The Last Best Lie

by Kennedy Quinn

  “That Clarisse is a pistol, all right,” Jake said. “She pegged it right when she had Mrs. Naidenheim warn me I was in danger. That’s why I left the note for Madison in George’s cage. I had my own bad feeling when Chris died. Clarisse being upset just solidified it all.”

  “Jake! Dolls don’t have premonitions. It was all a coincidence.”

  “Did it work, or did it work?” he said, as if I were the one being absurd.

  I stared at him for a few seconds. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or you’re baiting me.”

  He shrugged and sat back, grinning enigmatically.

  “Fine. Whatever. I just wish Clarisse had warned Mr. Keeper too.”

  His eyes taking a more somber cast, he said, “Me too. But don’t go there. Nagging on how bad things should’ve been different only keeps them alive and stinging. Trust me on that.”

  “All I care about is that you’re okay. And Mrs. Naidenheim is going to be okay.” I pointed at Hunter. “And even it’s going to be okay. In total, that’s worth smiling about.”

  Jake’s self-satisfied smile returned, and he turned to Hunter. “So, like I was saying in the hall, Vince thinks they’ve got it all worked out. On the day she shot me, Lilly had Nestor call them in on a break, citing female issues. So, he didn’t think much of it when she was in the bathroom for so long. Of course, she was really in that building that was close by.”

  A chill passed over my body. “I wonder if she didn’t kill me then because she hadn’t planned on it, or just couldn’t get to me at the time. With her in a coma and missing a nice chunk of her brain, we’ll probably never know. She’ll never wake up again.”

  Zach glanced over at me, his voice solemn. “People have come back from worse.”

  We all fell silent for a moment, each clearly contemplating the consequences. A foreboding chill raised the hairs on my arms. No. I shook my head. What are the chances that a serial-killing, psychopath ex-police officer, trained in hand-to-hand combat and a variety of lethal weapons, with a deeply embedded entitlement complex, whom I helped to defeat and disfigure, would come back, practically from the dead, to take vengeance on me?

  I mean, that’s just absurd.

  I pressed on. “I’m thinking she felt desperate to throw me off track. So she lied—to me, to Nestor, to everyone. I guess she was delusional enough to think she could cover up as many murders as she needed to.” I nodded to Hunter. “Then again, she found some legitimately suspicious information about you and Adalida.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t start that again.”

  Jake laughed. “Come on, Max, it’s funny, you and my ‘pretty little cajun queen’—like she’d settle for a bum like you.”

  I smiled. Now that I remembered the refrain from the George Strait song, “Adalida,” which Jake always played on jukeboxes, I understood the reference the bird made in my dream.

  He paused, his expression solemn. “But I’m going to sleep a hell of a lot better knowing that she didn’t die hating me.” His voice broke. Hunter and Zach looked at their hands.

  Jake coughed and then smiled broadly. “But the thought of you two together, that’s just funny as all hell. My Adalida was a pistol, but old Max likes a different kind of challenge, likes ’em too smart for their own good.” He cut his eyes to me and then to Hunter. “Although after the other one, you think he’d have learned better. Eh, Max?”

  Hunter’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. I tried to read their expressions. Men liked to torment each other, just for the fun of it, apparently, but something deeper lingered in the air.

  Hunter leaned forward, sneering at me. “You bought every lie Lilly told. Idiot.”

  I sulked at him. “Not every one.” Well, actually, yes I did.

  “Hah!” Jake said. “You believed her about my being dead, and that was the lamest of the lies. Don’t you think someone would’ve called you if that had happened?”

  “I was distraught! Although I can’t imagine why, except perhaps because it meant I’d have to look for a new job.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to help her along. For an egghead geek, you got a knack for putting two and two together and coming up with six half the time.”

  My thoughts sobered, and I looked down at my hands. “Like with Nestor?” I swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t let myself believe he was a killer, maybe I could have stopped him.”

  Jake reached out, touching me on the knee. “You don’t know that, pichouette. And there ain’t no good that’ll come from believing it.”

  My throat ached, as if about to close up on me. “The last thing I did was tell him to rot in hell. He asked me to forgive him and I—” I stopped, choking on the words.

  “Ah, petite, he knew he had God’s forgiveness. You said you saw it on his face. He was at peace. That’s what he took to his grave, and that’s what you have to remember. He was a good cop and a better man, who loved his family and who, well, who let his need for justice cloud his judgment.” He shot a meaningful glance at Hunter. “It can happen to the best of us.”

  Hunter averted his eyes, although I caught the glimpse of deep pain there first. He muttered, “And to the worst of us.”

  Jake’s gaze lingered on Hunter another second. Then he leaned back and said, “And I believe with all my soul Nestor would never have gone as far as he did if that she-witch of a partner hadn’t been feeding him those extra pills. She … that murderess bitch, she did it.” I saw the unbridled hate for his daughter’s killer in his eyes. And it was a terrifying thing to see.

  Zach broke in. “How’s his family handling his death? Catholics and suicide …”

  Jake nodded at the implication. “Voltaire put in a call to Cardinal George himself.”

  My eyes widened. “The Archbishop of Chicago?”

  “The very man. His Eminence got Nestor absolution on the grounds he wasn’t in his right mind at the time. So,” he sighed deeply, “that helps. And I talked to the padre about my little girl.” A genuine, if exhausted, smile made it to his eyes. “He’s going to clear her name too.”

  I patted his hand, still on my knee.

  Clearing his throat, Hunter leaned forward and took a polished wood box off the table. “I say we celebrate all these good folk with something that makes life worth living.” Inside the box lay rows of thick cigars, neatly stacked. I could smell the heavy cherry scent from where I sat.

  Jake nodded. “Damn straight! And a little of this to wash it down properly.” He leaned his hefty bulk forward and plucked a cut-crystal bottle of amber liquid from a tray. Then he grabbed one of the matching glasses and filled it halfway. He hefted one to his nose and sniffed. “Smoky as a room full of nuns on Fat Tuesday. This the Ardbeg?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Laphroaig, 40 years old.”

  Jake nodded appreciatively. “Good shit, my friend. Expensive.”

  “Hang on!” I said, sitting forward. “Neither of you should be doing that.”

  Hunter cocked an eyebrow at Jake. “You had to bring Miss Priss along.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t start on me. The two of you are still recovering—”

  Hunter ignored me and took the glass that Jake proffered to him as Jake poured another. Jake lifted the glass toward Zach. “Son?” he said, by way of offer.

  “Thank you, no, sir. I’d sure like to, but I got a match tomorrow night. And I never indulge the night before. But, um,” he said, pointing at the box, “I wouldn’t mind one for later.”

  Hunter sniffed his own cigar deeply and nodded. “Absolutely, my boy.”

  Zach took the cigar and rolled it between his fingers.

  Tsking at him, I said, “Zach! Those things are killers.”

  Jake laughed loudly. “So’s a ton of bull flesh, but that doesn’t stop him from jumping on its back,” he said, cutting off the end of his cigar with a steel clipper and handing the device to Hunter. “God damned idiot thing to do. But you got to admire his balls.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not so sure.” I crossed my arms and flopped back in my chair.

  “Hey!” Zach said.

  “I didn’t mean your, you know, those.” I glanced below his belt. “I meant you take enough risks, as is. And don’t encourage those two clowns.” I gestured toward Jake and Hunter.

  Jake lit his cigar and puffed.

  Hunter clipped his and reached for the lighter. “She called us clowns. I think she’s insulting us.” He smiled at Jake.

  Jake took in a deep drag and then leaned back into the couch. “Too bad we don’t care.”

  Hunter lit his own cigar and pointed to Zach. “You got it right, boy. You need to keep your focus. You can’t afford to jinx yourself, especially now that we’re partners.”

  I gaped at Zach, who sniffed the cigar and put it in his pocket. “What’s he talking about?”

  Zach smiled uneasily. “You remember how I was planning to sell my bull?”

  “Yeah …”

  “Something happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “I sort of … didn’t.”

  I had that old feeling best labeled “this will not end well.” “You didn’t sell Fido?”

  Jake shook his finger. “Oh, no! You are not calling a prime bucking bull that.”

  “No, no!” Zach said. “I’ve got the perfect name. Are you ready?”

  Hunter nodded and took a deep drink from his glass. “Lay it on me.”

  Zach spread his legs and put his hands out at shoulder height, as if reading off a marquee. “Spinal Snap!”

  “What?!” I said, sitting upright.

  Jake nodded. “That’s not bad. Yeah. That’s good.”

  “Kind of like that band those years ago,” Hunter said. “What was it, Spinal Tap?”

  I got to my feet. “You can’t call him that!”

  “Why not?” Zach said.

  “Because it’s sick. It’s perverted. It’s like calling him Gut Stomper or Spleen Splitter.”

  “Now, those aren’t bad either.” Jake took a sip from his glass.

  I exhaled and rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. It was no good being annoyed with men for being men. “You are all in serious need of help.”

  “But, Darlin’,” Zach said. “You came up with the name.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “Sure you did. You said we should call him ‘Get the Hell Off My Back Before I Snap Your Spine.’ I shortened it, more or less. I mean it’s not as catchy as Bugger Butt or Chicken on a Chain. But a lot of the good ones are taken.”

  “It’s good! Spinal Snap. I like it,” Hunter said. “We’ll keep it.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Since when do you have a say in it, Hunter?”

  “Since I’m his new sponsor, not to mention being half owner of the bull.”

  “What? Zach? But … but why?”

  “I’ve always wanted to raise bulls. And with Mr. Hunter’s help, I can afford to. Hell, you can’t buck forever. Eventually you get worn out or dead. I’m counting on worn out, so I’d better have something to fall back on when it happens. Plus, it sure helps to have someone’s name on your vest, footing some of the bills.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. What was the big deal? Why be upset? Maybe because the two men you most want to end up in bed with are partners? Yeah. That’s a good reason.

  “Fine,” I said. “Whatever. It’s your funeral. Um, I mean—that is, let’s not talk about funerals right now. Let’s talk about Hunter’s other offer, the one that actually makes sense.” I kicked out at Jake. “It’s a good deal, Jake. And it’s going to be a while before your insurance comes through. We need work, and you need a place to work out of. The way I figure it—”

  Jake huffed like one of Zach’s bulls. “I told you, girl. I’m not taking charity.”

  Hunter put his head down and swirled the liquid in his glass. He had that tight-jawed frown on his face I see in men trying to avoid the emotions around them.

  “It’s not charity!” I said. “It’s a legitimate offer that benefits everyone. Hunter’s got more work than he can handle. And he has extra rooms we can use as offices. So, he hires you to take some of his cases, and we have a place to work while we wait for the settlement. It’s—”

  “I said no!”

  “Well, I said yes!” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.

  “And where the hell do you get off—” Jake said.

  “This is none of your business.” Hunter was red-faced.

  Zach leaned forward. “Darlin’, maybe you ought to let this go.”

  I turned to Zach. “No! I have something at stake, here too—”

  All of the men started talking at once. Hunter and Jake complaining about my sticking my nose in where it “did not goddamn belong” and Zach making half-hearted attempts to defend me. I tried to interrupt repeatedly, but the voices swelled, cutting me out altogether.

  In a blaze of impulse, I pulled off my shirt.

  I’d donned one of my trademark cotton camisole-type shirts beneath my black funeral suit, under which I’d had the foresight to wear my best white lace bra. The push-up one.

  They all shut up and stared, open-mouthed.

  “Now that I’ve got your attention,” I said. “You’re going to listen to me.”

  Hunter took in a breath, as if gearing up to say something.

  I held up a cautioning finger. “Eh-eh! You say one word, and I put it back on.”

  Jake kicked at him, staring at me with a mixture of shock and amusement.

  Yes, I felt a twinge of embarrassment stripping to my bra in front of Jake; he was quickly becoming a father substitute to me. But rather than reproach, the glint in his eye conveyed a message of “give ’em hell, girl.” Feeling empowered, I stood up straight and took in a deep breath. That really got their attention. “While, in fact, I show more flesh than this when I go to the beach, it is nonetheless sufficient to get your attention and that’s what I need.”

  They looked at each other and then sat back expectantly. “Okay, look,” I said. “I know, I’ve made a few mistakes along the way—” Hunter immediately scoffed, Jake laughed outright, and Zach tried, rather unsuccessfully, to hide a grin. Then all three began to speak at once, outlining my many failures.

  “Hey!” I shouted loud enough to silence them again. “Okay, I get it! Maybe more than a few! But I’m still here, aren’t I? I didn’t go running back to my mother, did I?” I stared pointedly at Jake, who gave a “yeah, I guess not” shrug. I turned to glare at Hunter. “And I came back for you, didn’t I?” He grunted dismissively, but there was grudging acceptance in his eyes.

  “Okay, then. So, yeah, I’m not perfect. But I’m willing to keep at it. I want to get this right, and I’m willing to learn. Isn’t that worth something?”

  That was met with a shrug from the hard cases and glowing admiration from Zach.

  “So, you,” I said, pointing to Jake, “just shut up and listen to me, will you?” I pointed to Hunter. “You, just shut up.” He rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Last, I pointed to Zach. “And you, get your hands out of your pockets.”

  Zach grinned, pulled his hands out, and crossed them over his chest.

  “That’s better,” I said. “Jake, you need to take Hunter up on his offer.” He opened his mouth, clearly intending to protest. I jabbed my finger at him. “Don’t! I mean it! It’s a legitimate offer and an act of friendship, not pity. Besides, how about having a little pity on me, will you? If you don’t go back to work, I don’t go back to work. I’ve put a hell of a lot of work into breaking you in, Mister, and I’m not going to start over with someone else.”

  “Bah,” Jake said.

  No, really, that’s what he said.

  Hunter snickered, so I turned my attention to him. “And you damn well do owe him, because he’s saved your ass a dozen times. Not the least of which was in D.C.”

  Hunter darted a look at Jake, like the younger brother trying not to look weak before his ol
der idol. Jake shrugged, still clearly amused at my audacity and as if to say that he had no idea how I knew about D.C. What he truly didn’t know was that I’d made a copy of the receipt before I returned the lockbox, and I had every intention of following up.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Also, you are not going to take advantage of my friend Zach simply because you’ve got a truckload of money and a desire to play at raising cows.”

  “Bulls,” Zach said.

  “Whatever! And give me that.” I grabbed the cigar out of his pocket and then circled the table snatching cigars and drinks from Jake and Hunter. “So, this is how it’s going to be, gentlemen. Because my future depends on us all working together in harmony. Oh and one more thing.” I turned, staring at each in turn. “You’d better get over the notion that I’m going to be pushed, bullied, or charmed,” I added, looking at Zach, “out of what I want. From now on, what Madison wants, Madison gets. And, frankly, if a little bit of cleavage gets you to shut up and do the right thing, I can live with that. As far as I’m concerned, it’s your weakness, not mine. Questions?”

  “I have a few,” a smoky voice said from behind me.

  The men’s eyes widened. I turned, already knowing, and dreading, what I’d see.

  A woman stood in the doorway. She had shoulder-length, silken black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a presence few world leaders could pull off. She raised one elegant eyebrow.

  My hands flew up to cover my chest. “Uh. Hi, Mom.”

  After that, things got complicated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kennedy Quinn has a master’s in nuclear science and a doctorate in physics and is a director of research by day. But this scientist-turned-administrator didn’t get there the easy way. She enlisted in the US Air Force immediately after high school and served as an aircraft mechanic before achieving an officer’s commission and earning her multiple degrees. After a diverse military career, she retired to federal service where she continues to lead research on a wide array of science and technologies. By night, she grows roses in northern Virginia with her family. They’re owned by two rescue cats.