Familiar Lies

by Brian J. Jarrett

“Sit,” Brandi said, eying the two of them. “But just so you know, I’m packing.”

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” Max said. “We only want to talk.”

  “What makes you think I want to talk?”

  “I don’t know that you do,” Max continued.

  Brandi considered things, eventually motioning for Max and Liz to sit. They did.

  Brandi eyed them both suspiciously. “How do you know the good detective?”

  “So you know he’s a cop,” Liz said.

  “Honey, if you only knew how many of my clients are fuzz you’d shit yourself.”

  “We’re kind of working a case with him,” Max said.

  “I’m not a cop, but that doesn’t sound normal, even to me. Cops don’t work like that.”

  “Detective Smith is a little atypical,” Max continued.

  “I suppose I’d agree with that.”

  “He’s working a missing persons case, a young girl named Amanda Potter. Did he ever mention her name to you?”

  “Why would I tell you if he did?”

  “Amanda is my daughter,” Liz said.

  Brandi looked Liz in the eye for several long seconds, as if attempting to read her mind for deception.

  “I don’t remember any Amanda,” Brandi said. “Jonny doesn’t really talk about cases with me, as you can imagine.”

  “What about Josh Williamson?” Max asked.

  Brandi thought about it, eventually shaking her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Vince Caldwell?” Max asked. He saw a flash of recognition pass over her face before she forced it away.

  “Never heard of him, sugar. Can we wrap this up now? I don’t mean to be rude, but I was expecting someone else tonight.”

  “What do you know about Caldwell?” Max asked. His voice took on an aggressive tone, despite his efforts to avoid it. She knew something that she wasn’t telling and he was getting tired of the runaround.

  Brandi’s soft and warm eyes changed to cold, black stones. Her eyes darted toward the dance floor and Max followed instinctively. Two men in dark suits made their way toward Brandi’s table. They had strong Eastern European looks, with sharp and determined features. Faces that looked as if they’d been chiseled from stone.

  Max glanced at Liz and saw an expression on her face that must have mirrored his own.

  “Problem, Miss Brandi?” the taller of the two men said, his accent a thick Russian. He had an earpiece in his right ear, like a secret service agent.

  “These two have some questions about Mr. Caldwell,” Brandi said.

  The taller man looked at Liz and Max. “Come with us.”

  Max and Liz didn’t move.

  “Better do it,” Brandi said. “It’d be in your best interest, if you dig.”

  Max felt a cold chill pass through his body. They had nowhere to run, no other choice but to follow. Reluctantly, he and Liz got to their feet.

  They followed the two men out of the club’s back door and into a parking lot where a running car awaited them.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The car took them down city streets and back alleys, eventually arriving at a warehouse in an area of the town Max had never before been. Their destination lay in the part of town that middle-class white men and their families stayed away from, living their sheltered lives in subdivisions, oblivious to the kinds of things that went on in the shadows around them.

  But now Max knew exactly what kinds of things went on in the shadows.

  The taller man in black had gone with them, sitting in the passenger seat while another man in an equally black suit drove the car. The tall man apparently didn’t underestimate Liz. He took her purse before patting them both down and ushering them inside the car’s back seat.

  Now at their destination, the interior light flared as the tall man in black opened the passenger door and got out, leaving the driver in the running car. He let Liz and Max out of the back seat, motioning toward a single door set within a nondescript brick building. Max walked as instructed, fully expecting to be shot in the back of the head before he ever reached the door.

  But that didn’t happen. Instead, he found himself and Liz inside a large and virtually empty warehouse. The air was hot and stagnant and the place smelled of disuse. The tall man in black flipped a light switch and a single 60-watt bulb came to life, bathing the area around in harsh, yellow light.

  Max saw a man in a white suit sitting at a table with two chairs placed on the opposite side.

  Caldwell.

  “Sit,” the tall man in black said.

  Max and Liz sat.

  Caldwell looked them for a very long time without saying anything.

  Max spoke first. “Vince Caldwell? Or should I say Dimitri Aksakov?”

  The man sitting opposite to them was tall and thin and not unattractive in the white suit. He had the same sharp features as his men in black had, but his hair was dyed blonde with graying sideburns. Max put the man in his late thirties, maybe early forties.

  Caldwell cocked his head to the side and smiled. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. “I have not heard that name for some time. That was my name in Estonia, but you will call me Mr. Caldwell here in States.”

  “Are you going to kill us?” Liz asked. “Because if so we don’t need the preamble.”

  “You surprise me,” Caldwell said. “Both of you.”

  Neither Max nor Liz replied. The tall man in black handed Smith’s phone to Caldwell, saying something to him in Russian.

  Caldwell nodded, returning his attention back to Max and Liz. He looked at them both for several long and uncomfortable seconds. “Detective Smith…which one of you kill him?”

  Max and Liz only looked at each other.

  “I know he is dead,” Caldwell continued. “Do not try to be clever.”

  “I did it,” Liz replied.

  Caldwell raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He paused, considering. “Smith was problem. Normally I can take care of problems, but he was police and police cannot be dealt with the same as others. You two solved one of my problems. This is why you are alive.”

  “Then why are we here?” Max asked. “If you’re not planning on killing us.”

  Caldwell stared at Max for a few seconds before moving his eyes to Liz. It seemed as if he was trying to size them up, to dissect them with his mind and see their motivation. Surely Max and Liz didn’t fit the kind of profile Caldwell was used to dealing with.

  “Do you know of the English playwright Ben Jonson?” Caldwell asked.

  Max shook his head.

  “Americans…they come from England, yet they do not know their own history. Do you know the saying about the cat and curiosity?”

  Max nodded.

  “Curiosity is natural in cats, but we all know what happened to the curious cat.” Caldwell leaned in. “Curiosity is also natural in humans. You are curious, both you and your woman.”

  “You’re telling us to back off?” Liz asked.

  “Subtly is lost on Americans,” Caldwell said, sitting back in his chair and shaking his head. “You are like cave man with club.”

  “We’re not just going to back off,” Liz continued.

  Max felt the situation start to skid out of control. “Liz—”

  “No, Max. We’re not going to just go away. This man is responsible for whatever happened to my daughter. He can’t just get away with that.”

  “I did not kill your daughter, Mrs. Potter. I assure you of that.”

  Liz paused as if surprised Caldwell knew her name.

  Caldwell turned to Max. “Nor did I kill your son.”

  Now it was Max’s turn to be surprised. What had he been thinking? Of course Caldwell knew who they were. He’d been tracking them, watching them. One kept tabs on people they considered threats, especially threats that would need to be dealt with.

  “What do you know about our children?” Max asked.

  Caldwell gave him a disapproving look. “The cat has start
ed asking questions.” He smiled, his eyes cold and dark. “Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies, Mr. Williamson.”

  “This is bullshit,” Liz said.

  “Liz…”

  “No, Max. We’re not leaving without answers.”

  “Liz. Stop.”

  She looked at him with an expression of sadness and anger. “Max…”

  “Liz, just stop. He’s right. We should drop this.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Sometimes you have to just leave well enough alone. You said yourself that knowing won’t bring Amanda back. It won’t bring Josh back. We should just remember them the way they were, when they were ours. Before they turned into whatever they eventually became.”

  “You should listen to him, Mrs. Potter,” Caldwell said. “Mr. Williamson is finally making some sense.”

  “But, Max…” Liz began. She trailed off, defeated.

  “It’s okay,” Max said. “Just let it go.”

  Liz didn’t reply. Instead, she stared off at the floor, dejected.

  Max turned to Caldwell. “You can understand our need to find out what happened to our children, can’t you? We’re not interested in whatever it is you do for money. All we wanted was closure. To pick up what’s left of our lives and try to move on.”

  Caldwell regarded Max for a very long time. “I let you live because I am not unreasonable man. I am good judge of character. You rid me of a pest, whether you intended to or not, and I owe you something for that. But remember that police do not favor the death of their own. Should they come into information as to who killed detective Smith, justice would be harsh and swift.” He leaned in close to both of them. “Do we have understanding?”

  “We do,” Max said.

  Caldwell looked at Liz. “Mrs. Potter.”

  Liz sat for several long seconds before eventually nodding her head. “Yes, we do.”

  Caldwell smiled. “So nice when arrangements can be made. I am not, by nature, violent man. My men will take you back to nightclub and leave you unharmed.” His eyes went dark and cold. “But remember our agreement; if we meet again it will not be under such pleasant circumstances.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The ride back to Peekies was silent and long. As promised, Caldwell’s men let Max and Liz out in the parking lot. When they exited the car, Max saw Brandi standing a dozen feet away, talking to a man Max assumed was a potential customer. When she caught sight of Max, she made her way quickly toward him, a vicious look in her eyes. Before he knew it was happening, she slapping him hard across the face.

  Max recoiled, taken completely aback.

  “If I ever catch your lying ass around here again and I’ll cut your fucking dick off myself!” Brandi yelled. “You understand me?”

  Caldwell’s men seemed taken by surprise with Brandi’s brazen show of force. They watched carefully, grinning, but didn’t intervene.

  Brandi continued her rant, unabated. “I said, do you understand me? Yes or no, motherfucker!”

  Max nodded, still in shock from the slap. His face stung with pins and needles. “I understand.”

  Brandi waved him off. “Get the fuck outta here.”

  The tall man in black stepped in. “You heard lady. Get gone, both of you.”

  His face still hot and stinging, Max turned and headed back toward Liz’s car. She followed. They got in and Liz started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

  She made it two miles before she pulled off on the shoulder and killed the engine. She dropped her head and took deep breaths, her fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned a bright white.

  “How could you do that to me back there?” she asked, her eyes closed as she breathed steadily. “I thought we had each other’s backs?”

  “I lied.”

  Liz opened her eyes and looked at him. “Wait…what?”

  “I lied. I’m not dropping this. I just tried to buy us some time and a second crack at this.”

  The look of anger dropped from her face instantly. “Really?”

  “They can’t just get away with this. It’s not right.” He paused and stared out the window into the darkness. “I don’t really have much left, Liz. My son is dead and my wife left me for someone else. I live alone in a house that constantly reminds me of everything I’ve lost. I don’t care about work. Hell, I don’t even have any hobbies. I live every day like a zombie.” He looked Liz in the eye. “But this…whatever this is, it’s given me a purpose. I know it sounds weird, but I feel like I can do something that matters here.”

  Liz nodded. “We might not survive this, you know? If we go around poking bears, some of them are going to bite back.”

  “I know. But what’s the alternative?”

  Liz smiled at him, her eyes wet around the edges. She wiped them quickly and sniffled. “I’m glad I met you, Max Williamson. No matter how this turns out, I’m glad about that.”

  “Me, too.”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds before Liz started the car and took them back to the hotel.

  * * *

  They arrived back in the room just after three thirty a.m. The air had cooled considerably and felt almost pleasant, despite the humidity. Max yawned in the parking lot, feeling the strong tug of fatigue pulling on his eyelids. He needed sleep and he was sure Liz did too.

  They passed the desk clerk who smiled at them warmly as they passed. They rode the elevator up to the third floor and got out into an air conditioned hallway that was probably ten degrees cooler than it needed to be.

  At the end of the hall, Liz slid the keycard into the lock and opened the door. Once inside, Max found a chair and lodged in under the door knob. It wasn’t much of a barricade, but better than nothing.

  He sat on the bed as Liz headed into the bathroom. He laid on his back and looked up at the ceiling, the siren call of sleep loud and undeniable. If he didn’t have to pee so badly he’d likely have just fallen right to sleep where he lay.

  A few minutes later Liz exited the bathroom. “All yours.”

  Max took his turn in the bathroom, emerging to find Liz already asleep in the bed. He couldn’t have been in there for more than a few minutes. He smiled as she snored lightly, the lamp beside the bed still lit.

  He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone when his fingertips brushed along a slip of paper also in the pocket. He retrieved it and inspected it closely. It was a receipt from Peekies, torn in half. He flipped the paper over and found an address written on the back. He looked at the torn receipt for a very long time, wondering just how it might have gotten in his pocket.

  Then it came to him.

  Brandi.

  She’d slipped it in his pocket when she’d slapped him in the parking lot. It would have been the only way she could have passed the note to him without drawing the wrong kind of attention.

  Brandi was a clever girl. Max couldn’t help but smile.

  He glanced at Liz lying in the bed. He considered waking her up to tell her but decided against it. She needed sleep.

  Max decided that he was overdue for some rest as well. Tomorrow they’d visit the address. He climbed into the bed beside Liz and was asleep within a minute.

  He had no dreams that night.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “You’re sure Brandi gave you the note?” Liz asked. Afternoon sunlight from the new day shone on her face, making her skin glow.

  “I don’t know how else it could have gotten there. It wasn’t there when I put my pants on in the morning, I know that much.” Max thought about it. “I suppose one of Caldwell’s men could have planted it on me, but I doubt it. Either way, somebody wants us to go there.”

  “Clearly. Maybe it’s a setup. Maybe Caldwell’s testing us to see if we can resist the urge to pursue this.”

  “Maybe. Seems more likely to me that he’ll leave us alone as long as we don’t get in his way.”

  “But we will get
in his way, won’t we?”

  Max nodded. “I doubt we can avoid that.”

  “There’s no way we’re not going to that address, right?”

  “What do you think?”

  Liz smiled. “I hoped you’d say that.”

  “We have to make a stop along the way.”

  Liz looked puzzled. “Where?”

  “I have to make sure nobody else gets hurt.”

  * * *

  They found themselves in Liz’s Honda an hour later, headed to the first of their two destinations of the day. They stopped at an ATM on the way, where Max retrieved five hundred dollars from his savings account. He counted the cash as Liz drove away, pocketing the bills as he typed his ex-wife’s new address into his phone.

  A moment later the route had been mapped and the phone’s robot voice began spitting out directions. He’d never had a reason to go to Katie’s new house after the divorce, but she’d given him the address in case he needed it. At the time, he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever need to go there, but now he had that reason.

  He texted Katie before they left the hotel to make sure she’d be home. She’d started a new job, Max found out, and would be home by four o’clock. It was Monday and Max had neither shown up for work nor called in. It seemed to matter very little either way. He doubted he was long for the place anyway, regardless of how things played out.

  They arrived at the house at ten minutes to the hour. Liz parked along the subdivision street, in front of the house. She killed the engine. “Nice place.”

  “She married a nice guy.”

  “Would it be better if I waited in the car?”

  “Only if you want to. You’re welcome to come with me.”

  Liz nodded. “How much are you going to tell her?”

  “As much as I know and maybe half of what I suspect.”

  “Do you think she’ll listen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  Max sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Fifteen minutes later the door to the two car garage opened. The former Katie Williamson pulled into the garage and cut the engine. The garage door closed behind her.