Outside the air was oppressive and muggy and it matched her mood. She felt heavy and listless. She arrived home and let herself in, not surprised at all to find Link asleep on her couch. He stirred and sat up when she came in. She should yell at him for breaking into her home unannounced, but somehow she lacked the energy. Instead, she sat down beside him when he made room for her.
They remained side by side in silence for a few minutes while he struggled to wake up and she tried not to cry again.
“You okay?” Link asked at last.
Liza shrugged.
“I didn’t think you would break up with him.”
“Have you ever been cheated on?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“And didn’t you break up immediately?”
“No,” he said. “Apparently you’re a lot smarter than I am.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “I’ve let him lie to me for five years. I created a fantasy world where he and I were King and Queen. Right now I think I’m the stupidest person who ever lived.” The traitorous tears started again, but at least they were quiet this time. They slowly and gently seeped down her face while she brushed them away with the back of her hand.
“You’re not stupid,” Link said. “You wanted the fairytale. We all do.”
“What happens now in the investigation?” she asked.
“We keep searching, keep trying to find that link, keep trying to match the print we found.”
He realized his mistake when she sat up in alarm. “You found a print?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
“Here.”
“Here?” she repeated. “When did you find a print?”
“The first time I searched your room.”
“But you didn’t dust for prints then.”
His expression turned sheepish. “I came back while you were out. I thought it might upset you to see your things disturbed again, and to see all the black powder everywhere.”
Liza remained stunned, trying to take it in. Two conflicting emotions warred for supremacy. Should she be angry that he snuck in her house and searched her bedroom without her knowledge, or should she be touched that he put things back together and cleaned it up to spare her from the trauma? In the end, gratitude won.
“But you must know the print isn’t Dirk’s or you would have arrested him,” she said reasonably.
“It’s not his,” he agreed.
“You still think Dirk is a murderer?” she asked, incredulous.
Link nodded. “But we know there are two people involved here: One who left the message, and one who picked it up. Xavier’s prints are everywhere here, but since he was your boyfriend we would expect them to be.”
“You’re crazy,” she said.
He could have pointed out that she was still living in her fantasy world, still seeing Dirk the way she wanted instead of the way he was, but he didn’t. She’d seen enough truth for one day. “What happens with you?”
“I’m going to go skydiving,” she announced.
He nodded as if her proclamation was normal. “Can I go with you?”
She finished her blank inspection of the television and turned to look at him. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve jumped a lot; I’m a certified instructor. It’s fun--you’ll like it.”
“They make you jump out of planes in the FBI?” she asked.
“No,” he said. His tone didn’t invite further questions.
Something Puck had said rose to the surface of her memory. “Are you in the CIA?”
“No,” he said, but for some reason she didn’t believe him.
“How long are you going to keep living at the neighbor’s house? How long are you going to listen in on my conversations?”
“A while longer,” he replied vaguely. He was conflicted. He didn’t want her to be with Dirk Xavier when it was so dangerous to be near him, but having an in with their suspect had been helpful and convenient. Once again Link had let his personal feelings get involved in a case, and, while he had potentially saved Liza from a lot of hurt and humiliation, he had also made solving his case a whole lot harder.
“Don’t worry about it,” Link said with feigned confidence. “Something will turn up soon, and this will be over in no time.”
Chapter 19
But it wasn’t over. After Liza broke up with Dirk, all activity came to a halt in the investigation. No one broke into her room, no one approached her with a knife, and, in fact, nothing unusual happened at all.
Link was confident that by removing Liza from Dirk’s grasp, all intrigue had come to a crashing halt. As her friend, he was happy she was out of danger. But as the lead investigator in a case that was dragging on without end, he was frustrated. That was why, three weeks after the breakup, he was busy plotting ways to bring Liza into Dirk’s sphere once again.
“I have your mail,” he announced as he let himself into her house one afternoon after work. He strode into the living room and frowned when he saw her in what had become her assigned spot—curled up in the fetal position on her couch, wearing her pajamas.
“I said I have your mail,” he repeated as he nudged her aside and sat down beside her. Her neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, remained in a coma in the hospital. Since Liza’s house was no longer a hotbed of intrigue, Link had moved back home. But he still came over every day to check on Liza and try to cheer her out of her emotional stupor.
Some days were better than others. Some days she made the effort to shower, eat, cook, and be mentally present. Other days, like now, she looked as comatose as old Mrs. Jenkins.
“Come on,” Link instructed. Grasping her hands in his, he pulled her to a sitting position and placed her mail in her hands. “Looks like you got something interesting.”
Liza stared blankly at the pile of letters in her hands. She opened them mechanically, without really seeing them, and set them aside. She would have plopped back onto the couch, but Link picked up one of the letters and placed it back in her hands.
“You didn’t even look at this one. It’s an invitation.”
Liza forced herself to focus on the official-looking letter, and then she grimaced. “This is an invitation to my college reunion.”
“Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Link asked.
Liza looked up, puzzled by his cheerful tone. “No, it doesn’t sound fun. It sounds horrible. I have no desire to see him and her—together.”
Him and her being Dirk and the woman, Scarlet, Link presumed. “Don’t let them keep you away. Have some pride.”
“Look at me,” she said, holding her arms wide to show him her shabby appearance. “You really think pride is my concern right now? I’ve been wearing the same pajamas for two days.”
“Liza, I’ve been watching you waste away all summer, and I’m tired of it. This is your college reunion as much as it is theirs. Marion is going to be there, and you know she’ll be sad if you don’t make it. Someday you’ll look back on this time and regret not going.”
Liza chewed her lip, thinking it over. “I don’t want to go by myself.”
Finally, the opportunity Link had been angling for arose. “I’ll be your date, obviously.”
“You would do that?” Liza asked. True, he had been a good friend to her the last few weeks, coming over daily to make sure she was still breathing and eating. But immersing himself in an awkward evening with Dirk felt like going above and beyond the call of duty.
“Sure I would,” Link said, feeling guilty. He would never admit that his real motivation in urging her to go was to try and reignite his dead investigation.
“Thanks, Link, you’ve been a good friend.”
Link’s guilt increased another notch. This was the most difficult part of his job, the line he walked between the personal and the professional. He was in charge of Liza’s case and bound to spend time with her, but he didn’t have to enjoy being with her so much.
“I should get cleaned up. I
f I’m going to go to the reunion, I’ll need to get back in shape and buy a dress, call my stylist. First things first, I need to take a shower.” She stood and eased by him. “Stay and I’ll make supper for us when I’m finished.”
He nodded with a vague smile. There was a part of him that felt slightly panicked by how comfortable he felt here. In his job, he moved often. He dealt with lowlifes. As a rule, he didn’t get attached. But he was attached to Liza. The question was how much was he attached to her?
He stared at the bathroom door as if it could provide some answers to his swirling thoughts and emotions. What did he feel for Liza? More importantly, what did she feel for him? Their relationship was different than almost any he had ever experienced. He wasn’t friends with the women he dated. He had only been friends with a woman once in college, and he had fallen in love with Kelly. Was he falling in love with Liza? And if he was falling in love with Liza, what, if anything, should he do about it?
Meanwhile, in the shower, Liza was thinking of Link. Since it was the first time she had thought of anything but Dirk in weeks, she enjoyed the reprieve. Link was a truly nice guy, and he had proved himself a loyal friend to her. She wondered why he didn’t have a girlfriend—someone nice, and not one of the crazy, beautiful women he occasionally took out.
Her thoughts turned to the reunion and stuck. She wanted to go for all the reasons Link had listed, but she was afraid. Would it crush her to see Dirk with Scarlet? Then she perked up. Scarlet was bound to show up because she was being honored for her newfound fame. But Dirk might not be there.
Liza rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? He would be wherever Scarlet was, if only to bask in her limelight. Scarlet was one of those magnetic people who drew crowds of admirers. With a sniffle, Liza pulled her thoughts back from the brink. This reunion would be fun, no matter what. She would look stunning, and she would show Dirk and Scarlet that she was doing just fine. She, Marion, Link, and Puck would make their own fun. Who needs Dirk?
I do, a little voice answered.
Before she knew what was happening, she was crying again, but since there was no one around to bear witness, she did nothing to stifle her weeping.
The next few weeks, Liza emerged from her cocoon of misery and almost had fun. She and Marion spent a lot of time preparing for the reunion by shopping for dresses and accessories. To Liza’s surprise, Marion decided to join her in her workouts. Marion had never been a fitness buff, but her dedication was impressive, even though there were only three weeks until the reunion.
During their preparations, Link continued to be a loyal, steady influence in Liza’s life. He ran with them in the evenings, patiently encouraging Marion when she became winded—which was approximately every ten steps. He endured Liza’s healthy concoctions, never once mentioning that he would rather have a burger, and he listened with feigned interest as she described her shopping adventures with Marion. Most evenings after supper they settled comfortably on the couch, watching a movie or reading separate books. Link was something of a bookworm, just one of many things he and Liza had in common. Somehow they had settled into a predictable routine where he left her house every night at ten PM and headed next door to Mrs. Jenkins’ house to feed and water her cats. The poor old lady was still lingering in a coma; some days her vital signs were good and she showed signs of rallying. Others, she stayed in lifeless stupor. Per Link’s request, a tox screen had been run, but her blood showed nothing. He remained suspicious, however. There were many drugs that didn’t show in the system. A true professional like Dirk Xavier would know how to cover his tracks.
Although he hid it from Liza, his frustration with her case was near the boiling point. If something didn’t happen soon, he was going to have to let it go. But how could he let it go when Liza still might be in danger? The cold hard truth was that he lacked the manpower and resources to spend on a case that was going nowhere. Already he had stayed too long and spent too much time chasing dead ends. But how could he give up when Liza’s life might hang in the balance?
Something was telling him that the reunion would be the tipping point; either instinct or desire to get it over with, he didn’t know. But whatever the reason, he had a feeling that something significant was going to go down at the reunion, and he wanted to be there firsthand to see it.
At least, that was why he told himself it was important to go with Liza. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it was because she had showed him her dress, and he couldn’t wait to see how she looked in it.
Chapter 20
The morning of the reunion, Liza threw up. In college, whenever she’d had a big test or other significant event, nerves had caused her to be sick, but it hadn’t happened for a long time. The last time had been her first date with Dirk.
That memory caused the floodgates to open as she saw her life with Dirk on fast forward. The pain was there, still raw and deep, but there were no accompanying tears. Instead of focusing on the gut-wrenching agony, she set her mind to preparing for her evening. If she had been able to afford it, she would have had Tina, her stylist, do her hair and makeup. But she had spent so much on her appearance lately—including the expensive dress for tonight—that she had no extra cash for luxuries.
Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to afford to have her makeup or hair done, she had instead practiced the tasks over and over again until she perfected the look she wanted to achieve, and that look was classy. Let Scarlet be flashy. Liza would look subdued and elegant. Hopefully her brown dress would make Scarlet’s red dress look tacky.
Liza rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? Scarlet would never look tacky because she wasn’t tacky. As much as Liza had tried to make her into a wanton man eater, she wasn’t. She was as classy and elegant as she was beautiful, and Liza’s heart began to sink before she rallied once again.
No, this night wasn’t about Scarlet. Or Dirk. It was about…What was it about? Retribution? That wasn’t likely. It wasn’t as if she was showing up with some hunk of man meat on her arm. Link was nice looking, but he was no Dirk. Maybe it was about survival. She had lost the one thing she couldn’t stand to lose, and yet she was still living. Sort of. The reunion had given her a purpose, but she wondered what she would do when this night was over. Would she return to her wretched, pathetic state? She hoped not. At least school was starting soon. Work would give her the focus she needed to stay sane. She hoped.
The front door slammed, indicating Link had let himself in. “I’m here,” he announced.
“I’m almost ready,” she said.
“You’re late,” he called, surprised.
“Marion made me. She said showing up early smacks of desperation, so I’ve been killing time.” His chuckle echoed down the hallway, and she smiled. She took one more look in the mirror to make sure she looked perfect. Her hair was in an upswing, something she hadn’t attempted since her high school prom. This do was much more sophisticated than that look had been, and she turned her head, approving of the way it had turned out. Her makeup was flawless. The dress was flattering, both in color and in style. She was as ready as she would ever be, and yet she felt rooted to the spot.
“Link,” she called.
“What?”
“I think you’re going to have to come and get me. My feet don’t seem to be able to move.”
He was smiling when he entered her bathroom, but his smile quickly faded to a look of…awe? “Liza,” he breathed. “You look incredible.” He clasped her hands and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said. She patted his chest when he released her hands. “You look very handsome.”
He shook his head. “Nah, you’re way out of my league.”
“Maybe just tonight,” she agreed, causing him to laugh. He took her hand again and tugged, leading her from the bathroom.
“Let’s go, Cinderella.”
“If I’m Cinderella, does that make you my fairy godmother?”
He threw a frown over his shoulder. “No, I’m p
robably that fat mouse who became one of the coach drivers.”
Now it was her turn to laugh.
Link smiled. “It’s good to see you happy again,” he said.
Liza’s smile faltered. She wasn’t happy, was she? How could she be without Dirk? Maybe she wasn’t happy, but she was at least among the land of the living again, and that felt good. Whatever happened tonight, she vowed not to revert to the mourning stage. She was done being pathetic.
Link led her to his old sedan and opened the door. “Your carriage, milady.”
Liza laughed because nothing could look less like a carriage than his sturdy taupe four door.
As Link scurried around to the driver’s side, he realized he was having fun and gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t supposed to be having fun; he was supposed to be working. But how could he concentrate on work when Liza looked so good? He was going to have trouble taking his eyes off her. Maybe that could work to his advantage, though. Maybe by watching her so intently he would learn something significant.
The drive to the reunion was silent. When Link noticed Liza’s hands tightly gripping her purse, he reached over and clasped one, easing her fingers open to curve gently around his.
“It’s going to be okay,” he soothed. “You look great; you’ll do great.”
Liza nodded, trying hard to absorb and believe his words. “Thanks, Link. And thanks for doing this with me. I know going to someone else’s reunion isn’t your idea of a good time.”
Link pressed his lips together, feeling guilty. She still had no idea he was here as part of the job, and there was no need to tell her. While confession might be good for the soul, it would no doubt be bad for Liza. Let her think he was here as a friend, what was the harm?
The Pajama Affair Page 15