The Better Liar(79)

    Leslie hadn’t moved.

I shifted in my seat and felt the crackle of notebook paper in my pocket. Leslie’s note. I drew it out and smoothed it against the steering wheel, careful not to press the horn. ROBIN, said the front. The rest was in Leslie’s neat handwriting in black ink. The words were chosen deliberately, so that if Dave came across the note in the guest room, it wouldn’t raise any alarm.

    I’m heading out now. I didn’t want

to wake you up to say goodbye.

I hope you find your way on your own.

I’m glad our time together is over.

I can’t feel any other way.

But I’ll think about you.

—Leslie



At the bottom of the note was a string of numbers. Robin’s Social Security number.

I looked up. Leslie’s silhouette had disappeared from the Honda. The cracked teal gate hung open, drifting on its hinges.

I thought about what Clery had told me about what Leslie had hired him to do. About Dave on the porch, telling me he only went over to Elaine’s house to buy weed, that he didn’t want to worry Leslie, Leslie with the junkie sister who had died alone in her bedroom. Leslie who had taken care of her father by herself, nursing him into his decline. And the way Dave looked at her when she was turned away from him, how it had never occurred to him to be afraid of her. I thought about Leslie leaning into me last night, slurring into my face, I hope you have a good life.

I got out of my car, slammed the door, and headed toward the house on Riviera.





49


    Leslie


The house was almost packed up, except for Robin’s room. Before her death, I’d been putting it off; Daddy had kept it just the way it was, as if she’d return at any moment and want her things back. After, it was like I was afraid of it. I’d ditched her there, hollowed-out and ugly, a City of Las Vegas burial under someone else’s name, and I’d brought back a stranger to stand in her place. If she knew, she’d be furious with me. So I left her room alone. A silent apology.

And now it was too late. I wouldn’t have time to pack her things. Someone else—Dave, maybe—would be the one to put away her old belongings, clear the nail polish off the bureau, untack the posters from the walls.

I hung my purse on the hook by the door and went into Daddy’s study. The blinds were down and it was dark. I walked to the secretary desk and searched through the keys on the ring. The little copper one. I slid it into the lock and it popped open.

The burner cell was inside, on top of the old mail and candy wrappers. I reached for it and froze as I heard the front door open.

Someone stepped inside.

    My heart pounded. I had no weapon. I grabbed the phone and moved around the desk into the far corner of the study. Maybe whoever it was wouldn’t see me in the shadow.

The manila envelope with the fifty thousand was still in my purse by the door. My eyes flicked toward the front hall. I couldn’t go out to get it without giving myself away.

The house was silent. I couldn’t hear the intruder anymore. Where were they?

I watched the doorway into the hall.

“Hi,” said a figure from across the room.

I screamed.

Mary laughed, coming through the second door. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

I sat down heavily on the carpet, putting my forehead on my knees. “Why the fuck did you scare me like that?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to. What are you doing in here?”

“I thought you were leaving.” I pushed my hair out of my face.

“I figured I’d stop by and see if you were smart enough to come back for the burner. Good for you. A lot of folks would have forgotten it after three months.”

I held the phone to my chest. “What?”

She tilted her head at me. “Don’t play possum. I know what you’ve got planned.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I held still, trying to read her face.

Mary walked over to me and flopped down on the carpet, cross-legged. “Sure you do, Leslie. Who’s Frank Clery?”

My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears. I felt color flood my face. “I don’t know.”

She poked me in the side and I flinched. “Come on, give it up. Blue eyes, no chin, does that disgusting lizard thing with his tongue?” She imitated this, flicking her tongue out like a snake. “Nasty.”

“I have to go,” I heard myself say.

Mary shook her head a bit sadly. “No, you don’t. You’re staying right here until you tell me who Frank Clery is. Or if you want, we could wait for the burner to charge and I’ll show you the texts you sent to him in February.”

    “What are you, a cop?” My voice was hoarse. “Are you going to call your married police officer friend, tell her what I did? What we did?”

Mary set her hand on my knee. I flinched away. “I don’t want to hurt you, Leslie. I just want you to tell the truth for once. It costs you nothing.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve been trying to figure out what you were up to since I saw you in Henderson,” she said patiently.

“What I was up to?” I felt dizzy. “You mean in Vegas?”