The Girl with a Clock for a Heart: A Novel (22 page)

“That’s not what you said in your signed statement.”

“I know. I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I’ve thought about it too much and I can no longer see it clearly, but I think she was simply lying in the backseat of the car. She was waiting for Bernie to catch me. While Bernie went after me, Liana locked the car and lay down on the backseat. If I saw her, I’d assume that Bernie had gotten to her as well. And I did see her. And that’s exactly what I thought.”

“But if you hadn’t seen her, you might not have hesitated and you might have gotten away.”

“That’s true. I could have made it into the woods and then out onto the road. If that had happened, then I believe that Liana and Bernie would simply have quit and taken off. Remember, this whole thing was a Hail Mary.”

“And Liana was the quarterback,” she said.

“Yes, you got it. Liana’s the quarterback. Bernie’s a lineman, at best.”

The detective laughed. “All right, I got it. I think you’re underestimating the value of a good lineman, but I understand what you’re saying. Keep going.”

“So once I was knocked out, it was simply a matter of getting all the bodies onto the boat. We were driven down to the cottage, where the boat was tied up. Liana would have helped, then allowed herself to be tied up by Bernie. We were laid face-to-face under the tarp. He would have then cruised out to open ocean and circled around till I came to. Once that happened, Liana went into action, telling me about the knife she’d smuggled and basically allowing me to cut through the rope I was tied with. This part was all about the timing. It was crucial that I get free, but not until after Liana had been dumped overboard. I think that they had some sort of signal so that Liana could let Bernie know when to stop the boat and begin dumping bodies. I think the signal was that she would kick the side of the boat. I heard it at the time and thought it was the sound of the boat stopping because, immediately after that, Bernie grabbed Liana and threw her overboard. But a boat doesn’t make a thumping sound when it stops. Not unless something falls over. Liana signaled Bernie that it was time for me to witness her dying. I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, but I would be left with a knife, and Bernie would take his time dumping the other two bodies. He was stalling, giving me time to cut through the rest of the rope.”

“And to get to the gun,” Detective James said.

“Well, no. Bernie didn’t know about the gun. He might have known there was a gun in the tackle box, but he was sure it wasn’t loaded. No, he thought I was supposed to get free and grab the life vest and take my chances in the ocean.”

“You’d have been a sitting duck. He had a boat. He could have just run you down.”

“But he wasn’t supposed to run me down. He was supposed to let me get away. What Bernie didn’t know was that she gave me a way to shoot him. She left me a loaded gun. My killing Bernie was what she wanted to happen. That way there would be no one left alive who knew
she
was still alive. I would report to the world that she was dead, and even though a body would never be found, or the diamonds for that matter, there would be no real reason to keep looking for her. It was perfect.”

“It’s just so improbable. There were far too many things that could have gone wrong. What if the tranquilizer shot had killed you as well as Karin Boyd? What if you hadn’t been able to get out of your ropes? What if Bernie had lived? I could go on and on.”

“If Bernie had lived, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world for Liana. He wasn’t going to rat her out. All she’d have to do would be to share the money with him. As you said, there was plenty of it, and who knew—my guess is she’d have found some way to kill him off later. He trusted her. It wouldn’t have been hard.”

Detective James looked skeptical, her lips pressed together.

“I used to have all the same doubts and questions till I began to think of it a different way,” George said. “As I said before, there were two plans. The first plan was foolproof, or as close to foolproof as a million-dollar robbery can be. That was the plan to get MacLean’s diamonds. The second plan was a pipe dream—a way to get the diamonds, to get rid of Bernie, and to disappear permanently. That plan could’ve gone wrong, in all the ways you said, plus many others. Katie Aller could have been pulled in by you guys instantly after the murder of MacLean if you’d made the connection sooner. I could have left town. Bernie could have accidentally shot me with the shotgun outside of Irene’s place. If any of those things had happened, then Liana was prepared to cut bait. She’d have been out of town before you guys even knew her full name. But she stuck around to make it perfect, and she pulled it off.

“Have the diamonds showed up anywhere? Doesn’t that tell you something?” George continued.

“Well, as you know, some of them have shown up.”

“I mean most of them. I’m sure there were more than two.”

“Let’s say you’re right,” James said, “and Liana planned the whole thing. How did she get away after Bernie dumped her in the water? You said she was tied up. You watched Bernie tie a cement block to her.”

“That I don’t know. My guess is that she wasn’t tied up but just looked like she was. I’m sure it was a real cement block, but maybe he tied it to her in a way that it would just break loose once it was in the water.”

“You said you heard one splash and then nothing.”

“That’s what I remember. Maybe she swam underwater for a while, coming up far enough away that I wouldn’t hear her. Maybe there was another boat nearby, or some sort of flotation device. I was still tied up on the deck at this point—I couldn’t see anything outside of the boat.”

“I don’t know, George,” Detective James said.

“I admit that I have a tough time with this part as well. It was open ocean. I was up in the boat pretty soon after Liana went into the water, and I didn’t see a thing. But if anyone could swim away into a new life, it would be her. I don’t know how she did it, but she did it. It was a magic trick.”

“A pretty impossible magic trick. You were miles from land.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s ridiculous no matter how you look at it. I keep thinking back to my time on that boat. Everything was staged so that I would be a witness. It was too convenient. Liana smuggled a knife on board that I could get to. When I got hold of the knife, I asked her if she wanted me to cut her free, and she said no. Then Bernie finds his dumping ground as soon as my hands are free. He chooses to dump Liana overboard first, but then he doesn’t immediately dump me overboard. That doesn’t make any sense. He would want to get rid of the two live bodies and then deal with the dead ones. All of this was set up so that I could cut myself free and escape. So I could be a witness.”

“But even if you got into the water, there was no guarantee that you would survive.”

“There was no guarantee of anything. It was all a Hail Mary. I know it sounds improbable, but do you think it’s probable that Liana let Bernie get the better of her and that they’re both now dead and the diamonds have gone completely missing?”

“I don’t think any of this is probable. I think it’s just as probable . . . and I’m not the only one . . . that you have all the diamonds.”

“If I had all the diamonds, why would I leave two of them in my underwear drawer?”

“Maybe you did it to back up your story, to make it look like you got framed.”

“I think you’re mistaking me for a criminal mastermind. You’re giving me far too much credit, Detective.”

“You’re not the only one who thinks that.”

After the interrogation, George was left alone for another hour. He imagined the conversation that would be taking place outside of the soundproof room, a decision being made on whether he would be booked now or booked later. He tried to care, but kept thinking about those diamonds left in his drawer. Were they a thank-you from Liana? Or were they a final
fuck you?

Detective James reentered the room and said, “You’re free to go, Mr. Foss. We’re done here for now.”

George stood. “You’ll walk me out?”

Once outside, George lit a cigarette. “I was pretty sure I was going to be arrested in there,” he said to Detective James, who’d come out to the brick steps of department headquarters with him.

“You’ve got this department tied in knots. But you will be arrested. It’s just a matter of what charges, and when.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“There’s a general belief that you’ll lead us to Liana Decter.”

“So someone agrees with me that she didn’t drown at sea.”

“No, I think the consensus is that she was never on that boat. At least, there’s no proof she ever was.”

“Just my word.”

“Just your word.”

“I guess I’ll try and enjoy my freedom while I have it.”

“Oh, and don’t leave town. I’d like to be on record for having said that.”

“Why do you still trust me?” George asked.

“I don’t know if I trust you, but I believe you’re telling the truth. I listen to a lot of lies from a lot of liars in my job. I believe you when you say that you were acting in good faith when you returned the money to MacLean, and that you were conned by Liana and Bernie. I don’t think you knew about the diamonds in your bedroom. And I believe that you think Liana’s still alive.”

“But you don’t think she is.”

“You know Occam’s razor?”

George nodded.

“The simplest solution to this is that Liana Decter and Bernie MacDonald stole a lot of diamonds. Bernie got greedy, or jealous, or both, and decided to kill everyone who was involved. He almost succeeded but got killed himself. The diamonds . . . who knows? They could be anywhere.”

“Then why am I here? If Bernie really wanted to kill me, he could have. How is it possible I got the best of him?”

“I think you got lucky,” she said. “Very, very lucky.”

Chapter 27

B
ack at his apartment, George knew what he had to do.

It was late afternoon. He fed Nora, then got the keys to his Saab and headed out the door. He had decided to return to New Essex, convinced that Liana had left something behind.

I’ll know what I’m looking for when I find it.

As he drove through the rotary in the town center his heart rate seemed to double and he became light-headed. On Beach Road he pulled into the church parking lot before reaching Captain Sawyer Lane. He rolled down his window and gulped at the briny air. For some reason, he remembered the slumped figure he’d seen on the church bench the first time he’d driven out to the cottage by the marsh. He remembered looking at the sleeping man and thinking that maybe he had died on that bench and no one had noticed because he just looked like some elderly parishioner taking in the sun.

George, his heart returning to normal, put the car back in gear and turned out of the church parking lot. He took a right onto Captain Sawyer Lane, then an immediate right onto the rutted driveway of the Aller house. Dusk had come, and it was dark in the piney woods, but he could make out the perimeter of yellow tape that still circled the property.

After finding Liana’s copy of
Rebecca,
with the postcard from Mexico tucked into its pages, George drove back to Boston in the darkness. He kept the air conditioning on and his window cracked so that he could blow cigarette smoke out into the night. He didn’t know exactly what the book meant—had it been left specifically for him, the way the diamonds were, or was it simply a mistake on Liana’s part?—but he knew what the book meant
for
him. It was a clue, a piece of information that he, and no one else, now had.

Returning home, George sat on his couch and flipped through the book. There were many marked passages, all boxed in with a blue pen, the way Liana always wrote in her books. He ran his finger along the pen-marks, their precise angles, and perfectly straight lines. He turned back to page 6, where the postcard of the Mayan ruins had been inserted, and read the marked passage: “But I have had enough melodrama in this life, and would willingly give my five senses if they could ensure us our present peace and security. Happiness is not a possession to be prized, it is a quality of thought, a state of mind.”

That night George didn’t sleep. Liana haunted his every thought, till he became convinced that her constant presence in his mind was further proof that she was alive somewhere. But where had she gone after her resurrection from the ocean? She would have the diamonds—that much he knew for sure—and she would have a new identity. New name. New hair. Living somewhere far away. That was her gift. Transformation. She had told him that that was her curse, but it wasn’t. It was a gift, a specialty, a talent. She could become someone else, and she could then just as easily kill what she became, taking out whoever happened to be in the way. And if transformation was her special talent, then George knew that what had attracted Liana to him was that he was someone who would never transform. He would always be the same.

And that is why she looked for me in Boston,
George thought. Not because she needed closure, or wanted to see him again, or needed his help in a time of need. She came back to him because he could play a part—a tiny walk-on role—and getting him to play that part would be as simple as showing up at a bar, looking beautiful, and acting scared.

Dawn light began to fill George’s bedroom window. He heard the
Globe
delivery truck rumble by on the street below. Even though he hadn’t slept, George felt wide-awake. He knew what he had to do.

I
rene Dimas.”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. I didn’t recognize the number. Where are you?”

“I’m actually away. For a little while. I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”

“Okay. Sure.” George could hear the busy sounds of Irene’s workplace in the background. He’d managed to catch her at her desk, even though it was just past five on a Friday.

“I need you to look after Nora.”

“I can do that. How long are you going to be gone?”

“I was actually hoping you’d take her back to your place. I might be gone for a while.”

Irene’s voice rose in pitch. “Have you been arrested? Where are you calling from?”

“No, no. Not yet anyway. I’m out of town. I just don’t know how long it will take. I’ll feel better knowing that Nora’s with you.”

“Please tell me that you’re not looking for her.”

“Okay. I’m not looking for her.”

“I don’t believe you. You need to leave this to the police.”

“The police aren’t looking for Liana. They’re watching me. They found some of the missing diamonds in my apartment.”

“When? How?”

“I have to go. Can you just make sure that Nora’s okay?”

“Sure. Of course. You can’t tell me where you are?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“What are you going to do if you find her?”

“I have to go. Take care of Nora. I’ll be back.”

George hung up before Irene could ask more questions.

If he did find Liana, what would he do? The truth was, he didn’t know exactly. He wished he could tell himself that he would make her pay for what she had done. But he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that if he didn’t find Liana Decter and prove to the world that she was guilty, he was going to be arrested and sent away for a long time. And he knew that everything that happened in Boston, from her appearance at Jack Crow’s to the bloodbath aboard Bernie’s boat, had unfolded exactly the way it was supposed to, exactly the way Liana had planned it.

He wrapped the cheap disposable phone up in the bag it had come in and shoved it down into the garbage can next to the picnic table. A black bird with yellow eyes swept down and perched on the garbage can’s edge, wondering if he’d disposed of food. George stood, slinging the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, ten thousand dollars wrapped in yesterday’s
Boston Globe
in the zippered inside pocket. It was all he’d brought with him, besides his passport and a few changes of clothes, as he’d left his apartment the day before. Knowing that the police might be watching him, he didn’t dare bring a larger bag.

Emerging from his apartment into the cool dawn, he saw nothing suspicious, just one yellow cab idling on the corner. Still, he walked to his garage where he kept his Saab, entered through the front door, then slipped by the night attendant sleeping at his desk and made his way out the rear entrance to a garbage-strewn alleyway. From there he walked to the nearest T station and took the subway to South Station. He was sure that if he went to Logan and tried to take a departing flight he’d be stopped. But he thought he might have a chance from an airport in Canada. There was no train service to Montreal, so George bought a one-way bus ticket.

The Canadian agent at the border stamped his passport and barely looked at him. It was the same at Montréal-Trudeau Airport, where he bought a ticket to Cancun. George had been so sure that he’d be questioned at security, or that his messenger bag would be searched and the cash discovered, that he could hardly believe it when the three-quarters-full plane lifted over downtown Montreal and the St. Lawrence River on its way to Mexico.

A dilapidated bus took him an hour south of Cancún to Tulum. He’d need to get a hotel room, someplace cheap that would take cash without asking questions. But first he bought a phone and headed toward the Mayan site.

It’s just like the postcard,
George thought as he looked at the gray ruins that spread out along the bluff and, in the distance, the quiet, sun-flecked surface of the sea. And George knew, with absolute certainty, that Liana wasn’t resting on the bottom of the Atlantic. She was alive.