Bed of Lies (15 page)

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Williams,” Detective Nola said, all the while boring into her with those intense blue eyes.

“Good to see you, too,” she whispered reflexively, though it was far from the truth.

He turned to look up at Antonio. “If I have any further questions, I'll be in touch.”

Antonio nodded. “You know where to find us, Detective.”

They both watched as Detective Nola made his way down their brick walkway to the driveway. He then opened his car door. Paulette's gaze stayed locked on the Ford Taurus until it finally pulled off. When it disappeared around the corner, she whipped around to look at her husband.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, unable to hide the alarm in her voice.

Antonio casually stepped back into the foyer. “Why didn't you tell me a detective wanted to talk to me?” he asked in return instead of answering her question.

Paulette followed him inside and loudly swallowed. She shut the front door behind her.

The foyer lights were off. Only a shaft of light came from the kitchen and murky light filtered through the curtains of the windows along the foyer so that Antonio stood mostly in shadow. She could barely see his face. At that moment, he was a looming figure in the dark.

“I didn't . . . I didn't want to get you involved,” she answered shakily.

“But I
am
involved, aren't I?” He took a step toward her. “That guy is dead and the police still don't know who killed him. They're trying to pin the blame on somebody. I'm surprised it took them this long to figure out your connection to him but”—he shrugged—“then again, I didn't figure it out either, did I? Makes me feel a lot less stupid if even the cops didn't realize you two were having an affair. I'm not the only fool around here.”

She lowered her eyes. She guessed she deserved that jab.

“I didn't tell you that the detective wanted to talk to you because . . . because he needed you to verify that I was at home on the night of the murder. But I knew you . . .” Her words drifted off.

“You knew that I what?”

“I knew that you couldn't.” She took a deep breath and raised her eyes. “You weren't home that night.”

She watched as he inclined his head. “So . . . where do you think I was?”

“I . . . I have no idea. You wouldn't answer my phone calls.”

“Do you think I was at that guy's apartment?”

She didn't answer him. She couldn't answer without lying to him again or accusing him of something that was too horrible to consider.

“You think I murdered him, don't you?” He took another step toward her and she took a step back, almost bumping into the front door.

That was all the answer he needed.

Antonio suddenly reached for her and she moaned. She shifted her purse to cover her baby. She turned her face away to prepare herself for the impending blow. But instead of hitting her, instead of even touching her, he flicked the metal switch near her shoulder. The foyer was illuminated with light from the overhead chandelier. She could clearly see Antonio's face now. He didn't look angry. Instead, he looked sad and hurt.

“Do you really want to know where I was that night, Paulette? I was at my mom's. I lay awake in that little-ass bed in my old room for hours, thinking about what had happened. I couldn't believe you had cheated on me . . . and not just once, but for
months!
How the hell could you do that? I loved you. I damn near
adored
you and you did that to me!”

Her eyes dampened with tears again. She dropped her purse from her stomach, feeling ashamed that she had thought he was going to hurt her. “I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't—”

“And you cheated on me with some blackmailing, do-rag-wearing thug! You broke my goddamn heart for a sorry son of a bitch like that piece of shit! You stomped it into pieces! So that night I lay awake, deciding whether I would end our marriage or come home and try . . .
try
to make this work. I decided that, unlike you, I would stick to my vows—because I had promised to stick with you for better or for worse. I would try again. I came back.” He glared at her. “
That's
where I was that night, Paulette.
That's
where I was when I wasn't answering my phone!”

It all made sense now. He went to stay at Reina's house and his mother had probably welcomed him with open arms.

“What did that mean ol' bitch do to my boy?”
Reina would have asked.

Of course that was the first place Antonio would go if something went wrong in his life and he could no longer turn to his wife. How could Paulette have doubted him?

“So now you know where I was and why I came back. You know why I stayed, but what I can't figure out is why the hell you stay.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why the fuck are you still here if you think you're living with a murderer?” he shouted, then shook his head. “I saw the look on your face! You thought I was going to do something . . . that I was going to hurt you. How can you sleep in the same house with someone you're afraid of?”

She stared at him in amazement. Did he really have to ask her that question? Wasn't it obvious?

“Because . . . because I love you, Tony,” she answered softly.

He took a step back. His eyes flooded with emotions—heartbreak, longing, and maybe even love—then they went flat again. His expression hardened.

“Yeah, I'd like to believe that, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't have done what you did, Paulette. You wouldn't have lied to me all that time.” He turned around and headed to the staircase. “I left work early to do the interview with the detective, but I still have a few things to finish up. I'll be in my office.”

He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He abruptly paused to look back at her. “I lied to the detective, by the way,” he said over his shoulder. “I told him I was home the whole night. Your alibi is covered.” He then continued to climb to the second floor.

When she heard his office door slam shut, Paulette let her purse drop to the floor and her head fall back against the door.

Chapter 14

Terrence

T
errence sat poolside, reclined on a beach chair, watching as more than a dozen or so kids splashed and yelled as they played and tossed beach balls into the water. One did a cannonball off the springboard. Another shot a double-barreled water gun at a little girl with cornrows who screamed with delight. Two sat on the edge of the pool, sucking from helium balloons and talking to each other in cartoonish voices.

Just as many adults stood along the edge of the Olympic-sized pool, mingling and enjoying hors d'oeuvres that Terrence suspected probably weren't usually served at eight-year-olds' birthday parties. He thought he could safely assume that boudin balls and charbroiled oysters weren't on the menu at Chuck E. Cheese's.

Most of the parents tried to look blasé and casual as the children played, though a few of the adults and kids stared at the sights around them, absolutely gobsmacked.

Terrence drank from his beer bottle and chuckled as he watched them. They had a right to look stunned. Even when he stepped through the doors of Murdoch Mansion and saw all the decorations and hubbub, his mouth had fallen open.

It looked like Evan and Leila had gone above and beyond for Isabel's party. In addition to more than a hundred or so helium balloons and streamers, there was also a hip-hop DJ blasting tunes, a three-foot-tall cupcake tower, a mini-carousel ride near the tennis courts, a clown, a juggler, and a mini petting zoo with a pony and donkey available for rides. They had also set up cabanas alongside the pool where the parents were served signature cocktails and lobster and the kids sampled corndogs and popcorn.

Terrence smiled and sucked his fingers as he finished the last of his lobster po'boy. His empty plate was promptly taken away by a waiter dressed like Jafar from the movie
Aladdin
. He hadn't seen a party this big since his sister's wedding. Terrence glanced to his side just as Evan plopped onto the beach chair next to him. His smile widened into a grin.

“You went all-out for this one, Ev,” Terrence said, nudging his brother's shoulder. “Is a marching band going to show up next, or the Rockettes?”

“Who knows?” Evan muttered flippantly. “We've got everything just short of a marching band and the Rockettes, but my instructions were to give Isabel pretty much whatever she wanted for her birthday party.”

Terrence narrowed his eyes. “Lee said that?
Leila Hawkins?
”

Evan nodded while still gazing at the throng. He took a sip from the water bottle he was holding. Even the bottle was emblazoned with Isabel's name and custom-made emblem.

“That doesn't sound like Lee. I thought she didn't believe in spoiling her kid.”

Evan loudly grumbled, “Yeah, that used to be the case . . . but Isabel seems to have mastered the art of emotional blackmail. She told Leila the other day that she wants to live with her father from now on. That made Leila so terrified that she's on a mission to prove to Isabel that she'll be happier here living with us. Hence”—Evan gestured to the party around them—“kiddie lollapalooza.”

“But Isabel can't live with him anyway, though, right? I thought he was going to prison soon.”

“You know that. I know that. Hell, I think Leila even knows it on some level. But she still wants to make her daughter happy. I've stopped arguing or asking questions.” He slid further down in his chair so that he was almost lying on his back. “I just write the checks.”

“Well, okie dokie then,” Terrence said over the sounds of squeals and laughter echoing off the room's vaulted ceilings. He watched as a seven-year-old back-flipped into the pool. “Speaking of writing checks . . . do you mind if I borrow your driver tomorrow night? I'll pay you back.”

“He's my driver, not my slave, Terry. You pay him for his services, not me.”

“But I wanted to check with you first . . . to make sure you didn't need him tomorrow if he and I can work something out.”

“Nope, I don't need him.” He then turned to Terrence. “Why do you need a driver tomorrow night? Where you headed?”

“I've got a date,” Terrence said before taking another drink of his beer.

“A date?
Is this with the same woman you mentioned before? The one you ran into at the charity banquet and met up with later for coffee?”

Terrence raised his brows. “I didn't know you were paying such close attention to my love life, Ev.”

Evan chuckled. “Sorry, I'm not trying to be a mother hen. It's just that after the accident you pretty much stopped dating for a while. I'm glad to see you getting back out there.” Evan sat upright. “So, is it the same woman?”

Terrence nodded. “Yeah, it's the same.”

“So you
are
getting back into the game!” Evan's face brightened as he held his fist toward Terrence. Terrence reluctantly gave him a fist bump. “Good to hear you're back on the prowl, boy.”

Terrence's smile stayed firmly in place, though Evan's comment made him uncomfortable. He didn't know if he would refer to his impending date with C. J. Aston as signaling he was “back on the prowl.”

C. J. was different from the women he usually dated. She was just as sexy, if not in the typical runway beauty or video vixen sort of way. But she was also smart, funny, classy, and shy—and she seemed to be completely unaware of how all that combined to make her a real spell-caster. Terrence was finding it hard getting her out of his mind. He still remembered her laugh—like tinkling piano keys that went up and down the scale—the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and how she would twirl a curl around her finger when she got anxious or flustered. Frankly, he couldn't wait to see her again.

“I'll let Bill know you want to hire him for tomorrow night,” Evan said. “I'm sure he'd be happy to do it.”

“Thanks,” Terry said. He then turned to look toward the room's entrance, where their sister, Paulette, now stood holding a giant silver gift box with a pink bow on top. He caught her gaze and waved at her. She waved back and smiled timidly.

Paulette had never been a particularly confident woman, but in the past year or so, she seemed even less so. Her shoulders were always slumped and her head always hung a little low. She didn't wear that much makeup or style her hair like she once did. Her clothes looked drab, little more than potato sacks made out of expensive fabric.

Terrence knew that her marriage with Antonio had gone through a rough period. Paulette had cheated on him and confessed. But they were still together. They had worked it out—or at least, that's what the rest of the family had assumed. Terrence now wondered if what was going on between Paulette and Antonio was the reason for her unusual behavior. Was that the reason for the change in his little sister?

He watched as Leila walked toward her. Paulette's smile faded. The two women started to talk. As they did, Paulette's brows lowered. Her lips tightened. Leila's back was facing him so he couldn't see her face, but he could see the muscles in her back go rigid. Her fists were balled at her sides.

“Oh man,” Terrence muttered. “What's going on over there?”

“Huh?” Evan turned and looked in the same direction where Terrence was looking. He frowned as he also watched Leila and Paulette's exchange. “I don't know. They aren't arguing, are they?”

It certainly looked like they were arguing. Suddenly, Paulette shoved the gift at Leila, almost knocking the other woman back a step. She turned on her heel and marched right back through the pool room's entryway into the corridor.

“What the hell . . .” Evan murmured just as Terrence grabbed his cane and hoisted himself to his feet.

Terrence rushed as fast as his bad leg would allow toward the entrance, almost getting sideswiped by three roughhousing boys along the way. Evan was right behind him. They both reached Leila, who glared down at the gift in her hands, looking like she was on the verge of tossing it into the pool.

“What happened?” Evan cried.

“Why'd Paulette leave?” Terrence asked at the same time.

Leila looked up at them both. Her eyes were pink and brimming with tears. She quickly shook her head. “Nothing. Paulette just . . . she said she couldn't stay,” she mumbled before walking away, clutching the present in her arms.

Evan's face crumpled in confusion. He threw up his hands. “What the hell is going on?”

“You deal with Lee. I'll go talk to Paulette,” Terrence said to Evan before walking into the corridor. He caught a glimpse of his sister just as she strode around the corner. “Hey, Sweet Pea . . . I mean, Paulette! Paulette, wait up!”

She didn't stop, making him roll his eyes in exasperation. “I'm handicapped, damn it,” he mumbled as he followed her. “Don't make me chase you.”

He finally caught up with her just as she reached the front door. She waved away a complimentary gift bag that was being handed out to all the party guests. She was pulling her car keys from her purse when she noticed Terrence coming toward her.

“Paulette,” he said, almost gasping. He bore his weight on his cane and paused to catch his breath. “Didn't you hear me calling you?”

She shook her head. “No, sorry, Terry. I was a little . . .” She flapped her arms helplessly. “I was a little distracted.”

He took a step toward her. “Why'd you rush out like that? What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong! I just . . . I just wanted to drop off the gift for Isabel. I didn't have time to stay for the party. That's . . . that's all.”

He could tell she was lying. It was written all over her face.

“Well, can you stay a bit longer to talk to your big bro? I haven't seen you in a while.” He reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “Come back to the party and stay just for ten . . . maybe fifteen minutes. You can spare that, right?”

She pursed her lips and tugged her purse strap further up her arm. She hesitated, like she was contemplating his offer, but she shook her head again. “I really should get going. I don't—”

“What's going on?” he asked, deciding to stop beating around the bush. “What were you and Leila arguing about? Is that why you want to leave?”

A panicked expression flashed across her face. She blinked rapidly. “We weren't . . . we weren't arguing about anything! I t-t-told you, n-nothing is going on, Terry.”

“Yes, there is. Something has been going on with you for months now, and I want to know what it is.”

Paulette hesitated again. She stared at him grimly. He saw so much pain in her dark eyes, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her diminutive shoulders and couldn't spare an ounce. He had seen the same look in his own eyes whenever he gazed into the mirror a month or so ago, before he started therapy. Some days he still saw it when he wondered if he would ever be the same man that he had once been.

Paulette opened her mouth and Terrence leaned forward to hear her, prepared for whatever she might say. But suddenly two little girls came screaming down the hall into the foyer. They rushed past Paulette and Terrence with their parents trailing behind them, holding the strings to helium balloons and reaching for one of the gift bags.

The opportunity had passed. Paulette's mask went up again. She forced a smile.

“Really, I'm okay, Terry. I just have to run a few quick errands so I can get back home to freshen up. I'm supposed to meet Tony. We're . . . we're supposed to go out to dinner and a movie tonight.”

Terrence slowly nodded. “Okay. I'll let you go, then. I won't hold you up.”

“You're the best, Terry.” She stood on the balls of her feet and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I'll see you later.” She then headed toward the front door.

“But if you need to talk, you know where to find me,” he called out to her, making her pause.

“Of course I do,” she said before stepping through the door.

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” C. J. said as she reclined back on her elbows and gazed up at him.

Terrence turned away from the giant movie screen to look at her. The shadows from the screen's black and white film danced across her face. “Huh?” He absently waved away a gnat that had been buzzing around his ear.

“You're
way
too engrossed in this movie, Terry. It's good, but it's not
that
good.” A smile spread across her full pink lips. She pushed herself up so they were sitting eye to eye. “What's on your mind?”

They were watching a movie on one of the Jumbotrons set up in one of the fields in Macon Park in Chesterton. It was part of a movie festival featuring old Hollywood films. When Terrence discovered C. J. was a film buff, he knew this would be a perfect date for them. He planned a romantic evening watching
Casablanca
and
From Here to Eternity
while they lay on a wool blanket drinking cabernet, nibbling gourmet cheese and strawberries, and kissing beneath the twinkling stars. He had even chosen a secluded spot near an old maple tree, away from all the other couples and families, to give them a bit of privacy.

Unfortunately, Terrence seemed to be screwing up the date by allowing his mind to wander.

“I'm sorry.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I apologize for being so distracted. I'm just worried about my sister.”

She frowned. “Is everything okay with her?”

“She's just . . . going through some stuff. Though she won't tell anyone what that stuff is. She tends to hold a lot of things inside, which isn't healthy. But I guess we all do it in our family. Our dad kinda taught us to.”