Don't Believe a Word

by Patricia MacDonald

  Eden followed Aaliya down the hall, past the master bedroom and the bathroom next to it, past the room which had been Jeremy’s. The room smelled moldy and there was still medical equipment scattered across the rug, though it was piled haphazardly, as if the room were in an abandoned field hospital in the jungle somewhere.

  They went back down the hall and through the galley kitchen to the dining area. The dining table was stacked with newspapers. Eden looked around curiously. ‘Doesn’t Flynn have an office?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a little room at the back of the garage,’ said Aaliya.

  ‘Is that where you worked with him?’ Eden asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Aaliya. ‘It was the only quiet place.’ She picked a set of keys from a bowl on the table. ‘These are for the office, although I don’t imagine you’ll need them. These are the car keys, and these are the spare keys to the house. Front door. Back door.’

  Eden nodded, trying to keep all the keys straight. ‘Is there anything I should know about the house?’

  Aaliya frowned. ‘I can’t think of anything offhand. If you have a question, you can call me. Here is my number.’ She wrote a number down on a piece of paper. Eden put it into her pocket.

  ‘Well, now that you’re settled, I had better be going,’ said Aaliya. ‘My aunt needs me. There is a service tonight at the mosque. The women will come to our apartment for refreshments.’

  ‘How are you getting home?’ Eden asked.

  ‘On the bus,’ said Aaliya.

  ‘No. Let me drive you home,’ said Eden. ‘That’s the least I could do …’

  Aaliya shook her head, smiling. ‘I’m used to the bus,’ she said. ‘It’s no problem. But I must be on my way. Make yourself at home. As much as you can.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough. For thinking of this. For coming out here …’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Aaliya. ‘It’s a way of making myself useful to my employer, even if he can’t give me instructions. I’m sure this is what he would want me to do.’

  I’m not so sure, Eden thought. But she nodded in agreement as she followed Aaliya to the front door. As Aaliya walked briskly to the bus stop, Eden waved after her, calling out her thanks, and warning the girl to stay safe.

  A bus pulled up and Aaliya disappeared inside. Eden watched until it had pulled away and then, reluctantly, she went back inside and closed the door. She looked around. Was it possible that her mother, who loved flowers, and rooms neat and orderly, had ever lived in this house? It looked like a dilapidated warehouse with boxes piled in every room. It would certainly have been very different when she lived here, Eden thought. But that did little to dispel the gloomy feeling which came over her as she looked around.

  She went into the living room, thinking she would sit down, but there were canyons of cardboard boxes on every side. She glanced at the overflowing ashtray and thought about emptying it, but it seemed like too much trouble altogether. She went into the dining area and looked at the array of keys on the table. She could take the car and go somewhere. But where? It was like being a prisoner without a cage. This city was her cage. This house was her cell. She had no idea how long her incarceration was going to last.

  She put the car keys into a pocket at the front of her pocketbook, and slipped the house keys inside the bag. The keys to the office in the garage were still lying there on the scarred dining room table. She picked them up and dangled them thoughtfully from her thumb and forefinger. Flynn’s retreat, no doubt, from the day-to-day struggle of his life with his dying wife and son.

  Flynn. Someone had been angry enough at him that they had gunned him down early this morning and left him to die in the street. It was true that he had a talent for giving offense, but who could he have offended so much that they wanted to execute him for it? And did it have something to do with the deaths of Tara and Jeremy? No, it couldn’t. Even she, who had the most reason to dislike him, no longer suspected Flynn for that.

  She looked around at the chaotic house. There was nothing appealing about staying in here, she thought. There was nowhere to even sit down that wasn’t already blocked by a cardboard box or two. Perhaps, in Flynn’s private lair, she mused, there was an empty chair. A desk, and a computer. Perhaps there were answers as well. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look.

  She opened the kitchen door which led into the attached garage. This was the door which had been left open the night that Tara and Jeremy died, she thought. Now, Flynn’s car was parked there. Eden peered at it, thinking about Flynn being gunned down in the street. He obviously had not been in his car at the time. And he hadn’t been in the house. Apparently he was out walking in the neighborhood. Why? There was nothing odd about that, she reminded herself. Lots of people took walks. To stretch their legs. To clear their heads. But at that hour of the morning?

  She went down the few steps into the garage and walked over to the office door. She inserted the key and opened it, turning on the lights from the switch that was on the wall. She gazed in at the cramped, windowless room.

  There were three empty boxes piled in the corner, but the office had not yet been dismantled. The Mac sat on the desk, the printer on a cart beside it, along with piles of books. It looked like a no-nonsense workspace. Eden sat down in the swivel chair, and imagined Flynn sitting there.

  She reached over to the mouse and tapped it. The desktop came alive, with dozens of documents, as well as a photo file, which had a photo of Tara as its icon.

  Eden was a little surprised that the computer was not locked with a password, but obviously Flynn had gone out expecting to return in a short time. He had certainly never expected to end up in a coma.

  She began to peruse the icons on the desktop. All the documents were named with abbreviations, and she was not surprised to find that some of those abbreviations were impossible for her to decipher. She opened a few files at random and found business correspondence and lesson plans. There was nothing illuminating about the documents which Flynn had saved. There was a master file with chapter documents from Flynn’s book. There were critiques of students’ work, and she came across a short story that Aaliya had written. Ashamed of her own curiosity, she read the story. It was written very delicately. Very poetically. But Flynn had not been stretching the point when he presumed that it revealed the author’s attraction to her own sex. Even if it was fiction. Then she came across a file entitled T. Alz. It only took a second for her to realize that the file name referred to Tara and her Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

  Eden opened the file and looked through it. The file was filled with research on Alzheimer’s Disease. One page had been highlighted by Flynn. It referred to the short amount of relative normalcy that Tara could expect after her diagnosis. One report suggested six months to two years. It was painful to read.

  Eden shook her head. How could Flynn have faced that? She knew how people were supposed to feel. They were supposed to be willing to care uncomplainingly for their loved ones for as long as it took, and never waver. But who actually felt that way in their secret heart? Who wouldn’t feel dread, and horror and depression, at the prospect? It was only human.

  She exited the file and clicked on the photo file, just so that she could see pictures of her mother and Jeremy. It seemed as if they might be consoling to look at. And indeed, there was a raft of such photos. Tara holding Jeremy. Tara waving her son’s limp hand at the camera and beaming. Jeremy smiling through his pain. Love abounding. Tears came to her eyes as she looked through the pictures. There were photos of Flynn as a young man, full of swagger and defiance. Pictures of him in sexy poses with various young women, or hanging out with a few guys who were not his equal in terms of attractiveness. Several of him with Tara, when they were first together, gazing rapturously at one another. In among these were several photos from long ago. Eden could tell that they were from Flynn’s childhood, because they had the vanishing quality of Polaroid pictures which someone had attempted to save. An elderly couple, watching a toddler at play.
She looked at it more closely. It was Michael Darby and his wife. Flynn’s grandparents. So the child must be Flynn. Eden mused that people used to look so much older in their fifties and sixties than they did today. Flynn’s grandfather was unsmiling, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes filled with something that looked very much like loathing.

  There were several folders of photos, organized by date. She clicked on the folder entitled ‘S’ with the most recent date. The folder opened like a blossoming flower into an array of photos, all ivory and flesh tones on a gray background. The photos were curved compositions, shadows and light, bunched fabric, and dark hair. In one glance, Eden realized what she was looking at.

  Lizzy Jacquez was in a bed, nude, asleep, partly covered by the folds of a sheet, stripes of light falling across her glowing flesh, shifting from one shape to another as Flynn chronicled her slumber. Toward the end of the series, Lizzy’s eyes are opened, and she looks back at the camera, surprised at first, then grave, her gaze softening to tenderness.

  Beside her, her cell phone on the desk rang. Eden cried out and jumped. Her heart pounded as if she had been caught spying, which, of course, she had. She looked around, half expecting to see someone in the room with her. But she was alone. Lizzy, she thought. Her mother’s champion. Eden struggled to compose herself before she picked up the phone. It was her father. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice shaky.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart!’ said Hugh.

  ‘Hi, Dad.’ Eden averted her gaze away from the sensuous photos.

  ‘You texted me that you were coming home. What happened?’

  What happened? Eden thought. She thought about all that had happened in the last twelve hours. In the last week. Could she make up enough lies to cover it all? Suddenly, she felt completely sick of lies. There was nothing that she needed to cover up. She had done nothing wrong. ‘I was. I was at the airport when I had to come back.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  She hesitated. Now was the moment when she could equivocate. Say that she would tell him when she got home. He wouldn’t harass her about it. He would trust her. Enough, she thought. ‘Flynn,’ she said.

  ‘Flynn?’ Hugh demanded, a real note of shock in his voice.

  ‘Flynn’s been shot. He’s in the hospital. He’s alive, but it’s very touch and go at the moment. The police insisted that I had to stay here, since they knew I had a grudge against Flynn.’

  ‘What? I thought you went out there to help a writer with his book?’

  ‘I am. I was. The writer was Flynn. It was Flynn’s book. Before you get mad, I didn’t have much choice. He wrote a book about his life with Mom, and his agent sold it to my company, with the caveat that I had to be the editor. That’s why I was here.’

  Hugh was silent at his end of the phone.

  ‘It did not go well. And by the way, I’ve now been fired—’

  ‘Eden, no—’ he cried.

  ‘I’m afraid so. But while I was here, I have been asking around, trying to find out more about Mom’s death. The police thought that I blamed it on Flynn.’

  ‘Did you?’ he asked.

  ‘Okay, that is a long story,’ said Eden. ‘Yes and no. I will tell you everything when I get back. But, suffice it to say, I had nothing to do with shooting the man.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me the real reason you were going back to Cleveland?’ Hugh said.

  Eden hesitated, then confessed. ‘I was ashamed. I thought you would be angry at me. For even agreeing to help him with this. After all he did to us.’

  Hugh was silent again.

  ‘Are you angry?’ she asked.

  ‘Not at you. No,’ he said.

  ‘It seemed to me that I had no choice. But, of course, there’s always a choice.’

  ‘Do you want me to come out there?’ Hugh said. ‘Do you need an attorney?’

  ‘No, I’m all right for the moment. They found the gun which shot Flynn today, so that should exonerate me completely, since I have no idea where a person would even get a gun, never mind know how to shoot it.’

  ‘Oh, I wish you’d never gone back there,’ Hugh said vehemently.

  ‘So do I,’ said Eden. She felt her eyes well up, but she forced herself not to cry. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘I hope so,’ he said.

  ‘Are you okay, Dad?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Just worried about you.’

  ‘By the way, I sent a box to our house. By UPS. I used the hotel as a return address. It’s got some of Mom’s things in it. Just keep it for me.’

  ‘I will,’ he said. ‘You just get out of there, and get back home.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,’ she said, with a bravado she did not feel.

  ‘Where are you now?’ he asked. ‘At the hotel?’

  One little lie, she thought. ‘Yes. I better go.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said.

  Eden hung up, and sat back for a minute. She was lucky when she thought about it. She had a father she could always count on. Not everybody could say that.

  She turned around and looked again at the photos of Lizzy on Flynn’s computer. They made her feel sick to her stomach. She quit the file and turned off the program. Tara would be heartsick if she knew. Eden couldn’t stand to look at the file anymore.

  She picked up her phone and the keys, and turned off the light in the office.

  She walked through the garage, and then up into the kitchen where a single light was burning over the sink. She ran a glass of water, and turned around to lean against the cabinets.

  She choked, and spat the water out. Lizzy Jacquez was standing in the doorway facing her, holding a carving knife.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Oh my God,’ Eden cried out, clutching her chest.

  Lizzy stared at her, still wielding the knife.

  For a moment they stared at one another, each one shocked by the encounter.

  ‘I heard noises from the office,’ said Lizzy. ‘I thought someone had broken in the house. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m staying here,’ said Eden coldly. ‘Aaliya let me in earlier. I guess I don’t need to ask you what you’re doing here.’

  Lizzy looked at her warily. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean, I know about you and Flynn,’ Eden said bitterly. She found herself unexpectedly furious at the girl. It was the photos. Somehow, she had had no problem thinking that Lizzy and Flynn might have bonded over their grief about Tara and Jeremy. But those photos told another story.

  Lizzy set the knife down carefully on the counter, and lowered her eyes. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘There are photos on his computer. Very indiscreet.’

  ‘What were you doing on his computer?’ Lizzy asked.

  ‘Oh no, no,’ said Eden. ‘You don’t get to act indignant with me. I want to know something. Was this going on while my mother was alive?’

  Lizzy sank down into one of the kitchen chairs as if she were deflating, like a punctured tire. ‘I’m sorry, Eden. I’m so sorry. The answer is that it has only been … going on, as you say, for a couple of days.’

  ‘Really?’ said Eden. ‘Do I look like I was born yesterday?’

  ‘The actual … deed, I meant,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘I’m guessing there was a fair amount of … foreplay.’

  Lizzy shook her head. ‘I can’t …’

  ‘What? Deny it?’ Eden cried. ‘You know, I was beginning to feel sorry for Flynn, but he has a way of turning sympathy into hate. I guess you haven’t noticed that yet. Did my mother know about this?’

  Lizzy shook her head. ‘There was nothing to know. Not when she was alive. Neither one of us even acknowledged the attraction. I swear it.’

  ‘Oh come on. You expect me to buy that?’

  ‘I swear,’ said Lizzy. ‘I mean, I felt something drawing me to him. He felt the same way. But we never admitted it, even to ourselves, until after Tara …’

  ‘May
be she could see it,’ said Eden. ‘Maybe that was one reason she was so depressed.’

  ‘There was nothing to see,’ said Lizzy. ‘I avoided him. He avoided me.’

  ‘You think my mother was a fool?’ Eden asked.

  ‘No! I loved your mother. I respected her. I was … perfect. She never knew how I felt. I would never have willingly hurt her. I don’t expect you to understand,’ said Lizzy. ‘I don’t even understand it. I love my husband. I’ve broken his heart with this. But this thing with Flynn … It’s unlike anything either one of us … have ever known.’

  ‘Oh wait,’ said Eden dramatically. ‘Where have I heard that before? Oh, that’s right, when Flynn convinced my mother that she needed to leave my father and me.’

  Lizzy did not protest.

  ‘What’s going to happen when DeShaun finds out?’

  ‘He already knows,’ said Lizzy. ‘I couldn’t do this behind his back. It would have been … disrespectful. I told him two days ago.’

  Eden shook her head in disgust. ‘You tanked a perfectly good marriage for that loser? DeShaun didn’t deserve this.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Lizzy in a small voice.

  ‘So now what?’ Eden demanded.

  ‘I don’t know. I came here because I can’t go home. DeShaun wouldn’t have me there. And I didn’t want to go to my parents because I don’t want them to find out yet. So I thought I’d just come here and stay. Now I just pray that Flynn survives this attack. I don’t know how I could go on otherwise.’

  ‘Well, I hate to state the obvious,’ said Eden, ‘but did you ever think that maybe your husband was really, really angry at Flynn?’

  Lizzy shook her head. ‘Believe me, that was the first thing I thought of. But I checked. Luckily, he was in surgery when it happened. He didn’t even know about it until Flynn arrived at the hospital. When I told him that I was afraid he might have shot Flynn, he said he wished he had.’

  Eden sighed. ‘He’d have to get in line.’

  ‘You sound like you’re blaming him for being shot,’ Lizzy cried. ‘That’s so completely unfair!’ Spots of color danced, like faint flames, in her pale cheeks.