Between the Lies (Book One - The Northern Lights Series) (7 page)

Michelle called to let me know we needed to talk and that she was at Lloyd’s desk.

Feeling snarky, I said, “Fine. Come on up. I guess when someone else owns where you live, your time isn’t your own either.” I clicked off before she could respond.

When I opened the door for her, I wasn’t done. “You can’t call before you come?”

“I was already at Alan’s office. He wanted me to contact you from there, but I refused. When I call you, it will be between you and me and no one else.”

“Since we’ve both shared everything with him in the past, that must be a bit of a change for him.”

A smirk showed briefly at the corner of her mouth. “Yes. It is.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we met at your office?”

“I don’t have one. Yet. Do I smell coffee?”

As I poured coffee into the almost transparent china cups with the Lyons’ family crest on them, she rested her hand on the counter by the knife block. I shoved the carafe back into the coffee maker. The empty slot made me nervous.

“What is so important you had to see me today?” I asked.

“Alan wants you out of here.”

“Not as much as I want to be gone.”

“So you have any idea where you want to go?” she asked.

“Not far. I love St. Paul, but don’t want to be in the hub of the city all the time. My own place with a studio is all I want.”

“You want to stay in Minnesota?”

“I do. I might like to live in a small town. Do you know where Oak River is?”

“Yes. It’s between here and Rochester. Isn’t that where you’re from?”

I nodded.

“Well, you could start looking online to see what’s out there. It takes time to find the right place. Do you really think you can go back?”

We sat surrounded by a comfortable quiet as I considered her question. When the wind blew and rattled the old glass in the window above the kitchen sink, I shivered. A moment later, the sun disappeared behind a cloud, and the wind roared around the old building again.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t want to be here. At all. This is not my home and never has been.”

Michelle looked into her coffee cup and said, “I don’t blame you. I’ve always hated it up here. It’s elegant, and the view is great, but it’s ‘off’ somehow. I can’t explain it.’

We both pondered her words, and then she said, “When you move, you’ll need new dishes.”

“I’ll need new everything. I’m leaving with the stuff I brought, plus a few new things I’ve purchased for myself since Alan’s ultimatum.”

“What about your clothes? I’m sure you’ve been wearing the best. Alan wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“Designer clothes don’t fit the future I hope to have. I’m thinking about bagging them up and giving them away.” I said.

“Good for you. There’s a local woman who helps poor women get a new start in life that includes interviews for jobs. I donate my cast-offs to her twice a year. I could take yours to her too.”

“You mean Claire Worthington?” I asked.

“I forgot you know her,” Michelle’s tone was tinged with practiced superiority.

Her reminder of my place in the Lyons’ scheme of things hurt more than I wanted it to. It wasn’t a stab exactly, more like a jab to an almost healed bruise. I felt one corner of my mouth rise in a sarcastic grin.

“Olivia, I’m sorry about the way that sounded.”

“No problem. I’d appreciate it if you took them to her. How soon would you like to start this project?”

“Anytime that works for you.”

“What about right now? I have some big black garbage bags. We could hang them over the hangers to keep the clothes clean in the transfer. Whoever is on duty downstairs could help you take them to your car. It won’t take long and I can cross that off my list,” I said.

She stood and said, “Let’s get started.”

As she followed me down the hallway to the bedroom, I felt hot and a little shaky. “This is really weird.”

“What’s weird about it?” she asked

“You helping me pack up clothes your husband bought . . . in the room where I was with him. Doesn’t that bother you? Because it’s bothering me big time.” I’m sure I sounded as rattled as I felt.

“I’ve been called weird most of my life. What bothers me about this whole thing the most is the way Alan used you and the way I let him. I’ve always known the money was my power card, and I chose not to play it.”

“So Alan felt like he owned me, and now you feel like you owe me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“As your client, I’m really just a charity case?”

“No. I see you as an eagle that was wounded, held in captivity, and is now about to be released into freedom,” she said with the conviction of an idealist.

I couldn’t resist. “And you’re the wind beneath my wings?” I asked.

“No. It’s far more selfish. I’m the desperate housewife who wants you out of the neighborhood. And I can’t wait to tell Alan and Mother about this at dinner tonight. I can hardly wait to see him squirm. You’ve heard the saying, ‘Beware the woman scorned’?’”

I nodded.

“I am proof that sometimes the woman who wins is far more dangerous than the one who seems to have lost. Every time he looks at me, he has to live with what he’s done to both of us.”

“That’s nice, and I appreciate it, but there’s something I have to know. You still believe I’m innocent, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I can’t let you go to prison for a murder you didn’t commit. If I didn’t believe in your innocence, your past position in my husband’s life would make me your highly motivated adversary.”

Patrick’s second girl dragon rose up in my memory. Her red-gold wings spread wide, iridescent smoke escaping flared nostrils, and a righteous anger erupting in her topaz eyes. He called her Valiente, Spanish for “brave one.”

“I need to send one of my former students a text and then let’s do this.”

Hello Patrick, May I purchase Valiente from you? She will be a gift for a brave woman I know. I will pay a lot for her.

His response was immediate. $250 and she’s yours.

I’d pay more. She’s worth it.

Nah - $250 is good.

Okay.

I’d find a way to double my payment. Maybe I’d have him pack it up and deliver it. That could add at least $250 to the bill.

When I put my phone down, Michelle said, “I’ll call Lloyd and see if there are any old garment carts somewhere. There used to be at least one for when business guests stayed on the third.”

While she talked to Lloyd, I walked into the closet and started to pull out the clothes of the longest temporary resident the apartment had hosted.

We bagged most of the clothes Alan’s money paid for. Designer suits, dresses, cashmere sweaters, wool slacks, linen slacks, silk blouses, and expensive scarves filled the cart. We boxed designer purses, and my little-used brief case.

“I know a gal who is wonderful at helping women choose the right style, colors, and pieces for clothes, make-up, hair, and accessories. Her name is Jill Swanson. She owns Beauty Made Easy. I’ll text you her contact information.”

“You think I need a makeover?”

“At times we all do. I see her for yearly updates. She’s fabulous.”

“Where is she located?”

“Rochester, but she’s willing to come up here when a client needs her.”

“Okay, I’ll call her when I get settled.”

She pointed at the bag with my Cinderella dress and asked, “What are you going to do with that?”

“Give it away. It’s my break-up dress. Who wants that memory hanging in their closet?”

“Good idea,” she said.

I glanced into the nearly empty closet. She’d talked me into keeping three pair of slacks, three silk blouses, two blazers, a simple black dress, and a navy suit with a skirt, plus one pair of black flats and a pair of nude-colored pumps that would go well with all the pieces.

She stood with her hands on her hips and a pleased look on her face. “Looks like it’s time to call Lloyd to come and get the cart.”

My exodus had begun.

A sharp knock at the door startled us both. I opened it to find Harper, Newman, and Lloyd in the hallway.

“Hello, Lloyd. You didn’t call,” Michelle said.

“No, Mrs. Lyons I didn’t. They informed me their search warrant and Mr. Lyons’ promise to cooperate were all they needed. The detective here made it sound like those things trumped my position.”

“She’s right, Lloyd. Thank you. I’d appreciate it if you stayed. When the officers are done, we have a few things we’ll need taken down to my car,” Michelle spoke to him, holding out her hand for the paper in Newman’s fist.

“Everything is in order,” Michelle said. They want to take your red evening gown, and shoes as well as any other clothing you’re willing to part with.”

Harper led the group in and said, “I see you’ve done our work for us.

“I’d like to take all of these clothes with me, if you don’t mind,” Newman said, eyeing the bags the way a parched man would look at a glass of water. Anything he said irritated me, so I nodded at Michelle and let her take the lead. She gave him explicit instructions about what to do with the items when they were done with them.

Once Newman and Lloyd were on the elevator, Harper said, “I need to talk to you two. I know it’s late, but I could really use a cup of coffee.”

We rode the elevator in silence, not uncomfortable, just quiet. Once we sat down, Harper asked, “Does Michelle know about the roses and vases?”

“No. I haven’t had time to fill her in,” I answered.

“Please do now,” Harper said. “We all need to have the same information.”

I told Michelle about the roses, the notes, and the ghost-like way in which they came and went.

“Someone knows too much about Olivia’s past and has easy access to the apartment,” Harper said.

Michelle said very little, but she took notes on her legal pad. I found her action reassuring and official. Lawyers who believe in someone should do that.

When our cups were empty, Michelle got up to leave. “Here’s a business card for a realtor I trust, Olivia. Tell her exactly what you want, and if there’s anything close to it in the state, she’ll find it for you. If what Harper says is true, a move sooner than later will be good for both you and Alan. I know this feels like we’re pushing you out, and you do have up to a year to vacate, but Alan’s reasons for pushing this are the constant presence of the press and the visits from law enforcement might make clients nervous. If you leave, they might take their business elsewhere. I know that’s not your problem, but I promised him I’d bring these things to your attention. ”

Then she turned to Harper. “From now on, if you want to talk to Olivia, keep me in the loop.”

Harper accepted the business card and asked me, “Is that the way you want to work this?”

“No. Michelle, I’ve been under the control of the Lyons family for too long. If Harper needs to see me or calls with an update, I’ll call you for advice.”

“Fine. Be sure you do.”

* * *

As soon as Michelle was gone, I crumpled up her realtor’s business card.

“You don’t want to move?” Harper asked.

“I do, but I do not want the Lyons’ realtor looking for me. I want to do this on my own.”

Harper nodded and then asked, “What’s up with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“She seemed more nervous than you are. Her face twitched a little when you mentioned the vases,” Harper said.

I shrugged and said, “Michelle was abrupt, but this whole thing is wrapped in stress.”

“I think moving is a great idea,” Harper said.

“You do?” I arched my eyebrows and hope rose inside me.

She nodded and said, “There’s something I don’t like about that apartment. Someone knows you live there, knows how to get in, get out, and is watching you. I’d really like to get Newman’s team in there to search for bugs. Are you open to that?”

“I am.”

The thought of being listened to and maybe even watched terrified me, but the urgency to flee wiped out the hope moving away brought. At least here I had Lloyd and his guys watching me. Moving meant I’d be on my own.

“Okay. I’ll let the FBI know what Alan is requesting you vacate the premises, and about my concerns regarding the apartment. Do yourself a favor and call Newman. Tell him everything in your own words. Call him tonight.”

“I will,” I said.

“I’ll update him on everything up to this point,” she continued. “But he needs to hear your side of the story. He likes to read people so be an open book. When he wants back into the apartment, ask Michelle to be present, but let him and his team in. You may not like each other, but he’s an excellent agent. No matter how sarcastic he gets, remember he doesn’t want to convict the wrong person. He wants the real killer.”

She cleaned up the table, then held the door open for me and said, “Have you thought any more about what you’d do in a confrontation with your stalker?”

I must have looked as startled as I felt because she said, “That’s good. Be afraid—very afraid. Between the circumstantial evidence and proof we have that you’re being threatened, it looks to me like someone is diligently trying to frame and frighten you.”

I let her walk away before I called out, “Hey Harper. Would you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Would you also take the knife rack into custody?” I asked.

“Newman didn’t take it?”

“No. The thing seriously creeps me out. A stranger stole that knife and used it to kill Mickey. It’s a grisly reminder. I’m afraid if I hide it, Newman will think I’m up to something. The guy doesn’t miss a twitch.”

She took the rack and knives with her, wrapped in a black garbage bag.

I called Newman and told him everything I hoped he needed to know. I flung my words all over him, giving him no opportunity to ask questions. When I was done, he said, “Thanks,” and hung up.

The couch looked like a good resting place. At first I kept the lamp on then decided if someone was watching, the light would make that easier.

My nightmares were full of eyes, ears, and me running down the shores of Lake Superior in my red evening gown, trying to escape into the open. Someone was chasing me, but I didn’t know if it was the murderer, my ghost stalker, Gus, or Newman. It really didn’t matter – they were all terrifying on some level.