Genuine Lies

by Nora Roberts

  “I’m merely establishing the defendant’s temperament, your honor. Her previous incidents of physical outbursts.”

  “Overruled. The defendant will answer.”

  It should have been funny. Julia wondered if years from now she’d see the humor in it. “I once struck a teacher who had belittled and mortified my son for not having a father.” She looked directly at Lincoln. “He didn’t deserve to be punished for the circumstances of his birth.”

  “As you felt you had been? Did you feel belittled and mortified by Miss Benedict’s revelation?”

  “I felt she had taken away my identity.”

  “And you hated her for that.”

  “No.” She lifted her eyes again, found Victor’s. “I don’t hate her. I don’t hate the man she loved enough to conceive me with.”

  “Two witnesses have sworn, under oath, that you screamed out your hate for your mother.”

  “At that moment I did hate her.”

  “And the next day, when she came to the guest house, came to—in her own words—have it out with you, you picked up the fireplace poker, and, fueled by that hate, struck her down.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I did not.”

  She was bound over for trial, on the strength of the physical evidence. Bail was set for five hundred thousand.

  “I’m sorry, Julia.” Lincoln was already writing a note to his law clerk. “We’ll have you out within the hour. I guarantee you a jury will acquit.”

  “How long?” Her gaze flew to Paul’s as handcuffs were snapped over her wrists. She heard the quiet metallic clicks and thought of the cell door, locking into place. “Brandon. Oh, God, call Ann, please. I don’t want him to know.”

  “Just hold on.” He couldn’t reach her, couldn’t touch her. Could only watch while they took her away. He dragged Lincoln around by the collar. The violence in his eyes only reflected the tip of the emotion in his heart. “I’ll post bail. You get her the hell out. Do whatever you have to do to keep her out of a cell. Understand?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Just do it.”

  The crowds were still there when they released her. She walked through the dream, wondering if she’d already died. She could still feel the coldness the handcuffs had left at her wrists.

  But there was the limo. Eve’s limo. But not Lyle, she thought dazedly. A new driver. She slipped inside. It felt clean, cool, safe. Eyes closed, she heard the sound of liquid hitting glass. Brandy, she realized, when Paul pressed the snifter into her hand. Then she heard his voice, as cool as the interior of the limo.

  “Well, Julia, did you kill her?”

  Fury punched through the shock so fast, so hot that she was hardly aware of snapping up, of dragging the sunglasses off and tossing them on the floor. Before she could speak he had his hand firm on her chin.

  “You keep that look on your face.” His voice had changed, roughened. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit by and watch you let them beat you. It’s not just your life you’re fighting for.”

  She jerked away and used the brandy to calm her. “No sympathy?”

  The muscles in his jaw worked as he drained every drop in his own snifter. “They cut me in half when they took you away. Is that enough for you?”

  She shut her eyes again. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t do any good for me to swipe at you.”

  “Sure it does. You’ve stopped looking like you’d melt through the floorboards.” He put a hand to the back of her neck to rub away the tension. Her fingers were twisting in her lap as she battled her own nerves. Slender fingers, he thought, with the nails bitten viciously down to the quick. Gently, he lifted them, touched them to his lips.

  “Do you know what first attracted me to you?”

  “The fact that I pretended not to be attracted to you?”

  The way her lips curved made him grin. Yes, she would fight. No matter how fragile her hold, she would fight. “Well, there was that—that intriguing sense of distance. But even more was the way you looked that first time, walking into Eve’s parlor. There was a look in your eyes.”

  “Jet lag.”

  “Shut up and let me finish.” He touched his mouth to hers, felt her relax fractionally. “It said, quite clearly, I don’t like chatty little dinner parties, but I’m going to get through it. And if anyone here takes a punch at me, I’ll punch them right back.”

  “You did, I recall.”

  “Yeah, I did. I didn’t like the idea of the book.”

  She opened her eyes then and looked into his. “Whatever happens, I’m still going to write it.”

  “I know.” Because he could see tears were threatening, he kissed her eyes closed, then pulled her against his shoulder, where her head could rest. “Now take five. We’ll be home soon.”

  The phone was ringing when they walked in the door. By tacit agreement, they both ignored it. “I think I’ll take a shower,” Julia said. She was halfway up the stairs when the phone machine clicked on.

  “Julia Summers.” The voice was friendly, amused. “Well, maybe you’re not back from the big day yet. Do yourself a favor and give me a call. The name’s Haffner, and I’ve got some interesting information for sale. You might want to know who else was snooping around on the estate the day Eve Benedict went down.”

  She froze, one hand on the banister. When she turned, Paul was already picking up the phone and punching it to speaker.

  “The number here’s—”

  “This is Winthrop,” Paul interrupted. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Just an interested bystander. I saw you and pretty Julia leave the courthouse. Tough break.”

  “I want to know who you are and what you know.”

  “And I’m more than glad to tell you, friend. For a price. I think, say, two hundred and fifty thousand, cash, ought to cover my expenses.”

  “What am I paying for?”

  “You’re paying for reasonable doubt, and I can deliver. That’s all you need to keep that sexy lady out of a cage. You bring half the money and the lady up to the HOLLYWOOD sign, nine o’clock. Then if you want me to talk to the cops, or a judge, you deliver the other half. I’ll be all yours.”

  “The banks are closed.”

  “Oh, yeah, ain’t that a bitch. Well, I can wait, Winthrop. Can she?”

  Paul looked over. Julia was standing a foot away, straight as a spear. Her eyes were locked on his. In them was something he hadn’t seen for days. It was hope.

  “I’ll get it. Nine o’clock.”

  “And we’ll just leave the cops out of it for now. I smell one, I’m gone.”

  Her eyes followed the receiver as Paul replaced it. She was almost afraid to speak, afraid to say the words. “Do you think—could he have really seen someone?”

  “Someone else was there.” Before he could pull his thoughts together, the phone rang again. “Winthrop.”

  “Paul, it’s Victor. I wanted to know … is she all right?”

  Paul looked at his watch. “Victor, how much cash can you get your hands on in the next two hours?” “Cash? Why?” “For Julia.”

  “Dear God, Paul, she’s not going to run.” “No. I don’t have time to explain. How much can you get?”

  “In an hour or two? Forty, maybe fifty thousand.”

  “That’ll do. I’ll be by to get it. No later than eight.”

  “All right. I’ll make some calls.”

  Julia pressed her fingers to her mouth, then dropped them in a helpless gesture. “Just like that,” she said. “No questions, no conditions. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You will when the time comes. I can bring it up to a hundred thousand out of my automatic teller. What about your agent? Can she wire you the rest?”

  “Yes. Yes.” She felt the tears as she picked up the phone. Not of fear this time, but of desperate hope. “Paul, I’m going to pay you back. I don’t mean just the money.”

  “Let’s do it. And make it fast, I want to call Frank.”

&nb
sp; “The police? But he said—”

  “He’ll stay downwind.” There was something in Paul’s eyes as well. Excitement. The dark and dangerous kind. “No way I’m going to hand over this cash, then watch the guy walk. Not after he waited and watched you go through hell. Make the call, Jules. We’ve got a trap to spring.”

  Haffner lit a cigarette, then leaned up against the bar of the big white “H.” He liked it up there. It was a nice, quiet place to do business. He kicked aside an empty can of diet Coke and wondered how many babes had opened the gates of paradise right here on this spot.

  The lights were twinkling on in the basin below. But up there, if you waited long enough, if you were quiet enough, you might hear a far-off coyote call to the moon that had just begun to rise.

  Haffner thought he might just take his profits and go on a camping trip. Yosemite, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon. He’d always gotten a kick out of nature. And he’d have earned a vacation, mostly honestly. Expert witnesses got paid all the time. It just so happened his fee was stiff.

  He heard the car engine and tramped out his cigarette, moving away from the sign and into the shadows. If Winthrop or the lady tried to pull anything, he’d slip back to where he’d hidden his car and be gone.

  They came in silence, walking close. The satchel in Paul’s hand had Haffner grinning. Smooth as silk, he thought. Smooth as fucking silk.

  “He’s not here.”

  The strain in Julia’s voice almost made Haffner feel sorry for her.

  “He’ll be here.”

  She nodded, her head twisting this way and that. “Maybe we should have called the police. It’s dangerous, coming up here alone.”

  “All he wants is the money,” Paul said soothingly. “Let’s play it his way.”

  “Good thinking.” Haffner stepped toward them. He threw up a hand to shield his eyes from Paul’s flashlight, and chuckled. “Aim it low, son, no need to blind me.” “Haffner?”

  “That’s my name. Well, well, Julia. Good to see you again.”

  She slid her hand inside her purse as she studied him. “I know you. I’ve seen you.”

  “Sure you have. I’ve been following you for weeks. A little job for a client. I’m a P.I. Well, used to be.”

  “In the elevator, outside of Drake’s office. And in the airport at Sausalito.”

  “Good eye, honey.”

  “Who are you working for?” Paul demanded.

  “Who was I working for? My services are no longer required, seeing as Eve’s dead and Julia here’s up to her pretty neck.”

  Paul gripped Haffner’s cotton shirt, ripping seams. “If you had anything to do with Eve’s murder—”

  “Hold it, hold it. You think I’d be here if I did?” He held out both hands, still grinning. “All I did was some shadowing for an interested party.”

  “Who?”

  Haffner thought it over. “Seeing as I’m not on the payroll anymore, it couldn’t hurt to tell you. Kincade, Anthony Kincade. He wanted me to keep a real close eye on you, Julia. The book you and Eve were working on had him sweating bullets.”

  “The notes,” she said. “He was sending the notes.”

  “I don’t know anything about any notes. He wanted you tailed, wanted to know everyone you talked to. Bought me some real nice surveillance equipment, so I was able to listen in on some of the interviews. Juicy stuff. That’s a real kicker about DuBarry having an abortion. Who’d have thought? I followed you after you left her house. You were pretty erratic that day, Julia. Musta had a lot on your mind. Then I drove around the estate, and—” He paused, grinned. “I’ll be glad to tell you all about that. After I see the money.”

  Paul shoved the satchel at him. “Count it.”

  “Come on, friend.” Haffner set the case on a rock and popped it open. After pulling out a penlight, he shined it over the stacks of bills. Manna from heaven. “I trust you. After all, we’re just doing each other a little favor.”

  “You said you saw someone else on the estate that day,” Julia prompted. “How could you have gotten in? Joe was at the gate.”

  “Guys like me aren’t usually invited through gates in Beverly Hills.” Enjoying himself, Haffner pulled out a roll of fruit-flavored candy. He crunched down on one. Julia smelled oranges. “I spotted a car by the wall. Made me curious. So I climbed up on the roof, took a peek over, and guess what I saw?” He looked from Julia to Paul. “No guesses? I saw Drake Morrison limping his way across the putting green. Hell, imagine having a putting green right in your yard.”

  “Drake?” Julia clutched at Paul’s hand. “You saw Drake?”

  “He was a mess,” Haffner continued. “Guess he’d taken a tumble going over the wall. These executive types aren’t athletic.”

  “What about the alarm?” Paul asked.

  “Couldn’t say. But stands to reason he’d taken care of it or he wouldn’t have chanced going over. Seeing as the way was clear, I hopped over after him. Figured Kincade might pay big for some inside information. I couldn’t get too close, seeing as it’s pretty open there. He was heading for the house, the big house, then he pulled up short, tried to hide himself behind a palm tree, like he was watching somebody. Then he changed direction, went toward the little house. I couldn’t get too close myself cause he was diddling around, looking for a place where he could get close to a window. Then he jerks back, starts running like demons are after him. I had to dodge into some bushes. I figured I’d take a look in myself, but before I could get close enough, you drove up.” He nodded at Julia. “I saw you get out of the car, walk into the garden. I figured I’d better get out before somebody turned the security back on.”

  “You saw me.” Julia shoved Paul aside to get to Haffner herself. “You saw me. You knew I was telling the truth, and you didn’t say a word.”

  “Hey, I’m here now. And you come up with the other half, I’ll sing to the D.A. in three-part harmony. Besides, I can only tell them like I saw it. For all I know, you doubled back out of the garden and whacked the lady.”

  She slapped him, hard enough to have him lose his footing and ram against the rock. “You know I didn’t kill her. You know Drake saw whoever did. And you waited until I was desperate enough to sell my soul.”

  Haffner swiped a hand over his mouth as he got to his feet. “Keep it up and I’ll tell the D. A. you tried to bribe me to alibi you. You’re nothing to me, lady. So be nice, or I might decide against doing my civic duty.”

  “Civic duty, my ass,” Paul said. “Did you get enough, Frank?”

  “Oh, more than.” Frank stepped into the clearing, smile beaming.

  “Son of a bitch.” Haffner took one step forward before Paul caught him with a right to the jaw. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

  “Rusty? Rusty Slimeball Haffner?” Frank said pleasantly as he hauled Haffner to his feet. “I remember you. Do you remember me? I’m Lieutenant Francis Needlemeyer, and you’re under arrest for extortion, withholding evidence, and being a general pain in the ass. I’ll read you your rights in just a minute.” After clamping on the cuffs, Frank took out a walkie-talkie. “I’ve got a load of shit for you to pick up.”

  “On the way, Lieutenant. By the way, the reception was loud and clear.”

  “The D.A. wants Morrison quick, fast, and in a hurry.” Frank was whistling as they stepped from the driveway to the walk leading to Drake’s house. “You get ahold of your lawyer?”

  “Yes.” Julia wiped her damp hands on her slacks. “He’s probably harassing your captain by now. Lincoln said you wouldn’t let Paul and me go with you to pick up Drake.”

  “I can’t help it if you just showed up.” He winked at Paul. “The thing is, I figure Morrison will break down quicker faced with you.”

  “I’d prefer to break him down myself,” Paul muttered. “Piece by piece.”

  “You do that. But wait until after we get his statement. Christ, how does he stand the music up that loud?” Frank pushed the bell, then hammered his fist on the
door.

  “The bastard saw who killed her.” Paul’s fingers tightened on Julia’s until she winced. “Eve gave him everything that was decent in his life, and he didn’t give a damn. He used her dead just like like he used her alive. For money.”