Fables & Felonies

by Nellie K Neves

  But he couldn’t remember.

  “I can’t wait around anymore,” I said aloud.

  And I meant it. I had to go on the offensive.

  Every other Thursday night the cleaning crew comes in after everyone is gone. Every room gets cleaned, even the file room with its digital keypad entry. Time it right, and I could be inside. I just had to wait for my opportunity. Then I’d find out what Club Feugo needed a lawyer for.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Since Dad enforced his ‘no alleged felons at his table’ law, when Dad stayed late at the office Amos and I were invited to join Mom for dinner. Amos’ charm made him a delightful dinner guest. He didn’t have to say much before the secrets poured out of people. I’d watched him gather the most guarded secrets out of people with nothing more than a smile and that blasted accent of his. If I’d had a nickel for every time I heard someone, myself included, say, “You know, I’ve never told anyone this, but…” He was the veritable Fort Knox of random strangers’ secrets.

  Listening to Mom prattle on about her day, talking until I swore her voice would go raw, while Amos listened, actually listened, was the highlight of my day. It was no wonder I’d fallen for him so long ago. Other than the tendency to break the law, he was a great guy.

  I left them chatting while I went to do the dishes. It was rare that my mom let me help her, and considering the way she’d helped me after my relapse, I owed her a few rounds. I finished quickly, and set my ear to the crack in the kitchen door. Mom still rattled on about some ordeal at the grocery store. Not wanting to interrupt, I pulled out my phone.

  Three days. I managed to stay away from PI Net for three days. My uncle’s call had ruined my reserve. The fact that Ryder hadn’t remembered anything made me wonder if I could be honest with him, tell him who I really was and exactly why I wasn’t by his side. I’d run the daydream on repeat as I’d ferried calls from the front desk. Ryder would be angry at first that I’d lied about my identity, but then so relieved he wouldn’t care. We’d talk about his recovery plan, I’d tell him about my case. Maybe I’d drive home for the weekend, long enough to hold his hand, or help him through physical therapy. Then I could focus on Amos again, and even more so because I’d know Ryder was safe.

  That was the rationale that helped me to press the PI Net icon and enter the chat room. I scanned the list of people involved, but no Sleuth28. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might not be around. I set my phone on the counter and began sweeping the floor. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe some random girl like Katie wasn’t what he needed clouding his mind anyway.

  My phone buzzed, and I nearly hit the ceiling. The broom clattered to the floor. I lunged for my phone. Sleuth28 had messaged me.

  “You’re back.” The bubbles flashed. “I was worried.”

  It wasn’t like he was talking about me, not really, but my heart still raced in response.

  “You shouldn’t worry. I was just working a case.”

  His response came even faster. “I know, that’s why I was worried.”

  I’d left him scarred, even if he couldn’t remember why.

  “I’m okay. I promise,” I wrote.

  The bubbles didn’t show up, not for a full two minutes. I began to worry if I’d said something to upset him when finally he wrote, “I was beginning to think I’d imagined you or at least that we had talked. I’m having a hard time with my memory right now. It’s hard to trust anything.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. He was hurting, damaged, it wasn’t like him. I saw this side of him in Eden’s Haven, but only briefly when the brainwashing became intense.

  “Well,” I wrote, “now you know it wasn’t imaginary. We talked. I enjoyed it.”

  I imagined him staring at his phone, trying to figure this out, trying to understand what parts of him were real and what parts were not. I’d been there before. I’d felt false memories fighting with the real ones. I knew what blank time felt like. Empty. Gone. Black screens with nothing there to even hint at what you’d missed. It was a sort of crazy I’d never wish on anyone.

  “Sorry,” he wrote, “things just get blurry for me right now.”

  I wanted to hold him close to me, kiss his forehead, and promise it was all going to be okay, but that wasn’t where we were. I was Katie for him, not Lindy.

  “Tell me about your day,” I wrote, “that way you’ll have someone to help you keep it straight.”

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “In my line of work, not likely,” I assured him through the chat window.

  “I had to see a psychologist,” he wrote, “he showed me pictures and different things to see if my memory would come back.”

  I wrote, “Did it?” even though I knew the answer.

  “I told him no,” is all Ryder wrote.

  My heart sped up. He lied?

  “But did it?”

  My mother’s laughter drifted in through the silence that Ryder left me in. Amos’ voice continued with whatever tale he was telling her, true, false, or fable it never seemed to matter.

  “I don’t know.” The bubbles appeared, then stopped, then appeared again, as if he couldn’t decide if he should tell me or not. “I saw things in my mind, but not enough to connect them. I should have said something, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone.”

  “You can trust me,” I wrote before I thought better of it. I was a stranger to him, the last person he should trust.

  “I have to go, Katie. My mom just got here.”

  I wrote, “Wait, what did you see?” but the error message read, “Undelivered, user no longer online.”

  Once more I couldn’t decide if I’d made things better or worse. Was I the best thing that ever happened to Ryder? His one steady sanctuary? Or was I his virus, continually eroding him until his demise?

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I used to list sleep as one of my hobbies, the same way people list biking or knitting. I figured I was good at it. I liked to practice sleeping. I tried to get better by taking naps during the day, going to bed early, waking up late. It was all part of my hobby. But now, I found only a treacherous endless night. Tossing and turning, a brain that refused to shut off no matter what I did to slow it down. The sleep I did get was riddled with nightmares and worries.

  Amos in prison.

  Ryder in the hospital for the rest of his life.

  Failure after failure.

  I used to dread mornings, now I beg for the sun to rise to chase the endless night back to its cage.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I watched the sun come up over the mountains through my window. In quiet moments it was easy to see why my parents had fallen in love with their property. The neighbors all had plots of three acres, enough space to spread out, but without feeling isolated. Located at the back of the community, they had the best view, a clear picture of the majestic Sierra Nevada mountain range every morning. It was enough to convince me to forge through one more day.

  I slipped into another one of my mom’s discarded suits. The day before, Betty from accounting told me I must raid the best thrift stores because I wore the coolest vintage outfits. I took it as a win and went with it. Less than a week until Thursday, then I could look in the files and perhaps find the answers I needed.

  Amos wasn’t on the couch like normal. Instead, as I stepped out of my room, he sat at the table, cereal in front of him and an empty bowl and spoon waiting for me. Someone else might have seen it as a kind gesture, but I knew better.

  It was a trap.

  “What?” I pulled out my chair and sank to my seat. It wasn’t a question, more like, “Let’s get this over with.”

  Amos spun the bracelet on his wrist. The bracelet that appeared out of nowhere. The one he never explained the significance of, but the one he’s never taken off either.

  He waited a moment. Maybe he wanted to get the words right. Maybe he was building suspense, but either way I was too tired to deal with the dramatics. The look
I sent his way conveyed that with perfect clarity.

  “Is it drugs or love?” he asked me.

  I shook it off. I wasn’t doing this with him. There was no way I was spilling my guts all over the breakfast table while he still held every secret close to his chest. Not a chance.

  “Be serious,” I warned. “This isn’t us, Amos.”

  His blue eyes remained locked on me, every one of his tools in full effect, like a robot or a machine clicking and ticking away as he watched me, knowing full well he could find the answers if he looked long enough.

  For the first time, I was scared he would. For the first time, he was the Amos I remembered. The one who could undo me with a stare, destroy my walls with a few words. He was the one who’d seen me before anyone else had.

  “Drugs or love, Sparrow?” I didn’t answer, but he wasn’t willing to give up like he had in the past. “It has to be one of those two. This behavior of yours, it has a signature to it, doesn’t it? Self-destruction, can’t sleep, won’t eat, scratching at your arms as if you’ve turned beetles loose on them.” He waited, but I refused to speak. Most importantly, I refused to let the muscles of my face twitch, not even a breath.

  I knew better. I didn’t have to move to give him something to read. He once told me the absence of emotion is just as telling as abundance.

  “I would wager it’s love,” he said, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, “because you’d never risk your mind on drugs. Not willingly.”

  “What do you know about love?” I snapped, tears and anger raw in my throat.

  He laughed, not happy, all bitter. “I know it’ll wind up into your mind, weave through your bones, hollow out your marrows until somehow you can’t survive without it. Then it gets ripped away,” his hands clapped loud, and I jumped at the sound mixed with the poison of his words, “and you’re a shell, just a zombie left over with no semblance of life. Complete extinction of everything human within you.”

  The way he was talking, the coherent glint in his eye, was the first glimpse of the man I’d once called James, the brilliant PI who’d taught me everything I knew about my craft. All of it made my heart race, not out of excitement, just fear. But I couldn’t let on, I didn’t want him to know about Ryder. I couldn’t let him see the part of me that was weak and dying.

  “And this happened to you?” I didn’t try to hide my skepticism.

  Amos saw through my games and let a little scoff slip past his lips so I knew he had me cornered.

  “It comes out of nowhere. People like you and me, we fight it, like we’re out at sea in a storm, trying to keep our heads above water while the waves dash us to pieces. We fight until our last breath because we’re better alone. But if the storm is ferocious enough, the water is deep enough, we’ll sink.” His volume dropped. The animosity faded. “People like us, Sparrow, we don’t want love, but when we finally fall, we drown. And when she’s gone, it’s over. Life will never be the same.”

  He tipped his hand and the advantage became mine.

  “I know this act, Amos. It’s the same one that brought us together. New speech, but the same wounded puppy act.” I watched him slump back in his chair, mouth twisted tight with frustration. “You’re lonely. Maybe that’s new for you, but we were never in love. We couldn’t have been in love, because I didn’t know your real name.”

  The ferocity boiled just beyond the surface. I’d wounded him, but the fight was far from over.

  “I was in love,” he said again, unflinching in his eye contact. “I was madly in love.”

  He spoke the truth. I knew him well enough to search out his tells. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. The thought left me breathless. I’d never had any idea of his feelings, not after it ended, I’d never considered that he might… I’d cared for him once, but nothing near what I felt for Ryder.

  “Amos…”

  “Hallie. I fell in love with Hallie.”

  My lips parted. My mouth fell open. I saw the sadness dripping from his hunched body. I’d worried about my own confession and had never considered what his could be.

  “That’s what you don’t know,” he continued. “That’s what you’ve been missing. I love Hallie.”

  The note in the closet at the diner took on another meaning.

  Never forget. You’re mine.

  It was a love note. It all made sense. His shiftiness at the apartment. The way he tensed when I asked about her lovers. The fact that he hadn’t left, because he needed to know who’d killed the woman he loved.

  He loved her.

  That’s where his spark went. That’s why he was happy to spend all day watching soaps or content to drink tea and chat with my mother. Amos was heartbroken.

  “The candles at her apartment,” I began, “was that for you or?” I didn’t bother to finish because I had my answer in the way he averted his gaze.

  “Not me,” was all he said at first. Emotion betrayed him with a tremble in his voice. “Someone else. I was honest a few days before she was killed. I told her everything, my name, my past, that the record company was fake, but I loved her. She was angry, but I thought she’d come around. I stopped by her place because she texted me. She wanted to talk, but when I got there she freaked out. Started screaming at me that she’d call the cops if I didn’t get out. I wanted to know about the candlelit dinner. Wanted to know if she’d moved on. Why she was meeting someone else? I deserved to know. I had a right to know.” His jaw stretched from side to side to untie the emotion knotted there. “All she could say was that it had to be done. That I’d forced her hand. It was all my fault. I tried to get a handle on her, to calm her down, to make her talk rationally, but that’s when she scratched me.”

  For the first time I saw it. The shell her love had left behind, the man who’d been left as the living dead to tell the tale.

  “I didn’t kill her, Lindy, but I’m not going anywhere until I find out who did.”

  Chapter 12

  Despite it being the weekend, I was scheduled to work a half day on Saturday. A few associates had scheduled meetings and until noon I was figuratively chained to my desk. Certain cases meant weekend work, but I hoped it meant the file room would be left unattended. I walked to the door, rejoiced as it was left open, but cursed my luck when I found two paralegals sorting through the mess of paperwork.

  I returned to the front desk and slumped into the chair. Maybe if I waited long enough the room would clear out. Was I willing to take the chance of letting someone walk in on me picking the lock? If I was found on the inside, could I talk my way out of it? If I waited for lunch, I might have a chance. It might be the window I needed to break in and see that file.

  Smoldering in the back of my mind was the embarrassing knowledge that I’d assumed Amos was in love with me. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he loved anyone, let alone the woman he was accused of murdering. I couldn’t shake the thought of the closet at Starved for Art. Amos had been right, there was no way Hallie had looked at his words and thought her life was in danger. There had to be something else written there. With only half an hour left before I was allowed to leave, I decided I’d get that club sandwich I’d missed out on during my first visit.

  Just as I was packing my things to go, my cell rang. Fearing it might be Uncle Shane with bad news about Ryder, I clicked it on without so much as a glance at the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Lindy Belle, it’s Dad.”

  “Hey, Dad. What’s up?” I let my breath ease out, knowing Ryder was safe.

  “Hey, you know that friend you’ve been hanging out with a lot?”

  “Amos?”

  “Yeah, that’s the friend.”

  “You’re talking weird, Dad, are you trying to hide something?”

  “Right on the nose,” he said as if I’d won a carnival game.

  “Are people listening to you?”

  “Oh yes, that’s very true,” he continued in his disingenuously happy voice.

  “Are th
ey recording or listening to my side of the call?”

  “Nope, that’s not going to be a problem, sweetie.”

  “Is Amos in trouble?”

  “Oh yes, so much.” The tone of his voice conflicted with the dire information, but if he was in a meeting about the prosecution and what they were doing he couldn’t risk his job by letting them know he’d aided a suspect.

  “Should I tell him to run?”

  “Maybe the east coast. Your mom loves it there. It might be a good vacation spot.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him. I’ll get him out.”

  “Lindy—” It was the only time in the whole conversation he actually sounded natural. His voice betrayed his fear.

  “I know, Dad.”

  I wished it was concern for Amos that had him scared, but if they found Amos at our house my dad could lose his job, and that would affect my mother and the rest of our family.

  I hung up and dialed the number for my cottage. Originally, I thought a landline in my place was a bit archaic, but as it rang and the machine picked up I couldn’t have been more grateful.

  “Amos, pick up the phone. You gotta get out, they’re—”

  “Sparrow, what’s wrong?” Amos’ voice flooded the receiver.

  “Dad just called. The cops are going to arrest you for murder. If you can’t get out, then hide. Run to the back of the property, there’s a gate that links to—”

  “I’m not going anywhere, love. I told you that.”

  “Amos, they’re coming for you now. Ranger knows you’re my friend. My place will be the first they check.”

  “I’m going to disappear, but not before I find out who killed Hallie.” Distress filled his voice. Bravery was new to him. “But I won’t get your family in trouble either.”

  Dread tightened my grip on the phone. “What are you planning, Amos?”

  “Promise me something, Little Sparrow.”