Point of Betrayal

by Ann Roberts

  They spread them out and created a timeline of three years, the length of Nina’s tenure at Brayberry. The spiral notebooks were student journals, and after a quick glance at the contents and the old dates on the inside cover, Ari set all of them aside, except for the one written by Michaela.

  Her pages were filled with crayon drawings, most of which depicted a little girl, who Ari assumed was Michaela, who was always happy in the school scenes, such as playing on the monkey bars, but who wore a frown in the drawings of her house. One picture in particular was very disturbing. Michaela was sitting on a sofa in a room with black walls. She’d drawn a picture on one of the walls—a fire-breathing dragon with teeth. A pool of yellow tears sat at her feet.

  “That’s a red flag,” Jane said.

  “Nina’s concerns were probably justified. Let’s focus on her journals. Happy reading,” Ari said, handing Jane one with a bright pink cover. She took the leather-bound book, Nina’s last completed journal. “This one should lead up to the first one we found.”

  It was quickly apparent that although Nina had kept the journals at school, she had interspersed entries about her adult clients from the apartment complex with the reflections about the schoolchildren she saw at work.

  The content suggested Nina wrote to untangle her own thought processes. Many entries were strung together in stream of consciousness style and she consistently used the names of Shakespearean characters to disguise the identities of her clients, making it impossible to tell who was who.

  Jane asked, “Who was Banquo?”

  “Uh,” Ari said as she searched her memory of senior English. “I think that was the villain who murdered Macbeth.”

  “So I guess whoever this guy is, he’s probably scum.”

  She peered over Jane’s shoulder. “I’d say so if he’s pushing his wife’s head through a wall.”

  “These are the people who live in her apartment complex?”

  “I think so,” Ari said, skimming ahead through several pages of the journal she was reading. “The names are odd, but the problems are definitely from the twenty-first century.” She held up the book and said, “Listen to this. ‘Adriana is at her wit’s end. Needs to confront Frederick. Flaunting his indiscretions with Audrey is destroying her. Must have her list her strengths. Hotspur could help. Key: stop blaming herself for Cordelia’s death. Bulimia is a disease.’”

  “Wow,” Jane said. “So we’ve got a wife with a cheating husband and a daughter who died from an eating disorder.”

  “Yes, and apparently a friend who could help. That would be Hotspur.”

  “And who was he?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, but I think he was in one of the Henry plays.”

  Jane raised an eyebrow and stared at her. “How do you know all this?”

  “Unlike you, I actually went to class. I loved Ms. Amos’s British literature class.”

  Jane snorted. “Sounds like a total snooze, if you ask me.”

  She offered a sly smile. “You never saw Ms. Amos.”

  They laughed and waded through Nina’s difficult handwriting. After an hour Ari’s head was throbbing. She’d read through the entire journal, encountering at least thirty different names of clients facing serious issues like domestic abuse, homophobia, schizophrenia and incest.

  Two-thirds of the way through the last journal, she found some of the familiar names again—Horatio, Orlando, Cesario and Valeria—listed in five separate entries, each one more intriguing than the previous one.

  May 4th

  Horatio is closer. Benedick unaware. Cesario involved somehow? Ultimatums given. Where is Orlando’s voice?

  August 15th

  Benedick growing distant. Orlando remains neutral—for now. Valeria knows Horatio is a hypocrite. Cesario is key!

  September 5th

  Valeria’s undoing is Benedick’s weakness. Horatio is silent ally. Orlando and Cesario—too strong.

  October 6th

  Horatio is a true friend to Valeria!

  October 22nd

  Valeria caught in secrets thanks to apothecary. Share with no one except H. Maybe Orlando? Must investigate! Can Benedick be trusted? Will it destroy? Cesario, oh, Cesario… It is Aguecheek.

  She picked up Nina’s last journal and reread its lone entry.

  October 30th.

  The secret will be revealed—DANGER. Poor Benedick! Poor Horatio! And poor Orlando—a pawn?

  The secret would be revealed. Had Nina learned something so important that she was killed for it?

  Ari flipped through the notes she’d taken and realized there were two other sets of characters that made multiple appearances. One was those involved in the drama over Frederick the cheating husband and the other involved a trio of characters—Edmund, Emilia and Caliban. The content was disturbing. All of the entries mentioned horrible things Edmund had done and Nina’s grave concern for Caliban and Emilia, but the last one caught her attention.

  Poor Caliban! Such a sweet soul with no voice. Emilia cannot protect from Edmund. She is in DANGER.

  Could Emilia be Nina? She realized nowhere in the journal did Nina refer to herself in the first person. She pondered the fact as Jane snored quietly next to her, having given up her own reading after only twenty pages. She’d proclaimed exhaustion, but Ari suspected it had much more to do with a lack of interest in anyone who wasn’t her. She nudged Jane’s shoulder and one eye flew open.

  “Have you learned anything?”

  “Some of this is heavy-duty stuff. Who would have thought kids would have so many issues?”

  “Well, you did,” Jane said quietly, alluding to Ari’s less than idyllic childhood.

  “Yeah, but I had my mom for most of it. She was my rock. She made losing Richie and my dad’s abandonment bearable.”

  Jane sat up and offered her a generous kiss on the cheek. “You are the most amazing person I know.”

  She smiled at her best friend with a love she’d never felt for any woman, including Molly. Lately she’d wondered if she and Jane had made a mistake in dismissing a romantic relationship after only an hour of dating years ago, but she’d always concluded it was a place they couldn’t go. She wanted to protect their friendship at all cost, especially now when she felt so terribly alone.

  Jane dropped the journal she’d barely read. “So, what do you think? Are the answers to Nina’s murder somewhere in these tomes? That means books, by the way,” she added.

  “I know,” she said, but the vocabulary lesson had given her an idea. “I think the murderer may be mentioned somewhere, but we’ll need the help of someone who knows a lot more about Shakespeare than I do.”

  “Well, that won’t be Biz…” Jane’s face darkened. “Don’t say it.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I must. We need Rory’s help.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Molly saw Andre she threw her arms around him. “Thanks. You don’t know why, but thanks.”

  He looked at her completely bewildered. “You’re welcome.”

  They were standing outside Uptown Fitness, and Andre recounted his previous conversation with the front desk clerk. “I need a way to jog her memory.”

  She nodded. “What we need to do is give her a type so she can see one person and think of others who might fit the description.”

  He grinned. “Great idea. Let’s go.”

  He flashed his badge at the front desk clerk and they strolled through the rows of elliptical and fitness machines, most of which were occupied by women.

  “Her,” Molly said, pointing to a short, wiry woman with incredible tone. “That’s her body type.”

  “Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed that. I would’ve thought it was someone taller and bulkier from the way the bartender and a few other patrons described her.”

  “Yeah, but appearances can be deceiving. She was wearing stilettos and big hair so she looked taller, and she definitely padded her bra. It made her seem more buxom. Whoever worked with her knew what she was d
oing. She understood how to create a disguise.”

  They watched a brunette at the lat pull-down machine. Her back muscles flexed each time the seventy-pound weights soared from the base. Molly dreamed of the day when she would look that fine. She knew she’d never be as skinny because of her bone structure, but she’d be grateful to shed the final ten pounds she needed to lose.

  “I’ll go get the desk clerk,” Andre said.

  “Excuse me, but could you tell me if my tag is showing?”

  The brunette was moving through her circuit and had stopped in front of Molly, showing off a fabulous rear end covered in skintight workout pants.

  “Um, no, you’re fine,” she squeaked.

  The woman turned around, and Molly saw her front was just as appetizing as her backside. Her little white sports bra could barely keep her D-cups in place, and from the amount of makeup she wore, Molly knew she was here to troll, not exercise. She had worked out hard enough to generate a slight sheen of perspiration but nothing more. She was in her early fifties, but she wore it well.

  She leaned closer and whispered, “When I wear this thong, I always worry that I’ll embarrass myself. Do you think I look okay?”

  “You look fine.” Her throat was completely dry, and she decided she very much wanted to know what color thong was hiding under the black workout pants.

  “Lime green,” the woman said, reading her thoughts. “I’m Sienna. And you are?”

  “Molly.”

  “Are you considering joining the gym, Molly? You and your friend?”

  “Um, well I might.”

  “How fabulous. Will you be here for a while? I’ve got about twenty more minutes on my circuit and then I’m free for the rest of the afternoon. Do you have plans?”

  Molly thought about the light switch in 3D and the bathtub caulking in 2B. Then she thought about the picture that wasn’t in Ari’s bedroom anymore.

  “I don’t have any plans at all.”

  Sienna’s ruby lips curled into a smile. “Perfect. I drive a little red Miata that’s parked outside. I’ll see you in twenty.”

  Andre reappeared with a goth girl who looked slightly dazed and confused. “Molly, this is Jordan. She’s the daytime desk clerk.” Jordan nodded in her direction and followed his pointed finger to the buff woman Molly had identified.

  “Well, there’s a lot of people who look like that. It’s a gym.”

  Molly rolled her eyes, remembering she was no longer a policeman and this wasn’t her investigation.

  “How many would you say?” he asked.

  “Well, just among the regulars there’s Heather and Jackie and Sykes and D.D. and Wanda and Curly and JuJu and well…probably a few more if I thought about it.”

  “So maybe ten or so?”

  “Yeah, maybe a few more.”

  “Could I see their IDs in the computer? You guys have that on file, right?”

  Suddenly Jordan looked much less confused. “Yeah, but you’d need a warrant for that, right?” She glanced at Molly, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “Well, technically, yes,” he hedged, “but that could take a long time and I could really use your help.”

  He flashed his most pathetic face, the one he always used on women to get his way, and for a brief moment Molly felt like she was back in the game and this was another case they were running together. But it wasn’t. She couldn’t wait to meet Sienna at her red Miata and see her lime green thong.

  “I should probably call my manager and see if she can come over. She’s over at the downtown location right now.”

  “Let’s do that,” he agreed. “Mol, are you sticking around?”

  “No,” she said flatly. “Call me when you’ve got something.”

  * * *

  The Miata was far too small for her lanky frame; she felt like a folded sandwich as they cruised down Camelback Road.

  “I live on the mountain,” Sienna said, turning onto one of the few roads that actually led up Camelback Mountain. “But we’re not superrich so we don’t live up too high.”

  She chuckled at her own joke and made a few more turns until they reached a large electric gate. She punched a code into the keypad and the gate slowly opened. When it was just wide enough for the Miata to squeeze through, she gunned the engine and shot ahead.

  “Don’t want to waste time,” she said, roaring up the driveway and into a garage whose door was already opened. She parked next to a new black Hummer that seemed to swallow the Miata in its shadow.

  “Is that your other car?” Molly joked.

  “Actually it is,” she said. “C’mon.”

  They passed through a laundry room and a small storage area before they entered a pristine kitchen with a gorgeous mountain view. She tossed her gym bag onto a chair and headed for the bar, stripping off her clothes until all she was wearing was her thong, which was indeed lime green.

  “What would you like to drink?” she asked. “I’m making a martini.”

  “Uh, I don’t drink,” Molly replied.

  She looked up with a knowing look. “Took a second. How long have you been sober?”

  “About six months.”

  “Good for you,” she said. “Then I won’t tempt you.” She picked up two highballs and filled each with ice and seltzer. When she presented the drink she said, “The last thing I want you thinking about right now is booze. All I want you to picture is the body in front of you. Do you think I have a great figure?”

  Molly coated her throat with the seltzer. “Beautiful,” she mumbled.

  Sienna playfully rubbed the sweating glass against her nipples until they were erect. “I just love that feeling.”

  She stared at her perfect breasts. They were a little larger than Ari’s, and she was certain they weren’t real, but she respected a woman who recognized that plastic surgery was about the whole body, not just making one part stand out.

  “Follow me, Molly.”

  They wandered down a hallway and up a staircase lined with family photos. She stopped and gazed at Sienna’s blatant heterosexual life, complete with a handsome husband and two adorable children. Some photos depicted the happy family skiing, hiking and celebrating Christmas while others were formal studio setups at various points in the children’s lives.

  “Surprised?” Sienna asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “I’ve known lots of curious straight women.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, baby, I’m not straight. I have an amazing husband and two great kids, one’s in college and the other’s a senior in high school, but I’m completely bisexual with a lot of needs to be met. Thank God Louie gets that.”

  “He knows? Now I’m surprised.”

  “He’s always known. He caught me with my maid of honor the day before our wedding and I gave him a choice: share or leave. He’s been happily sharing me ever since.”

  She glanced back down the stairs. “Where are they now?”

  She answered as if she’d been asked the question dozens of times before. “At this very moment? Well, I imagine my daughter’s in the Harvard library studying, my son is at wrestling practice until seven and my husband, the amazing plastic surgeon,” she said, gesturing at her body, “is at a conference in London. Satisfactory answers?”

  She nodded and followed her upstairs into a beautiful guest room with a daybed. “What do you think of my boudoir?”

  “It’s lovely,” she said.

  A small white cabinet stocked with oils and candles sat against one wall and faced a much larger matching cabinet on the opposite wall. She worried it was stocked with bondage equipment and was relieved to see it housed a stereo and TV. Sienna opened the doors, grabbed the remote and filled the room with soft jazz.

  “You don’t look like the kind of woman who needs videos to get in the mood, do you?”

  “Um, no,” she said nervously.

  Sienna faced her and stroked her arms, releasing a hunger she’d forgotten existed. Taking a new lover was se
xy, and the anticipation of that first touch was like a plane seconds from touchdown, a combination of anxiety and exhilaration. As if she could read her mind, Sienna pressed her lips against Molly’s ever so slightly, asking permission and previewing her skills.

  Before she could pull her into a deep kiss, Sienna stepped to the bed. “You’ve been deprived, haven’t you? Let’s fix that.”

  Molly kicked off her black boots and stripped off her jeans, but when it came to unbuttoning the simple button-down shirt, she couldn’t get her fingers to cooperate.

  “Come here,” Sienna cooed.

  She joined her on the bed. “Sorry, I’m…sorry.”

  “You’re fine.”

  Sienna slowly parted the fabric and caressed Molly’s face and neck. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes.”

  She should have mumbled at least a thank you, but the wetness between her thighs easily destroyed nearly four decades of good manners. The remaining scraps of cloth dropped to the floor so kisses could be bestowed on the bare flesh. Sienna smelled flowery and fresh after her shower at the gym, and Molly longed to be swallowed up by something so clean and pure.

  “I have a rule,” Sienna whispered.

  Lost in anticipation, Sienna’s fingers burning heat inches from her center, Molly couldn’t bring herself to inquire—or care—about rules.

  “The first time it’s only fingers. I want us to have something to look forward to.”

  “Yes,” she moaned, rocking her hips forward, greeting Sienna.

  The wait was over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The whir of power tools reverberated against the steel walls of Lenny’s Auto. Ari passed the service bays, noticing that Bobby Arco was standing under a car suspended on a lift, gazing upward, a tattoo in the shape of a serpent’s tail poking his Adam’s apple. She headed toward the office where Eden worked as the secretary/bookkeeper for her father Lenny. She’d rehearsed a story in the event that it wasn’t possible to catch her alone, but her experience with auto shops had taught her usually only one person staffed the office since the money was in the bays.