The Better Liar(82)

“You killed her,” Leslie said.

“I did not!” I said, slapping the carpet. “She did that to herself. I told her exactly what was safe to take. Well, I told her a little more than that, but she way overdid it. That is not my fault.” I shook my head. “To be honest, I was just as surprised as you when I came home and heard Iker calling your name. I was barely in my room before I saw you peeling out of there like you thought the police were on your tail, and then Iker comes up the stairs, like Becca, Becca—that’s the name I gave the housing people—Becca, Becca, did you know your roommate is dead, and I thought, Oh, Leslie saw Rachel, that’s why she’s freaking out—”

    “So you followed me.”

I threw up my hands. “What else was I gonna do? I hadn’t seen you in a decade, and finally you decide to visit me, and you take off before I even get home! I waited for you outside George’s to say hi and you didn’t even recognize me. You were all, ‘Get off my car,’ like, immediately.”

Leslie drew in a deep breath. “You said your name was Mary.”

“It was the least me name I could think of. I thought you’d call me out right away.” I wrinkled my nose. “Now I wish I’d picked a better name. I mean, do I look like a Mary?” I glanced down at my body. “I really don’t think so. It kind of bothers me that you bought it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was the loudest she’d been since I’d walked in and scared her. I winced. “Because you were acting like a crazy person,” I said honestly. “I mean, first you don’t even recognize me. Then you tell me I’m dead. I’m obviously offended that you thought bag-of-bones Rachel was me. Then you say I owe you money. Um, I don’t owe you shit! By that point I had no idea what you were talking about, and to be real with you for a second, I was mad about you leaving fake-me for dead and bouncing to find crab cakes at four in the afternoon. So I was just going to wait for you to figure it out, then lay down the guilt trip you completely deserved. But…” I took a deep breath. “Then you ask me if I want to impersonate Robin Voigt to the tune of fifty thousand dollars. Do I! I did think about that one for half a second because it seemed to me that you had lost some mental stability in the last ten years and I wasn’t sure it was a great idea to poke the bear. But Sam was all over my ass, and after all, it’s my money—I mean, I’d have gotten it regardless, but how much more fun was it to pretend I was stealing it, huh?”

“But your hair,” Leslie said hoarsely. “Your nose…”

I felt my face. “Oh. Does it look that different? I got my nose fixed years and years ago. Fixed my teeth too, better skincare…it’s necessary in the business.” I dropped my hand. “You should get yours done too. I can give you the name of the lady who did it.”

    “No, thank you.” Leslie was stiff.

“Whatever.” I thought back. “Oh, and the hair. The hair was dye. I knew I’d look cute as a redhead, but blond is ultimately my calling. I always go back.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Leslie said. Her voice was gravelly.

I let my gaze go flat. “No. You’re not.”

She shrank back against the wall. “You’re a sociopath.”

“I’m fun,” I corrected her. “I had a good time road-tripping with you to Burque. I kept feeling like any minute you’d figure it out, but you never did. You’re not that observant, I guess. Or maybe some part of you really wanted me to be dead, enough that you’d ignore what was right in front of you.”

Her nostrils flared.

“Ha!” I pointed at her. “That’s it! You did want me to be dead! Even though it complicated everything for you! That’s fucked up, you know. That’s not being a very good sister.”

“I wish you were dead,” she said. “I wish I’d never met you.”

“That hurts,” I told her. “That’s a mean thing to say to someone who helped you pretend to steal fifty thousand dollars. These were incredibly high imaginary stakes for me, you know. I could have pretend gone to prison.”

She licked her lips. “What happened to her,” she said at last. “Rachel. Did they bury her?”

I frowned. “How should I know? I’m sure someone called her fancy family in Kansas. Don’t change the subject. We were talking about you, and the most inept attempt at faking a carjacking there ever was.”

Leslie headed for the door, and I cut her off, slamming it closed. “No.”

She stared at me, then lunged for the other door. I grabbed her wrist and wrestled her arms behind her back. She brought her foot down on my arch, hard. “Ow, sheesh,” I exclaimed.

“Let me go!”

    I wrenched her arms closer together and she hurled us both to the carpet. I hit my elbow against the leg of the desk and yelped. “Just hold still!”

Leslie bit me.

“Fuck!” I grabbed her by the hair, sat on her chest, and pinned her arms with my knees. “I just want to know why,” I said, panting. “Sheesh, Leslie!”

She spat at me, but it fell down into her hair.

“This is embarrassing for you,” I told her.