God's Eye

by Scudiere, A. J.

  Patiently, he listened and he pushed. Just a little. One officer here. Another there. Until finally the detectives agreed. “I think we need to interview the Geryon daughter again,” said one.

  Zachary didn’t want them on her trail. Unfortunately, sending them to her was the only way to get them off.

  • • •

  The knock at the door startled her.

  For two whole days, she had managed to stay out of the clutches of either of Allistair or Zachary. She had felt pulled to each of them, both in her dreams and in her waking life. Before she opened the door, she steeled herself, reminding herself to tell either of them no, no matter what they wanted.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open, ready to turn away anyone–except the people she found at the door.

  Two officers flashed their badges, even though she already recognized them from the Mary Wayne investigation. One of them spoke. “Miss Geryon, may we come in?”

  The refusal she had prepared wouldn’t be a good way to start this. Feeling startled and out of sorts, which was probably how they wanted her, she said, “Of course. How can I help?”

  In a few moments, they were seated around her dining table in a scenario the officers had obviously contrived to make her feel “comfortable.” She braced herself for an interrogation, but it didn’t come.

  Instead, Officer Dashel shook his head. “We’re at a bit of a loss, and we’re hoping you can give us some information, anything, that will help clear this up. After all, you found her.”

  He seemed sincere and vulnerable, but Katharine was sure it was all an act. After all, why would the police really need her help? They had set up a neat little trap for her. If she didn’t answer, she was hiding something. If she called Zachary, as he had told her to do, she was hiding behind her lawyer, which would only make her look guilty. If she just answered their questions the best she could, they could lead her into a corner. And without her lawyer there to help, they could probably do it fairly easily.

  She hated this. She had studied some law in college. But tax law and theory didn’t prepare one to face down what looked like it just might be a sugary-sweet assassination of her character. She could be sitting across the table from the perfect setup right now.

  Something caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and she turned to look at it. Of course, there was nothing there–except maybe another new level to her craziness. Several times she thought she had seen movement and then turned to see what it was, but it had been nothing each time. She hoped the cops would interpret her sideways glances as unease at the memory of finding Mary Wayne’s corpse. Maybe they would finally believe that she couldn’t have done it.

  Since she couldn’t call Zachary, she had to save herself. So while she told them the truth, she lied.

  Dashel leaned forward. “When you saw the body, what did you think?”

  Katharine was startled. She wasn’t a medical professional or an investigator–what did her opinion matter? And she asked just that.

  It was Detective Leaman who answered her. “We don’t expect an analysis. But a lot of times an untrained observer sees something we don’t.”

  She didn’t buy that for a second, but acted like she did. “I thought she was the wrong color. The … rational part of myself told me she was dead, but I hadn’t really accepted it. So my thought was that she was the wrong color, but I knew it was Mary Wayne because of the rings and the hair.”

  “You’re familiar enough with her to recognize her rings?”

  See? There was the first corner they were trying to get her into. “Not really. I trained her when she first came to us. She seemed to like big rings. They were hard to miss.”

  Leaman pressed again. “It didn’t seem odd to you that someone on her salary would spend that kind of money on expensive jewelry?”

  “No. Honestly, I don’t think they were expensive. I thought they looked a bit tacky. That’s why I remembered them.” Actually, she had thought they were just the kind of thing her mother would call tacky.

  “Did you remember these rings from the recent times you saw her?” Dashel spoke this time. Were they tag-teaming her?

  “No,” she lied. “I honestly don’t remember the last time I saw her.”

  “Can you narrow down the dates for the last time you did see her?”

  “Probably not.” She hated this and was beginning to hate them. She hadn’t killed Mary Wayne. Nor had she wanted to. She hadn’t even wanted to believe the woman was embezzling funds. But here she was, trying to keep herself out of the loony bin. Maybe she even belonged there. But she didn’t want to go. Medicines and group therapy wouldn’t help her. And so she pushed on, trying to answer the cops in a roundabout way that didn’t seem roundabout. “I know I said that I saw Mary Wayne, but you do realize that it was only on the tapes. I didn’t see her in person. And I was looking for her. So I guess it’s entirely possible that I saw someone who looked like her on the recording.”

  Something shifted in Dashel’s expression. He seemed to think he had her here. “You seemed very certain that you had seen her when we spoke before.”

  “Yes, I thought I had, on the tapes.”

  “But you aren’t certain now.”

  She wanted to snap at them. But she couldn’t. All those years of training held her frustration back. “How could I be? It seems she was dead before then. And, honestly, I don’t think I’ve slept well in a month.” The truth and a lie, all in one.

  “You haven’t been sleeping well?” Dashel pushed.

  Katharine smiled and stifled the sharp retort that burst into her brain. She shook her head. “I haven’t even been making it into work on a regular schedule. I keep sleeping in trying to make up for bad nights.”

  “Why haven’t you slept well?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been sick. And the neighbors make noise.”

  Leaman was writing notes on his little pad of paper, clearly not having moved into the current millennium with everyone else. “And you reported this to the building super?”

  “No, sir. The management didn’t get a complaint from me.” She paused while she mixed fact and fiction. “I have a new boyfriend and it didn’t seem wise to report someone else.” She left it at that.

  By the time the two left, she felt drained.

  Propriety almost insisted that she thank them for visiting, but her new backbone, weakened as it was, told her not to. She didn’t wish them a good evening, or offer to help. She simply mentioned that she had been on the way to bed when they called on her, since she hadn’t been sleeping soundly.

  Most of that had been the truth. As she threw the bolt, she thought of Margot telling her she didn’t lie well. She hoped she had thrown enough truth in there to keep the officers from seeing what her friend saw. Oh, well.

  Katharine hauled herself off to bed and hoped for a few hours of rest before anything decided to bother her .

  • • •

  Five days. Katharine reveled in near bliss. Five days with no messages on her mirror. Five nights of solid sleep. Five times she had been able to tell Margot that there was nothing to report.

  The only even slightly odd thing that had occurred was that she was catching visions of dust out of the corners of her eyes. She would see movement and turn to look at it, only to see that there was nothing there. In fact, it probably wasn’t anything unusual; she likely saw the dust catching light out of the corners of her eyes all the time. She had probably always seen it but ignored it. Only now, as jumpy as she was, her brain was signaling her to look. So aside from feeling like an idiot for always falling for it, Katharine tried to pay no attention.

  She had woken up feeling like she had slept. She’d arrived at work on time all five days, making a lie out of the truth she’d told the detectives. But she had skipped out to have coffee with Margot.

  Yesterday the weather had been perfect, and the two of them had eaten a hasty lunch and rented rollerblades at the little shack along the beach
walk. They wound up looking like utter idiots and laughed themselves silly for about half an hour before they decided neither of them was cut out for the sport.

  Katharine returned to her office, and Allistair, flushed.

  He hadn’t pushed her to tell him where she’d been or why she was being distant. It was as though he could sense she didn’t need it or that she had changed her mind about him. Or maybe her new backbone was showing. Whatever it was, she was grateful. Her backbone was growing. It just probably wasn’t strong enough to resist him yet.

  Still, when she walked into her condo that night, she braced herself. Each day, though she enjoyed the reprieve, she became just a little more tense. Because each day she was aware that it had to break, and soon. It wasn’t until she got into her bathroom and forced herself to check her reflection in the mirror that she realized she’d been holding her breath.

  But the mirror was clean. Her house seemed empty. And she was just letting herself take a second deep breath when there was a knock at the door. Katharine barely suppressed a yelp and then immediately chided herself. She had seen so much worse. A knock at the door shouldn’t startle her so.

  Still berating herself, she walked back and threw the door open wide. There was no stopping what might be coming through, so she and her backbone decided to greet it full on.

  It was Zachary, hands in his pockets, looking at her from curious eyes. “I wanted to know if you would come out with me tonight.”

  He looked uncertain, almost vulnerable. Katharine’s heart went out to him. But she stuck to her earlier decision. “I think I’m staying in tonight. But thank you.”

  The polite part of her wanted to add, “Maybe tomorrow.” But the smart part of her held the Miss Manners part in check. There were strange things going on in her life. She smiled at Zachary, and when he nodded she merely closed the door.

  As she threw the bolt, her knees weakened. Wondering what this was, Katharine stumbled to her couch, where she sank into the cushions and took a few deep breaths. She never flat-out refused anyone anything. If she said no she was schooled to offer a polite alternative. But tonight she’d just said no and nothing else. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that, if she ever had.

  That, in and of itself, was a revelation. She’d told her father her opinion of how the company spent its money. But it was only her opinion. She hadn’t said no in any real way. And what she did give him, she’d given only after she’d done what he asked exactly the way he requested. She’d given the reports, both the first and the second, because it was her job. She’d been invited to do the research and create the company recommendation.

  When had she ever not done something she was invited to do? When had she ever just said no?

  She couldn’t think of anything beyond her playground years, when she had told a boy not to pull her pigtail. But that was it. When she turned down a date, she always softened the no with an alternative–maybe another time, I’m not available, but I know someone who is …

  Katharine didn’t know how long she sat there on the couch, trying to recapture moments of strength from her life and failing miserably. Not since she was a child had she stood up to anyone or anything. She hadn’t even done it much as a kid. But she did have distinct recollections of her mother and father drumming those instincts out of her. And she hadn’t fought that either. She’d acquiesced. Just like in everything else, she never even protested to say that she should be able to protest.

  Finally, she stood to …

  She found she didn’t know.

  Maybe she was hungry? Katharine looked into the fridge and the dwindling weekly supply of dinners. She was down to a fish plate and a pasta dish with vegetables. Neither was her favorite; those two dishes always lingered until the end of the week. Had she never told the service to stop bringing them? She really didn’t like them. Was she going to hurt the chef’s feelings if said she didn’t like zucchini in her pasta?

  How had she lived like this? She was sharp and on the ball at work … but was she really? Had she ever protested a single one of those dozens of departmental transfers foisted on her? She had never asked what the master plan was for her. She hadn’t negotiated her salary. Nor had she pressed the real estate agent to look further after she’d found this place. She’d just taken the first condo that met her needs. She’d been looking for a house but had even allowed the agent to convince her that a condo would be just the right thing.

  The phone rang, making her jump again.

  Picking up the receiver and again wondering who she would get, she said, “Hello?”

  “Katharine!” Margot’s warm voice flooded the line and her. “Have you eaten yet? I just got out of work and don’t want to eat at home. Will you come out with me?”

  Katharine considered it for a moment. She hadn’t eaten. She didn’t want to eat what she had. But did she want to go out with Margot? She needed to decide for herself. When she thought about it, she found that Margot’s words were something foreign to her own system. Margot was forward. She had nearly forced her translation services on Katharine that first day in the library. She called Katharine, even though they’d only known each other a short while. The librarian hadn’t waited for Katharine to reach out to her. In fact, when had she ever reached out to Margot? When had she invited her out? “Katharine? Are you okay?”

  “Um, yes. I’m here.” Taking a deep breath, she announced her decision. “Yes, I’d like to go out, but nowhere nice. Someplace casual?”

  That last had come out as a question when she’d meant it as a statement. Maybe she needed more training.

  Margot didn’t seem to notice. “Then I’ll need to change. Can you meet me at my place?”

  They made plans. Katharine threw on her jeans and headed to the address Margot had given her. Margot’s place was nearly eight blocks off the beach, just beyond Lincoln Boulevard, the main road that separated the beachside houses from the cheaper rents. Still, the house had that beachy look to it, and when Katharine found the number, she saw that her friend had the top unit of three and a balcony that looked like it had a full view of the ocean.

  Inside, the unit was bohemian-looking, not quite in keeping with the more uptight Margot that Katharine knew from the woman’s work clothes. Her home was not dictated by her job, clearly. The walls were each painted a different color, and an area rug that incorporated each wall color and then some covered a real plank wood floor that was not in the best condition. The furniture had more colors from the rug and something about the lines in it looked more like refurbished older pieces than new ones.

  Margot stood in the middle of it all, fitted jeans, new blue shoes, and a shirt to match. Her hair was down and her wide smile balanced her long face, and Katharine realized she had been too quick to judge the woman the first time they had met.

  But none of this assessment seemed to faze Margot. She just chattered. “I’m so glad you were fast. I was afraid you were going to be one of those women who takes forever to get ready. I’m starving.”

  “Me too.” Katharine felt her stomach heading toward earthquake mode.

  “I know a great Indian place down the street. There’s Chinese next to it and pizza and beer on the next block over. All within walking distance. What do you want?”

  “I’ve never had Indian, and I think I’m too hungry to try something new. Just in case I don’t like it.”

  “Good plan.”

  Katharine started to shrug, but then stopped herself. “How about Chinese?”

  They walked about ten blocks to the restaurant. Being right at the coast meant that the days often ended very quickly, and though it had been just at the end of light when they started the walk, it was almost full dark by the time they got there.

  Margot was right, the place was fantastic, even if it looked like the Chinese version of the local greasy spoon. The fried wontons had been perfectly crisp and the American-style orange chicken dripping with extra sauce. It was all over a spicy rice noodle that
Katharine had never had before, and she was stuffed before she knew it.

  Margot too nearly moaned and commented on how she had eaten too much. She swore she was going to pay her body back with an extra half hour of running in the morning.

  “Do you have a treadmill?” Katharine asked. She had a gym in her building, but in recent years she’d fallen out of using it.

  “I run along the beach. A friend usually meets me and we run together.”

  A sharp pang hit Katharine in the gut. Of course Margot had other friends. Katharine realized that she wasn’t so much upset about sharing Margot with others; she was jealous that her friend had a richer life than she did, that a Santa Monica librarian had a house full of colors and friends to run on the beach with.

  They hadn’t talked about any of the craziness going on in Katharine’s life, and she was grateful, even if the reprieve was mainly due to being in a public place. She hoped they would continue to ignore the subject for the remainder of the evening. Maybe they would talk about it tomorrow. Maybe Katharine still wouldn’t want to.

  Aside from a few restaurants, most everything was locked up by the time they made their way back to Margot’s house. They hadn’t paid any attention on the way over, with both of them starving, so on the return trip the two of them window-shopped, peering into darkened glass to see what was on display.

  Katharine saw a cheap knockoff store that featured dresses that looked too nice for anything in this part of town. A shoe store held super-high heels and over-the-knee boots in patent leather. She didn’t look any further. At the fourth store, she saw pet collars and dog clothes, none of it useful to her. The thought of a pet started to take root, but she put the decision off until later.

  Her mother had convinced her as a child that pets were too much work and left hair all over everything. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she began questioning that. Maybe a puppy would have been too much work for her mother, but was it too much work for her? She’d have to leave work at lunch to walk it. Should she move? What about Zachary?

  She needed to see him again, in a capacity other than as her lawyer. It was the only thing they had talked about the last time they had gotten together. The police wanted to talk to her again, and he wanted to set it up so he’d be there when it happened. He said he wanted to help defend her against any accusations the police would try to level at her. He wanted to keep her from getting tangled up in leading questions.