The Tell-Tale Con

by Aimee Gilchrist

  I was no expert in gestation, but I would have pegged her as about twenty-six months pregnant, give or take. She closed the door behind us and waddled off to her husband. She didn’t ask who I was. I had no idea what that meant, though. Harrison moved into the formal living room, a tiny receiving area to the right of the door, and flopped on to a black microfiber couch with crumbs all over it.

  Eying the mess suspiciously, graham crackers, I thought, I elected to stay where I was. Three children, the oldest a boy about seven and two girls about six or so, ran past us screaming. Literally screaming. They didn’t look our way. They bounded by and then pounded up the stairs, making enough noise with their footfalls to be three large and angry men, rather than three elementary school aged kids.

  Mark, who was on his way out to us, didn’t react at all to their passing him or to their screaming. Maybe they had a special yell for real emergencies. He didn’t look at them, except for a vague smile when one of them stepped on his foot on the way past.

  Weird.

  I was still reserving judgment, but I had no idea what to make of what I was seeing. Mark came into the room and brushed off the crumbs carelessly, dropping into the spot he’d cleared.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  He finally seemed to notice me, and his eyes slanted suspiciously. He glanced at Harrison and then back at me and arrived at the same conclusion as everyone else. “Who is this again?”

  He said it like a dad would tease a kid about their newest romantic conquest. In a minute there would be eyebrow waggling.

  “This is Talia Jones.” Harrison didn’t bother to correct Mark’s obvious jump to the wrong conclusion. Maybe it was easier to explain me away when people operated under that misconception.

  Mark smiled at me benignly, and as hard as I looked, I could see no malice in him. In fact, all I could see was a contented family man kicking back in his house, not at all concerned about why we might be there. He had nothing to hide, as far as I could tell. But I wasn’t ready to dismiss him yet.

  “How many kids do you have?” I asked.

  “We have six. Two more on the way. We adopted a sibling group of two before we started having our own. Then we had our first baby, which turned out to be babies. Then when Dora got pregnant again, it was babies again.” He laughed. “The doctor says it’s practically statistically impossible, but this pregnancy makes three sets of naturally occurring twins. We’re pretty sure we aren’t willing to risk it again after this.”

  He didn’t sound like he thought it was much of a risk though. If I had eight kids I would kill myself, but he sounded proud of his very noisy children. I could hear them upstairs, still screaming.

  His wife, whom he introduced as Dora, came back into the living room and perched on the end of an easy chair. Harrison must have been enough of a regular here that they hadn’t bothered to ask why he’d come. Unless Harrison had broken the rules and called ahead. But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  I decided to start the ball rolling, though this was supposed to be Harrison’s court. “So Harrison tells me that you used to be a stuntman.”

  There was no hint of discomfort or unhappiness in his face when I said it. He merely reached up and grabbed his wife’s hand across the arms of their respective seats. It was an unconscious movement, something he did because she was there and he could reach her and it was their way. There was nothing in it that suggested he was uncomfortable and looking for support.

  “I did. But that was years ago.”

  “Did you, like, get bored or something?”

  Mark, again, did not react as though he was bothered by the question, though Harrison did, shooting me eye daggers across the room. “No, I was injured. Doing a stunt. I couldn’t do my old job anymore, so I found a new one.”

  I turned to Dora. “How was that? Did you mind the job change? That must have been cool being married to a stuntman.”

  She laughed slightly and glanced at the carpet. I didn’t sense she had anything to hide either, but I didn’t suspect her anyway. Just her husband. “I wasn’t married to him at the time. Though I certainly knew him.”

  Mark smiled at his wife, and there was a tenderness between them that was visible.

  And kind of disgusting.

  “I was married to someone else,” he told me, turning his attention my way. “A playboy bunny, actually. Tyffanii. With two i’s at the end. She was not pleased about my accident. When she heard I would be finding new employment, she was out of there. She was gone before I got out of the hospital.”

  Dora smirked. “Stupid girl. Of course, I’d been sitting around waiting for Mark to notice me since second grade. I swooped in for the kill immediately.” She dimpled at her husband, and he cocked an eyebrow at her, and I didn’t know whether to be touched or to throw up.

  “Dora’s been my best friend since we were kids. If it wasn’t for the accident, I never would have noticed she’s a girl.” The look he cast her way was seriously not for my young eyes. “She’s definitely a girl.”

  Wow. How could I make this stop?

  It was obvious, even to me, that Mark was not missing his old life of danger and glamour. The guy couldn’t be more content and husbandly if he were Mormon. Then again, what did I know? Maybe he was. That might explain everything about this pair.

  Harrison sighed. “Mark, I need to talk to you.”

  Mark leaned forward in his seat, responding to the seriousness in Harrison’s voice. He looked at me cautiously, and I could read on his face, as clearly as if he’d said it out loud, that he feared I was pregnant. As if.

  “Someone is trying to kill me.”

  It wasn’t what Mark had been expecting to hear, and it took him a second to switch gears from my tragic teenage gestation to attempted murder. “What?”

  “Someone is trying to kill me. I’ve been run over and shot at. I don’t think they’re going to stop until they kill me or I stop them. I think that same person killed Nate.”

  “Have you gone to the police?” Mark demanded.

  “Actually, the police think I killed Nate. They aren’t much inclined to believe me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Dora scoffed.

  “Well, they don’t think so. I’m kind of on my own figuring out who might have killed Nate so that they don’t also kill me.”

  “I don’t like this, Harrison,” Mark said.

  “I don’t like it either.” There was the slightest hint of amusement in Harrison’s voice.

  “Who would hate Van enough to want to take their revenge out on Harrison?” I asked.

  Dora glanced up at me, and the last few minutes finally clicked into place for her. “Oh, my goodness. That wasn’t a conversation. That was an interrogation.”

  I shrugged unapologetically. “We have to check everyone. If it makes you guys feel any better, Harrison was not into the idea of questioning Mark. I had to drag him over here.”

  Mark nodded. “It’s fine. It was reasonable to ask. But if you are looking for people who hate Van, the list is long.”

  Literally. But he didn’t know that. “Who would be your first instinct? Who hates Van the very most?”

  Mark threw up his hand. “I don’t know. I’d check with his ex-wives. Hell, I’d check with his current wife. Being married to Van would make me want to kill someone.”

  It was amusing, but not particularly helpful. However, since I wanted to check Kanako out anyway, it was right where I was headed. “Please think hard. Any little detail might be much more important than you think. Call Harrison with anything you think of.”

  Mark stood when Harrison and I did. Dora tried to struggle out of her chair, but then gave up and stayed where she was. “I will,” Mark said. “Please be careful. If you need anything you call me. I’m not the head of your father’s security team for nothing. What does your dad think of this anyway?”

  Harrison shrugged. “Nothing, because I haven’t told him. He’s out of town anyway. Maybe Ka
nako has told him. I mean, she was with me at the police station. But I don’t know.”

  Mark looked like he wanted to follow us out to the car and then maybe to wherever we went next, but instead he led us to the door and opened it for us. “Maybe you should stay at home. No one can break into that place and hurt you.”

  Not unless they were a prostitute with twenty bucks, anyway. “I can’t do that. But I promise I’m being careful.”

  Probably we weren’t being careful enough. That would bear some thinking about. “Where are you going next?”

  “Ana’s.”

  I was surprised, but slightly pleased, when I saw the discomfort that flashed on Mark’s features. “Be careful with Ana, okay? She won’t take kindly if she thinks you remotely suspect her. She isn’t…she is less delicate than we might think.”

  I knew that was true, but it was heartening to hear from someone else. Maybe Harrison was more inclined to listen to Mark than he’d ever been to listen to me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Rules of the Scam #19

  Always be careful. Careful is how you steal from right under people’s noses and don’t get caught…

  We thanked Mark and Dora for their time and walked out together in silence. Mark caught Harrison’s arm, and Harrison fell behind. I didn’t listen, merely walked on ahead, but I saw that Mark’s expression was serious. Once Harrison joined me in the car, we both spoke at once.

  “I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to leave the questioning to you. I wanted to get it out of the way.”

  “Mark wants to follow me around.”

  Harrison didn’t respond to my apology so I moved on to his comment.

  “Are you going to let him?” I asked, curious if he’d let someone protect him.

  Harrison scoffed. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m not.”

  I sat back and considered that while he drove. We weren’t being careful enough. But that didn’t mean our behavior was likely to change. I wasn’t going to tell my mom, if someone was trying to kill me, let alone Harrison. His parents were out of town, and he didn’t seem to want anyone else involved. I had to wonder why.

  We got back on the highway and headed east, toward the mountains. What were we doing? Did we honestly think that we could figure out who killed Nate? I hadn’t been hired for that exactly. Just to find out who was doing the whole demon thing. Could I figure the murder out too? Maybe. But I wasn’t sure we could do it before Harrison got arrested or got dead.

  “Why aren’t you asking anyone for help, Harrison?” I asked as he pulled off onto the Tramway exit again.

  He glanced at me, surprised. “I did. I asked you.”

  I sighed, unsure if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he was that naïve. “In case it has escaped your notice, I’m seventeen. You’re seventeen. Together that doesn’t make us thirty-four!”

  His eyebrows arched comically. “I’m surprised at you Talia. You don’t exactly strike me as the ‘go begging for help’ type. Plus you’re the one who said you could figure this stuff out.”

  “I said I could figure out the demon thing! Not a murder. This is the first time in my life someone is trying to kill the person I’m with. So that is kind of a game changer, I’m thinking.”

  It was his turn to sigh. “I’ve already told the police. I told them everything. Well, not what we were doing, but everything about the car and the attempts on my life and the supposition that Nate might have been killed by the same person trying to kill me. Do you know how much they cared? Not at all.”

  Yeah, that was a question I could have answered without his help. Cops were never there when you needed them, but always around when you were trying to get some old dude to sign his baseball card collection over to you.

  “I won’t tell my dad. He wouldn’t believe me, and if he did, I’m not sure he’d actually care. I won’t freak out my mom. She couldn’t do anything from India anyway. And I’m not sure I trust Kanako. She was nice when the police were accusing me, but then when we got home it was like I’d never said anything at all. I don’t know what she thinks, but I’m sure it isn’t that I’m telling the truth.”

  Yeah. There was no one. Except Mark, and Harrison had turned him down. But when I got home I’d see about that one. Even if Harrison wasn’t into the idea of an armed guard, I was kind of getting into it. I just couldn’t let him know.

  We drove down Tramway until we reached a section of upscale townhomes, all contemporary, tall and thin, lined up on both sides of the road. Harrison pulled into one of the complexes, a half dozen two-story places made entirely of glass, metal and weird, jutting geometric shapes, like some kind of giant art sculpture that no one actually understands.

  “Okay, this time I want you to let me do the talking,” Harrison said.

  I shrugged. He didn’t know it, but I had nothing I wanted to say to Ana at this juncture. I still wasn’t certain what her game was, and I didn’t want her looking too closely at me. Though, I couldn’t imagine why I cared if she managed to influence Harrison into never seeing me again. He was just my lab partner.

  Or whatever.

  Feeling distinctly surly, I followed Harrison to a townhouse in the middle of the complex. The one with orange triangles sticking out all over it, like a horrible, horrible accident waiting to happen.

  He rang the doorbell and shuffled his foot while he waited, looked up and down the parking lot and then at his watch. He was nervous. He either wasn’t as sure of Ana as he pretended to be, or he was intimidated by her wrath, despite being very fond of her.

  It took another ring and a decent wait before Ana finally showed up at the door wearing an electric blue silk caftan like she was an actress from 1941. Of course, she looked amazing in it. Not exotic enough for Van, though. Was being slighted enough to kill over? Probably. But enough to kill a person’s child over?

  Her surprise seemed sincere. I wasn’t sure she’d noticed me at first. “Harrison? What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.”

  She finally noticed me, and her eyes narrowed. She looked old and hard instead of mysterious and dramatic. I had no doubt that I looked every bit as hard whenever someone bothered to really see me. Maybe just not quite so old. I thought, for a second, that she was going to refuse to allow me in and make me wait in the car like a dog. But finally she opened the door wider and gestured for us to pass.

  I could feel the frigidity coming off her in waves as I passed. Neither one of us said anything to each other though. She wasn’t willing to reveal her hand yet, and neither was I. Dealing with Harrison was hard enough without him knowing that I had grown up as a crook with a dubious lineage.

  Inside Ana’s house, the AC was cranked up so high I was actually shivering. I should have brought a sweater. If only I had known we’d be dropping in for a visit on Frosty the Snowman. She favored muted colors and soft angles which surprised me considering the design of the building. The stuff that had come with the house was smooth and sharp, but everything she owned was soft and nubby. A fat orange tom cat glanced up at us and then returned to his grooming with a disdainful toss of his head.

  Harrison sat down on the brown tweed couch, but I stayed where I was. Close to the door and ever watchful. “Ana, I’ve got a problem.”

  I was surprised he was planning to tell her the truth, but then again what could it hurt? If she was the killer, she would already know that he was aware of his situation, and she’d feel soothed, as though he still trusted her. If she wasn’t the killer then she might know something helpful.

  “What kind of problem?” Like Mark, Ana’s eyes immediately darted to me. But I could see she was anticipating an entirely different kind of problem than Mark had. Good. At least she was wary of me, and that gave me a little bit of power.

  “Someone is trying to kill me.”

  She didn’t react with horror the way Mark and Dora had. In fact, she barely reacted at all. Her nose crinkled very slightly, and h
er eyes narrowed. It was an expression that could mean anything, but certainly didn’t scream out her concern for Harrison and his situation. “What makes you think that?”

  Briefly, he explained Nate’s murder, the attempts on his life and the reaction of the police. Her expression never changed during the entire story. When he was finished, it was as though someone flipped a switch, and I knew I wasn’t seeing sincerity. I had to wonder if Ana, like me, was so far gone she was no longer sure what sincerity was.

  “Why didn’t you tell someone before? Oh my goodness, you poor little thing. Tell me what I can do for you. Right now. You’re not leaving until you let me help you with something.”

  Like the ingesting of poison?

  “Actually, you can help me with something. I need your opinion on who might hate Dad enough to want to kill me to get back at him.”

  The corner of Ana’s lip twitched. She was restraining a smile, as though the question were funny. “Harrison, you know your dad is kind of…hard to work with. I mean, anyone might hate him. He isn’t exactly a friend of the people. But I can’t imagine anyone I know, and I know almost everyone that Van does, trying to kill you because your father is…difficult.”

  I wondered why she was picking such delicate words when she hadn’t been nearly as tender on the set. She’d come right out and called him names. Now she was acting as though she would never have said something like that. I watched her hard, but I couldn’t see any outward signs she was trying to kill Harrison off, but I also didn’t see any outward signs that screamed at me she was innocent. Not like I’d seen with the others. I still didn’t trust her.

  “I need you to please think hard and then bring me a list of the people who really, really hate my dad. Could you do that for me?”

  “Well, I guess, but Harrison…the list will be rather long.”

  Harrison nodded. “I know. So was mine.”

  There was something so sad about that, that I brutally had to squelch my sympathy and aim a hard look at the concrete floors. I wasn’t going to feel sorry for Harrison. His life was no better or worse than mine was. And sympathy was for friends. And losers.