Liar, Liar

by Winter Austin

  The same gray-haired woman who had put Shane in his place yesterday was on duty as Liza stepped through the sliding glass doors.

  “Good day, Ms. Bartholomew.”

  “You remembered my name?” She glanced at the attendant’s nametag. Gladys Higgins.

  The woman’s shrewd gaze held Liza’s as she tapped her temple. “This brain doesn’t forget. Especially when you arrived here with our bachelor sheriff.”

  Liza’s face heated to unbearable levels. Clearing her throat, she broke eye contact with the help-desk attendant. “That’s not why we came together.”

  “Oh, I know you were here to see that body in the morgue. Only reason the sheriff would have come to the hospital. Well, one of the reasons.”

  Gulping, Liza’s throat managed to slip free of its shackles. “I came to see Dr. Drummond. He’s expecting me.”

  Mrs. Higgins reached around to snag a visitor’s tag and passed it over the countertop. “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “To the morgue?” Liza asked as she clipped the tag to her coat lapel.

  “Actually, he should be in his office.” Mrs. Higgins stood and shuffled over to a floor plan display board. She pointed at an orange-hued floor plan. “Take the elevator up to fourth floor. Hang a left out of elevator bay, and go five doors down. His is the one on the right side of the hall.” She turned to Liza. “Got that?”

  Giving the older lady a thumbs up, Liza headed for the elevators.

  “Ms. Bartholomew.”

  She paused and peered at the woman over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Our sheriff is a man of many talents, but he’s been alone for a long time. Think long and hard about that.”

  What in the world does she think she saw going on between Shane and me? “Again, Mrs. Higgins, it’s not that kind of situation.”

  A sly smile pulled at the corners of the woman’s mouth. “Sure.” She turned back to her duties as the doors whooshed open again.

  Liza bolted for the elevator bay. She lucked out as one emptied its passengers. Slipping inside, she punched the number four then tucked herself into a corner. A nurse in vibrant scrubs joined her, pressing the two button. Once the doors glided closed, Liza relaxed against the adjoining walls.

  It was one thing for her to entertain thoughts about Shane Hamilton. It was a whole different ballgame when someone else voiced them. How had that Mrs. Higgins come up with the idea she and Shane could be a couple? Ever? It was crazy.

  The elevator stopped, and the nurse exited on her floor. The faint sound of a baby’s lusty wail brought to mind the memories of Quinn as a tiny bundle. Before his precious little brain altered. Before his parents’ world was turned upside down by a diagnosis that changed everything. The doors slid shut, cutting her off from the maternity ward.

  Liza relieved her jacket pocket of her iPhone. Thank God for the geniuses at her wireless network who managed to give her great coverage. Tapping the call icon, she pulled up Kurt’s name and put the call through.

  He answered on the fifth ring. “Is this you calling to tell me you’re on your way back?”

  “Not quite. I was checking on you and Q. How’d he do last night?”

  “He punched me when I tried to wrap his hand. I think he broke a bone this time; it’s all bruised and swollen.”

  “Did you take him to the doctor yet?”

  “I got an appointment this afternoon. He’s pacing the floor by the front door.”

  The elevator dinged. “Will he let me talk to him at least?”

  Kurt sighed, then said in a lowered voice, “Liza, I got a call from my company. They’re moving up my ship-out date.”

  She halted at the edge of the elevator bay. “To when?”

  “Next Monday.”

  Stiffening, she turned to put her back to the hallway. “Why that early?”

  “The powers that be were able to green-light all the permits and crap, and they want us to get going now before certain people in certain positions change their minds.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “South Dakota.”

  “South . . . Are you going where I think you’re going?”

  Kurt’s silence was deafening.

  “Kurt, you’ll be there for months.”

  “Liza, I’m sorry, but I have no say.”

  She slammed the side of her fist into her thigh. “Your child should have all the say in the world right now. You can’t leave him for that long.”

  “Do you think I want to? Do you think this is easy for me? Damn it, Liza, if his medical bills weren’t piling up a mile a minute, I’d leave that job in a heartbeat and do something else. But I can’t afford to.”

  “There are other jobs that pay just as well.”

  “Not for an ex-foster kid with nothing to show for his life except some crummy military service and dirty fingernails. Not all of us were as lucky as you to get a college education and a chance to kiss the government’s ass.”

  In the background there was a large crash.

  “Sonofabitch! Quinn!”

  “Kurt, what happened?”

  “Liza, I’ve got to go.”

  “Kurt—?” Nothing.

  This was too much. Kurt had stipulated with the oil company that he couldn’t be gone for long periods of time or leave the state of Iowa. This was horrible. Horrible.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Her body convulsed. Gasping, she turned, coming face to face with Dr. Drummond. “Good Lord, you scared me.”

  “Apologies. I didn’t mean to.”

  Her heart back to its normal rhythm, she put her phone away and wrapped herself in a cloak of professionalism. “That’s okay. I was taking a personal call.”

  “I could sense that. Is it something serious?”

  She pasted on a false smile. “It’s being handled. Uh, weren’t we meeting in your office?”

  “Mrs. Higgins called to let me know you were coming, and when you didn’t arrive at the expected moment, I came looking for you. I wondered if you were lost.”

  “She sure does like to call ahead.”

  Drummond beamed. “I think I’m the only one she does that with. I haven’t heard of any other doctors in the hospital getting the same special treatment.” He looked up and down the hall. “Let’s step into my office. Unless you’d rather go to the morgue.”

  “No, that’s okay. One trip to see a dead body in the last twenty-four hours is enough for me.”

  He beckoned for her to follow. Liza composed herself during the trip down the hall. Right now, Kurt and his problems would have to wait. Damn it, she had to wrap this case. Confirm Ripley was Avery, find the money, write this whole affair off, and be done with it. If Kurt couldn’t get his shit together, Liza had to think about the better good for Quinn.

  As Mrs. Higgins had directed, Drummond’s office was five doors down and on the right. Drummond allowed her to enter first, and then he shut them inside. His office was spacious and bright, with wide, four-paneled windows making up the whole of the south-facing wall. The windows were double paned with the shades between the panes, currently half drawn to let in a minimal amount of natural light. Drummond sat behind his small desk with his back to the windows. The desk was one of those new contraptions where the user could raise it up to stand or lower it to sit.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen one of these desks before,” she said as she took a seat in a comfy armchair.

  “Being a doctor, I spend a lot of my time on my feet anyway, so it seemed logical to get a standing desk.” He riffled through a stack of charts and files on a cabinet next to his desk and pulled out the desired file. “I was going over my autopsy on Gene Avery again. In fact, I’ve done it several times now since discovering the plastic surgery scars.” He pulled out x-ray films and rolled his chair over to a small viewer, propping the film into a clip. “He has done extensive facial reconstruction, more than once.”

  He flipped on the viewer, the bright light highlighting t
he film. Liza leaned forward in her seat and studied the x-ray of Ripley’s skull.

  Drummond pointed at the hairline marks along the forehead and the nose bridge, and then traced similar marks along the cheekbones. “Do you see those?”

  “Yes. It does explain why we’ve had a hard time catching him, and why none of our witnesses were able to pick him out.”

  “That’s not all.” Drummond removed the film and pulled out another, clipping it to the viewer. “Do you see it?”

  Squinting, Liza studied the image of the side of Ripley’s skull. There was a small strip of black on the backside of his jawbone. “What’s that?”

  Grinning, Drummond switched that film with another, that showed the back of Ripley’s skull. Liza’s eyes widened.

  “A serial number?”

  “Yep. That part of his jaw was not actually real. With all the surgery he had done, I didn’t notice it at first. At some point in his life, he had that portion of his jaw replaced. That serial number is your key to finding out who did it and if they have any records on him.”

  “Doc, you’re good.”

  Drummond grinned. “Hold on, it gets better.” He rolled away from his x-ray viewer. Flipping through his autopsy file, he produced a single sheet of paper. “Your man had hepatitis C.”

  Her hand froze halfway to taking the page from him. “Wait, what?”

  “If my prelim is right—I’ll know for certain once the full results come back—Gene Avery had hep C. Whether he knew it, it’s hard to say. But his liver was showing signs of inflammation, and it led me to check.”

  A chill raced through Liza. She’d touched the body. With a glove on, but still, she’d touched Ripley’s body. “Please tell me you made sure you didn’t get any—”

  “Please, Agent Bartholomew, I’m a stickler for procedure. There was no chance anyone was getting it in my morgue.”

  “But his wife might have it.”

  “And his other partner.”

  Slam that baseball bat right to her face.

  “Come again?”

  “Consider me thorough, but after seeing the results for hep C, I had to do a little more examining. Unless Roslin’s hiding a kinky side we didn’t figure on, Avery had another sexual partner. And he liked it,” Drummond’s features turned contemplative, “I guess the best term would be fast and furious.”

  There was such a thing as too much information.

  “Agent Bartholomew, you’re looking a little green.”

  “Yes.” She bolted to her feet. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

  Drummond rose as well. “Do you want a copy of my findings?”

  “Uh, um, sure, I guess.” Oh, wouldn’t Montrose just love this new turn of events. Liza winced. Why did she have to be the one to tell her SAC the case was getting more complicated rather than unraveling?

  “I’ll take care of that right now.” Drummond busied himself with making copies.

  So far, nothing should shock her about Mr. Ripley, but learning he was possibly bisexual did. Nothing in her files gave any indication of his sexual preference, or at least none of his victims said anything along those lines. However, sex was a private issue, and Iowans loved their privacy.

  Could that be the reason Avery was killed?

  “Here you go.”

  She took the copies from Drummond. “Thank you. This should help greatly, especially that serial number.”

  “Let me know what you find on that. With my new homicide and my patients, I barely have time to sleep these days.”

  “That I can do.” She hightailed it out of his office and out of the hospital as fast as her legs could get her.

  Once outside, she took a bracing breath of clean air and shuddered at the flashing thought of Gene Avery going wild. Pinching the wrinkle in the middle of her forehead, Liza groaned. “I’m never getting that out of my head as long as I live.”

  She took off for her car.

  Reaching for the car fob, Liza flinched at another thought. Her feet stuck fast to the pavement, as if huge wads of gum were stuck to the soles of her boots. If Avery had hep C, his partner or partners might have it, too. And if he’d been having sex with his wife, Roslin Avery could have it. Hep C was nothing to mess around with. Who would be the lucky person to tell her that? Somehow Liza got the feeling Hamilton would shy away from being the bearer of bad news on that front.

  A car horn blared.

  Startled, Liza skittered to the side, looking over her shoulder at the blue Ford SUV stopped in the middle of the lot, a perturbed woman behind the wheel. Ignoring the anger, Liza waved to the driver and unlocked her car door as the SUV’s revved engine swept past. Settling behind the wheel, she placed the copies on the seat next to her and went to start the engine. A square of white paper fluttered under the wiper.

  Liza froze. The gray car? This is why she couldn’t mix family problems with the job. It was going to get her into some serious trouble, or worse, killed.

  Liza stepped out and tugged the paper loose, her gaze scanning the area around her car. Not that the person who left it would still be around.

  RIKER’S CLUB, 9:30 TONIGHT. I’LL FIND YOU.

  Now this was an interesting turn of events. Who from this town would want to meet with her? Was it the crazy person tailing her? Liza shivered. If she decided to honor this meeting, no way in hell was she doing it alone. She was going to have to pay another visit to Shane in order to even learn what Riker’s Club was, and its location. No matter which way she turned, fate kept throwing her back into Shane’s path.

  Why was that?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Riker’s Club? Are you sure?”

  “That’s what the note told me.”

  Shane took the scrap of paper from Liza. The handwriting was neat and tight, all in upper case—and unfamiliar. “How did you say you got this?”

  “Left on my car. I’m beginning to think by whoever drives a gray/silver SUV.”

  “And you would think this why?”

  “Because, Sheriff, I spotted that type of vehicle tailing me. I came to the natural conclusion someone wanted to find me but didn’t want me to see them, so they followed me to the hospital. Which is beyond odd in a small town like Eider, Iowa.”

  The note crinkled in his fist. “Liza, just because this isn’t Cedar Rapids or Des Moines doesn’t mean people around here won’t attempt to purposely follow someone.” Damn it, she could have been hurt. Under his watch.

  “Don’t act like I can’t take care of myself. I’m more than capable of handling situations that turn dangerous.”

  So she thought. But Shane had been witness to one too many dangerous situations in the last five years that made his skin crawl, and got his people hurt. “If you see that car again, call me.” He handed the note back to her.

  “I will.”

  If he could only shake some sense into her. But, he had to stop and remind himself, she wasn’t one of his deputies, and she didn’t have to listen or work with him on any of part of her case or his. Liza Bartholomew was a federal agent, and she had the right to do whatever the hell she pleased to wrap up her job here and leave. If Shane were a smart man, he’d make every attempt to help her along, so he could get back to pursuing a mundane life in McIntire County.

  “I don’t understand why your mysterious note leaver would send you to Riker’s for a meeting.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Riker’s Club was opened by a couple of millennials with high expectations. They took an abandoned factory and turned it into a microbrew bar and dance club. It’s a popular place, but not many of the locals go to it.”

  “So how is it popular?”

  “It’s attracted a lot of attention from the nearby college towns and the Iowa City sect. I’m just glad I don’t have to patrol it. Eider PD gets that job.”

  Liza studied her message. “Why send me there? On a Monday night? If someone wanted to keep their ID secret, going on a Monday night won’t give them much coverag
e.”

  “You might be surprised how busy that club gets. Especially on a Monday night.” Shane propped open the toolbox he used as a makeshift crime scene kit. He’d been replenishing his stores of gloves, evidence baggies, and swabs when Liza pulled into the department lot. Never one to be caught shorthanded, he continued with the resupply. “What did you learn from Drummond?”

  “He hasn’t told you yet?”

  “Nope.” Shane stuffed a handful of gloves in their designated plastic baggie, then sealed it. “He was tight-lipped on that portion. I’m still waiting for final results on my other homicide.”

  Cocking a hip against the tailgate and crossing her arms, Liza watched him. She was too close and looked way too comfortable there beside him. If he took one step to the right, would she be offended?

  “This new development might lead him to a more thorough examination of the other guy,” she said. “And we cannot let anyone know outside of this department.”

  Shane set the box of individually wrapped swabs on the tailgate and shifted to face her. “Stop beating around the bush and tell me already.”

  “Gene Avery was having an affair.” One etched eyebrow lifted. “With a man.”

  “Say what?”

  “This guy, Ripley or Avery, whatever you want to call him, was bisexual. Well, at this moment it’s only speculation until I talk with Roslin. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t. Speaking of Roslin, were you able to talk with her lawyer about an interview?”

  Shane’s hand went up to halt Liza’s subject jump. “Whoa, one thing at a time here. First, how does Drummond even know Avery was bisexual?”

  “Best way to explain, there was evidence. Ask Drummond.”

  “Okay, secondly, there has to be more.”

  “There is. At some point in his life, Avery had his jawbone reconstructed. The replacement has a serial number. I’ll be researching that, hopefully learning who he really was. And the kicker that led Drummond to discovering the bombshell news: Avery had hep C.”