And Now She's Gone(109)

“Why didn’t you give me the dog?” Gray’s voice had pitched toward the heavens. “And why is there a fucking bullet casing—”

“It’s Isabel. Not on the floor out there, but she … she…”

“She what?” Gray moved toward Tea.

Kenny G. whined, a plea not to be left alone.

“Isabel’s here, in L.A.,” Tea whispered, “and she’s not who she says she is.”

Gray said nothing.

“You know that,” Tea said, eyes wide. “That Isabel’s lying.”

“We need to call the—”

“Who else knows?”

Gray bit her lip and decided not to tell Tea about Oakland Police Detective Jake Days or her conversations with Myracle Hampton or Deanna Kelly’s mother and cousin.

“Noelle knows,” Tea said, nodding. “I don’t know where she is now. I think Bobby beat her up to keep her quiet. Did you tell Ian that you think Isabel’s lying?”

“Not yet,” Gray lied. “I’m still trying to prove it. I’m still trying to connect some things. It’s all one big ball of tangled bullshit after another big ball of tangled bullshit.”

Tea slowly exhaled. “I just want it to be over. I just want to breathe again.” She slipped off her glasses, then rubbed her eyes. “Don’t you?”

She pulled at her hair, and those braids and bangs were now in her hand. Her ponytail—sapphire black and darker than the darkest night—was now free to swing past her shoulders. She dropped the wig and the glasses to the carpet, then pulled off the track jacket and the two sweatshirts she’d worn beneath it. She kicked off her Skechers and tugged off the track pants. She tossed those, and the cushions she’d stuffed around her thighs, onto the heap of clothes.

A new woman stood there, muscled, tattooed, in a white tank top and black leggings. It was the dog thief. The ex-girlfriend. The Mary Ann. She’d hidden a knife with a serrated blade in her discarded disguise and she clutched it now.

Gray took wobbly steps back until she backed against the dog crate. She still clutched a can of Mace, and she prayed that it was ready to spray.

“You…” Deanna Kelly pointed the knife at Gray. “You are pretty good. You’re still alive. If you were a man, you’d be dead by now.”

Instinct kept Gray’s tears from tumbling down her cheeks. “Deanna Kelly?”

Deanna’s eyes widened, and her lips twisted into a sick grin. “Again, leave it to another woman to get shit done. Same can be said about me. I’m about to do what your psycho ex-husband couldn’t do.”

The threat of death didn’t scare Gray; Sean Dixon had threatened to kill her once a month. No, she was shaking now because she realized that she had never met the real Tea Christopher. Not at Sam Jose’s. Not at Post & Beam. Not once. “Where is she?” Gray asked now. “Where’s Tea?”

Deanna stepped closer to Gray. “She’s out there, watching TV. Well, technically, for the last three weeks her soul has been resting in the Lord she never shut up about.”

The real Tea Christopher was dead. Bishop Dunlop hadn’t seen her in weeks. Neither had Ian. And that was because …

“Where is Isabel Lincoln? The real Isabel Lincoln?”

“My old pen pal? She’s been gone for almost twenty years. Who cares?”

“Her family—”

“Ain’t nobody left in Isabel’s family except for her blind-ass aunt. Ruby can thank me for keeping her alive—Bobby been wanting to kill that bitch in her sleep. I told him, Have a heart. Collect your check. He acts like I don’t pay him.”

Gray whispered, “Pay him for…”

Deanna shrugged. “My Boy Friday shit. He owed me again. First, I introduced him to my little pen pal—she was too young for him, but who am I to pass judgment, right? He was grateful once she … disappeared. And then convincing Ruby to let him be her eyes. Little known fact: I take—a lot—but I also give, give, give.”

Gray could feel the heat pulsating off the impersonator’s body. She could smell the liquor on Deanna’s breath. She could smell old blood, too. “Why did you call me here? You could’ve just left the country. You could’ve just—”

“You have a check that belongs to me.” Deanna took a step. “You’re making this more complicated than what it needs to be. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Why?”

Deanna held out her arms. “I got a funeral to attend. You’re looking at the newest resident of Belize City.” She held out her arms and posed. “Meet the new Gray Sykes, the worst private investigator in—”

Gray pressed the trigger of the Mace can.

The spray shot out like a snake.

It missed its mark and hit Deanna’s neck.

The woman still reeled backwards and out into the hallway.

Gray rushed to the bedroom doorway and darted past her.

Deanna grabbed the tail of Gray’s shirt.

Both women stumbled to the carpet.

Deanna climbed atop Gray.

Gray held up her left arm.

Deanna’s blade sank into Gray’s wrist.

Gray screamed and used all of her anger, resentment, and fear to push Deanna Kelly off of her. With her healthy hand, she reached into her back pocket for her own knife.