Liar, Liar, Heart's Desire Page 4

  When they walked into the condo, Stevie Nicks’ voice from an old Fleetwood Mac CD greeted them. The pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were spread out on the dining room table. Whatever mess the police had made, Willa had obviously put right.

  A few seconds later, Willa stepped out of Jada and Annaliese’s room at the top of the stairs. Like Annaliese, she was an ex-showgirl in her mid-forties but looked a decade younger with her chin-length, razor-cut hairstyle. She’d been blonde last week, but now her hair was as bright and brassy as a copper penny with a purple skunk streak sweeping across her forehead.

  “How did it go?” Cleo asked. “Did the cops upset Jada?”

  “Yeah, a little,” Willa said when she reached the last step.

  Was she playing Jada’s reaction down? Cleo wondered as she kicked off her shoes. “Did you have to give her a sedative?”

  Bracket lines appeared around Willa’s mouth. “I did. I tried getting her to watch a movie”—she gestured toward the TV—“after the police left, but she kept following me around as I was tidying up, and seeing everything they got into upset her, so I gave her a pill. I was afraid she’d get herself all wound up, you know? I hope I did the right thing.”

  It had been a pipe dream, hoping Jada would show more resilience. “You did the right thing.” Cleo sat on the arm of the couch, her bare feet on the seat. It was ridiculous to try to second guess Willa when Cleo hadn’t even been there.

  Willa’s face cleared. “Well, if you need me again, let me know. I’m more than happy to stay with Jada.” Willa slung a massive purse that probably weighed fifteen pounds over her shoulder and started rummaging in it for her keys.

  Alec gave Cleo a meaningful look, tipping his head in Willa’s direction. Was he still hung up on Willa’s supposed affair with Sebastian? Another sharp jerk of his head in her direction.

  Cleo frowned at him. They had more important things to worry about.

  Alec frowned back, doubling down.

  She tightened her lips to ensure he wouldn’t miss her disapproval.

  His gaze sharpened to a laser-like intensity. How did he do that?

  She pulled in a deep breath. This wasn’t the right time. Willa had just done them a huge favor. But Alec wasn’t going to let it go. “Uhm, Willa . . .”

  Willa looked up from her search.

  “Do you have a minute? I need to ask you something.”

  “Sure.” Willa sat on the other end of the couch.

  “Uhm . . . Would you like something to drink? A soda maybe or―”

  “Uh oh,” Willa said. “It must be bad if you’ve gone into hostess mode.”

  Cleo felt herself color. “No. Really. It’s nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s . . . Well, it is something. It’s―”

  Willa inched forward until she was sitting on the edge of the seat, her upper body leaning forward. “Just spit it out. All this hemming and hawing is making me nervous.”

  Cleo inhaled again, still looking for a way to phrase the questions she’d rather not ask.

  Alec had taken a seat a few feet away. He probably thought she was a ditz of a reporter the way she was stumbling over this.

  “Okay. My question is . . . were you seeing Sebastian?”

  Willa blinked a few times as though she wasn’t sure she’d heard the question right. “Seeing Sebastian? You mean like . . . seeing Sebastian? Like”—her voice dropped into a stage whisper—“sexually?”

  Cleo swallowed. “Yeah.”

  Willa blinked rapidly a couple more times, then the muscles around her lips tightened. The tightening spread as though she was having difficulty holding something back. After a few seconds, she lost the battle and laughter burst from her lips. She flopped back, her shoulders meeting the back of the couch, and let it go.

  Cleo shot an I-told-you-so look at Alec. He hiked an eyebrow, one side of his mouth rising to match the movement.

  When Willa’s laughter wound down, she reached into her purse and brought out a tissue to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Oh my heavens. I haven’t laughed like that in . . . well, I can’t remember when.” She met Cleo’s uncomfortable gaze. “Who in the world told you that? No, wait. I’ll bet it was Liz. That would be just how she would get her revenge.”

  “Revenge for what?” Alec asked.

  “For me ratting on her.”

  “Ratting on her?” Cleo asked.

  Willa sat up, took one last swipe under her eyes, and tucked the tissue back in her purse. “Yeah. Sebastian and me . . .” She giggled again. “Sebastian asked me to do him favors now and again. Like when he was married to Candy, and she needed help with her wardrobe? That’s how Candy and I got to be friends. Did you know that?”

  Cleo nodded.

  “So when Liz started back with the show a couple of months before he filed for divorce, he wanted a mole. It couldn’t be anyone who was buddies with Liz, and he knew I wasn’t crazy about her, you know? So he asked me to keep an eye on who she was keeping company with.”

  “Keeping company?” Cleo echoed.

  “Well, yeah. Though I suppose most people would call it something else. I’m there most nights when she works, and I hear all the gossip, and after working with Candy on her wardrobe, I suppose it made sense.”

  “So he asked you to keep an eye out and report back to him,” Cleo said.

  “Yeah. I’m sure I wasn’t his only source, though.”

  “And was there something to tell?” Cleo asked.

  “Oh sure.” Willa flipped a hand in the air. “That girl doesn’t let any moss grow under her feet, you know? It was weird, though. Sebastian didn’t really seem to care much except . . .”

  “Except what?” Alec asked before Cleo could.

  “Well, he didn’t seem so cavalier when I told him one of the executives on his senior management staff was sniffing around Liz, and she wasn’t exactly beating him off, if you know what I mean. Not that Sebastian said much when I told him, but he got that look. You know the one, Cleo. His poker face? The one where you can’t really tell what he’s thinking, but you know he is. He hadn’t looked that way when I told him about anyone else. And then about a week later, I hear he’s fired the guy.” Willa leaned forward as if imparting a secret. “It might just be office gossip, but I heard he was furious and swore he’d get even with Sebastian.”

  Cleo fought to maintain a calm demeanor. This fired executive could be a lead worth following.

  “I mean, this is a guy with an office in the executive suite,” Willa continued. “And he was fired just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“told to pack up his stuff, and escorted out of the building. You know that never happens. Not at that level.”

  Cleo couldn’t remember anyone at the executive level leaving the casino unless they were retiring. Did the police know about this guy? Could he have gone up to Sebastian’s suite without being seen?

  “What was this guy’s name?” Alec asked.

  “Archer Davis.”

  Alec entered it in his iPad. “Do you know where he is now?”

  “I heard he got a job in Reno. Nothing as high profile as what he had here, of course.”

  Alec’s “Hmm” sounded disappointed, but Cleo knew he’d follow up anyway. And Reno was only an hour away by air.

  “And then about four months ago,” Willa continued, “there was another casino employee that got a real reaction. Sebastian actually swore when I told him about the guy.”

  Another possible lead. Why hadn’t Willa told them all this before?

  “Who was it?” Alec asked.

  Willa’s brow furrowed. “What was his name? Bill? Mike? Steve?” She shook her head. “Something really common.” She frowned. “Why can’t I remember? I’m usually good with names.”

  It was hard to be head of gossip central if you weren’t. “Did he get fired, too?” Cleo asked.

  “Nope. Ironic, isn’t it? He’s not at the top of the food chain, so he has protection. I think he got written up a couple of times, so his boss prob
ably got told to get rid of him, but they have to position themselves or—you know—the union. And good luck getting rid of someone once they decide you have it in for them, you know? I remember when they tried to fire this dealer―”

  “Willa,” Cleo snapped her fingers. “Focus.”

  “Oh yeah. Of course.” She took a breath that seemed to bring her back from her ramble. “Anyway, it wasn’t long after I told Sebastian about that guy that Liz moves out of Sebastian’s suite and he files for divorce.”

  “I could see where it might piss Liz off if she thought you caused all that,” Alec said. “But she’s not the one who told us you were seeing Sebastian.”

  “Well, she probably started the rumor.”

  “I don’t think so,” Alec said.

  Willa frowned. “Then where’d you get it?”

  “From Bales,” Cleo said.

  Willa’s face cleared. “Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense, too. That woman hates being out of the loop.”

  Cleo silently agreed. Bales had always reveled in being Sebastian’s right hand. Maybe she was also a little resentful she wasn’t his only hand.

  “You think she knew about your meetings with Sebastian and assumed it was . . . something else?” Cleo asked.

  “Yeah,” Willa said. “That’s how her mind works. Though given it’s Sebastian we’re talking about, I suppose it makes sense she’d jump to that conclusion.”

  “I’m sorry I had to ask, Willa, but . . . you know . . .” Cleo cringed inwardly. She was starting to pick up Willa’s verbal tic.

  Willa flapped a hand in the air dismissively. “Oh don’t be. I understand. You heard something and you had to follow up on it. I’m just glad we got it cleared up.”

  Cleo heaved a sigh of relief. She was grateful Alec had pushed her to ask. She should have done it sooner.

  Willa picked up her purse and started digging for her keys again. She had them in hand and was halfway to the door when she turned around. “Oh, I almost forgot. Did you know the cops pulled the data from the security cameras for Sebastian’s private elevator?”

  Stress had made Cleo’s brain sluggish. Was this good news or bad? “I never gave the cameras a thought.” Then her brain sorted out the pros and cons, and she bounced off the couch. “But this is great.” She looked at Alec, expecting him to share her excitement, but he was wearing a frown. “They’ll see someone went up after Annaliese,” she said. “They’ll have to release her.”

  Why was he still frowning? She looked back at Willa only to be stopped cold by the stricken look on her face.

  “Oh no, honey. They pulled the data record on Monday.”

  Cleo’s excitement whooshed out of her. Annaliese was arrested on Thursday, but if they’d had the video since Monday . . .

  “I talked to a guy I know in security a little while ago,” Willa said. “The cops are pissed because there’s nothing after six p.m. Sunday night. Sebastian must have turned off the camera in the elevator. There’s no record of anyone going up to his penthouse.”

  ~***~

  He should have told her about the cameras in the car, Alec realized.

  “But . . . But . . .” Cleo turned toward him, her face screwed up as if tears were imminent. “Why would he do that?”

  She’d been so brave all day, taking blow after blow, he could hardly begrudge her a few tears. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest.

  “Should I . . .?” Willa waved vaguely toward the door.

  He wished he could turn Cleo over to Willa, but somehow this felt like his job, or maybe his penance. He shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

  Willa bit her lip.

  He wanted to yell just go, so he could focus on Cleo. She wasn’t crying the way he’d expected. Instead, she was rigid as a bronze statue. He stiffened his neck to stand up to the pressure of her forehead against his chin. She’d fisted his shirt in both hands so hard he feared the seams were about to give.

  Willa looked at him, concern in her eyes. He tipped his head, urging her to go. She didn’t look happy, but to his relief, she went, closing the front door softly behind herself.

  He smoothed his hand over Cleo’s hair and felt tremors run through her. At first, he thought she was shaking, but it was more like violent shivers that came in waves.

  She hadn’t made a sound since he’d pulled her close, and it was starting to worry him. “Come on, babe. Let’s sit down.” He coaxed her back, but even when they reached the couch, her knees refused to bend, and he couldn’t get her down on it.

  “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find another way to clear her.”

  Cleo’s voice sounded tiny when she spoke. “What if we don’t?”

  “We will.” He almost mentioned Archer Davis. The hope on Cleo’s face when Willa had told them about the disgruntled executive had lit her up, and it could give her something to hold onto now, but he didn’t want to set her up for another disappointment. He’d follow up on the man, but drowning wasn’t how most men would kill someone they hated.

  “But what if we can’t? What if she ends up in prison?” Her breath started coming in jagged gasps.

  “We won’t let that happen.” How he hoped to make good on that promise, he didn’t know. He slid his hands down her arms and held her away from him, so he could look into her eyes. Her gaze was glassy, a deer in the headlights look. “Come on, Cleo. There’s no such thing as a perfect crime. Somewhere, there’s a clue. All we have to do is find it and track it back to whoever did this. But you’ve got to be a reporter. This is your home ground. You know the players here. I need you to pull it together.”

  Her breathing started to even out.

  He thought she was going to be okay. And then she hiccupped.

  Her eyes widened. And she hiccupped again.

  He fought it, but when she hiccupped a third time, he lost the battle and laughed. He pulled her to him and held her, running his hand up and down her back.

  A few minutes later, the hiccups finally stopped, but she felt so good in his arms, he kept holding her until she pulled away.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Come on. You barely ate your lunch.”

  “I know but―”

  “Then you have to eat. What would tempt you? You name it, I’ll go pick it up.”

  She sighed. He took it as a win, though she was probably humoring him because she didn’t have any fight left in her.

  “I want comfort food. Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

  “If that’s what you want, that’s what you get. Do you want to make the soup or the sandwiches?” No way was he letting her sit and stew while he cooked.

  Chapter 5

  They went into the kitchen where Alec opened cupboards until he found everything to make grilled cheese and tomato soup. Having something to do seemed to be the remedy she needed.

  “You’re wrong, you know,” Cleo said in a soft voice as she applied a can opener to the soup.

  He laid out the slices of bread in pairs. “Wrong about what?”

  “The perfect crime. People get away with murder all the time. Look at how many cases the police never close. You even wrote that article about those unsolved murders.”

  The article had been the first piece of his she’d ever read. He should have known she’d remember it now. His comment about there not being such a thing as a perfect crime was bullshit, but she’d needed a pep talk to pull her out of her panic. And it had worked, but it obviously wouldn’t work again. Still, there was always more than one way to see any issue. “Just because they weren’t caught doesn’t mean the murders were perfect. It means the investigations weren’t thorough.” Which was also true. “But you’re right. Maybe perfect murders do happen, but they’re rarer than the number of open cases.”

  She was silent as she emptied the can into a saucepan, refilled the can with milk, and stirred it into the soup. “If you wanted to murder someone, how would you do i
t?”

  Good. Her mind was working again. He topped half the bread slices with cheese. “I’d take them hunting.”

  She twisted to look at him. “Do you hunt?”

  He set the microwave for ten seconds to soften up the butter then plugged in the grill to preheat. “Not since I was a kid, but I’d take it up again.”

  “So you’d take them hunting and then what? Just shoot them?”

  “Sure. Hunters shoot each other all the time.”

  “Not that often.”

  “Often enough.” Way more often than healthy adults accidentally drowned in their tubs.

  She turned back to the stove but not before he caught the beginning of a smile. “Yes, your honor. I shot him. But it was an accident. All eight times.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you gotta make sure the first one is fatal, or it kinda falls apart.” The microwave dinged. He got out the butter and went to work spreading it evenly on the bread.

  She shook her head. “It wouldn’t work. If you hated someone enough to want them dead, they’d never agree to go hunting with you.”

  “I didn’t say there weren’t logistical problems.”

  He looked up to see a wide smile on her face. It wasn’t the full-wattage smile she was capable of, but it was close enough to make him feel a little lightheaded. He reminded himself to breathe. “Do you want to see if Jada’s awake? She should eat, too.”

  She nodded. “Keep an eye on the soup, okay?”

  He took over stirring while she went upstairs. By the time she came back with Jada, he’d turned the heat down and plated the sandwiches.

  When Alec had first met Jada the day before Annaliese’s arrest, she’d looked like the poster girl for a dancer: tall, lithe, and graceful. She was also childlike, trusting, and innocent. The woman Cleo guided to a seat at the breakfast bar looked like someone completely different. Her blonde hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in a year, but it was the blank glaze underscored by dark circles and her slumped posture that tore at Alec’s heart.