Liar Liar

by Nancy Boyarsky

  No doubt Mary Ellen’s virginal, fundamentalist appearance was what Women Against Rape needed for a case like this. She looked like someone a jury would want to protect against a big, hulking athlete. Nicole wondered how much race would weigh in this trial since Doshan was African American and Mary Ellen was white. Even in this post-millennium age—in the bluest of blue states—race prejudice was very much alive. And the Santa Monica jury pool was overwhelmingly white.

  They exited the elevator; Nicole led the way to a door at the end of the hall and unlocked it with the key card she’d picked up earlier. Impressed by the size of the suite, Nicole had inquired at the desk and discovered it was costing Women Against Rape a staggering $1250 a night. But that probably was a pittance compared to the cost of bringing this case to court.

  Once inside, Mary Ellen collapsed into a chair and blew an upward breath that lifted her bangs off her forehead. For the first time, she seemed to notice Nicole.

  “Oh, my goodness!” she said, in her high, little-girl voice. “That was awful! It isn’t going to be like that at the courthouse, is it?”

  Nicole took this in, the “my goodness” instead of the “Oh, my god” or “wtf” most girls Mary Ellen’s age would use.

  “I’m afraid there will be a lot of media,” Nicole said, “but you’ll be using a side door, and security will keep them away. While you’re here for the trial, the media will be looking for you. They’ll want to ask questions and take your picture. So it’s probably best if you stay in the hotel when you’re not in court. If you go out, the paparazzi will find you. As you saw, it’s pretty unpleasant to be cornered by them.”

  Mary Ellen straightened up and looked at her incredulously. “What about my friends? We have plans. I mean, I’m free to go out if I want, aren’t I?”

  “Of course,” Nicole said. “You’re not our prisoner. Your lawyer will be here in a few minutes. You can ask her advice about going out, that kind of thing.” She got up, heading for the minibar. “I’m going to have a Coke. Do you want something?”

  “No, thanks,” Mary Ellen was quiet for a moment, then said, “Um, what—? I mean, are you staying here with me, ma’am? I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but are you, like, my babysitter or something?”

  Nicole shook her head. “My job is to get you settled. Joanne, the woman who was supposed to pick you up today, is sick. She’s the one who arranged for the limousine. She reserved this hotel suite so you’d have a place to stay where the media can’t find you. She’ll be out for a day or two, so I’m filling in. If you want anything, I’ll help you get it. I’m here to make sure you’re safe and comfortable. But I’m certainly not your babysitter.”

  This wasn’t true. Nicole’s job was to stay close, keep an eye on the girl, and look after her needs. More importantly, she was to make sure Mary Ellen, who was young and inexperienced, didn’t get into the clutches of the media or into any kind of trouble. In fact, Nicole was Mary Ellen’s babysitter, and “babysitting” was the informal term the firm used for this assignment.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang. Nicole got up and looked through the peephole. It was Mary Ellen’s lawyer, Sue Price. She was a tall redhead, who’d helped Nicole when she’d been at the center of another case.

  Introductions were made, and the three of them settled in the sitting room. The decor was both luxurious and informal. The restful blues, greens, and golds echoed the colors outside, visible through French doors that led to a small balcony.

  After some small talk, Sue repeated what Nicole had told Mary Ellen about sticking close to the hotel.

  “What about my friends?” Mary Ellen repeated. Her face had gone pink again, and her lower lip trembled. “We were planning to go to Hollywood and, like, see the clubs. Are you saying I can’t go?”

  “I’m simply advising you.” Sue spoke softly, but her voice was firm. “I strongly recommend you stay out of the public eye, Mary Ellen. The paparazzi are on the lookout for you. They hang around those Hollywood clubs, looking for celebrities. It won’t be much fun with people poking microphones in your face, asking questions about what happened to you.

  “I know!” Sue’s tone brightened, “Why don’t you invite your friends up here? Nicole can stay in her room, and you’ll have the place to yourselves. Order anything you want from room service and rent some movies.” She gestured toward an enormous TV mounted on the wall.

  Mary Ellen pulled a tissue out of her purse, dabbed her eyes, and blew her nose. “That’s a good idea, ma’am,” she said. “Maybe we’ll do that. I’m pretty tired anyway.”

  “I want to explain two very important matters,” Sue said. “First and most important, do not talk to anyone, especially the media. If someone approaches you, even to ask how you are, tell them you’ve been advised by your attorney not to answer any questions. Have them call me, all right?”

  The girl, staring out the window, gave no response.

  “Mary Ellen,” Sue persisted, “are you with me?”

  The girl turned toward Sue and flushed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m listening. I’m just so tired. It’s been such an awful day.”

  “I know,” Sue said, “and I’m sorry about that. I just want to be sure you remember not to discuss this case with anyone. Not your friends and especially not the media or anyone associated with the accused.”

  Sue sat forward in her seat, intent on keeping the girl’s attention. “On Monday, you’ll be delivered to court. I’ll be there. This first day is voir dire. That’s when the lawyers select jurors to hear the case. Voir dire could take most of the day. Your only job is to sit quietly and look like a sweet, innocent girl who’s been terribly wronged. Image is important to jurors. You want them to like you.” Sue paused to study the girl. “Do you have any questions?”

  “No, ma’am. I understand. I have to look like a nice girl who’s been victimized. I’ll do my part. I promise.”

  “Good,” said Sue. “And that gold cross you have around your neck? Perfect. Be sure to wear it to court. That’s all for now. Nicole, why don’t you walk me to the elevator. I have a couple of things I want to go over with you.”

  Nicole picked up her key card and followed Sue into the hall.

  “What do you think?” Sue said as they walked toward the elevator.

  “Well, she certainly looks the part,” Nicole said. “She makes the perfect poster child for the Women Against Rape organization. But I feel bad for her. She was completely freaked by the media at the airport. Did anyone let her know what she was in for?”

  “Of course,” Sue said. “They described the whole process, even the fact that the defense team would try to dredge up dirt to make her look like a tramp. She insisted she was up for it.” Sue drew in a deep breath. “I just hope she stays put and keeps her mouth shut.”

  “She was pretty shaken up by the scene at the airport,” Nicole said. “I doubt she’ll step foot outside.”

  They were both silent, watching the elevator’s progress on the display. The car was making a long stop on the third floor.

  “I’ve been wondering,” Nicole said. “Where are her parents in all this? You’d think they’d be here to support her.”

  “Her parents are divorced,” Sue said. “Neither has much money. Her mother is a waitress; she was afraid she’d lose her job if she took time off. Her father’s some kind of handyman; he’s refused to have much to do with Mary Ellen since the civil case was filed. Hard to tell what that’s about. Mary Ellen is on her own.”

  Sue stabbed the button for the elevator again. “By the way, WAR is sending a lawyer of their own to chair. I’m local counsel.”

  “War?” Nicole said.

  “WAR is the acronym for Women Against Rape. At demonstrations, they wear T-shirts and hats identifying themselves as WARiors. It has a certain ring to it.” Sue paused and gave a smile. “And how’s Josh? How are the wedding plans going?”

  “Josh is great, but the wedding plans are still up in the air. All the best venues are booked
for June and July. We’re still trying to come up with a date,” Nicole said. “I wonder when Joanne will be able to take over with Mary Ellen. Have you heard anything?”

  “Not a word,” Sue said. “Why don’t you call and ask?”

  “Good thought,” Nicole said. “I’m dying to get home.”

  “I don’t blame you,” said Sue. “If I had someone as gorgeous as Josh waiting for me…”

  Not for the first time, it struck Nicole how little she knew about the attorney’s personal life. Sue was tall and beautiful. But she didn’t wear a wedding ring, and although she had family photos in her office, they included no one who looked like a significant other. She was a mystery to Nicole, who was always curious about people. She’d looked Sue up on one of her office’s databases but had found little other than Sue’s law credentials, professional affiliations, home address, and date of birth, which was about fifteen years earlier than Nicole would have guessed.

  With anyone else, Nicole would have simply asked. Yet, despite her warmth, Sue had an air of formality that discouraged questions about her personal life.

  The elevator arrived, and Sue reached out to give Nicole a hug before stepping inside. As the door started to close, she said, “Take care, Nicole. Keep an eye on that girl.”

  “Will do. See you Monday. Good luck with the case. Or is it unlucky to say that?”

  “What makes you think luck has anything to do with it?” Sue laughed. The elevator door closed, and Nicole headed back to the room.

  Two

  Back in the suite, the sitting room was empty. The door to one of the bedrooms was closed, and Mary Ellen seemed to be on the phone. Nicole could hear the low murmur of her voice but couldn’t make out what the girl was saying.

  Outside, the sky was growing dim as sunset approached. Nicole checked her watch. It wasn’t yet 6:00 p.m., but in mid-March, the days were short. She opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside. She could see the busy traffic on Ocean Boulevard directly below. On the other side of the road, the beach was relatively deserted. The palms lining the beach and city streets were gangly and almost comical from ground level. From her tenth-floor balcony, Nicole looked down on two of these trees. Their green, arching fronds ruffled gracefully in the wind. They leaned toward each other, like lovers waiting to watch the sun set behind the mountains.

  She took in a breath of salt-scented air and waited. The water turned slate gray as the light waned. To her right was the Santa Monica Pier, where twinkling lights delineated the merry-go-round and Ferris wheel. As the sun sank, it turned red, casting a deep pink glow in the water and the sky around it. It seemed to pause a few seconds, then slid behind the mountains; dusk arrived. The transformation had taken less than a minute.

  Without the sun, the temperature dropped, and Nicole went back inside. She helped herself to a bag of nuts and a small bottle of white wine from the minibar. All at once she remembered that she had to call Joanne to find out how she was feeling.

  After a couple of rings, Joanne picked up and croaked, “Hello.”

  “My god, Joanne,” Nicole said. “You sound awful.”

  “Not as awful as I feel. I think it’s the flu and it’s hit all systems. Sorry you got stuck filling in for me.”

  “That’s okay,” Nicole said. “I’m guessing you won’t be back tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think so. My temperature is 102. God, I sure hope this doesn’t drag on—” Joanne’s voice cut out. Then: “Oh-oh. I’ve got to go.” The phone went dead.

  Whoa, Nicole thought. This is not good. With the trial only two days away, she realized, she might very well get stuck with Mary Ellen when it began. She’d have to call Josh and let him know. She wasn’t afraid of his reaction. Not exactly. He was sweet natured, rarely cross or angry. But this one issue—the idea she might put herself in danger or within the sights of the tabloids—upset him.

  His attitude bothered her. The past was gone; there was nothing she could do about what had happened last year or the year before that. She’d learned from those experiences and had promised she’d keep out of harm’s way. Josh didn’t seem to believe her.

  Nicole hadn’t seen this side of him until she decided to take a job with Colbert and Smith Investigations. Josh had done his best to dissuade her. It took awhile to convince him that the firm bore no resemblance to the private detective agencies portrayed by Raymond Chandler. She’d be doing research on a computer and an occasional interview with a witness or expert of some kind. Her new firm’s assignments came from corporations and law firms. That meant she wouldn’t be dealing with criminals, putting her life in danger, or doing anything to attract the media. In deference to Josh’s concerns, she’d made it clear to Jerry, her new boss, that she wouldn’t babysit witnesses in high-profile trials.

  Yet here she was.

  At that moment, Nicole noticed that Mary Ellen’s room had gone silent. She went over and knocked on the door. “I’m going to order dinner from room service,” she said. “Why don’t you take a look at the menu?”

  “I’m not hungry, ma’am, but thanks for asking,” Mary Ellen said.

  “OK,” said Nicole. “Are your friends coming by?”

  “I’m too tired. I’m going to take a nap. I’ll probably sleep through ‘til morning. Y’all have a good night, ma’am.”

  “You, too,” said Nicole. “Sweet dreams.” Only after she said it, did she realize how unlikely this was.

  She ordered a salmon entree with a salad, then sat a long moment staring at the phone. At last she dialed Josh. He didn’t answer their home phone. That meant he was probably at the office. He was an architect and sometimes met clients in the evening. She called his cell, and he picked up.

  “Hey, you,” he said.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the office. I figured work was better than being home alone.”

  “Working, eh?” she said, in mock disbelief. “So you say.” They both laughed. “Do you have time to talk?”

  “My clients should be here any minute, but I’m yours until then.”

  When she told him about the media at the airport, he said, “Christ! Did anybody recognize you?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “They don’t care about me anymore. Oh, I did run into Albee. He sends his congratulations on our engagement. Listen, Joanne is still sick. Looks like I’m stuck here for at least another night, maybe two.”

  “Damn it, Nicole!” His tone was uncharacteristically irritable. “This kind of stuff makes me crazy. Call Jerry and tell him to get someone else.” There was a silence before he added, “Please!”

  “There is no one else. Joanne and I are the only women in the office this week. Besides, I’m already here. Stop worrying. We’re safe. The press has no idea where we are.”

  “Okay. Fine.” But there was an edge to his voice. “What about the trial? It’s day after tomorrow. What happens if Joanne’s still sick? You’ll end up in the courtroom, won’t you?”

  “No way! It’s up to her lawyers to look after her in court. I won’t have anything to do with that. I promise.”

  “I know what.” His tone softened. “I’ll sneak up for a visit. Climb in a window so nobody knows I’m there.”

  “Good idea,” she said. “Keep in mind we’re on the tenth floor.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said. “I’ll bring my Spider-Man gear. So, what’s this girl like?”

  Nicole lowered her voice, “Seems like the quintessential pious good girl. Actually calls me “ma’am,” if you’ll believe it. Straight from central casting. I don’t think she’s going to present any problems.”

  “I can’t wait until this is over.” He sighed. “I miss you. If you’re not home by tomorrow night, maybe I’ll have dinner with my folks.”

  “I’m sure Mum will enjoy having sonny boy to herself,” Nicole said. It rankled that Josh’s mother still didn’t like her. Oh, she made a pretense, calling Nicole “dear” and including her in the conversation. But N
icole could tell—when Carol’s cool gaze met hers—that she wished Josh had fallen for someone else, someone who wasn’t divorced, someone without a “past.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Josh had said, whenever Nicole brought it up. “Of course she likes you. It just takes her awhile to warm up.” Josh’s younger sister, Alison, had been more forthcoming. She’d explained that their mother had never liked any of Josh’s girlfriends, and Nicole shouldn’t take it personally. Even so, it was hard not to.

  “Hey, my clients are here,” he said. “Call me at bedtime, okay? I love you.”

  While Nicole waited for room service to deliver her meal, she went to the XHN website on her iPad. There at the top of the page, under a banner headline, was a story about the trial with a photo of Mary Ellen at the airport. Nicole could see her own arm around the girl’s shoulder. To her relief, the rest of her had been cropped out. Next to Mary Ellen’s photo was one of Doshan in his football uniform.

  She picked up the book she’d been reading, a thriller involving an emotionally damaged cop, his glamorous but inexperienced female partner, and a serial killer. After the events of the day, it was hard to focus, and she found herself thinking of Josh. For the first time—after a failed marriage and a doomed long-distance romance—she’d found the right guy.

  He was perfect, except for those moments when he became overly protective. But she was sure this would pass—once things were calm for a while and he finally understood that her past mishaps had been pure blind chance.

  She picked up her book and gave it another try, half listening for any sound from Mary Ellen’s room. The suite remained quiet. Around 10:30, Nicole began to doze off. She put down her book, called Josh to say goodnight, and went to bed.

  She was half asleep when she thought she heard the sound of a door closing. She went into the sitting room and turned on the light. Mary Ellen’s door was shut, and everything was just as Nicole had left it. Then she noticed that the chain lock wasn’t fastened. She secured it, went back to her room and fell asleep.