Don't Believe a Word (11 page)

‘But you said what a wonderful boy he was,’ Eden said almost accusingly. ‘The best boy in the world, you said!’

Lizzy looked at Eden, somewhat bemused. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t spent a lot of time around children.’

Eden squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Is it that obvious?’

Lizzy smiled. ‘Well, when you deal with children, even children with difficulties like Jeremy’s, you love those children, and you stay on their side. You feel for them, and that helps.’

Eden felt like the younger of the two of them, being schooled by someone older and wiser. ‘You’re right. I know nothing about this. I feel like I am still in the dark. Can I ask, how was Flynn with this whole thing? Did he and my mother … work together with Jeremy?’

Lizzy frowned. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Definitely.’

‘If I can speak frankly,’ said Eden.

‘Sure,’ said Lizzy.

‘I was wondering if, perhaps, having my mother so involved with Jeremy wasn’t … a problem in their marriage.’

‘A problem how?’ Lizzy asked.

Eden felt as if she was wading into something she might regret. ‘Well, some men … need a lot of attention. They can become jealous of a woman’s involvement with a child. Especially, you know, when their relationship is …’

Lizzy was watching her warily.

‘Well, before Jeremy came along, he may have been used to my mother’s undivided attention. But I’m sure that in recent years she was preoccupied with Jeremy …’

‘Of course,’ Lizzy said. ‘It was a difficult time.’

‘Yes, but, I couldn’t help wondering about this intern of Flynn’s. With the veil? She seems very devoted to Flynn.’

‘Aaliya,’ said Lizzy. ‘She’s a lovely girl. Very shy, but reliable.’

‘Do you think my mother might have thought that something else was … going on between her husband and this girl?’

‘You mean … an affair?’ Lizzy asked.

Eden shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m just looking for a reason.’

Lizzy frowned and shook her head slowly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Aaliya is very … sheltered. Her parents are dead. They got killed when their car ran over an IED in Iraq. She lives with her aunt and uncle. He is an imam at a local mosque. Very important in the Islamic community. I understand that they’re very strict with her.’

‘Sounds like a lonely life. People do cross the line at times,’ Eden persisted.

Lizzy shook her head. ‘No. Not Aaliya. Not to mention Flynn. He loved your mother. I don’t think that Flynn was to blame for your mother’s sadness,’ she said.

Sadness, Eden thought. That was a good word for the impression she had of her mother’s mental state in the last months of her life. ‘I’m not trying to … place blame,’ she insisted.

‘I realize Flynn is a little … different than other people. He’s a writer and he has that artist’s nature. That sensitivity. But I got to know him pretty well in those months, and he was … completely involved with his family. And completely bereft when he lost them. I can tell you that for a fact.’ A spot of pink appeared in each of her waxy cheeks, as she defended Eden’s stepfather.

Eden realized that she had said more than she meant to. She didn’t even know Lizzy. She shouldn’t be speculating about her mother’s marriage with this stranger. ‘People have problems in their marriages. I guess I was just curious,’ she demurred.

‘People’s marriages are complicated,’ Lizzy agreed. ‘You can’t judge them from the outside.’

Eden thought about herself, trying to size up Lizzy’s marriage through a hasty look at the family photos. No, she thought. Things were always more complicated than they seemed. At that moment, there was a tap on the den door.

‘Come in,’ said Lizzy.

Lizzy’s mother appeared at the door. ‘Darling,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt. But it’s time for supper.’

Lizzy smiled at her mother, who hovered in the doorway. ‘Okay,’ she said.

Eden looked up at Phyllis. ‘Mrs Cooper, you knew my mother. You babysat for her from time to time. Did you have any idea that she was … feeling so desperate?’

Phyllis looked at Lizzy, as if seeking her permission to speak. But Lizzy was waiting curiously for her answer. ‘Well,’ said Phyllis, ‘I won’t lie to you. I could tell she was having a hard time.’

‘But this …’ said Eden.

Phyllis shook her head. ‘Everyone’s breaking point is different. I did suspect that she wasn’t doing well. I mean, I’m no expert like my daughter …’

‘You’re the perfect expert,’ said Eden. ‘You had the same experience.’

‘I did mention it to her husband. That I thought she was having a very hard time.’

‘What did he say?’ Eden asked.

Phyllis blushed. ‘Oh, he thought I was butting in where I didn’t belong.’

‘I’m sure he felt that protecting Tara and Jeremy was his job,’ Lizzy protested, defending Flynn stoutly.

Eden nodded. Lizzy seemed to insist on her rosy view of Tara and Flynn’s nuclear family. Probably projecting, imagining that they were just like her own family. There was nothing more to be gained in this conversation, she realized. ‘Okay. Well, thanks. I better get going.’ She looked up at Lizzy’s mom. ‘It must be great to have your daughter live so close by. I know my dad would love it if I lived in the same town. Especially if I were married to a handsome young doctor.’

Lizzy’s mother tenderly reached out a finger and tucked Lizzy’s shining hair behind her ear. ‘It’s all I ever wanted in this world. And when we have our grandchildren, we won’t have to get to know them on Skype. They’ll be right nearby.’

‘Mom,’ Lizzy chided her, shaking her head.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, turning to Eden. ‘She’s my angel.’

‘I understand,’ said Eden, feeling a little nagging longing in her heart. She could remember Tara saying such things about her, long ago.

‘Mom, stop.’ Lizzy rebuffed her mother’s attentions good-naturedly.

‘Thank you for talking to me,’ said Eden, wrapping her scarf around her neck. ‘You were very helpful.’

‘You should put my cell number in your phone,’ said Lizzy. ‘That was my home number you called. And you should give me yours.’

‘Okay, great,’ said Eden, as they exchanged numbers in their phone. ‘I might need to talk to you again.’

‘Anytime,’ said Lizzy sincerely. ‘I want to help.’

Eden felt like giving the girl a hug, but it seemed overly familiar after such a glancing acquaintance. ‘I appreciate it,’ she said. She followed mother and daughter down the hall, and bid goodnight to them and to Lizzy’s father, who was lighting a fire in the fireplace.

‘Come see us again, Eden,’ he said, waving to her.

Eden nodded, and steeled herself to go back out into the cold.

T
he smell of the Coopers’ dinner seemed to trail Eden
out of the house and down the front steps. Suddenly she was famished. As she hurried toward the car, she tried to think where she might go for dinner. Her stomach churned at the idea of fast food or Chinese takeout. She arrived at the car, turned the engine over and sat shivering, waiting for it to warm up. She wished she knew some of the restaurants in this town. Not that she would go there alone, even if she did. She hated eating in a restaurant by herself. She did it when she had to, but she never liked it.

Then, she had an idea. That couple at the funeral, Marguerite and her husband – was it Gerald? No, Gerard – had invited her to their café. She had liked them as soon as she met them, and she felt that their invitation had been sincere. She had actually wished she could take them up on their offer, but she was leaving Cleveland the day after the funeral. Maybe this would be an opportunity to have a nice dinner, and, at the same time, amass a little more information. She felt as if Marguerite was much less enthusiastic than Lizzy on the subject of Flynn, and might be an excellent person to talk to next. But what was the restaurant called?

Though she had never seen it, Eden envisioned the place as having yellow walls. They had mentioned that they served some amalgamation of French and Middle Eastern cooking. It sounded a little strange, but promising. And then, suddenly, Eden remembered why she had pictured the café walls as yellow. The restaurant was named after the color. She picked up her phone and triumphantly typed in Café Jaune.

The light from the Café Jaune storefront glowed in the middle of a mostly residential block in the center of town. Eden parked nearby and hurried inside.

Now that she was here, she wondered if they would even recall meeting her. Somehow, she felt sure that Marguerite would, if she was, in fact, working this evening. Eden had started to call, but she was reluctant to get into a long explanation of why she was back here in Cleveland. At the last minute she decided to just go ahead and visit the café, and hope she would run into them.

She hesitated in the doorway of the tiny café, which was half-filled on this chilly night. The walls, as she had imagined, were yellow, but more curry colored than lemon, befitting a Provencal décor. There was an unstudied charm about the place. Moroccan lamps glowed in jewel tones above the small tables covered in patterned tablecloths of blue, red and yellow. The mismatched, straight-back chairs were wooden and well worn, with chairpads flattened by much use.

Eden was uncertain if she should just sit down, or wait to be seated. Just then, she saw a woman in a black dress coming toward her from the back of the restaurant. The woman looked at her curiously, as if she were trying to place her, and suddenly her expression cleared.

‘Hey,’ said Marguerite, coming up to Eden. ‘Aren’t you …’

‘Tara’s daughter. Eden.’

‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ Marguerite said. Then, she threw her arms around Eden in a friendly embrace. ‘But I’m so glad to see you,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you found us.’

‘Thanks,’ said Eden, blushing in spite of herself. ‘I wanted to try your cooking.’

Marguerite led her to a corner table, and Eden sat down. ‘You came all the way from New York to try our cooking?’ Marguerite asked.

Eden sighed. ‘It’s a long story.’

Marguerite handed her a menu. ‘Pick out what you want for dinner. You should try the socca. They’re chickpea pancakes. Our specialty. I have a few things to take care of in the back, and then I’ll join you.’

‘Would you? That would be great,’ said Eden. She closed the menu and handed it back to Marguerite. ‘And yes, I’ll try the socca. And the lamb, I think. With a glass of the house red.’

Marguerite smiled broadly. ‘Excellent choice. I’ll be back shortly.’

In a few moments, a young, olive-skinned guy with a thatch of black hair appeared, dressed in a white shirt and dark pants, and set a glass of wine in front of Eden. She smiled at him. He nodded gravely. Eden picked up the wine and sipped it. The warmth of it seemed to radiate through her. This was a good idea, she thought, even if she learned nothing further about Flynn Darby. It was just good to be in the warmth, anticipating a nice meal.

She looked around at the other tables. There were several pairs of young people who looked like students, and, at a larger, round table, a Middle-Eastern-looking family. A recording of a man singing in French was playing quietly in the background. In a few moments, Marguerite came back and joined her at the table. The young waiter brought her a glass of wine as well, and placed a basket of bread on the table. Then he retreated.

Marguerite took a sip of her wine and sighed. ‘Whew. I’m tired. I’m glad to be off my feet.’

‘I hate to hold you up. I know how busy your life is. With your daughter and all.’

‘She’s at my sister’s tonight. With her family. She loves it there. And they seem to love having her.’

‘That’s so nice,’ said Eden wistfully, thinking of her mother, with no family to turn to when things got difficult with Jeremy. Certainly not her adult daughter.

‘So,’ Marguerite said. ‘What in the world are you doing back here in Cleveland?’

Eden frowned. Now that she was asked, she didn’t really want to tell this woman that she was the editor of Flynn’s book, but she realized that if she wanted Marguerite to share confidences, she had better start with one of her own. She took a deep breath and began.

‘I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a book editor.’

‘I know all about it,’ said Marguerite. ‘Your mother was so proud.’

‘Well, Flynn sold a book to my company, on the condition that I be his editor.’

Marguerite grimaced. ‘You’re kidding. What’s he up to?’ she asked.

Eden broke off a piece of bread. ‘I do not know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Some investigators from the insurance company came to see me this afternoon. They are reluctant to pay out the policy and were suggesting that he chose me as his editor so that I wouldn’t be free to join in their suit against him—’

‘They think that he had something to do with your mother’s death,’ said Marguerite flatly.

Eden stared at her. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Well, I’ve thought that all along.’

Eden blushed furiously. ‘You have?’

Marguerite nodded. ‘Gerard thinks I’m crazy. But I swear, there is something about that guy that gives me the creeps. Always has.’

‘Wow. You really don’t like him, do you?’ Eden asked.

Marguerite shook her dark curls, and her silver jewelry jingled. ‘No, I don’t. He made your mother’s life miserable. And he was never there for Jeremy.’

Eden frowned, thinking about Lizzy insisting that Flynn was completely involved with his family. Completely bereft when he lost them. Which version was true? ‘Still, that’s a far cry from actually … hurting them.’

Marguerite looked around the restaurant. ‘I don’t want Gerard to hear me. He thinks I’m terrible. But I have wondered from the very beginning. The minute I heard about it, I said no. This is not right. I knew your mother. Oh, she was upset all right. There was something weighing on her mind. She was not herself. That is true. I’ve long suspected that Flynn was fooling around behind her back. I mean, all those adoring college girls? That Muslim girl who is his intern sticks to him like glue. I even asked Tara about her once.’

‘I was wondering the same thing,’ said Eden. ‘What did she say?’

‘She defended him, of course. But I could tell that it was half-hearted. She was suspicious. I’m sure of it.’

Eden stared at her. ‘I thought he was so crazy about her. I mentioned it to Lizzy, and she couldn’t say enough about what a great marriage they had.’

‘Oh, what does Lizzy know?’ Marguerite said impatiently. ‘She’s like, twenty-two and she’s been married what, three minutes? To a handsome young doctor who worships her? Those two are still in the honeymoon stage. Look, when you’ve been married as long as I have, you can tell by looking at a guy when his attention is wandering. Flynn’s attention was wandering.’

‘Is that just woman’s intuition?’

Marguerite shook her head. ‘I saw it with my own eyes.’

‘Saw what?’ Eden asked.

Marguerite sighed. ‘You might as well know. One day in the fall, I was with your mother and, after I left her, I was walking home and I ran into Flynn. Well, I saw him, that is. He didn’t see me. It was a rainy day. I’ll never forget it. I was hurrying along with my head down and hood up, and he was on the other side of the street, sitting at the wheel of the car with a woman, obviously not your mother, in the passenger seat. I couldn’t really see her, but it was a woman. I’m sure of that.’

‘Could it have been Aaliya?’

Marguerite sighed. ‘Is that the intern’s name?’

Eden nodded.

‘I don’t know. There is something strange there,’ said Marguerite. ‘I’ll give you that. But I can’t say for sure. I didn’t get a close enough look at the woman. She was wearing a hat or something over her head and she was weeping into her hands. He was trying his best to convince her of something and she just kept shaking her head. He was trying to pull her into his embrace, but she was resisting. He didn’t look like he was going to give up. I’m sure he got his way. Those bedroom eyes of his,’ Marguerite said disgustedly.

‘Oh God. That would have killed my mother,’ said Eden. ‘She was mad about him. Are you positive?’

Marguerite looked her squarely in the eye. ‘I’d bet my life on it.’

Eden frowned, and felt pained for her mother. Flynn’s book had painted a picture of an unbreakable couple, but then, who would want to read about a philandering husband in such a story? ‘Well, I guess that explains it then. I mean, why she did what she did. She must have found out, and was heartbroken.’

Marguerite put her palm down flat on the table. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Absolutely not.’

Eden looked up at her. ‘Well, I know you didn’t tell her, but she might have found out some other way.’

‘That’s not what I mean,’ said Marguerite. ‘I don’t care how despondent she was, she would never have done that to Jeremy. Not in a million years. She might have kicked Flynn out, died from a broken heart, whatever. But take Jeremy’s life? I don’t know how anyone could think that for a minute. Tara would never … any more than I would. I mean, think about it. She was your mother too. Would she ever have hurt you, tried to … take your life, for any reason? Whatsoever?’

Eden felt flummoxed. She could not reply for a moment. ‘Well, I don’t know. I mean, under extreme circumstances—’

‘Circumstances! Oh come on,’ Marguerite insisted. ‘I know all about extreme circumstances. But some things are non-negotiable. This is about Tara. Would she? Ever?’

‘How can I answer that?’ Eden cried.

‘You can answer it better than anyone, because she was your mother and she raised you. What is the answer to that question?’

Eden took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she said.

Marguerite nodded and slapped her palm on the table. ‘Exactly.’