Marionette (26 page)

“When did you start consuming your own?”

“Really, Paige! What’s with all of the questions this morning?” She sauntered over to the table and set a plate in front of me. The bacon, hash browns, and scrambled eggs made my mouth water.

“You aren’t having any?” I motioned to the food.

“I thought we’d share. But eat up, I’m not that hungry.” She grabbed her coffee but didn’t taste it. Instead, she held it against her cheek, contemplating something.

“Are you going to answer my question?” I said, and scooped a pile of eggs into my mouth. “These are good,” I mumbled with my mouth full. “What did you put in them?”

“A secret ingredient.” She set her cup down and took a bite of the eggs. “How come you never told me about Tom?”

“What do you mean? That he’s gay?” I avoided her eyes and nibbled on a crispy piece of bacon.

“Oh, shit!” Jess bolted out of her seat and opened the Belgium waffle maker. “Whew!—‌it isn’t burned.”

She placed the waffle and a jug of maple syrup in front of me.

“There isn’t much to tell about Tom.” I doused my waffle in syrup and Jess crinkled her nose. She hated sweets.

“You didn’t know he was gay, and he didn’t know you were. Nick is a nice guy, but not the brightest.” She grinned triumphantly.

I sighed and stared into her bright green eyes.

“You two talked like you’re super close, and I saw the way you guys communicated without speaking. Tell me the truth, Paige.”

“This isn’t fair. You won’t tell me about your drinking or anything about Davie, and yet you’re interrogating me about my friendship with Tom.”

She must have known I wasn’t all that upset, since I continued eating, mixing some bacon with waffle before shoving it in my mouth.

“I don’t know why or when I started drinking. I just love the taste of beer. It doesn’t give me a buzz or get me drunk. I just like the taste. End of story.”

“You never feel buzzed.”

“No.” Her flat voice indicated she was about to get testy. If I pushed the issue we were heading for a fight.

“Tom is a nice guy who my roommates think I’m dating.” I lifted my orange juice glass to my face to hide behind it in case that information angered her.

She slammed the table with her hand. “I knew it! Only you would target a gay guy as cover.”

“Well, he targeted me as well for cover.” It was a meek attempt.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are.” Sadness clouded her eyes.

“Why was Davie looking for Weasel? Is he the bookie?”

“Davie!” She flicked some strands of hair off her face. “No, Davie is one of Weasel’s customers. It seems that Wesley sold him a stinker, and Davie wanted to talk to him about it.”

That explained why he didn’t have a car the first day I met him. “Why didn’t he go to the lot?” I asked.

“Oh, Wesley hasn’t shown up there for the past few days.”

“You’re kidding me. Mel works two jobs and he fucking quit his!” I threw my fork down on the table in disgust.

“Not that I like the guy much, but I think he’s working at a different car lot now—‌a more respectable one.” Jess looked as surprised as I felt.

“They had a couple of beers together last night. Maybe they worked it out.”

“I’m sure they did. And seriously, Paige, do you think I’d have a bookie hanging outside my apartment? Look at me.” She motioned to her purple nightie, matching robe, and penguin slippers.

“He gave me the willies.” I tried justifying my accusation.

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I think he was trying to act tough because he’s a tiny guy and Wesley is over six feet. And no man likes to be made a fool off, especially when it comes to buying a car. It’s like an extension of the penis.”

I picked up my fork and started work on the hash browns. “There’s something off about him.”

“You have trust issues, Paige.” Jess stabbed a piece of bacon with a fork and thrust it into her mouth, chewing it slowly but decisively.

Chapter Twenty

By the time my next appointment with Liddy arrived, I couldn’t stop fixating on Davie. Why did Jess trust him? Why didn’t I?

Liddy arrived one minute late—‌not bad for her. At least she didn’t start the clock until she sat down in her chair, ready with her pencil and notepad.

“Good afternoon, Paige. How are you today?”

“I have a problem.”

Liddy examined my face. Was she trying to determine whether I was conning to avoid a repeat of last’s week’s discussion?

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Uh, yeah. Why else would I bring it up?

“Yes.”

She looked at me expectantly and nodded. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“I think Jess is in trouble.”

Liddy crossed her legs and balanced her notepad on her knee, her pencil at the ready. “How so?”

“She’s friends with a bad man.”

“What do you mean
bad
man?” Liddy looked worried.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. He didn’t molest me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Last Friday, he was waiting outside Jess’s apartment when I arrived. At first, I thought he was nice. But then something changed. I can’t explain it, but something changed.” I slumped back in my chair.

“Did he say something that upset you?”

I shook my head and fiddled with the chair. “No, it wasn’t that. It was how he spoke. He says words like he’s devouring all of the letters of the word. I got the impression he was about to lose it.”

“Did you tell Jess this?”

“Not about the devouring letters thing. I told her that he stopped by. We ended up running into him two other times over the weekend; she lives in a small town. Jess talked to him privately for two minutes and didn’t seem fazed by it. She says Mel’s boyfriend sold him a lemon and he just wanted his money back. But it ain’t right. There’s something else going on.”

“Do you think Jess is trying to protect you?”

“What do you mean?” I leaned forward in my chair.

Liddy coughed nervously and then pointed at my wrists.

It dawned on me. “Shit! I didn’t think of that. That would be something she would do. Even though she weighs less than a hundred pounds, she has fighting spirit in her, like a mama bear with her cubs.”

“Under a hundred pounds.” Concern spread across Liddy’s face.

“Oh! She’s not anorexic or anything. She’s only five feet tall.”

Liddy laughed. “How tall are you? You must tower over her.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I’m almost a foot taller. I feel like an NBA star.”

“Tell me, what do you think the real problem is?”

“Me.”

Liddy flinched like she’d been struck in the face. “Please explain.”

“I don’t know how to explain it to you without sounding paranoid.”

“Paige, you’re going to have to trust me.” She tapped her pencil on the notepad. “I’ve known you for several months now, and I don’t think you are the paranoid type.”

Trust. I was getting tired of that word.

“Can I show you something?”

Liddy motioned for me to continue.

I pulled a folder out of my backpack. “Since Alex’s death I’ve been doing some research. The night before she was hauled away by the cops, she said she’d spoken to a reporter named Neil Michaels on a few occasions.”

Liddy narrowed her eyes, lost in thought. “That name rings a bell.”

“I’ll get to that. At first, I didn’t understand why a reporter was talking to Alex. She was just a kid. My first thought was that he was doing a story on kids who were addicted to drugs.”

I opened the folder and pulled out photocopies of the library’s microfiche. The same ones I had hidden from Liddy when I ran into her at the student union. “Then I started reading his articles. He’s a business reporter, or was a business reporter.”

Liddy clicked her pencil. “That’s right. He’s the reporter who was burned alive in his car. The circumstances of the accident seemed fishy, but the cops never found anything—‌they assumed electrical problems.”

“Yes! That’s him.”

“But how does this relate to Alex and that night?”

“Alex didn’t tell me. She was so amped that night that I thought she was high. As it turned out, she was just terrified out of her wits. That’s why her behavior was so erratic. Alex was scared for her life, and for mine.”

“Because a business reporter talked to her.” She looked skeptical.

“Not just any business reporter. Mr. Michaels had it in for my father.” I handed her the stack of articles. “All of these articles hint about deceit, corruption, and cover-ups.”

Liddy flicked through them. “Okay, but I still don’t get it.”

“I didn’t either for quite some time. A lot of people don’t like my dad. And this isn’t the first time I’ve encountered bad press about him or about my family. But this guy was different. He didn’t let up. It’s like he was on a crusade.”

“But why target Alex? She was your best friend. Why not go to you?”

She was catching on.

“Odd, huh?” I gestured to the stack of articles and Liddy relinquished them to me. Thumbing through them, I found the one I needed. “In this article, he changed tack. He started to write about the family. My dad’s children.”

“You and Abbie.”

“If you read the article closely, it hints that there were more.”

Liddy sucked in some air. “Okay, but a lot of powerful men have affairs. Illegitimate children have occurred throughout history—‌why would this cause such a ruckus?”

“You don’t know my father. Mr. Perfect. He likes to control everything, even people’s thoughts. Have you read
Nineteen Eighty-Four
by Orwell?”

Liddy nodded.

“Remember the scene when O’Brien tortures Winston to get him to believe that when O’Brien held up four fingers he was actually holding up five?”

Liddy nodded again.

“My father thinks he has that type of control over everyone. That power.”

Understanding spread across Liddy’s face. “Are you saying that Alex was your sister?”

“Yes.” I was surprised Liddy had caught on so quickly; I hadn’t.

“And that’s why she was killed?”

“Yes, but there’s more to it.”

Liddy took the stack of articles back. “How so?”

“From the articles I got the sense that Michaels was close to solving the mystery or he had, but didn’t reveal all yet. That’s why he contacted Alex.”

“Then he died.” Liddy looked aghast and dubious at the same time.

“I know. It’s hard to believe.” I put my palms up in the air.

“So you think your father—‌”

I interrupted. “No, my mother.”

“Your mother? But I thought your father was like O’Brien from
Nineteen Eighty-Four
.”

“He is. She’s worse. My father probably hired the killer, though.”

Liddy slumped back in her chair. “I’m sorry, Paige. This is a lot to take in.”

I sat silently while she flicked through the pages in her lap. “How did you start putting all of this together?”

“I had help.”

“Alex?”

“Yes, in a way. But Alex only left clues. When she was ranting and raving that Michaels was afraid. He thought someone was following him. To be honest, at the time, I didn’t think Michaels existed. I thought her performance was coke-induced. And I couldn’t fathom why a reporter told Alex to get away. She said we had to leave. He found out the truth and he was worried about her safety, and his. He said the Alexanders would ‘take care’ of the problem.”

I jumped out of my seat and paced the room.

“Followed. Who was followed? Michaels or Alex?”

“Michaels.”

“By whom?”

“I’m assuming Alex’s killer or the killer’s people.”

She stared blankly. “Go back to that night. What else did Alex say?”

“I go back to that night all the time!” I sighed. “Sorry.” I made my way back to my seat. “Alex freaked out when she learned that Michaels had died in a suspicious accident. That’s why she decided to finally tell me, I’m guessing.

“I have to admit, when she started rambling about a reporter who had been killed and that we were next, I really thought she had lost it. Gone crazy. I didn’t tell her that of course, but that’s what I thought.” I paused. “I will have to live with that mistake for the rest of my life.”

“How did Michaels figure out the mystery?”

I shook my head. “Don’t know. In his articles, he repeatedly mentions that in order to solve most crimes all one has to do is follow the money. I’m only guessing, but Alex’s parents—‌or her mother—‌more than likely blackmailed my father. I always wondered how they survived financially. Her parents owned several frozen yogurt places that went belly up years ago, yet they still had fancy cars, a house with an indoor heated swimming pool, and extended trips all over the world. They claimed to have ‘family money.’ My guess: it’s my family’s money.”

“Why would your father pay all those years?”

“Alex’s birthday is just three days after mine. Back then, my father wasn’t as rich and powerful. He was well on his way, but he wasn’t there yet. Now, everyone fears him. Back then, everyone kept a watchful eye on his rise. Otherwise, I think he would have taken care of the Alex situation long before.”

“So he was covering up the affair?”

“Yep. And the idiot messed around with a woman who lived right across the street. My dad must have gone ape-shit when he learned that the baby was named Alexandra. I have to give it to the woman—‌what a great way to keep the threat alive.”

“Who do you think killed Alex?”

“My mother.”

Liddy’s desk phone rang, and I nearly had a heart attack.

She motioned for me to stay seated while she got up to turn it off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think the ringer was on.” After she took her seat again, she said, “Paige, you’re going to have to explain this to me.”

“I’ll try. I still don’t have all of the answers, and I doubt I ever will.”

“Do you really think your mother killed Alex?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She told me.” I closed my eyes and saw my mom gloating about it, heard her cackling.

“She told you! She just admitted it?” Liddy sounded doubtful.

“Yes, but she was drunk at the time—‌drunker than normal.” I looked away. “I’m pretty sure she remembers telling me, though.” And her threat.
Watch yourself, Paige, or I’ll do it to you too.