You Are Not Alone(32)
But the rest of that evening passed without a single word from Shay. By now, hours have stretched into days, and still Shay is silent. As soon as Shay left the necklace at the police station, the sisters stopped monitoring its location. They can’t risk leaving an electronic trail in case the police have discovered the tracker.
When Cassandra and Jane’s assistant interrupts them by knocking on their door during a strategy session to announce they have an urgent call, for a moment both sisters think, Shay.
Instead, Daphne is on the line, hyperventilating so furiously she can barely get the words out: “Kit—the customer who set me up with James—she—she just called. The police stopped by—they asked her about—”
“Wait!” Cassandra interrupts. The line might not be secure; this is something Stacey warned them all about.
Daphne seems to get it. “Sorry.” Her voice is still ragged but her words are more circumspect. “Kit’s on her way here—to my boutique.”
Cassandra and Jane are scheduled to have lunch with a new columnist for the Post. But they can’t let Daphne handle this alone. Cassandra phones the restaurant to change the reservation from three to two people, while Jane runs outside to hail a cab.
By the time Kit comes rushing into the boutique, pushing her oversize dark sunglasses onto the top of her head, Jane is in the back, browsing the rack of fall blazers. No other customers are in the small boutique.
Kit flings her arms around Daphne. “Can you believe it?” she cries, her voice carrying easily in the small space. “I opened my door this morning to go to Pilates and there’s this man standing there with his fist raised!”
Daphne nods and crosses her arms over her chest. Clearly this understated reaction isn’t what Kit is seeking.
“He was just about to knock, but still, it gave me such a fright. Anyway, he pulls out his badge. It’s bigger than it looks on TV when it’s in your face, I’ll tell you that. He asked a bunch of questions—how did we know James, yada yada—and then he wanted to know about your date with James. Isn’t that weird?”
“Careful,” Jane breathes, too softly for either woman to hear.
“Why would the detective ask about that? I only went out with him once.”
“I know!” Kit exclaims. “And that was forever ago! You said he was cute, but not really your type. And James never brought you up either. I explained all that to the cop—”
A loud crash from the back of the store makes both women spin around.
“So sorry!” Jane calls. “I can’t believe I’m such a klutz!”
Daphne hurries to help Jane, who is kneeling beside the fallen torso of a display mannequin adorned with crisscrossing scarves and belts.
“Don’t worry about it,” Daphne says.
Jane notices Daphne’s hands are shaking as she begins to pick up the accessories. Kit comes to hover beside them, practically vibrating with impatience.
“I’m trying to find some new pieces to wear to work,” Jane says to Daphne. “Could you help me?”
“Of course.” Daphne rises and sets the half mannequin back on the table. “Do you prefer dresses or slacks?”
“Both. I pretty much need a whole new wardrobe.”
Kit, disappointment written over her features, looks back and forth between Jane and Daphne. “I better get going. I’ll call you later!”
Daphne and Jane watch until Kit is out the door, then Daphne collapses onto a tufted chair by the display table. “I can’t believe the police are still asking about me.” Her face is drawn and pale.
The detective had surely homed in on the huge discrepancy in Daphne’s story: Daphne had told the police that James never contacted her after what she described as an intimate night that ended in her apartment. She’d explained that was the impetus for her angry text telling James to rot in hell. But Kit had revealed a different version of the evening. She’d said Daphne had told her that the date was pleasant, but that she hadn’t felt a spark with James.
This tiny, nagging thread could unravel everything.
“You’re handling everything beautifully,” Jane assures Daphne, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I promise you don’t have anything to worry about.”
This lie was also necessary; they can’t have Daphne start to spiral the way Amanda did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SHAY
Most people lie in a conversation when they are trying to appear likable and competent. One famous study found that 60 percent of people lied at least once during a ten-minute conversation. If you’re going to tell a premeditated lie, here’s how to do it:
Make it believable.
Practice saying it.
Keep the lie short.
Be confident.
—Data Book, page 24
JODY ISN’T SUPPOSED to move in until the end of the month, but her presence is all around me when I walk in the door: New floral throw pillows adorn our brown cracked-leather couch, and a Monet water-lily poster hangs above the bench where we put our shoes. A silver-framed picture of her and Sean sits on the end table; only yesterday, all the table held was coasters.
It’s all a reminder—as if I needed one—that my time here is limited. I spent two hours today searching sites such as Apartments.com and Trulia. I finally found a place that looked promising—but when I called the real estate agent, she told me a new tenant had signed the contract an hour after the listing went up.