The Liar

by Roberts, Nora

  Thinking of debt, she started upstairs. She’d change, work out a new budget, check and see if there was any progress on the house sale, or if there was any more money coming from the consignment shop. Then she could think about a playlist.

  That was work, true enough, but it was also fun—smarter to get the hard over with first.

  She stopped dead in the doorway of her room.

  A gray Honda with Florida plates. She scrambled for her dresser, pulled out the drawer where she’d put all the business cards from Philadelphia.

  And there was Ted Privet, Private Investigator. Miami, Florida.

  She had seen him in the bar and grill. He’d followed her all the way back to the Ridge. Why would he do that? What did it mean?

  He was watching her.

  She made herself go to the window, look out, search.

  She had no choice about the debt coming home with her, but she wouldn’t sit still, do nothing, when more of Richard’s mess tried to push its way into her life now.

  Instead of getting to work, she picked up her phone.

  “Forrest? I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I think I have some trouble. I think I could use some help with it.”

  • • •

  HE LISTENED TO HER, didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask any questions. That only made her more nervous, babbling it all out to her brother while he sat there cool as ice, his eyes on her face telling her nothing.

  “Is that it?” he said when she ran down.

  “I think so. Yes, that’s it, that’s all. I guess it’s more than enough.”

  “Do you have the IDs, the ones you found in the bank box?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to need them.”

  “I’ll go get them.”

  “Sit. I’m not done.”

  So she sat back down at the kitchen counter, knotted her hands together on it.

  “Do you have the gun?”

  “I . . . Yes. I made sure it wasn’t loaded, and I have it in a box, top of my closet, where Callie can’t get to it.”

  “And any of the cash—from the box?”

  “I kept three thousand of it in cash—it’s up in my closet, too. I used most of the rest, like I said, to pay off bills. And I put some in the bank here. I opened an account here in the Ridge.”

  “I want all of it. The IDs, the gun, the cash, the envelopes, anything you have that came out of the box.”

  “All right, Forrest.”

  “Now, I’m going to ask you why the fuck, why the fuck, Shelby, you’re just telling me all this now?”

  “The hole was so deep, and it got deep so fast. First Richard’s dead, and I’m trying to think what to do, then the lawyers are telling me there’s all this trouble. I start going through the bills. I just never did that, because he locked them up. They were his business—and don’t slap at me for it. You weren’t there, you didn’t live that life, so don’t slap at me for it. Then I found out about the house, and everything. I had to deal with it. I found the key, and I had to know. Then when I found the bank box, and what was in it . . . I don’t know who I married, who I lived with, who fathered my child.”

  She took a long breath. “And I couldn’t let that matter, couldn’t let that take the rest over. What matters is now, and dealing with it until I’m clear of it. Keeping Callie clear of it. I don’t know why this detective followed me here. I don’t have anything. I don’t know anything.”

  “I’ll deal with that.”

  “I’ll thank you for it.”

  “I might’ve slapped at you some, Shelby. But just to wake you up. You’re my sister, goddamn it. We’re your family.”

  She linked her fingers together again, to hold herself in. “You think I’ve forgotten that, and you’re wrong. If you think I don’t value that, you’re stupid.”

  “What should I think?” he countered.

  “That I did what I thought was right. I couldn’t come back until I’d started climbing out of that hole, Forrest. I wouldn’t. Maybe you think that’s just pride, just stupid, but I couldn’t come back and put all of it on my family.”

  “You couldn’t ask for a hand, a hand to reach down and help you up out of it?”

  “Well, Jesus God, Forrest, aren’t I doing just that? But I had to get up far enough to reach a hand. That’s what I’m doing now.”

  He pushed up, paced around the room, stopped at the window for a while, looking out in silence. “All right. Maybe I see your side of that. I don’t have to say you’re right to see it. Go ahead, get me everything you have.”

  “What are you going to do? It’s still my business, Forrest.”

  “I’m going to have a talk with this Florida PI, let him know I don’t take kindly to him stalking my sister. Then I’m going to do what I can to find out who the hell you were married to.”

  “I think he stole that money he had stashed in the bank box, or he swindled it. Dear God, Forrest, if I have to pay all that back—”

  “You won’t. You took what you took legally. Whatever he did, it’s pretty damn clear there’s nothing left to pay anybody back. One more thing. You’re going to tell all of this to the rest of the family. You’re going to get this out.”

  “Gilly’s about to have a baby.”

  “No excuses, Shelby. You’re going to sit down tonight, after Callie’s in bed, and tell everyone. I’ll make sure they’re all here. You want them to get word some private investigator from out of state’s asking questions about their daughter, their sister?”

  Because she saw the sense of it, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “No. You’re right. I’ll tell them. You have to take my side, Forrest, when Mama and Daddy start talking about helping me pay off this debt. I won’t have it.”

  “That’s fair enough.” He came over, put his hands on her shoulders. “I am on your side, you idiot.”

  She dipped her forehead to his chest. “I can’t wish the years away without wishing Callie away, but I can wish I’d been stronger standing up to him. It feels like every time I found my footing, something changed and I lost it again.”

  “It sounds to me like he was good at making sure people didn’t find their footing around him. Go on, get all the things from the box. Let me get going on this.”

  • • •

  IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG to track down the private investigator, not when the man had opted to hide in plain sight. He’d registered under his own name at the hotel—though he’d spread the word he was a freelance travel writer.

  Forrest considered confronting him there, but he thought he’d give Privet a taste of his own medicine. Once he was off duty and in his own truck, he did some cruising until he spotted the Honda parked outside The Artful Ridge.

  Forrest parked the truck, got out and strolled by the shop. Sure enough, the man he’d spent an hour or so running stood talking with Melody.

  He’d get an earful about Shelby from that source, no question. With his target sighted, he went back to his truck, waited.

  He watched Privet come out, cross over to the bar and grill. Doubtful he’d find the same well of information in there, but if he was any good—and from the run it seemed he wasn’t bad—he’d pull out some.

  Making the rounds, Forrest concluded as, fifteen minutes later, Privet came out of the bar and grill, walked down and into the salon.

  Following Shelby’s path from earlier in the day, which meant Privet had trailed her through the morning.

  That put a knot in Forrest’s craw.

  This stop took longer, but when Forrest did another stroll by, he noted that Privet sat in a chair getting a haircut. At least he put some money in the local pot while trying to mine information.

  Forrest settled back in his truck, patient, waited for Privet to come out, get back in his car.

  He pulled out after him, paced him e
asily in the light town traffic. Privet took the fork toward Shelby and home. When the Honda drove straight by, Forrest calculated, turned off—did a three-quarter turn to face the road again.

  He dug out his Kojak light, fixed it to the roof, and waited.

  When Privet drove by a second time, eased to the side of the road a few yards down from the house, Forrest pulled out, hit the light so Privet would see it in his rearview.

  He eased up behind the Honda, walked up to the passenger window—already rolled down.

  Privet had a map out, and a frustrated expression on his face.

  “I hope there’s no problem, Officer, and that you can help me. I think I made a wrong turn somewhere. I’m looking for—”

  “Don’t waste my time. I believe you know who I am, and I sure as hell know who you are, Mr. Privet. I want your hands on the wheel where I can see them. Now,” Forrest said, setting his hand on the butt of his weapon, “I know you’re licensed to carry, and if I don’t see both your hands on the wheel, we’re going to have some trouble here.”

  “I’m not looking for trouble.” Privet held his hands up, placed them carefully on the wheel. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “I’m doing mine. You went to see my sister up North, and entered her home on false pretenses.”

  “She asked me in.”

  “You cornered a woman with a small child in her home, then you followed her across several state lines where you’ve spied on her, followed her.”

  “I’m a private investigator, Deputy. My license is in my—”

  “I said I know who you are.”

  “Deputy Pomeroy, I have a client who—”

  “If Richard Foxworth swindled your client, that’s nothing to do with my sister. Foxworth’s dead, so your client’s out of luck there. If you spent ten minutes with Shelby and think she had anything to do with it, you’re a damn fool.”

  “Matherson. He used the name David Matherson.”

  “Whatever name he used, whatever name he came into this world with, he’s dead. Personally, I hope the sharks had a good meal off him. Now, if it’s true you’re not looking for trouble, you’re going to stop following my sister, stop asking about her around town. I expect I could go into The Artful Ridge, the bar and grill and my granny’s place and they’d all tell me how when you were in there somehow the conversation came around to Shelby. That stops. I catch you at it again, I’m taking you in. Around here we call what you’re doing stalking, and we got a law against it.”

  “In my business it’s called doing the job.”

  Forrest leaned conversationally on the bottom of the window. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Privet. You think if I was to arrest you right here and now, and take you in, the judge around here is going to say there’s no problem with you sitting here—with those binoculars on the seat beside you?”

  “I’m an amateur ornithologist.”

  “Name me five birds indigenous to the Smokies.” Forrest waited two beats while Privet scowled. “See, you could say that bird, it won’t fly. I tell my boss, and we tell Judge Harris—who’s a third cousin, twice removed—that you’ve been sitting here watching my family home and my sister, been following her and her little girl around town, been asking questions about my widowed sister with her fatherless child, you think he’s going to say, ‘Why, that’s just fine. Live and let’? Or do you think you’ll be spending the night on a jailhouse cot tonight instead of your hotel bed?”

  “My client isn’t the only one Matherson swindled. And there’s a matter of nearly thirty million in jewelry he stole out of Miami.”

  “I believe you. I believe he was a fucking bastard, and I know he did a number on my sister I won’t forget. I’m not going to let you do the same.”

  “Deputy, do you know what the finder’s fee is on twenty-eight million?”

  “It’s going to be zero,” Forrest said equably, “if you’re looking for it through my sister. You stay away from her, Mr. Privet, or you’ll have plenty of the trouble you don’t want to have, because if I catch you at it, I’ll make sure of that trouble. You can tell your client we’re all sorry for his bad luck. If I were you, I’d head back to Florida and do just that. Tonight. But it’s your choice.”

  Forrest straightened up again. “We clear on that?”

  “We’re clear on that. I’ve got one question.”

  “Ask it.”

  “How could your sister live with Matherson for years and not know what he was?”

  “Let me ask one back. Is your client a reasonably intelligent individual?”

  “I’d say he is.”

  “How did he manage to get himself swindled? You’re going to want to move along now, and you don’t want to drive back down this road again. That’s literal and metaphorical.”

  Forrest walked back to his truck, waited until Privet drove away. Then he drove himself the short distance to his family home, parked so he’d be there when Shelby told the family her story.

  11

  Confessions and truth telling exhausted the body and the brain. When Shelby dragged herself out of bed in the morning, she realized she’d start her day already worn down.

  It was hateful to disappoint the people who’d raised you. She thought of Callie, wondered if one day she’d do something stupid and wake up with this same dragging sensation.

  Odds were pretty good on that, so Shelby vowed to remember this morning, and to try to give her daughter a break when the time came.

  She found Callie, still luckily too young to do something really stupid, sitting in bed having a cheerful conversation with Fifi. So Shelby dived in for a morning snuggle that pulled her mood up a notch or two.

  She got them both dressed, then took Callie downstairs.

  She put on the coffee, decided she’d make up some of the ground she’d lost with her parents the night before by making French toast—and the poached eggs her father favored.

  By the time her mother came down, she had Callie settled in her booster with some sliced banana and strawberries, with breakfast well on the way.

  “’Morning, Mama.”

  “’Morning. All bright and early, I see. ’Morning, my sunbeam,” she said to Callie, and crossed over for a kiss.

  “We get to have eggy bread, Gamma.”

  “Do we? Why, that’s a special morning treat.”

  “Nearly done,” Shelby told her. “I’m poaching some eggs for Daddy. Do you want any?”

  “Not this morning, thank you.”

  When Ada Mae walked over to pour coffee, Shelby turned, wrapped her arms around her mother from behind. “You’re still mad,” she murmured.

  “Of course I’m still mad. Mad doesn’t turn off and on like a light.”

  “Still pretty mad at me.”

  Ada Mae sighed. “That part’s on a dimmer switch. It’s easing down some.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mama.”

  “I know you are.” Ada Mae patted Shelby’s hand. “I know. And I’m trying to come around to it being the situation you were in, and not that you didn’t trust your family to help you.”

  “It was never that. Never. I just . . . I got myself into it, didn’t I? Somebody raised me to face my own troubles and deal with them.”

  “Seems we did a fine job there. But not as fine a one on teaching you troubles shared are lessened.”

  “I was ashamed.”

  Now Ada Mae turned, took Shelby’s face firmly in her hands. “You’re never, never to be ashamed with me.” She glanced over to where Callie was busy with her sliced fruit. “I could say a lot more, and likely will when there aren’t little pitchers with big ears close by.”

  “Pitchers don’t have ears, Gamma! That’s silly.”

  “It is, isn’t it? Why don’t I fix you a piece of this eggy bread your mama’s made up.”

  Clayton came do
wn, dressed for the day in one of his habitual white shirts tucked tidily into his khakis. He walked to Shelby, gave her a knuckle rap on the head, then kissed it.

  “Looks like a weekend breakfast in the middle of the week.” He got out a mug. “Sucking up?” he asked Shelby.

  “I am.”

  “Good job.”

  • • •

  SHE DID HER BARTER DAY with Tracey and took the girls to the park so Emma Kate could come by, have a little picnic with them on her lunch hour and finally meet Callie.

  “When I was a little girl, Emma Kate was my very best friend, like you and Chelsea.”

  “Did you have tea parties?” Callie asked Emma Kate.

  “We did, and picnics just like this.”

  “You can come to Gamma’s house for a tea party.”

  “I would absolutely love to.”

  “Gamma saved Mama’s tea set so we can use it.”

  “Oh, the one with the violets and little pink roses?”

  “Uh-huh.” Callie’s eyes rounded owlishly. “We have to be careful not to break it ’cause it’s deliquit.”

  “Delicate,” Shelby corrected.

  “Okay. We’re going to swing now. Let’s go swing, Chelsea!”

  “She’s beautiful, Shelby. Beautiful and bright.”

  “She’s all of that. She’s my very best thing. Emma Kate, do you have some time after work? There’s some things I still need to tell you. Just you.”

  “All right.” Since she’d been expecting this—or hoping for it—Emma Kate already had a plan. “We could take a hike up to the Outlook like we used to. I’m off at four today, so I could meet you at the trailhead at maybe four-fifteen.”

  “That’d be perfect.”

  Emma Kate watched Callie run around the swings with Chelsea. “If I had somebody like that depending on me, there’s a lot I’d do I wouldn’t do otherwise.”

  “And a lot you don’t do you would do otherwise.”

  “Mama! Mama! Push us. Push us, Mama! I want to go high!”