Private Lies

by T. E. Woods

  “Now?”

  “Rick and Horst are on their way. Can you join us?”

  “Of course. Are you at the police station?”

  “No. Until we figure out who’s dirty, I’d like to keep this away from potentially damaging eyes.”

  You mean the person who nearly killed your wife…and me.

  “I understand. Where are you?”

  “Garner Park. Do you know it?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. The main shelter. Just off Mineral Point Road. I told Horst and Rick to meet me at 10:30. Does that work for you?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Sydney…” Charles was silent for a moment. “Be careful, okay?”

  Sydney hung up the phone and walked it back to the hostess stand. She was in the midst of telling Gail that she’d be leaving for the night when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

  “Leaving?” Leslie Arbeit asked. “And here I thought I could coax you into a nightcap before I headed home.”

  Sydney reached out to lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder. She looked to her right, then her left. Then she pulled Leslie a few steps away from where anyone stood.

  “Charles just called,” she whispered.

  “Called you?” Leslie teased. “Oh, good lord. Sydney, if you’re going to tell me you’re having an affair with my husband, don’t make any rash decisions before I tell you how rabid he gets when watching football.”

  “It’s about last night.”

  All good nature drained from her friend’s face. “Charles was mad as a hornet when he got home from the station today. He’s not going to stop until he gets to the bottom of this.”

  “I think he may have. He wants me to meet him at Garner Park.”

  “Not at the station?”

  Sydney shook her head. “Rick and Horst are on their way.”

  “Then we should go.”

  “Did he call you, too?”

  “Sydney, someone’s using my company as a front for money laundering and murder. I don’t have to wait for my husband to call me.” Her voice left no room for argument. “We can either drive over together or I can follow you. But either way, I need to know what Charles has found out.”

  Sydney nodded. “My car. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 53

  Sydney pulled her Mustang into the darkened parking lot.

  “That’s Rick’s CR-V,” she told Leslie. “Horst must have ridden with him. Do you see Charles’s car?”

  “No. But he may have driven the departmental vehicle assigned to him.” She leaned forward, staring out into the starless night. “I don’t see any other cars here. What time did he say to meet him?”

  “Ten-thirty.” Sydney engaged her parking brake and looked at her dashboard before turning off the engine. “We’re a couple of minutes early. Should we wait here?”

  Leslie opened the passenger-side door. “In a dark and empty parking lot? When there’s at least two cops waiting in that shelter over there?” She pointed to a limestone structure designed in the style of Frank Lloyd Wright. In the winter, an ice rink the size of a football field just below the structure would be lit with giant lights on high poles. But deep into a summer’s night, the only light in the entire forty-two-acre park was suspended over the entrance to the large stone structure.

  Sydney got out of the car and clicked it locked. The two women began their approach toward the meeting spot.

  “Wait,” Leslie whispered. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and called up her flashlight app.

  “Good thinking, but why are we whispering?”

  Leslie chuckled and returned to normal speaking volume. “Perhaps it’s the cloak-and-dagger nature of it all.”

  “Shine your light on the ground, okay?” Sydney asked as they walked on. “I don’t want to accidently trip over some raccoon.”

  “Sydney?” Rick’s voice called out from the darkness. “Is that you?”

  “It is.” She and Leslie picked up their pace when Rick and Horst emerged from the shadows of the building. “Is Charles here?”

  “He called you?” Rick asked.

  “Yes. Said I was to meet him and you two here. This one’s tagging along.”

  “It’s my company, Sydney.” Leslie nodded a greeting to the two men. “Not to mention my husband.”

  “He’s onto something,” Horst said. “Maybe I can get back to my job.”

  The four of them walked back into the shadowy interior of the park’s pavilion. Despite the warm night, they clustered together as closely as they would if they were dependent on one another’s body heat for survival. They waited in silence.

  It wasn’t long before the footsteps came.

  Leslie trained her flashlight on them. “Charles. There you are.”

  The chief of police hesitated. “Leslie. Why are you here?”

  “Do I have to get a sign made up?” she asked. “Something to wear around my neck? It could say, It’s My Company and I’ll Go Where I Need To.”

  “This has nothing to do with you,” Charles said sternly. “Go home.”

  “I’m here, Charles. I want to know what you’ve learned.”

  “Go home, Leslie.” Charles’s voice now had a pleading ring.

  “Why should I?”

  “Yes, Charles.” Another set of footsteps echoed across the limestone floor. “Why should she?”

  All of them shifted toward the sound of the new voice.

  “Barney?” Leslie’s flashlight bathed her brother in a ghostly light. She turned toward her husband, confused. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m starting to feel a bit underappreciated,” Barney said to his sister “Or perhaps it’s paranoia. You and Charles keep having these get-togethers without inviting me.”

  “You shouldn’t have come, Leslie,” Charles said.

  “Honestly, Charles.” Barney came closer. “Leslie’s spent your entire marriage showing you she doesn’t listen to your advice. Why should she start now?”

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Leslie took one step toward her husband before Barney’s shouted command froze her in place.

  “Everybody just stay where they are!” Leslie’s flashlight illuminated the semiautomatic handgun in Barney’s right hand. “Charles, I’m going to need you to back away from Leslie.”

  Charles didn’t move.

  “Now!” Barney snarled.

  Charles stepped back, away from his wife. Into the shadows.

  “Sis,” Barney said, “go stand next to your new friends.” He waved his gun as Leslie moved closer to Sydney. “This is so like you, Leslie. Always the precocious little show-off. Forever needing to stick that turned-up nose of yours into other people’s business. Hubby’s right. You shouldn’t have come.”

  “It’s you?” Leslie asked. “You’re behind the money sacks being brought to Prairie?”

  “Chugga-chugga-chugga,” Barney sniped. “Dirty goes in. Clean comes out.”

  “You and Father Moran?” she asked.

  Barney stomped one foot. “You know, when hubby here told me you and your merry little band of sleuths thought Moran was running the money, at first I was thrilled. Wouldn’t it be rich to see that self-important hypocrite doing a perp walk in his priestly collar? Then I was insulted that your first assumption wasn’t me. I know Father thinks I’m totally inept as a businessman, but surely I would have thought you had a higher opinion of me. But in the end, I settled on being only mildly irritated. Now that you were onto the whole suds-’n’-rinse scheme, it was only a matter of time before you had to be eliminated lest you stumble upon the truth.”

  Sydney threw a quick glance toward Horst and Rick. She had sensed them inching apart from the group. She needed to pull Barney’s attention toward he
r before he could see that they were maneuvering into a position to tackle him from opposite sides.

  “If you’re not working with Moran, then who?” she challenged.

  “Dear, Sydney.” Barney’s tone dripped pure condescension. “You know, back in med school they used to tell us If you hear hoofbeats, think horses.”

  “Look for the most obvious explanation,” Sydney said.

  “Oh, so bright, aren’t you? May I remind you what metropolis lies a mere hundred miles to the east?” Barney wagged his head back and forth to the rhythm of his next words. “It ain’t just deep dish pizza and loaded hot dogs that makes ’em famous now, is it?”

  “You’re laundering money for the Chicago mob?”

  “Bingo!” He nodded toward Charles. “With the help of Lilac here. Lilac. That’s what my associates in the Windy City like to call the chief. Suits him, don’t you think?”

  “Why you…” Leslie took three quick steps toward her husband.

  “Careful, sis.” With his gun, Barney waved her back toward the group. “You can’t really blame the guy. In some perverse way, one could say this entire thing is your fault. Charles did it all out of his love for you. It started out so simply. Little favors I’d ask of him. Then they’d ask of him. But, like most things, once you’re in, you’re in. And those Chicago boys, let me tell ya. They don’t let anybody go. Certainly not a bought-and-paid-for chief of police.”

  Horst and Rick were now three feet apart, barely visible in the inky interior of the shelter.

  “I don’t get it.” Sydney needed to buy them more time. “You’re a physician. Heir to a huge fortune. Why get involved with this?”

  “Recall what you’ve learned about the Fitzgeralds, you clever little girl. I lost all favor once I decided not to go into the family biz. Both Father and my beloved sister here think I’m little more than a fop of a scientist. I wonder what they think of my moneymaking acumen now. Knowing that I run over a million dollars a week through their precious holding companies and pocket fifteen percent for my efforts.”

  “You have to have someone inside Prairie helping you.” Leslie’s voice was shrill. “Who?”

  “Someone who knows better than to disregard the orders of a member of the board of directors.” Barney sighed. “Oh, sister. So sure of yourself. So eager to please Daddy. You have no idea what’s going on right under those high heels of yours.”

  “Why, Charles?” Leslie turned to her husband. The shame on his typically proud face was evident despite the dim light. “You have access to everything that is mine. If you needed money, you could have written a check. Why get involved with this?”

  “It didn’t start out this way.” His voice underscored his humiliation.

  “Shut up!” Barney shouted. He prodded Charles with his gun. When he spoke again his voice was quieter. “It’s a romantic tale, this one. Lilac here saw you at that fundraiser Mother and Father held for the hospital. Remember that? Charlie boy was new to the police force back then, moonlighting as security. One look at you and he was smitten. But how would a beat cop ever attract the attention of the golden princess? I saw him drooling over you. Why, he even had the nerve to ask if I’d introduce you to him. Can you imagine? But there came a time I needed a little favor. It was a bit sticky, but Charles agreed to do it in exchange for a chance to meet you. Et voilà!”

  “I’m so sorry, Leslie,” Charles whispered.

  “Susalynne McFeeney?” Sydney asked.

  “Oh ho!” Barney chirped triumphantly. “Again with the clever!”

  “You were her mentor,” Sydney continued. “Father Ian put the two of you together.”

  “I was to provide her with hope, encouragement, and a full scholarship to one of the good padre’s schools. I did my part. Is it so wrong of me to expect something in return?”

  “She was a child!”

  “She was ungrateful!” Barney’s irritation rose. “If she hadn’t been so spiteful, she could have avoided…all the ugliness. But she began to scream.”

  “And you killed her.”

  Despite the darkness, the emptiness in Barney’s eyes was plain to see.

  “Lucky for me I had Charles,” he said. “He took care of things for me. Still does. He’s been a good and faithful lapdog, this one. Sweet, obedient Lilac. Always willing to do what’s needed.”

  “Including framing Horst?”

  “He was meddling in business he had no need to,” Barney answered. “Of course, now that Charles’s glimmering love object knows everything, I’ve lost my bargaining chip with him, haven’t I? I’ll have to find Chicago a new flower.”

  “What I don’t quite understand is—” Sydney’s next desperate comment was cut short when Rick and Horst both sprang on Barney. Grabbing Leslie, Sydney pulled her against the rough stone walls of the structure. Leslie dropped her phone, leaving the flashlight shining straight up into the rafters. Sydney strained to watch arms, legs, heads, and shoulders struggle in the narrow fringes of the light.

  “We need to get out of here!” she shouted. “We need to go get help.”

  “You go.” Leslie wrung her arm free of Sydney’s hold and lunged toward the melee.

  Before she could reach the mound of wrestling bodies, another shot rang out. Barney kicked himself free of the pile and staggered himself upright, gun in hand, panting and wild-eyed. At the report, Leslie froze for one second. Then she sprang toward her brother.

  Barney raised his weapon toward her.

  A third shot echoed in the cavernous pavilion. Barney’s arms flung wide. In the eerie up-light of Leslie’s phone, the startled look on his face took on a ghoulish aspect. He staggered back.

  The next shot brought him down.

  Sydney pivoted toward the source of the gunfire. Charles Arbeit held his revolver in a hand-over-hand stance. He trained his gun on the ground where Horst and Rick lay as he sidestepped toward Barney’s body. Charles used his right foot to free Barney’s semiautomatic, then kicked it hard. It skidded across the stone floor, deep into the dark recesses of the structure.

  “Charles.” Leslie wept.

  “Stand back,” he ordered. He stumbled back from them and trained his weapon on Horst and Rick. “Get up.”

  Horst and Rick pulled themselves upright.

  “Wounded?” Charles barked.

  Horst shook his head.

  “I’m good,” Rick reported.

  Charles eyed the two men up and down, as though assuring himself of their assessment. Then he turned his attention back to his wife.

  “You were so beautiful. It sounds crazy, but I fell in love with you in one instant. You wore a billowing silk skirt with a white blouse. Your hair shimmered every time you moved.” Charles smiled. “Barney saw me staring. Warned me off. That’s my sister, or some kind of thing. But he called me a couple of weeks later. Told me he had a minor misunderstanding with some teenager he was mentoring. She was in high school. Wanted to be a doctor. Barney said she had misinterpreted something he did. If I paid her a visit…in my cop uniform…and stressed upon her the perils of making false reports, he’d make sure I met you. God help me, that’s all I wanted. Just to look at you again. Perhaps hear you say my name.

  “I did it,” he continued. Sydney heard the regret in his voice. “I went to that kid’s house. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Put the fear of God in her. I wanted to believe Barney’s story, that she was making up lies about him. But I knew the girl was telling the truth. I just didn’t care. I did whatever I needed to do to meet you.”

  “We fell in love,” Leslie said. “You could have told me…”

  “And risk losing you?” Charles asked. “Never. Barney used that against me. With every new favor he asked, he quieted even the least bit of hesitancy with a threat of exposing my ever-mounting list of deeds I’d carried out for him
. Most of the time it was scaring young girls into not reporting what he’d done, or tried to do, to them. It sickened me to the core. But the fear of losing you was greater. Then came Chicago. All that money! Barney assured me their activity had no impact at all on what you were doing. Separate set of books, he said. I guess a man can make himself believe anything he wants. And I wanted to believe Barney.” A tight sob choked out of his throat. “Even when he called me a couple years later to tell me Joe Richardson had questioned him about a young girl’s murder. He said Joe had some information on the Fitzgerald family. Something that would be sure to destroy them all.” Charles looked over to Sydney. “I’m sorry. Your father was a great man.”

  “You killed my father?”

  Through the shadows, Charles’s eyes found hers. She saw in them a depth of remorse and self-hatred that answered her question better than any simple word could have. So ensnared was she by what she saw, that she failed to notice his hand rise.

  She heard Leslie scream.

  “No! Charles, no!”

  Then she heard one last gunshot.

  Chapter 54

  “Leslie, please.” Sydney rested her hand on the back of her friend’s chair. “You’ve got to eat something.”

  Leslie Arbeit sat in the kitchen of her magnificent mansion overlooking the lake. Sunshine streamed in through leaded windows. But no amount of solar cheeriness could clear away the despair on Leslie’s face.

  “How about some tea?” Sydney suggested.

  “I thought I knew him.” Leslie looked away, at what, Sydney couldn’t tell. “All those years…all those mornings spent here at this table…all those nights upstairs in our bed…who was he?”

  Sydney drew a chair close to Leslie’s and sat. “I guess we have to ask ourselves if we can ever really know anyone.”

  “He was my husband!”

  “He was. And he loved you.”

  Leslie stiffened. “He betrayed me. He used my company. Used me.”

  “That was Barney.” Sydney reached over to intertwine her fingers with the grieving woman’s. “Barney was behind everything.”