The Tell-Tale Con

by Aimee Gilchrist

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rules of the Scam #21

  Always be charming. No matter what…

  Harrison waited until we were back on the road to stare me down. “What was that? Gone suddenly mute?”

  I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t lie as well to Harrison as I might have been able to lie to another person. Not because I felt he could read me. But because I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t want to con him. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with him at all. In the end, I decided on the truth.

  “Look, I’m good at reading people. Like, really good. It’s what I do. I could tell that she was going to think I was full of crap no matter what I said. So I didn’t say anything. It’s best not to give people like that fodder for their cannons.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be argumentative, but she thought I was full of crap too.”

  “Yes, but I am full of crap. Or have you not noticed?”

  A smile tickled the edges of his lips. “I have noticed you seem to be gifted in the art of…storytelling.”

  I had to laugh at that one. “You make me sound like Hemingway. It’s nothing quite that literary, I promise. My parents are great proponents of old W.C. Fields. If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bull. That’s all it is.”

  He nodded, still sporting a very small smile. “Maybe. It seems to be a skill, either way. I’m secretly both impressed and concerned by your stellar ability to tell a lie.”

  He sounded totally sincere about that. He probably had no clue what to think of my ability to make crap up. I wanted to tell him that he hadn’t seen anything yet. Instead I said, “That’s odd, because that’s the same way I feel about your ability to play chess so well.”

  His laugh pushed out of him with surprise, like I’d punched him in the stomach with something funny. “Yeah, I could see that.”

  “Speaking of chess, where’s this Matt dude now?"

  Harrison shot me a look. "You mean Mitch?"

  "Sure. Whatever. Can we interview him?”

  He slumped back in his seat as I pulled into the school parking lot. “No. Because he’s been playing in the Universal Chess Symposium in the Ukraine for the last week.”

  “Oh.” That was a bit of a disappointment. He’d been our best, well, our only, suspect. “We suck as detectives.”

  Harrison laughed. “Yeah, detectives we are not. What do you want to do now?”

  I considered it for a while as I navigated into a spot and turned off the car. “Well, we can forget about it, let the cops handle it and hope it goes away. Or we can check some other options.” I let that hang for a moment before adding, “Like your step-mom.”

  I let him think about that for a few moments without comment while we worked our way into the school. We were late, so there was no one around. At least I wouldn’t be stared at while people wondered who the heck I was, why I was with Harrison, and why I deserved to be the one who got the benefit of Van Poe’s money and privileges.

  But we did have to explain to the office why were late. I debated what to say until I finally realized I didn’t have to say anything but the truth. It was perfectly reasonable for us to be late to school because we were talking to the police about the accident on school property. They were no doubt worried that we were going to sue them. Frankly, I was surprised that my mother hadn’t yet tried. At least, not that I knew of. It was entirely possible that she’d been talking to lawyers while I was at school.

  Before we entered through the office doors, Harrison grabbed my arm. He looked up and down the hallway, as if trying to gauge if we were alone. “After school, you should come with me to the set. You can meet my dad…and Kanako.”

  It was obvious this was a tacit indication that Harrison wanted to check Kanako out, and the first thing I needed to do was find out why he thought that Kanako didn’t like him. I had a feeling that conversation was going to go like every conversation that involved something Harrison didn’t feel comfortable with. I would have to push and push. Excellent thing I was particularly good at getting what I wanted from other people.

  But I didn’t have the opportunity until lunch. Metro High was big enough that it was easy to miss someone in the crowd, no matter how much you were trying to steal a word with them. Harrison’s locker wasn’t close to mine, and we didn’t share any classes, save biology.

  Finally, I saw him sitting at a corner table in the cafeteria. He was speaking to people as they passed, but he was sitting alone. I crossed the cafeteria with purpose and slapped my tray down on the table, making him jump. He looked up from his green beans.

  “Oh, hey.”

  I’d had more enthusiastic greetings over the years. That was for sure. Now I was certain he was trying to avoid me. “So what’s the deal with you and mommy dearest? Why aren’t you the best of friends?”

  The look he gave me said that we were unlikely to be the best of friends either. “I don’t know. Not exactly anyway. She never liked me. Not from the beginning. Even though my dad didn’t have custody, she threw a fit that he wouldn’t fight my mom to send me to boarding school. It made her crazy that we were living in the same building.”

  He spoke very low, and very slowly. He was barely getting started. I was certain there was more. But Hector joined us, setting his plate down so carelessly pudding sloshed off the side of his bowl. “Hey Poe, my dad called me and told me the police came by to get your footage. You cost me another video. But I guess I don’t mind too much this time. After all, it was kind of yours.”

  Now that Hector had arrived I knew there’d be no more information from Harrison. He most certainly wasn’t going to speak freely in front of Hector, despite the fact that they were apparently the best of friends. He greeted Hector and went back to his food, pretending like we’d never been talking at all.

  I spent a brief moment debating ways I could get rid of Hector, but then I caught sight of Sam coming our way. When she saw I was sitting with Harrison, her eyebrows shot high. Then she started waggling them. There was nothing for it now. She was going to come over here, if only to see if Harrison and I were shooting each other longing looks over our beef sandwiches.

  She came to the table and sat down. She pulled out her cell phone and started texting, after giving us only the most perfunctory of greetings. I jumped when Harrison’s cell phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw I had a text. Of course it was from Sam. Good Lord.

  Now you’re eating together? Still trying to pretend you’re not dating?

  I glared at her.

  I wasn’t that proficient of a texter, but I managed, we’re just eating.

  She rolled her eyes. I glanced at the guys, but they were busy stuffing their faces and talking about a video game. She texted me again.

  You might as well admit it. Everyone is talking about it anyway.

  Ugh. Seriously?

  Isn’t anything more exciting going on at this school? We’re not dating.

  Are you best friends now? Because there’s no other excuse for how much time you guys have been spending together.

  I sighed. There was no escaping it. Harrison and I were either going to have to pretend to be friends, pretend to be dating, or admit we were investigating the potential that someone was trying to kill him. Those were the only options. I went for the most innocuous.

  I guess we are friends now. I was helping him before, but we have a lot in common. But we’re not dating.

  It was something to appease Sam, but in a way it was true. For all the things we didn’t share, Harrison and I had a lot in common. And now everyone would have it in their heads that we were the best of friends. BFF’s. So much for not having any friends. I sighed, gave Sam a pointed look that I hoped said I wanted her to stop texting me, and picked up my sandwich.

  Before we finished eating, we were joined at the table by Yvonne, who was making doe eyes at Hector, something that I wasn’t sure whether or not to admire or be disgusted by.

  It was scie
nce class before I got the chance to talk to Harrison again, and it was hard to talk about serious issues when suited up in big plastic glasses and rubber gloves, hovering over a dead squid.

  “So, what’s behind Kanako’s animosity towards you? I mean, really?”

  He shrugged, prodding the piece of flesh in front of us. “I don’t know exactly. I think she’s just annoyed that I exist. She’s been on my case since I met her the first time. I think she’d rather it was her and Dad, and instead there’s me.”

  “But you’re not there most of the time,” I argued.

  “I guess it was still too much.” He spoke quietly, and I wasn’t sure if it was to insure that no one heard us or because he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Has she told you that?”

  “No, but she’s told me that I’m not good enough. I’m not trying hard enough, doing enough. I should be somewhere else all the time…that I’m such a waste.”

  Sometimes I thought it was better that my parents ignored me. “But do you think she’d resort to murder? I mean, wouldn’t your dad be upset? Doesn’t she want your dad to be happy?”

  “I don’t know, you know? I don’t know what she wants. And frankly, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill me. So we aren’t going to get anywhere with that line of questioning.”

  I sighed. “You can’t think of anyone else who might hate you?”

  His lips twitched. “Contrary to what seems to be your overall belief in my ability to incite loathing, most people find me fairly acceptable.”

  “I like to cover my bases.”

  He nodded, still restraining a smile. “I appreciate that, thank you.”

  “I’ll come over. Maybe I’ll talk to her.” Not that I wanted to. I didn’t like meeting people’s parents. It was too creepy and high pressure. But I was fully capable of doing it and making them enjoy it. Just because I could, didn’t mean I wanted to. However, I’d been bred to be charming, because charming made the money.

  “Okay, but don’t be surprised if Dad is too busy to talk to you. Or if they’re…well, maybe you won’t be able to talk to them. I want you to see them. You know, try to get a feel.”

  “What will you tell them?”

  “I don’t know. They probably won’t ask what we’re doing there.”

  “Well, Sam told me that people are talking about us. It’s kind of weird. I don’t see why anyone would care. This wouldn’t be a problem if you had a glamorous, beautiful girlfriend.”

  He laughed, and a few eyes turned our way, so I lowered my head and studied a limp spleen with interest. “Yeah, well, don’t pin all the blame on me. It really wouldn’t be a topic of conversation about us if you had a glamorous, beautiful girlfriend.”

  I nodded. “You know that’s right.”

  “Seriously, though. We’re marginally attractive people with no apparent hideous flaws. Why are we not dating anyone? This is the real mystery.”

  Actually, that was a mystery. At least in his case. I knew why I wasn’t dating anyone. First of all, that would require me getting close to someone. Also, there was the matter of Gray. That was something I still hadn’t gotten over yet. But the last thing in the world I wanted to do was talk about, or even think about, Peter Gray.

  “Well, Harry, I’ll tell you what. Once we stop you from getting dead, I’ll find you a girlfriend.” He looked about to hurl, which told me that I’d done my job with my pithy little comment. Though whether it was from my offer or from the shortening of his name, I wasn’t sure. “Can I call you Harry?”

  He flinched again. Yeah, it was definitely the nickname. “Yeah, sure. If I can call you Tallulah.”

  It was my turn to flinch. “Yeah, okay. I get it. It’s a deal.”

  “How’d you end up with a name like Tallulah anyway?”

  Well, at least the subject was changed. Sigh. “Would you not say it so loud?” I glanced around, but no one seemed interested in our conversation. Most people weren’t paying attention to their own projects, let alone the other groups. Even the teacher was reading a magazine. High-quality education at its finest.

  “It was my great aunt’s name. She was on her way out right when I was born. I guess my parents thought that if they named me after her, she’d leave them some money.”

  Harrison seemed to find the idea amusing. No doubt that was because he hadn’t spent the last seventeen years of his life being named Tallulah. “Did she?”

  “She left me her extensive collection of monogrammed hankies.”

  “That is so awesome.”

  “Don’t make me punch you in the face.”

  Harrison howled with laughter, which definitely did get attention. From the teacher, who lowered his Lego Club magazine. “Would you like to share the joke with the rest of the class?” Mr. Watson asked, though his boredom-laced voice told me he was just going through the teacher motions.

  “Dissection jokes. They’re hilarious.” Harrison gave him a winning grin. Mr. Watson rolled his eyes and went back to reading about Ninjago or some crap.

  “Listen, we better work. But meet me out in the parking lot after school, and we’ll head over to the set. Maybe you’ll find it interesting.”

  The set was, I assumed, the set of Van Poe’s action television show that he shot here in Albuquerque during the fall and winter. He saved his big budget films for the spring and summer. I only knew that because everyone was always talking about it. Covert was a huge hit, and New Mexico was raking in the dough as a benefit. Van Poe was nothing short of a hero. Except to those people who loathed the fact that New Mexico was giving tax breaks to movie companies to bring them here to film. But the people who had an extra tank of gas or more food on the table from their jobs with the movie industry weren’t complaining.

  Either way, I knew that Van had a show and that he filmed it somewhere in town. Beyond that I had no clue. So after school when Harrison directed me onto the highway, I had no idea where we were headed. But it was still a surprise to find ourselves in the South Valley, not the best neighborhood by pretty much anyone’s standards, in a new subdivision that had run out of money at some point during the building process. At the end of a cul-de-sac the four houses on the inside of the circle had been completed, though everything else on the road was boarded up, half constructed or just plain falling down.

  Frankly, it was creepy as all get-out to have these four shiny, gleaming, perfectly manicured stucco homes looking like models for Stepford Wives, New Mexico Edition, while everything around us was in total disrepair. Something about the contrast between the two gave me the willies.

  The cul-de-sac was filled with people, vans, tables, cameras and various other equipment. Caterers stood under a tent holding a long, white table set with mountains of food that was probably going to go to waste at the end of the day. Especially since it was clear from a glance that people in this cast sustained life through bottled water, caffeine and alcohol alone. All three of the women standing near Van weighed about thirteen pounds cumulative. On one of them, I could see the outline of her bones through her elegant sheer blouse, disguised only by a thin layer of skin. Hoark. I had never seen the show, but I was hoping it was true that the camera put on ten pounds. Or twenty. Or, like, fifty.

  A large, good-looking man in a blue tracksuit stepped in my direction, and I had the distinct feeling that he was going to throw my butt spectacularly off the set.

  “Hey, Mark.” Harrison’s greeting stopped the tank in his tracks. He appeared confused for a second, like mentally switching gears was difficult for him. Finally, brow furrowed, he nodded and stepped back into the shadows.

  When we’d passed, Harrison whispered, “That’s Mark Mason. He used to be a stuntman for one of my dad’s shows and some movies, but he hurt himself, so Dad made him the head of security.”

  I nodded like I would remember any of that. I moved my gaze to the people all over the set, constantly in motion. No one stayed still for more than a second or two, like hummingbirds, incapable of
being still. I couldn’t believe how many people it took to film a single show. There had to be six-dozen people here, and only a handful of them looked like actors.

  “Do they always film here?”

  Harrison shook his head. “Only the scenes where the agents are pretending to be a normal husband and wife instead of feuding spies forced to work together. Look, there they are.”

  For a second, I thought he meant the feuding agents, but the tense squinting of his eyes suggested someone who upset him, maybe his parents. He gritted his teeth for a moment, pulling up to his full height. Then he started in that direction. “Well, come on Talia. Prepare to be charming.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rules of the Scam #11

  Competition keeps the blood pumping. Don’t be afraid of another con man, but don’t be afraid to smash them either…

  Harrison led us through the crowd, and everyone parted for us without noticing what they were doing. They were so used to him being there, I supposed. They certainly had little reaction to him crossing through and snatching a pile of cookies off the catering table. The girl behind the table didn’t acknowledge he was there.

  Harrison pointed to the skeleton in the sheer blouse. “That’s Trina Watson. She’s the heroine of the show. Ever seen it?”

  “Nope.” I tried grabbing a croissant sandwich to see what would happen. No one reacted. Word up.

  “She and her partner are spies who have to pretend to live a suburban existence. It’s actually pretty funny. The girl she’s talking to is Mandy Hubbard. She plays Trina’s next door neighbor.”

  I wondered what we were waiting for since we were now only about half way to Van and Kanako. Van was talking to a small group of men, and Kanako was examining the contents of a manila folder critically. Up close she looked even more like Yoko Ono.