Lie, Lie Again: A Novel, page 31
“Hi there! Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hi!” He stood to greet her with a friendly peck on the cheek before resuming his seat. “What a nice surprise.”
With a broad smile, she said, “Nice to see you too. I usually only stop in early, but a big night awaits me, and I need the caffeine.”
Before he could ask what she was up to, she turned toward Sarah. “Why, hello! I had no idea you two were friends.”
“Hi. Um, we sort of just met. You know each other?”
Sylvia met Sal’s eyes with a smile before turning back to Sarah. “We do.”
Sal cleared his throat. “I guess introductions aren’t needed, then.” He looked to Sylvia. “What are your big plans for the night?”
She waved a hand and sighed. “There’s a Diana Krall concert tonight. It’s sure to be amazing. I’m just feeling a bit tired after my power yoga class.” Flicking her gaze to Sarah, she said, “I left work early because I wasn’t feeling well. I’m afraid it turns out it was just stress. The yoga did wonders.” That should cover her bases. And it was a good thing she had heard an ad for the concert on the radio this morning. She hadn’t lied, had she? She’d only confirmed that there was indeed a concert. She never once said she was attending.
“Diana Krall,” he said, his eyes brightening. “Are you a fan?”
Sarah interrupted before she could respond, her squeaky voice as annoying as an animated chipmunk. “Who’s Diana Krall?” she asked, leaning so far forward, a strand of her hair just missed her foamy latte.
“A jazz singer,” they said at the same time. Their eyes met again, and they shared a quiet laugh.
“She’s great,” Sal said.
“The best.” So Sal liked jazz too. Interesting.
“What do you think of Dave Koz?”
“One of my favorites.” Sylvia smiled. It was lovely how Sarah was blocked out of the conversation.
“Mine too. I might have a connection for tickets to his concert. It’s at the Bowl in June. You interested?”
“I love the Bowl, and I love Dave Koz. Count me in.” She wondered if they would still be in touch in June. It probably wouldn’t take her that long to get pregnant. And whether she decided to let him know and stick around? Well, that was something she’d feel out later.
“I’ll keep you posted.”
She glanced at the counter and saw her cup sitting there. “Looks like my drink is waiting for me. So great to see you. Sarah, a pleasure as always.”
Sarah looked like a kicked dog wearing a frilly collar. It was sad but funny at the same time.
Sal’s entire body was pointed away from Sarah and toward Sylvia. She could hardly blame him. Her company was so much more dynamic than the lacy lump sitting across from him. She strode away, smoothing a hand down the back of her sleek yoga pants.
With any luck, he would be so distracted that in his mind, he’d follow Sylvia home and press her up against the door as he kissed her with wild abandon.
She collected her coffee and left the shop without a backward glance. Time was of the essence. There was a lot left to do tonight.
Fifteen minutes later, she was home. She bustled to the kitchen and shouldered her reusable shopping bag, which was packed with all the essentials, before picking up the fishbowl. Grabbing the key to Nadine’s apartment from her catchall drawer, she headed for the door, moving carefully so water didn’t slosh from the bowl. She paused to scan the carport. Empty. Here we go, she thought. She crossed the driveway and climbed the stairs. The air in Nadine’s place was stale. Jonathan had been by a few times, but other than that, it had been untouched for four months. A fading flicker of sunshine lazed on the floral-patterned sofa. If this had been anyone else’s apartment, Sylvia would’ve cringed at the ruffles and rosy tones. The place looked like an old English tea shop, complete with hobnail milk-glass table lamps and vintage crystal candy bowls, but admittedly, it was quintessential Nadine. She scanned the room, looking for the perfect spot for Fishy, as she had taken to calling him. Someone who paid less attention to detail might’ve elected to simply bring fish food over. But questions could arise. Everything had to be in place. A small glass-topped side table sat between the sofa and matching upholstered rocker. She shifted the lamp to one side and used a tissue to wipe away the dust before placing the bowl next to it. Perfect.
That done, she walked to the kitchen and deposited the shopping bag on the counter, plucking items from it. Moving swiftly, she dumped half the bottle of prune juice down the kitchen sink and flicked on the faucet to wash the putrid purplish liquid away. Recapping the bottle, she placed it in the fridge along with a six-pack of water—minus one—a loaf of wheat bread, a bag of green grapes, a jar of jam, and a box of butter. All the items were hers minus the prune juice, which she’d picked up from the store. After shifting the items around to make the fridge appear fuller, she stood back, assessing her work. Satisfied, she moved to her next task.
Taking the small plastic bag from the pocket of her blazer, she placed it on the counter and began opening drawers until she found a mallet used for tenderizing meat. Smoothing the baggie, she centered the round white pills and brought the mallet to them, effectively turning them to a fine powder with one solid strike. She emptied the powder into one of Nadine’s prized champagne flutes. The cut crystal was a stunning shade of red and perfect for the role it would play. Once every last speck of the crushed pills was in the glass, she positioned it back on the shelf and closed the cupboard.
Tucking the empty bag into her pocket, she smoothed her blazer, snatched the shopping bag, and left the apartment. Now she only had to wait. She walked down to her car and placed a large canvas bag on the passenger seat. She adjusted the rearview mirror, making it so she had a view of the entire driveway, and turned on the engine. When Jonathan arrived, it was important that it appear she had pulled in moments earlier.
A minute passed.
Then another.
A sickening feeling crept into her stomach.
She’d done this before—waited and watched for a car.
But this was different, she reassured herself. She clenched her jaw and ordered the bad feeling to retreat. There was nothing to fear now. She was an adult. And Jonathan wasn’t her parent. He was a bully who needed to be stopped. Nadine would approve. No one would lose but the loser himself.
She saw the lights before the actual car and made a silent wish that it was Jonathan, not the investor. Because Jonathan needed to arrive first. If not, her plan would fail.
The car rolled into Nadine’s old spot, and she shut off her engine. It was time. She shouldered her purse along with the large canvas bag and exited her car.
Jonathan waved as he rounded his Camry. “Hi there.”
She wore a confused look. “Hi. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I have that meeting with an investor.”
“Oh, right! You did mention it’s today.” She cleared her throat and infused her voice with the right amount of admiration. “Well, you look great. Low-key power mogul.” If the power mogul were a slob kebab.
“Thanks.” He straightened his limp linen coat.
She pursed her lips in thought. “It’s funny I ran into you. I’ve been struggling with a business matter and have been hoping to talk to someone who can give me some solid advice. Do you have a moment?”
He glanced at his watch. “Uh, yeah. Only a minute, though. Walk with me?”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“What can I help you with?” he asked, unlocking the door to Nadine’s apartment. He flicked on the lights and set his briefcase on the round pedestal kitchen table.
She stood near the table, not moving to set down her bag just yet. “A friend has started a side venture. It’s direct sales. Are you at all familiar with those?”
“Of course. Back in the day, it was Tupperware. Now it’s something chef.”
“Right. Pampered Chef.”
“Seems to do pretty well. What’s your question?”
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not considering Pampered Chef. This is where I need some guidance. To give you some background, the start-up kit costs one hundred fifty. But the payoff is great. My friend has made enough money for a week’s vacation in Hawaii by what boils down to hosting parties.”
“So what’s the product?” he asked impatiently.
She placed the big canvas bag on the table and stuck a hand inside, knowing she’d have to work quickly to keep his attention. She pulled out a pair of pink marabou handcuffs. “It’s an adult toy and lingerie company. That’s where I need advice.”
“Uh-huh. What can I do for you?”
“Well, she’s had more success at couples’ parties. The men spend two to three times as much as the women. My concern is, will guys like you—you know, sharp, successful guys—think it’s cheesy?”
He shrugged, eyeing the bag. “Hard to know. What else does the company sell?”
“She gave me her starter kit to borrow for a few days so I can get some feedback.” Sliding a hand into the bag, she lifted a slinky piece of red silk and passed it to him. Next, she pulled out a black bra that was really nothing more than two patches of silk with lacy straps, along with a bottle of sparkling wine. Reading the rose-colored label, she said, “This is called Orgasmic Pink. Cute, huh?”
He cleared his throat again as he inspected the bra. “Yeah.”
“In fact, she said I can keep the wine. We should do a toast to your new business venture. We’ll only pour you a tiny glass, though, since your meeting is tonight.” Without waiting for his response, she expertly removed the cork with only the slightest pop.
He took the bottle from her, reading the label like it mattered. “I can hold my liquor, thank you very much.”
“Okay, then. Take a look at the other items in my bag while I find some glasses.” She knew exactly where they were, of course, but she opened the cupboard that housed water glasses first, just for show. “It’s been a while,” she said with a grin. “Cupboard above the knife block is where your mom kept the wineglasses.” Setting them on the counter, she felt a slight tremor of guilt about what she was going to do next, but the truth was, she’d researched extensively if the sleeping pills Nadine’s doctor had prescribed her had any deadly side effects. None was listed. There were tales of strange behavior and binge eating while sleepwalking, but it was a risk she’d have to take. Besides, she would give him only two pills. It was more than the recommended dose, but she needed quick results. They were already crushed in the glass. Forethought was the best thought.
“What’s this?” he asked, his finger hooked along a string of pearls that was attached to a snip of lace.
She turned. “A thong.” Tilting her head, she said, “Well, the string of pearls attaches the front to the back.”
His neck flushed a bright shade of red, and he exploded his hands open near his head. “Mind blown. I’ve seen a lot, but nothing like this.”
Crossing the kitchen, she took the bottle and filled their glasses, keeping his in her left hand. Thanks to the red crystal, nothing suspect was remotely visible. She passed one to him, and he gulped it like water. “It’s well made too,” she said in an even voice, as though they were discussing salad spinners. “That’s what made me think this company might be worth a look.”
“I think you could make a killing if you do couples’ parties. Any guy would love to buy stuff like this for his girlfriend.”
“Wine’s not bad either,” she said, pouring a touch more into her glass. “Care to have another little slug?”
“Sure, just a bit. And then I’m going to have to ask you to go. My meeting.” His lip curled in what she supposed was his attempt at a seductive smile. “Or you could stay in the bedroom and model these for me when we’re finished.” He held up the undies with a finger. “I see what you’re doing here.”
Her mind raced. Shit. She should’ve known he would assume she wanted to seduce him. In a quick move, she filled his glass almost to the top and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Is it that obvious? I really treasure your advice. You’re one of the smartest men I know.” How long was it going to take for the pills to kick in? If the investor arrived when he was still up, her plan would fail. She should’ve tripled the dose.
He gulped down the wine. “Let’s cut the bullshit. You want me. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
It was stupid on her part not to have considered this outcome. Now she was treading on shaky ground, and her usually keen mind was stuck. She lowered her eyes to the table and began sweeping the items into the bag, buying time. “You’re so smart, Jonathan,” she said in a low voice. “And way out of my league. I really just wanted your advice. When I have a party, will you come? I’ll invite some of my niece’s friends to model the lingerie. You would like that, right?”
“I didn’t know you have a niece,” he said slowly. “I’ll come to the par . . . party. Lem . . . Lemme know.”
Pretending not to notice his slurring, she said, “Sure. You’ll be the first on my list.”
“I’ve go a lot of frenz . . .” His head bobbed forward and jerked back.
“Yes, I’m sure you do.” She waited, watching him.
“Are you my fren?” he asked, his eyes drooping. She had to work quickly now, or he’d pass out on the floor. And the investor would be here any second.
She took his arm, keeping behind him, and ushered him to the bedroom. “I’m your friend.”
“Thanz, Syl—Syl-vi-a.”
“Let’s just go lie down for a few minutes. A quick nap will have you feeling a lot better. It looks like you’re coming down with a cold. Maybe you caught a virus during your travels.”
“No, nooo. I’m zokay,” he slurred.
She didn’t argue. It wouldn’t do any good. She’d learned that from an old boyfriend who’d taken to mixing vodka with Ambien, so she simply pushed him onto the bed. Just as she’d predicted, he was out cold in seconds, his feet hanging off the side of the bed. In a quick move, she hoisted them up with the rest of his body. Thank goodness he was thin. Lugging that ex of hers had always left her breathless and her shirts marred with ugly sweat stains.
A loud knock sounded, startling her. Dammit! She hadn’t had a chance to clean up. But she couldn’t wait. She rushed from the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She eyed the kitchen and grabbed Jonathan’s wineglass, rolling it beneath the sofa on the way to the door.
“This is it,” she said to herself. “Showtime.”
The bell chimed as she yanked the door open, and she winced, hoping it wouldn’t wake Jonathan. “Can I help you?” she asked in a not-too-friendly tone.
“Hi, I’m Frank Overland. I have a meeting scheduled with Jonathan Fisher about the complex.” He smiled politely. “Is he here?”
Her heart was racing, but she had to pull this off. It would be best to let the man think she was upset about Jonathan. “Well,” she said with a grimace, turning her head to the interior, “he’s here, but he’s sleeping at the moment. I think he’s had too much to drink. I came by to feed his mother’s fish, and he was a mess. Do you want me to pass a message to his mother? She’s the owner.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say Mrs. Fisher is the owner?”
“Yes,” she said, eyes wide. “She’s in the hospital for a few days, but I’m her neighbor. Well, neighbor and tenant. I’ve been stopping by to feed her fish.” She took the small container of fish food from her pocket and held it up for him to see before motioning to the bowl on the table. “Were you going to discuss renovations? She’s mentioned wanting to get the windows retrofitted.”
“No.” He frowned. “Are you certain Mrs. Fisher is the owner? Because Jonathan told me his mom was dead and he wanted to sell.”
Sylvia’s jaw dropped. “What? Come in for a moment, will you?” It was a risk, but she had to make him believe. She marched to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Does a dead woman need prune juice?” She slammed it. “For God’s sake, do you think he’s planning on killing his own mother? Or he’s just that eager for her to die?” She touched a hand to her mouth. “I’ve been the one caring for her, and he’s just . . .” She pointed to the wineglass. “A wreck.” She took a breath and gave him a brave smile. “I’m happy to wake him and he can tell you himself that his mom is alive.” She took her phone from her pocket and subtly hit “Send” on the text she’d prewritten.
“No, that’s not necessary. I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”
“To be honest, I’m glad I was here. I’m just not quite sure how to handle this. What do I say to his mom?”
“That I don’t know. I’ll leave a message saying the spot isn’t right for me after all. I’m not interested in whatever game he’s playing.”
Sylvia shuddered. “His poor mom.”
Embry appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Hi, Sylvia. I heard some commotion. Is Nadine back home?” she called.
Frank shook his head. “What a supreme waste of my time. Good night.”
“I’ll follow you out,” she said. Gathering her bags, she walked behind him down the stairs. She smiled when she heard him leave a message for Jonathan.
“Thanks, Embry,” she whispered once Frank was out of earshot. “We’ve effectively gotten rid of one investor.”
“Where’s Jonathan?”
“Oh, he’s fine. He’s up there sleeping.”
She raised a brow. “Really? How—”
“The less you know, the better, okay? You’ve done your part, and I’m thankful. It will all work out. Trust me.”
Twenty minutes later, she was back in Nadine’s place, keeping watch over Jonathan. His breathing was steady, and his skin showed no signs of pallor. He would be just fine. She rinsed both wineglasses and put them back in the cupboard. She gathered the groceries and the fish and headed for her own apartment.
Jonathan probably wouldn’t wake until morning, but to be on the safe side, she set her alarm for four thirty. She’d go back and check on him then. As she set Fishy on the console table, she picked up the book Nadine had given her. “I hope you understand why I did what I did,” she whispered, fingering the cover. A feeling of sadness ebbed through her. Strange. She certainly wasn’t one to form attachments, nor was she someone to become overly sentimental. But Nadine had been different. An individual whom she had trusted. Not a bad bone in that woman’s body. Cracking the cover, she headed for the sofa. If ever there was a time to escape in a good book, it was now. As she pulled a throw blanket over her lap, her phone rang. Slipping it from her pocket, she sat up straighter as she read the name on the screen. Hugh’s Phone.
