Authors: Sheryl J. Anderson
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Amateur Sleuth
Killer Cocktail (24 page)
“Hello?” she answered with some irritation, probably because she didn’t recognize the incoming number.
“Lara, it’s Molly Forrester. Don’t hang up.”
“Give me a good reason.”
“Jake’s in trouble.”
“Good.” She hung up.
Damn, she was straight. Still, I dialed back, praying she would be intrigued enough about Jake’s condition that she would answer again. She did. “What?”
“He’s in the hospital, Lara.”
“He deserves it.”
“Deserves what?”
The Pause was brief, but telling. “Whatever happened.”
“Where are you, Lara? Can you come see him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He’s asking for you. And his camera bag.”
This Pause was unexpected. Was she considering it? “Too bad.” Guess not.
“You really need to come, Lara. The police are here, Jake’s so upset …”
“So am I. He’s a lying bastard and a cheat and …” She trailed off and I thought she was searching for the word, but then I heard a sob and realized she was crying. For Jake or for what he’d driven her to?
“NYU Downtown ER,” I said gently.
“Okay” she said and hung up.
“Are lies in the pursuit of truth still lies?” Tricia asked as I hung up and we moved over to stand outside the elevators.
“I’m not sure. Are ugly shoes worn by a beautiful woman still ugly?”
“Do you not like these?” she worried, looking down at her Narciso Rodriguez black leather ankle-strap sandals.
“I was staying theoretical.”
“I rarely do.”
“Part of your charm.”
I almost didn’t see Lara get off the elevator because two couples stepped off in front of her, then stopped mere inches in front of the elevator to have an animated debate about whether to have drinks at the hotel before going to dinner or to go straight to the restaurant. Lara had a Hermès scarf over her hair and Chanel sunglasses on, very Jackie O, but I spotted her when she put the camera bag down to adjust her Burberry denim jacket.
I skittered across the highly polished floor and grabbed the camera bag before she could pick it back up. “Let me help you with that, Lara,” I offered.
“Put that down! It’s not yours!” she protested.
“It’s not yours either, but if you’d like to make a scene, I’m game.” I wasn’t sure where Tricia had gone, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Lara. “Then you can explain to the police why you have Jake’s camera bag. And his credit card. And what you were doing earlier this evening.”
She yanked her sunglasses off and I was startled to see how puffy her eyes were. She’d been crying mightily to look that bad under that much foundation. “Go away,” she demanded.
I put the camera bag on my own shoulder. “Is everything you shot at the party in here, Lara? The less you hide now, the better it will be for you in the long run.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I find that when people say that to me, they know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She shoved her sunglasses back on her face, stiff-armed
me out of the way, and bolted for the front door. I went after her, but Tricia had already circled around and positioned herself so that all she had to do was step into Lara’s path and Lara went sprawling, actually sliding some distance across the highly polished floor. Several bellboys came running, but Tricia and I helped Lara to her feet and assured the staff that everything was quite all right. Each of us grasping an arm, we walked Lara to the door.
me out of the way, and bolted for the front door. I went after her, but Tricia had already circled around and positioned herself so that all she had to do was step into Lara’s path and Lara went sprawling, actually sliding some distance across the highly polished floor. Several bellboys came running, but Tricia and I helped Lara to her feet and assured the staff that everything was quite all right. Each of us grasping an arm, we walked Lara to the door.
“I hate you both! Leave me alone!” Lara protested.
“It was supposed to be the best rehab program on the East Coast,” Tricia said to me, just a little louder than conversationally. “I’m very disappointed.”
“Can we get a refund or should we just try to send her back for another couple of weeks?” I asked. The handful of guests who’d bothered to look up shook their heads in sadness or sympathy and returned to their own affairs.
The hotel doorman opened the cab door so that we never had to let go of Lara and we slid into the backseat like one thrashing, six-legged creature. “You’ll be part of the kidnapping charge!” Lara hissed at the driver.
The driver, a pockmarked Slav with big, sad eyes and a huge belly, popped open his glove compartment, consulted a small spiral notebook, and checked his watch. “There’s a meeting at St. Aidan’s in half an hour,” he offered, closing the glove compartment back up.
“Thank you, but we’re taking her to see someone.” I gave him Jake’s address.
“No!” Lara shrieked. “I don’t want to see him ever again! I hate him! I hate him!”
The driver shook his head as he pulled away from the hotel curb. “Sounds like she needs a new therapist.”
“Among other things,” I assured him.
Tricia snuggled into Lara’s shoulder and whispered, “The
sooner you cooperate with the police, the better off you’ll be. Because if my brother suffers any more pain because of what you did, I’ll personally escort you to your execution.”
sooner you cooperate with the police, the better off you’ll be. Because if my brother suffers any more pain because of what you did, I’ll personally escort you to your execution.”
“What’s your brother got to do with this?” Lara snapped.
Tricia and I looked at each other in disbelief. “Lara, everyone thinks David killed Lisbet. Including the police,” I said.
“Why is that my concern?”
“Because he shouldn’t be accused of a crime you committed.”
Lara yanked her sunglasses off again. I was expecting the evil eye, but she whooped with laughter. Gut-busting laughter. Tricia poked her sharply, but that didn’t stop her. “This isn’t funny,” Tricia protested, poking her again.
“You think I killed Lisbet?” Lara asked, struggling to stop laughing. “Why would I do that?”
“Because she had sex with Jake,” Tricia responded, irritated.
“If I killed every slut that dog humped, I’d be a serial killer like no other,” Lara sniffed. “And you wouldn’t be here,” she sniffed at me.
“I didn’t sleep with Jake,” I said.
“Then why were you coming around, calling all the time?”
“I was trying to figure out if he’d killed Lisbet. And I only called a couple of times.”
“All the ugly phone calls about the Web site?”
“Wasn’t me.”
Lara laughed again. “Wasn’t me. I don’t need to kill them, I just need to leave him. I was slow in figuring that out, but I finally did.”
“Yet you tried to run him over tonight,” Tricia pointed out politely.
Lara shrugged disdainfully. “I lost my head. But I stopped at the last second because it seemed too hysterical. More effort than he’s worth.”
“Still, there’s a police detective in the hospital. You need to earn Brownie points wherever you can.”
“I have nothing to offer because I did nothing, I know nothing. Lisbet was alive when I took Jake out of there and I didn’t see her again.”
I didn’t want to even lean on a conclusion, much less jump to one. “Took Jake out of where, Lara?”
“The pool house. He and Lisbet were in there, screwing and making one of his movies. I found them, I took him and the camera, and we left.”
“What else?” Tricia asked.
“There was some screaming and begging and crying,” she admitted and it was pretty easy to figure out which of them did which, “but no killing.”
“Jake said no one knew he’d slept with Lisbet,” I told her.
“He’s lying. Are you shocked?” Lara asked.
“Sounds like he’s covering for you,” Tricia said.
Lara brightened. “He still cares for me?”
I shook my head. “He thinks you killed her.”
“I didn’t kill Lisbet and you know it!” Lara screamed at Jake moments later, after Tricia and I had gotten her upstairs to the apartment. It hadn’t required nearly the amount of dragging I had anticipated. She’d gained momentum on her own as she’d considered the possibility that Jake was encouraging us to believe he thought she was guilty so we would think she was guilty.
“I never said you did, baby!” Jake cooed, wisely staying on the other side of the living room. He took a step toward Cassady as though to hide behind her, but Cassady stalked away, leaving him to cringe behind a chair.
“You want everyone to believe it was me!” Lara continued. “But I can prove it wasn’t!” She yanked the camera bag from my shoulder, almost pulling me off my feet in the process, and shook its contents out onto the couch.
“My film!” Jake sighed, showing more emotion over its return than Lara’s. The boy just wasn’t very smart when it came to women, because she picked up on it, too.
“You’re pathetic,” she spat. “You’re a terrible filmmaker. And even worse as a lover.” She turned to address Tricia, Cassady, and me. “Don’t waste your time. He’ll give you no satisfaction.”
“That’s a lie!” Jake protested.
“As a lover or a filmmaker?” Cassady asked.
“Both,” Lara answered, stalking into the bedroom. We all followed her, Jake still calling her a liar.
Lara sat down at the computer, slid the disk in, and started loading files. Her hands flew over the keyboard and the mouse. “Who’s the real talent here, Jake?” I asked.
“We’re a team,” Jake croaked.
Lara laughed. “My English is so bad sometimes. Is ‘team’ the word you use when one person carries the other but gets none of the credit?”
“That’s one of its most common usages, yes,” I told her.
“I don’t have to take this abuse,” Jake protested.
“No, you don’t,” I agreed. “But if you walk out of here, you walk right back to the top of the suspect list.”
Jake glared at us for a moment, then plopped down in the chair next to Lara’s. He leaned in close to her and she growled something at him in Portuguese. I don’t know if he understood it any better than I did, but her tone was quite clear. He sat back up.
Lara clicked open a file. “Watch this. Inside the pool house.” On the screen, Jake faced the camera while he hurriedly
tucked his shirt into his pants. Lisbet lounged on a divan behind him, taking her time about pulling her dress back on. A bottle of champagne—the bottle?—sat on the occasional table beside her. Jake continued dressing and yelling at the person behind the camera. Lisbet finished sliding into her dress, not seeming terribly bothered by what was going on. She was either really drunk or burned out from all of the emotion of the day. She bent down to pick up her Marc Jacobs pumps and almost lost her balance. Really drunk got my vote.
tucked his shirt into his pants. Lisbet lounged on a divan behind him, taking her time about pulling her dress back on. A bottle of champagne—the bottle?—sat on the occasional table beside her. Jake continued dressing and yelling at the person behind the camera. Lisbet finished sliding into her dress, not seeming terribly bothered by what was going on. She was either really drunk or burned out from all of the emotion of the day. She bent down to pick up her Marc Jacobs pumps and almost lost her balance. Really drunk got my vote.
Jake backed out of the pool house and the camera followed him. He was gesturing and talking a mile a minute, pleading and bargaining. Then the camera fell to the ground and from that angle, caught a bizarre angle of Lara pummeling Jake, Jake taking it for a moment, and then Jake pulling Lara into his arms. Then, unbelievably, he started kissing her and she responded. The kissing got more and more passionate until Lara pushed him away.
“Thank God,” Cassady muttered.
But then Lara grabbed the camera, picked it up, and the picture got difficult to understand. Was that the pool or the ground or … ? I was lost.
“We’re walking away from the pool house here. Going to ‘make up.’ Because I’m an idiot,” Lara explained.
The footage ended. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence while everyone debated what to say next. I was frustrated. The footage showed they left Lisbet alive, but how could they prove one of them didn’t go back later? And how could we prove one of them did?
“Beautiful angles, Lara,” Jake said respectfully. “Great use of available light.”
Tricia rolled her eyes, but Lara turned to Jake with a hint of hope in her eyes. “You really think so?”
“Honey, as soon as we get this other thing figured out, we’re taking you to a deprogrammer,” Cassady warned. Jake tried to give her a menacing look but Cassady was so past that. “Puh-leez.”
“I know ‘wordless cinema’ is your thing, guys,” I said, “but is there any audio on this?”
“Yeah, it’s just turned off,” Jake explained.
“Can we watch it again—”
“Must we?” moaned Cassady.
“—with the sound?”
Jake leaned over, clicked on a couple of icons, and the footage began to play again, with sound.
“Put down the camera,” the onscreen Jake demanded.
“You like everything on film,” Lara’s voice taunted from behind the camera. “Why not this?”
Lisbet said, “He told me you were only working together, nothing else.”
“We’re all adults here, there’s no need for anyone to get upset or for things to get ugly,” onscreen Jake tapdanced. “This shouldn’t negatively impact on any of our relationships.”
“Forget it, Jake,” Lisbet said as she bent down for her shoes. “This shouldn’t have happened and your movie isn’t going to happen. Just forget it.”
“Let’s not be hasty. Any of us,” Jake pleaded.
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