Liquid Lies

by Lois Lavrisa

  Detective Wurkowski glared at me. “Ms. Coe you’re free, for now. Don’t leave Round Lake.”

  “Do you miss Francesca?” Detective Gentry asked as he held open the door to the interrogation room.

  I nodded yes. The memories of her weaved in my thoughts constantly. No matter what happened to our relationship, I had always loved her. I made my way to the lobby.

  Mark sat in one of the chairs lining the wall.

  As soon as he saw me he got up. “Oh my God. You’re free. I heard what happened. Hell, the whole town heard what happened. Did they strip search you? Were you in the slammer? Were there any other criminals trying to rough you up?”

  “No, it wasn’t that much fun. It was just questioning.”

  “I know you’re innocent.” His voice was loud.

  Shushing him until we were out of earshot, I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down to my eye level. “Cool it for a while, please?” I was afraid Mark would spill some information I didn’t reveal to the police. I whispered, “I’m fine.”

  “But why you?” Mark said quietly as we exited the station.

  “Francesca kept a journal. In it she alluded to the secret she and I had. And some other things as well. Now the police think that I may have had the motive to kill her.”

  “That’s ridiculous, you didn’t kill her. You killed the trucker,” Mark added.

  Whipping my head around, I glared at Mark. “Thanks for the discretion.” No one was in earshot.

  A TV4 van pulled up and out popped Paul the news anchor. The TV station must have had a police scanner.

  “I think we better get out of here,” Mark said pointing to the TV4 truck.

  “You read my mind,” I said.

  “Of course I did. I’m the peanut butter to your jelly.”

  “Yes you are,” I said. We might as well be compared to a sandwich; we were doing a crappy job of playing detective.

  “Where to?” he said.

  “My house.”

  “Let’s take the long way. We’ll lose them.”

  Mark and I walked through small alleys while we made our way to Estelle’s house. Even if the whole town knew about my having been brought in for questioning, I didn’t want it broadcast to the tricity area.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was after nine in the evening when Mark walked me to Estelle’s house. “I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

  “Oh wait it gets better. I heard that the weapon may have been discovered,” Mark said.

  “What was it?”

  “I’ll know tonight. Listen I have to get back to the funeral home. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Of course, I’m back home.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for being you.” I watched him walk down the sidewalk.

  Estelle and Hazel were waiting for me when I arrived. I briefed them on what happened, and tried to ease their worries. They agreed that the police made a huge mistake to even think for a minute that I could commit murder.

  Hazel decided to spend the night. I insisted she have my room while I took the fold out sofa. She said she wouldn’t let anyone bring me in any more for questioning on her watch.

  I felt better being here, with people I loved and with Skipper in my own home. My own cozy life. Soon all this would change. Once I could prove that Jacob was Francesca’s killer, I would have to disclose how I knew, thereby implicating myself in the murder four years ago.

  But if that’s what I needed to do, I’d do it when the time came. Finally do the right thing like I’d wanted to four years ago. On the other hand, if for some reason Jacob was not the killer, then I would keep our secret buried. Like Francesca had wanted it to be. Protect her father’s reputation and ours.

  What could I do now? It was a little past ten in the evening. My body was exhausted, but my mind raced. There would be no way I could sleep. I needed answers. I needed facts. My cell rang. I answered it.

  “I called to check on you. Are you okay?” Jacob asked.

  Hearing his voice I felt a toxic combination of sexual excitement and fear. I liked him as much as I felt that I should hate him. “As good as I can be for having been publicly disgraced,” I said.

  “Don’t be. The police have been questioning everyone they can, nonstop. The whole town’s on edge,” Jacob added. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “They’re just doing their job. There’s a killer on the loose,” I said. As much as I didn’t want to talk to him, I loved hearing his deep soothing voice. He was so kind. Surely he couldn’t be the killer. I had to know for certain if he was or was not.

  “You’re assuming the killer is still in town?” he asked.

  “Of course. They say that most criminals never leave the scene of the crime,” I said.

  “Perhaps this person was smart and high tailed it out of here after it happened,” he added.

  “Possibly. But let’s go back to the theory that he’s still in town,” I baited him.

  “Why do you think it’s a he?” Jacob asked.

  “A she would never decapitate anyone. That’s a gruesome macho killing,” I speculated.

  “Have you never heard of Patricia “Katie” Krenwinkel, the Tate-LaBianca murders in 1969?”

  “Her name sounds familiar,” I said.

  “She was with Charles Manson. You know the whole thing with him and the Beatles song ‘Helter Skelter?’”

  “I guess they’re some horrible female killers. But my point is that Francesca was killed by a man,” I said.

  “What’s your proof?” he asked.

  I didn’t have any. But I thought I’d bluff him and see if he fell for it. “I found a clue connected to the murder. It’s near the pavilion.”

  “I’m sure the police found it. They’ve scoured every inch within miles,” Jacob said.

  “Oh no, this isn’t a spot they would’ve looked.” My heart pounded so hard it felt like it could jump out of my chest. I had to think of something quick.

  “And where might this spot be?” Jacob said.

  “By the ticket booth. I was planning on leaving right now to take a look,” I improvised.

  “Why didn’t you just tell the police while they were questioning you?” Jacob asked.

  Damn. Think. Think.

  “I’m sort of on their suspect list. I wanted to make sure the clue would lead them to the killer, before I told them,” I lied.

  My call waiting clicked. It was Mark. Thank goodness. I needed him as backup if my plan went wrong. “Listen I have to go now.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Jacob asked.

  After you follow me to the pavilion tonight and I get the police to arrest you, I’ll be just fine. “I’m okay. Feeling better every moment.” I hung up and clicked over to Mark’s call.

  “Did you hear the latest? The police have pulled three more people in for questioning,” Mark said.

  “They’re on a mission. I’m sure they’re feeling pressure from Mayor Pike. Everyone wants to get this solved.” I wanted it more than anyone.

  “Come to think of it, this is wrecking tourist season too. Which means all the hotels and businesses may suffer, so they’re bearing down on the mayor too. Listen, I’ve got another few minutes here then I can wrap up. What are you doing?” Mark asked.

  I told him how I was luring Jacob to the pavilion and that I was heading over there.

  “I’ll meet you there as soon as I finish up. I’ve got more details about the weapon, but I’ll wait to tell you when I see you tonight.”

  “Hey Mark,” I added.

  “Yeah?” Mark replied.

  “Thanks for always being there for me. You’re my best friend ever.”

  “What about Francesca?”

  “She was my best friend. You are my best friend.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I meandered along the lighted sidewalk to the pavilion. A gust rustled through the trees sending leaves fluttering onto the ground. Pulling my jacket tighter, I
sped up my pace. The full moon shone down, illuminating the tips of the branches, adding an eerie glow to the night.

  Thoughts ping-ponged in my head. Would Jacob be at the pavilion? What would I say or do if he was? ‘Ha Ha. The murderer is the carpenter, at the pavilion with a….’ But this was not a game of Clue. This was real life. I had to be smart. Think this through.

  Once he realized I had pegged him, would he try to kill me too?

  Mark was going to meet me, so it made sense to wait until he arrived. Then at least I’d have a backup. Surely, Jacob wouldn’t kill us both.

  As I waited for Mark near the pavilion, I took in the surroundings. The police tape was down. The dock and pavilion were open again. But this late at night there was little activity. There was a smattering of people on the dock. A couple walked hand in hand under the moonlight near the shoreline. A lone man sat on a bench overlooking the lake. Across the street, music poured from H&K’s.

  Scanning the surrounding area, I didn’t see either Mark or Jacob. Was I wrong about him being the killer? Or was he just too smart to fall for my trap? Did he know it was a trap? What was holding up Mark? A half hour went by while I cruised the area. I watched who arrived and who left. I tried Mark’s cell a couple of times and it went right to voice mail.

  In the distance a siren pierced the silence. Waves crashed against the dock. Taking in a deep breath, I was filled with the comforting earthy smell of the lake. How long should I wait? I didn’t have a plan B yet if my hoax didn’t work for snaring Jacob.

  My cell rang. The caller I.D. said Ken. I answered the call, “Hi, I’m glad that you called. I was thinking about you.”

  “Mark’s in the ER,” Ken interrupted.

  Numbness momentarily fogged my brain. “Oh my God. Is he okay?”

  “We don’t know for sure. It’s a head wound, he’s in ICU,” Ken said.

  “What happened?” I asked as my voice shook.

  “Someone found him lying unconscious outside the funeral home,” Ken said.

  Every part of my body felt tingly as though it was asleep. My legs felt like jelly.

  Trembling, I choked into the phone, “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On my way to the hospital I called Mark’s parents. They said they would get there as soon as they could, right after they left their daughter with neighbors. The nurses allowed me to enter Mark’s intensive care room. I sat next to him.

  Mark’s head was bandaged, an IV was hooked up to his arm and there were several other cords and monitors. His eyes were swollen. His breathing was shallow. Beeps and hums emitted from machines. I held his hand as tears trickled down my cheeks.

  “It’s going to be okay. It is. You’ll pull though this. You’ll be fine. It will all be fine.” I attempted to comfort him, hoping that he could hear me.

  As I watched Mark sleep, Ken entered the room. “He has a cranial fracture with internal bleeding,” he said as he checked on Mark.

  “But, he’ll be okay right?” I asked as I smoothed the blanket over Mark.

  Ken didn’t answer.

  “I mean, he can make a full recovery, right?” I continued as a lump in my throat formed.

  Ken gave me the look I knew all too well. The one that said ‘don’t be so naïve’.

  Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how demeaning that look can feel.

  “Why did you give me that look? Mark is going to be just fine.” I added as I gently touched the side of Mark’s face.

  “There’s no guarantee. With this type of injury, most patients struggle to make it through.” Ken jotted some notes on the clipboard. Before he left he said, “I’m really sorry CiCi.” He paused. “About everything.”

  Mark groaned and moved his head slightly to one side. His lips were dry and his face pale.

  “Hey Mark, it’s me,” I said.

  He did not respond.

  “You’re going to be fine. It’s just a little bump on the head. And since you have a thick head, you’ll come right out of this. No problem,” I added. If he heard me joke with him, like we always did, I hoped that it would encourage him.

  His lips parted.

  “Mark? Can you hear me? It’s CiCi.”

  In an almost inaudible whisper Mark muttered, “Not Jacob.”

  I waited for more. Nothing.

  “Mark, what do you mean it’s not Jacob? Not Jacob what?” I asked.

  Silence.

  “Mark, are you okay? C’mon now, don’t worry about anything but getting better. You don’t have to talk. Rest,” I implored. “I need you to pull through. I love you Mark and you’re going to be just fine. We’ll be back delivering mail on Monday morning just like nothing ever happened.”

  My throat felt tight as I stroked Mark’s arm. He felt cool to the touch. The aroma of rubbing alcohol permeated my nostrils and I cringed. The whole place smelled too sterile to me.

  I began to pray about Mark healing and getting out of bed and walking out of the hospital.

  After a few moments, Mark’s swollen eyes slid open very slightly.

  “Ask father,” Mark whispered through his chapped pale lips.

  “Ask father?” I repeated. “Your father? What do you want me to ask him? Listen, your parents are on the way, you can ask them yourself.”

  “Ask,” floated out in a soft breath from him.

  Machines around Mark began buzzing and beeping loudly as two nurses and one doctor rushed in with a cart full of equipment. I was ushered out of the room and told to wait in the reception area.

  I thought about what Mark said, “Not Jacob” and “Ask father.” I had no idea exactly what that meant. There were so many possibilities. Not Jacob could mean that Jacob did not hit him in the head. Or that Jacob did not kill Francesca, or that Jacob was not the blackmailer or that Jacob had nothing to do with anything.

  What puzzled me was “Ask father.” Whose father and what do I ask him? Surly Mark did not mean for me to ask father, like in Father O’Doul. I figured it had to do with Francesca’s death since he was helping me on that investigation. So I was going to assume he meant ask Francesca’s father.

  Now the next question was what should I ask Francesca’s father? It must be critically important for Mark to tell me in his state of mind.

  But what if everything that Mark said meant nothing at all? After all, he had a head injury, which could alter his thoughts.

  Mark’s parents joined me in the waiting room. I updated them on what I knew so far. We sat on the blue sofas near an area that smelled of disinfectant. We talked and drank some stale black coffee from the vending machine.

  Two hours went by before a doctor came out to see us. We rose to greet him. My legs were shaking and my heart pounded with such force that I heard it in my ears. I willed the doctor to say something wonderful.

  “He didn’t make it.” Were the last words I heard before I collapsed back into the couch as the room spun. I heard wailing. I think it came from me and his mom. The rest of the night was a blur.

  At one in the morning I left the hospital. I remember walking outside, not knowing what to do next, where I lived, if I even cared. So much sadness filled me that I felt close to exploding. I wanted to run. Turn back the hands of time.

  I begged God to make Mark better. I promised God that I would go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life, plus say a weekly rosary if he could make Mark better. At one point, I played around with the idea that the hospital made a huge mistake. That at any minute I would get a call: “Mark is just fine. Sorry for the terrible mix-up.”

  Numb and disconnected, I wandered further away from the hospital.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My heart could not take another blow. Before long, I found myself meandering in Jacob’s neighborhood. Everything felt upside down, I was adrift in a huge sea of ambiguity with no anchor of assurance. Grief saturated every cell in my body, strangling my soul, as though nothing mattered anymore. Or maybe never did. A light w
as on at Jacob’s townhouse. I don’t know what possessed me. I rang his doorbell.

  A disheveled and tired looking Jacob greeted me, guiding me in to his house. “A friend from the hospital called. I heard about Mark.”

  That was all it took. I fell into his arms and sobbed like a baby as he held me. The need to feel allied with someone was so overwhelming that I held his face in my hands and kissed him.

  He kissed me back with a fierce passion that I hadn’t felt in years. Thankful to feel anything other than pain and sadness, I abandoned any of my moral constraints on being appropriate, and concentrated solely on feeling connected to another human.

  “Are you sure this is what you want right now?” Jacob said as he nuzzled my neck.

  “Yes,” I said. Hell if I knew, I thought.

  Even if I regretted it tomorrow, I needed this now.

  He gently picked me up, as we continued to kiss, and carried me to his bedroom.

  ***

  “You look amazing in the morning,” Jacob said as he kissed my back.

  His bedroom was filled with the early morning sunlight. The pale green sheets were tangled around our feet, and he lay spooned behind me. The heat from his body penetrated my back.

  I turned toward him, and smelled a faint scent of musk.

  “Is this the part where I slink away full of shame and remorse for letting you have your way with me?” I looked into his emerald eyes surrounded by thick dark eyelashes.

  “As I remember it, it was you who showed up at my door and took advantage of me.” Jacob traced a finger down my stomach and then slowly ran it back up to my breasts.

  “And now when we run into each other we have to look the other way, both full of regret for the one night stand. I will hang my head in shame every time I see you,” I touched his silky dark hair.

  “Absolutely,” Jacob smiled as he lowered himself over me. “But first we must reenact the crime, so you’ll know for sure what it is you should be ashamed of.”

  “I could be up for that.”

  “You know what,” he asked.