len’s reluctance to speak up.

  “I’m sorry,” Len said. He leaned across the table. “Maybe I should have told you then that I’d known Brian, but what difference would it have made? I’m still not sure I believe they were the same guy.”

  “They were.”

  “You’re certain?”

  Diana nodded.

  “Jesus. Who’d have thought?” Len settled wearily back against his chair. “What made you think I knew Brian in the first place?” he asked after a moment.

  “A reporter from Littleton who’s been covering the Miranda Saxton story recognized your name. You really never thought Roy looked like Brian before I said something the other day?”

  “When Allison first introduced us, I thought Roy looked a little familiar, but I’ve met a lot of people over the years, and a number of them look
like someone else I remember, so no, I never thought much about it. Besides, I knew him as Roy. It never dawned on me that might not be his real name.”

  “And you never asked Roy if he’d been to Littleton? Never pushed him just a little?”

  Len held his cup with both hands and looked at Diana. “Once. He’d said something that made me think he was familiar with the coastal area of Georgia. I asked him about it, and he passed it off as a coincidence.”

  He eyed her earnestly. “I was out to make nice, Diana, not create problems. It was Allison I was focused on. You were her best friend. I was hardly going to win her over by making trouble with your husband. Besides, Brian Riley was never charged with anything. He wasn’t a fugitive. Even if I’d been sure that’s who Roy was, what would have been the point in saying anything?”

  She wouldn’t have believed Len, Diana thought. She would have dismissed him as a wacko, leading to tensions in her relationship with Allison. Len was right. Speaking up earlier would have caused trouble. But once Roy was gone and Diana had raised the possibility, she thought Len ought to have been honest with her.

  “I went to you and Allison with my suspicions,” she said. “It wasn’t easy to open myself up like that. And then you went out of your way to lie to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Diana. Truly I am. I did what I thought was right.”

  “Did you tell Allison you’d known Brian?” Diana couldn’t bear it if Allison had known and kept quiet about it as well.

  “No. If I was going to tell Allison, I’d have told you first.” Len’s voice was low and sincere. “Maybe I’m a coward at heart. It was easier to stick my head in the sand and say nothing.”

  “Do you think Roy recognized you?”

  “I doubt it. Why would he? If Brian hadn’t been a suspect in Miranda’s disappearance, I’m sure I’d never have remembered him, either.”

  “Maybe he sensed something, though. You two never really hit it off. Maybe that’s why.”

  “Could be, I guess.” Len didn’t sound particularly interested one way or another. “More likely it’s simply because we were different sorts of people.”