Lie, Lie Again(104)

Her heart was racing, but she had to pull this off. It would be best to let the man think she was upset about Jonathan. “Well,” she said with a grimace, turning her head to the interior, “he’s here, but he’s sleeping at the moment. I think he’s had too much to drink. I came by to feed his mother’s fish, and he was a mess. Do you want me to pass a message to his mother? She’s the owner.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say Mrs. Fisher is the owner?”

“Yes,” she said, eyes wide. “She’s in the hospital for a few days, but I’m her neighbor. Well, neighbor and tenant. I’ve been stopping by to feed her fish.” She took the small container of fish food from her pocket and held it up for him to see before motioning to the bowl on the table. “Were you going to discuss renovations? She’s mentioned wanting to get the windows retrofitted.”

“No.” He frowned. “Are you certain Mrs. Fisher is the owner? Because Jonathan told me his mom was dead and he wanted to sell.”

Sylvia’s jaw dropped. “What? Come in for a moment, will you?” It was a risk, but she had to make him believe. She marched to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Does a dead woman need prune juice?” She slammed it. “For God’s sake, do you think he’s planning on killing his own mother? Or he’s just that eager for her to die?” She touched a hand to her mouth. “I’ve been the one caring for her, and he’s just . . .” She pointed to the wineglass. “A wreck.” She took a breath and gave him a brave smile. “I’m happy to wake him and he can tell you himself that his mom is alive.” She took her phone from her pocket and subtly hit “Send” on the text she’d prewritten.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”

“To be honest, I’m glad I was here. I’m just not quite sure how to handle this. What do I say to his mom?”

“That I don’t know. I’ll leave a message saying the spot isn’t right for me after all. I’m not interested in whatever game he’s playing.”

Sylvia shuddered. “His poor mom.”

Embry appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Hi, Sylvia. I heard some commotion. Is Nadine back home?” she called.

Frank shook his head. “What a supreme waste of my time. Good night.”

“I’ll follow you out,” she said. Gathering her bags, she walked behind him down the stairs. She smiled when she heard him leave a message for Jonathan.

“Thanks, Embry,” she whispered once Frank was out of earshot. “We’ve effectively gotten rid of one investor.”

“Where’s Jonathan?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s up there sleeping.”

She raised a brow. “Really? How—”

“The less you know, the better, okay? You’ve done your part, and I’m thankful. It will all work out. Trust me.”

Twenty minutes later, she was back in Nadine’s place, keeping watch over Jonathan. His breathing was steady, and his skin showed no signs of pallor. He would be just fine. She rinsed both wineglasses and put them back in the cupboard. She gathered the groceries and the fish and headed for her own apartment.

Jonathan probably wouldn’t wake until morning, but to be on the safe side, she set her alarm for four thirty. She’d go back and check on him then. As she set Fishy on the console table, she picked up the book Nadine had given her. “I hope you understand why I did what I did,” she whispered, fingering the cover. A feeling of sadness ebbed through her. Strange. She certainly wasn’t one to form attachments, nor was she someone to become overly sentimental. But Nadine had been different. An individual whom she had trusted. Not a bad bone in that woman’s body. Cracking the cover, she headed for the sofa. If ever there was a time to escape in a good book, it was now. As she pulled a throw blanket over her lap, her phone rang. Slipping it from her pocket, she sat up straighter as she read the name on the screen. Hugh’s Phone.

It was the burner phone.

Adrenaline pulsed through her. She certainly hadn’t expected it to be discovered so quickly.

“Leave me alone, Hugh!” she said in an exasperated voice.

The response was a gaspy breath. Not gruff, she noted. It had to be Lily. She waited for her to say something, but the call ended.

Well, well. Had she snooped through all the texts, pausing in horror at the photos of the naked woman with the spiderweb tattoo across her hip? Would Kylie’s words drift through her mind? No, you colored your tummy, silly!

Sylvia placed her phone on the table and let her eyes fall shut. It was so easy to imagine Lily in the kitchen, taking pots and pans from the cupboards with trembling hands. Would she go through the motions of preparing dinner as anger nipped at her? Perhaps Hugh would walk in, and she’d throw a plate at his head. But no, poor Lily would most likely fall into a chair and cry. And that would be the worst torture for Hugh. The man hated weakness. Detested crying. Yes, Lily’s tears would drive him out of the house in a fit of rage. With any luck, he’d crash his car into a tree and end up with two broken arms.

Regardless, it was out of her hands now. And if he tried to blame Sylvia for anything, the burner phone, listed under Lily’s name and Sammy’s address, was full of evidence proving he had been harassing her. Not to mention the scores of people who would confirm that Sylvia’s ex was tormenting her. All in all, a success. She padded to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. “To you, Hugh. I won.”