You Owe Me a Murder(36)

“Names are weird, aren’t they? They define a person. I mean, if you hear that a girl’s named Gertrude, you get a picture in your mind of what she’s like, don’t you? Much different than a Penelope. So, given how important names are, isn’t it rather silly that your parents choose them? You’re basically an unformed blob when you’re born. They select a name based on who they want you to be, not what fits you. It seems to me that a person should get to pick their own name once they reach something like fourteen or sixteen. You know who you are at that point. I always saw myself as a Nicki, much more than what my parents came up with.” She took another drink, the ice tinkling against the glass. “You’re another perfect example. I wouldn’t picture you as a Kim. Too pretty, not serious enough for you. Kimberly.” She drew out my name, somehow managing to fill it with extra syllables.

I’d never liked my name either, but I didn’t want to give Nicki the satisfaction of knowing she was right. Kimberly had been my mom’s favorite name and it didn’t fit me at all. “What sort of name do you think suits me?”

Nicki clapped her hands. “Oooh, this is fun.” She rubbed her chin, regarding me very carefully. “I think it should be a touch old-fashioned—?you’re an ancient soul. Not too girlie, but not butch, either. Irene, maybe.” She shook her head, dismissing the idea as quickly as she’d said it, and then whacked her hand down onto the table, making our drinks jump. “I’ve got it. Ada.” She waited for me to respond. “You know her, right? Ada Lovelace? She was a countess way back in the 1800s, a mathematician.”

“I know who she was. She was one of the creators of Babbage’s Analytical Engine.”

Nicki nodded. “The first computer, when you think about it. How perfect is that for you?” She looked proud of herself. She cocked her head to the side. “Yes, you’re definitely an Ada. I’d change your name if I were you. You’ll be a completely different woman as an Ada.” Her hands flitted through the air. “It will alter your entire destiny.”

Meeting Nicki had changed my destiny enough already. “You still haven’t told me your real name.”

She sighed. “You’re focused on the wrong things.”

I lowered my voice. “And would the right thing be that you murdered Connor?”

“Of course not—?that’s already done and dealt with. No point in chatting up that topic.”

I blinked.

Was she completely insane? I assumed she’d deny it, but she didn’t. She acted as if it were no big deal, as if we were discussing what we’d had for lunch, or the score of a football game. There wasn’t anything in her voice that hinted at panic or desperation. “Then what should I be focused on?”

“How you’re going to kill my mother.”

My ears began to ring and I could hear the rush of blood inside my head, drowning out the voices of the other people in the bar. “What did you say?”

“You owe me a murder.”

I choked on my drink and put it down quickly.

She leaned back, regarding me. “Oh, come on, now, you’re acting like we didn’t have an agreement. Is that why you asked if I dated him? I told you, then there’s no point—?a person shouldn’t have a motive. Don’t you remember? You wanted to get rid of Connor, and I need to be rid of my mum.”

“I never agreed to that.”

Her hands were flat on the table as if we were having a business negotiation. She spoke slowly as though I were a small child. “Yes, you did. We had quite a nice long chat about the whole thing. It really is the perfect plan. You can’t go and back out now that I’ve done my part. You knew this would happen.”

What she was saying hit me. Oh my god, this is all my fault. I was having a hard time breathing; it was like sucking air through a tiny cocktail straw. My lower lip started to shake.

Nicki rolled her eyes. “Jesus, pull yourself together. You’re disappointing me. I thought you and I were alike, that we got the way the world worked. The boy was a total waste. You’re acting like I took out the Dalai Lama. I can assure you, the last thing the world needs is one more boring, self-entitled teen guy.”

“How can you say that?” I shook my head rapidly as if I could toss her words out of my ears. “I’m nothing like you.” I’d wanted to be like her when we met, how she was so confident and brave, but all of it was just a pretty, plastic veneer over her ugliness.

Nicki sighed and leaned back. “Check out the gentleman over there.”

I turned slightly, catching the patron’s reflection in the mirror above the bar. He was in his early thirties, with floppy brown hair that was supposed to look casual but probably took a lot of effort and expensive product to get that way. He was wearing a suit and what looked like a thick gold watch.

Nicki continued. “I’m guessing he works in finance—?he’s too well dressed for tech.” She looked him up and down. “Family money too, I imagine. That suit is Savile Row.”

“So what?”

“Do you remember the woman in the square? The one hustling for money, saying she could tell the future?”

“What does she have to do with anything?” I asked.

“Do you think she’s worth the same as the guy at the bar?” Nicki leaned forward in her seat.