Bossy: An Alpha Collection

by Levine, Nina

  She shows no response; gives no indication that she is ready to do what I’ve requested. That is until she starts talking. “My first memory of my mother is a night when I was about four or five. We were living in this run-down sorry excuse for a home—a one bedroom flat in one of the worst areas in the city that was always littered with garbage and never cleaned. We had one bed between my mother, my sister and me. I was the youngest, so I often got booted to the floor.” She stops for a moment and glances down at the nail she’s picking.

  Her eyes are still downcast when she begins again.

  “This particular night, she left Glenda and me home alone. When she returned in the middle of the night, she had a man with her and they woke us up and told us to get out of the bed.” She gives me her eyes again. The hard glint I see there takes my breath away. “So they could have sex. I didn’t want to leave the bed. It was winter and cold, and we didn’t have another blanket, just a thin sheet. The guy got angry with me. He picked me up and threw me out of the bedroom.” Her voice doesn’t crack. She doesn’t break down. Instead, she remains steady while she tells her ugly story. The only indication of her emotions is the hard, cold look in her eyes. “My mother laughed. She fucking let that animal throw her child out of the only bed they had and she laughed before she fucked him.” She leans closer to me. “To say I hated my mother doesn’t even cover it. She ruined my life at school. I was bullied because I was one of the ‘Spiers Sisters’. We were often sent to school in dirty clothes, with filthy hair and no food. The assholes there beat us up physically and emotionally. I left school with no friends and tried to build a life in spite of what my mother did. But she ruined my adult years too. Always hounding me for money and shit. Causing problems between my husband and me.” Her nostrils flare and her jaw clenches. “But I didn’t murder her. I was too busy running around trying to make her love me; I didn’t have time to be plotting her death. Because you see, I didn’t know how much I hated my mother until after her death. Before that, I didn’t know what I felt about anyone. I simply existed and tried to get through each day.”

  I’m almost stunned into silence. Her recollection is horrific, and I can imagine she would have hundreds of other stories similar in their horror. I take a deep breath before I say, “Will you take me back to the night of the murder and tell me what happened?” I’m not sure I’m ready to hear her tell me a story that will include the man I love. I brace myself for whatever she might say.

  “Luke and I had been arguing a lot in the weeks before the murder. I was so tired… all the time. I just needed some time to myself, without Sean. So Luke took the weekend off work and took him away to give me a weekend off. They left on the Friday night after Luke finished work. I went to the movies by myself that night. Saturday I went to the art gallery in town and then that night, I stayed home. I’d just had a long bath when Mum rang. She didn’t sound right; it almost didn’t sound like her, but I knew it was because of caller ID. She begged me to come to the motel…” Her voice drifts off as she gazes past my shoulder.

  She frowns before looking back at me. “I remember thinking it was strange she was at a motel, but then I figured she’d probably gone back there with a man. That was the only thing that made sense. Anyway, I got dressed and drove straight there. It was cold that night and I remember having trouble seeing through the windscreen because it kept fogging up. And my damn leg was so sore from the cold; it hurt every time I had to use the clutch. When I arrived, there was so much blood. So much… she was covered in it. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to see if she was still breathing. It was all I could think to do. My mind… well, it kind of just stopped working. I didn’t even think to call the ambulance or the police. All I could think was that I wasn’t ready to lose my mum yet and I had to see if she was breathing.” Her chest pumps as her breaths come hard.

  “By the time the police got there, I was covered in blood because I’d been on my hands and knees while I tried to check for her pulse.” She stares at me as she remembers. “Of course, there was no pulse. My mother was dead before I even got there.”

  I need to keep her moving. We’re running out of time.

  “Did your mother have any enemies you knew of?”

  She laughs sarcastically. “That woman made enemies everywhere she went. You couldn’t count on two hands the number of people who hated her.”

  Well, that narrows it.

  “Do you know how the rope ended up in your car?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone have access to your car in the week prior? How often did you look in the boot?”

  “The only time I used the boot was when I did my grocery shopping. That was every Monday. So, the last time I looked in the boot was five days before the murder. I didn’t lend my car to anyone that week. The only people who had access to it were me and Luke.” She leans forward. “And he was away with Sean on the night of the murder, so it definitely wasn’t him who did it.”

  God, the thought had never entered my mind that it was Luke.

  “Okay, so let’s move onto the box of evidence that was found at your house. Any ideas about that?” This box wasn’t even in evidence for the trial, but it’s pretty damning. To prove her innocence, we’re going to have to get to the bottom of it.

  She blows out a harsh breath. “Callie, I never saw that box or had anything to do with any of the stuff that was supposedly in it. The first I heard of it was the day Luke arrived here angrier than I’ve ever seen him, demanding I admit to killing my mother.” Her voice wobbles for the first time today and I wonder at that. The marriage Luke has described involves a woman who doesn’t love her husband. And yet, besides the hatred she’s shown towards her mother, the only other emotion I’ve seen is this crack in her tough façade when she talks about her husband.

  “Alanis found the box, right?”

  An expression crosses her face for a fleeting moment. It was so fast I almost miss it, but I’m certain it was sadness. “Yes. She was looking after Sean one day when she found it.”

  “Did anyone establish why the police didn’t find it? I’m presuming they searched your house after the murder.”

  “They did. And, no, that was never established.” There’s pain in her voice when she adds, “I never had a chance to talk to Alanis again after that. She refused to visit me.”

  “You two were close?” I can’t imagine Jolene close with anyone, but I’ve only met the current Jolene, not the one from before the murder.

  “Yeah, we’ve known each other for years. When my marriage became unbearable, Alanis was the one who always got me through.”

  “What about your sister? Was she there for you?”

  “No. We’ve always had a hard relationship. She never came to see me in prison. Luke said she supported him and Sean through it all, but she never supported me. Strange, because she hated Mum as much as I did.”

  “Okay, back to the box. Where did Alanis find it?”

  “Luke told me she found it buried in the greenhouse. Apparently she and Sean were out there gardening when he and Artemis began digging in the dirt. Art dug so deep that they found a wooden box.”

  “Who is Artemis?”

  “Our dog. He died just after that. Luke told me he escaped and ran in front of a car.”

  She doesn’t mention seeing Sean or talking to him. “How long since you’ve seen your son, Jolene?” The question blurts out before I even realise. It certainly wasn’t on my list to ask.

  Her gaze dips and she begins picking at her nails again. “Three months. And before that, it was almost another three months.” She looks back up. “After Luke decided I was guilty, he stopped letting me see Sean.” She swallows hard. “He came back recently and told me he had an investigator again. Apparently he had some leads and needed information from me. I gave him what he needed and I thought he’d bring Sean the next time he came. I didn’t push him or nag him. I didn’t want to give him any reason to not want to visit. But he never came back. Instead
, a lawyer came and told me he’s proceeding with our divorce.” A tear slides down her face.

  My soul is twisted with confusion, hurt, anger, sadness and so many more emotions I don’t think I can even pinpoint. If Jolene really is innocent, my heart will crack completely. I want to reach across the table and hold her hand. I want to console her. And yet, that thought conflicts me in so many ways. The man I love has sworn to me that this woman is a calculating and manipulative murderer and I would never doubt anything he told me. But I can’t help it. I’m beginning to seriously doubt Jolene’s guilt.

  Visiting time is almost up. “I’m going to come back soon, okay?”

  Jolene is still watching me warily. I don’t blame her. She doesn’t know me. She can only judge my agenda by what I’ve told her, and that’s a hard thing to do when you don’t know someone. Possibly even harder to do if you’re innocent and alone. But she nods. “Okay.”

  “One last thing—where would I begin if I wanted to work out who your mother’s enemies were?”

  “That’s easy. Go and visit Joe at the Old Northern in The Valley. Tell him I sent you and what you need to know. I told my lawyer to do it, but she didn’t seem to find out much.” She gets up and gives me one last appraisal. “Can you get in touch with my husband? Tell him what you’re doing so he knows. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” With that, she turns and leaves.

  I stare at her, watching her limp out of the courtyard.

  Fuck.

  I’m in a pickle now.

  30

  Callie

  Me: I have to cancel tonight sorry. I’ve got work.

  * * *

  He rings. “Hey, you,” I say when I answer it. After my visit with Jolene this morning, I’m feeling weird with him. Guilty.

  “What’s going on, Callie?” Uh-oh. He sounds like he has his bossy pants on today. I don’t do well when he’s wearing them.

  “They’re loading me up with work at the moment. And you know I work better in complete silence. I would come over after I finish, but I think it’s going to be a really late one.”

  Lie.

  Liar.

  All the lies.

  You’re going to hell.

  Silence.

  “How long will this be going on?”

  “God, I don’t know, Luke.” That comes out a little snappy.

  “I’ve only got tonight off this week. Tim’s away for the week so I’m taking his shifts.” Code for—when the fuck am I going to see you?

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try to get through as much as I can tonight.”

  “They’re working you too hard,” he mutters.

  “Baby, please don’t be mad. I promise this won’t last forever.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Callie. Saturday, you’re mine.” So growly. I usually love that, but tonight all I’m feeling is guilt, guilt and more guilt.

  “I’ll be there before then. Promise.”

  “Coming home to you in my bed is one thing, but having time with you is another. I want both.”

  “I know, Luke. So do I.”

  “Did you speak to your real estate agent about moving in?”

  “I left a message for her this morning. I’m just waiting to hear back.”

  “Good. I’ll set up an office for you here so you’ve got your own space for when you need to work.”

  My guilt intensifies. Because if he knew the truth, he’d know this has nothing to do with needing space. I don’t need space to get my work done; I need it because I would struggle to look at him tonight and not be completely honest about what I’m doing.

  Oh, the tangled web we weave.

  “I love you,” I say softly.

  “I love you, too, sweetheart.” I hear the words he doesn’t say. He loves me, but he needs me there. If only he knew how desperately I wish I was there, rather than where I am tonight.

  I exit my car after we end the call and make my way into the pub Jolene told me to visit. It’s only early and a Monday night, so it’s not too busy. I head to the bar and when I’m served, I tell the woman I’m looking for Joe. She jerks her chin towards a big, round dude who’s clearing the glasses from a table.

  “Thanks,” I say and walk to where he is.

  He eyes me as I approach. “What can I do for you, beautiful?”

  I give him my best smile. “Jolene Hardy sent me. I’m trying to find some information on her mother and she said you’d be able to help me.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Jolene Hardy is in prison.”

  I nod. “I know. I spent time with her there this morning.”

  “And what exactly did she think I’d be able to help you with?”

  “I’m working with her to clear her name. We’re trying to establish who her mother’s enemies were at the time of her death.”

  “Fuck, that list would be a mile long.”

  “That’s what she said. If you had to narrow it to a handful that you thought really had it in for her, who would you say?”

  He thinks about that for a few minutes. “There’s only one and he’s dead. Killed himself a few months after the murder.”

  My heart sinks. I was supposed to walk out of here tonight with a list of people to look into. “Really? The way Jolene was talking, it sounded like her mother had a lot more than one.”

  “She did, sweetheart, but none that had it in for her enough to kill her. You don’t kill someone for being a bitch.” He eyes me. “Pull up a seat. I’ll get you a drink and we can go over it. What’s your poison?”

  “Vodka, please.”

  I take a seat and wait for him. My hope is restored that perhaps if we talk it out, he’ll think of someone.

  He returns with two drinks—vodka for me, beer for him. “I always did think Jolene was innocent,” he says after he sits.

  “Why?”

  “Her mother was strong and had this mean streak towards her daughters. Glenda learnt how to stand up to her, but Jolene never did. I just don’t see her murdering someone she couldn’t even take on verbally.”

  “People snap. Maybe she reached the end of her rope that night.” I’m not sure I believe it, but it’s worth throwing out there for his thoughts.

  He shakes his head. “I still don’t buy it.”

  “So, if not Jolene and not one of her mother’s enemies, who?”

  He shrugs. “Who had a motive?”

  I’ve gone over this thought a million times. “The only person I’ve come up with is Glenda. She hated her mother just as much as Jolene.”

  “Did she have an alibi for that night?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” I drain my glass. “I’ll look into her some more.” I grab my handbag. “Thanks for the chat.”

  “Good luck. Jolene’s lucky to have you on her side.”

  I’m not feeling like she’s lucky to have me tonight. I’ve done a lot of work on this over the last couple of days and I don’t feel any closer to figuring it out.

  After I leave the pub, I drive to the motel where the murder took place. It’s a cheap place with flashing neon signs outside. It definitely has the sleazy look of a place I could imagine a woman like Jolene’s mother would frequent. Marion noted that the sign-in book was no help in the investigation because clearly the murderer was smart enough to use a fake name and paid with cash. No identification was produced—they simply paid extra to book the room for a couple of hours with no questions asked.

  I strike it lucky at the motel. The woman who was working the front desk the night of the murder is working tonight. I recognise her name from Marion’s file.

  However, when I tell her why I’m here, she clams up. “I’ve told the police everything. And the trial’s long over. I don’t have to answer your questions.”

  “No, you don’t, but if you’d been wrongly convicted of a crime, wouldn’t you want someone trying to clear you?”

  “That woman was as guilty as they come. They found her at the murder scene covered in blood for God’s sake.” There is something strange
about this woman. She’s not only refusing to talk to me, but she’s also refusing to look at me. And she’s fidgeting with paperwork on the counter.

  “What if she was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Her mother called her and begged her to come to the motel—she was clearly in distress.”

  The woman opens her mouth to speak, but a man comes out of the adjoining office and stands behind her. God, he’s huge. And scary looking. His hard eyes cause me to shrink away a little. “What’s going on here, baby?” He places his hand on her shoulder. I’m pretty sure it’s meant to look like a loving gesture to me, but from the way the woman flinches, I don’t think she’s taking it that way.

  “It’s nothing. She was just leaving,” she says. Her eyes bore into mine as if she’s pleading with me to leave.

  I sense it’s time to go. This woman isn’t going to give me anything, especially not while the guy stands over her. But there’s definitely something here to investigate. I intend to get to the bottom of it.

  31

  Luke

  “I’ve got a girl crush on Paris,” Callie says as I lean against the tree and pull her back against me. My legs stretch along either side of her and my arms loop over her shoulders.

  Pressing my lips to her cheek, I say, “Why?”

  “She’s amazing in all ways. She supports you, she loves the hell out of Sean; she goes out of her way to do stuff for your family and she’s out there kicking ass in her own life, too. Plus, she’s really nice to me.”

  I chuckle. “I’m really nice to you. Do you have a crush on me?”

  She runs her hands over my legs. “I’ve got more than a crush on you.”