Crumbling Deception, page 2
I step back and clear my throat, scratching at my forehead to remember what I was supposed to say to him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his hands holding my shoulders.
“Yes.” I answer automatically, before it hits me that it’s okay to not be okay today. “No. Not really.”
“Me too.”
“I think we should close the shop for the day. I definitely need some time with my family.”
“You can go. I’ll lock up.”
“You sure?”
He just smiles and nudges me towards the back. I get my bag and lock my office, leaving through the back where my bicycle is. My family lives in the neighborhood behind the commercial zone. It’s where I grew up. Now it’s where my brother’s growing up. Yes, I have a twenty years younger adopted brother.
My parents are both retired doctors. My mother was a pediatrician and my father was a surgeon. Luke was admitted as a small toddler. He suffered an accident at the orphanage in a nearby town that caused him to lose parts of his tongue. My parents, who were both his doctors, developed a strong connection to him, and four months later, they adopted him. When he was little, we all learned ASL. My parents taught him as he grew. Because by then I had gotten married and had left Hillgrove. I will always regret not being around to witness him growing up. But that’s just life, prioritizing the wrong things at the wrong times.
I stop as I see an alleyway cordoned off with yellow tape. Police cars are parked in front of it to stop onlookers like me from getting too close. Yet, people are still gathered near the street. I get off my bike and drag it with me towards the alley. There’s hardly anything to be seen. I bet they’re just gathering fingerprints or other evidence now.
Murmurs reach my ears.
They’re saying he was poisoned…
Who would do such a thing?
He gets coffee from Cups & Cakes…
I approach the huddle.
“Hello there.”
They all jump, surprised by the intrusion. Their eyes flit from side to side, looking everywhere but straight at me.
“I’m not Medusa, you know?”
My attempt at a joke falls flat as the group doesn’t smile, let alone laugh. I turn to Rhea’s husband.
“How’s the job search going, Tom?”
The tips of his ears turn red as he looks at the ground for an answer. His aunt, who is a member of the town council, glares at me. I realize he must not have mentioned his joblessness to his present company. My own cheeks heat up.
“Umm… good luck with it. Have a good day y’all.”
Y’all? Seriously? I cringe mentally. This whole murder thing is really throwing me off. I don’t look back as I cycle away. Reaching my parents’ home in record time, I lay down my bike next to the swing set in the lawn and walk to the backyard. Sure enough, I find my dad tinkering away at his old car. His habit of fixing humans turned into fixing cars after his retirement.
“Pop!”
My attempt to scare him works when he bumps his head on the open door as he looks up. Seeing it’s me, he jumps to his feet, opening his arms for me. I rush to safety and smile as he sways us back and forth.
“How you holdin’ up, muffin?”
“I’m good, Dad.”
He puts enough distance between us to look at me clearly. His bushy eyebrows draw close behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. I ruffle his grey-streaked chestnut hair.
“I really am.”
“Okay off you go then, Luke is waiting to hear all about it.”
I draw back in surprise, “He knows?”
Dad just raises an eyebrow. I sigh.
“Of course, he knows. This is Hillgrove.”
He laughs, “And don’t you just love it?”
I roll my eyes but laugh too. A clap gains my attention and I turn to see Luke standing at the stairs. I swear he’s taller than he was the previous week when I saw him last. I wave at him and he signs in reply.
‘Come inside and have lunch with me.’
I laugh at his bossiness and offer him a salute. “Sir, yes sir!”
He just rolls his round, brown eyes and walks inside. I excuse myself from Dad and follow the young guy. Mom’s kitchen smells distinctly of herbs and cheese.
I nudge Luke, “Lasagna?”
He nods with a huge grin on his face. My stomach grumbles in response. Mom appears out of thin air with two loaded plates in her hand. I kiss her cheek as she sets them in front of us on the dinner table.
“Thank you.”
She pats my cheek, “You’ve lost weight. Eat up.”
With that, she is gone again. I stuff a spoonful into my mouth. Luke clears his throat. I turn to him. He signs, ‘So?’
“So what?”
He rolls his eyes again and I flick him on the forehead. He winces and rubs the spot while glaring at me.
“They’ll get stuck like that if you keep rolling them. Plus, you’re not supposed to be this sassy until you’re eighteen.”
‘You got a tattoo when you were fifteen.’
“And it got infected,” I fib straight through my teeth while stuffing my face. “Dad had to cut it out of my skin.”
His eyes widen and he goes a little green in the face.
“Now,” I change the topic before he throws up near my lasagna, “I’ll tell you what’s going on, but only after we finish eating.”
We eat in silence for a moment when, as expected, he caves. I look at him as he signs.
‘Did you really poison Marco?’
My food goes down the wrong pipe, and I choke, coughing to get some air in. He calmly pats my back and hands me a glass of water, like he didn’t just ask me if I murdered a man. As soon as I can speak, I turn to him.
“Obviously not Luke! Do you think I’m capable of doing that?”
‘You did hit Cora with your car once.’
I throw my hands up, “Okay first of all, where are you getting your information from? Secondly, she cut a hole in my running shorts that day. I spent the whole gym class running around with my butt on display! So yes, I nudged her with my car. She didn’t even stumble. And lastly, I am not a murderer, you psycho.”
‘I was just making sure.’
I make a face at him and resume eating. A few seconds later, I drop my fork.
“Did someone say something to you?”
‘About what?’
“You know...” I shrug, “About me being responsible.”
‘No, I was just messing with you.’
He deflects my hand and saves himself from a smack to the head, instead he maneuvers into reach and tugs at my braid.
“Ow!”
“No fighting at the table!” Mom yells from somewhere in the house.
“Jerk,” I mutter underneath my breath.
He signs a not so-very-kind word at me. I pretend not to have seen it.
***
After a whole evening of cleaning, playing charades, and watching senseless television, I stand up and stretch. Mom’s phone dings just as I do.
“I think I should head back now.”
With Dad half-asleep, Luke already passed out, and Mom on her phone, no one answers me.
“Mom, I’m leaving.”
She shakes her head, her expression somber as she looks at me, “Oh Lils, I don’t think you should.”
“Why?” I ask her, immediately on guard. “What’s wrong?”
She hands me her phone. I see that it’s a group chat at the hospital. Apparently, she is still a part of it. I open the latest document and see that it is an autopsy report. When I realize whose, my knees tremble and I have to sit. Mom puts an arm around my shoulders and takes the phone from my hands.
“I know you respected him a great deal. You don’t owe anyone any answers.”
“Mom,” my voice shakes as I speak, “what does it say?”
She takes a deep breath and when she speaks, it’s in her doctor voice.
“He was poisoned. It took approximately an hour for the symptoms to occur, which means he was poisoned between eight to nine a.m.”
I shudder, only to freeze in place when my phone rings. Mom hands it to me and I almost don’t want to pick it up when I see who is calling.
“Well,” Mom says, looking at my screen, “you don’t owe anyone answers, except the police.”
3
Chapter 3
“Do you know why you’re here again?”
Detective Roberts; straight to the point like always. That’s right. This time I memorized his name. I force a grin on my face.
“Maybe because you missed me?”
I can hear the indifference in his voice as he continues speaking, “It’s because you conveniently left out a huge detail earlier.”
“I don’t think so.”
I mentally tell myself to stop fidgeting with the clasp of my bracelet. But it’s no use. If I don’t fidget, they’ll see my hands shaking. I’m sure shaking is a bigger tell for nervousness than fidgeting.
“So, you’re saying you didn’t have an argument with Marco Sanchez the day before he died?”
My bracelet slips from my wrist onto the ground. I look down at it, lamenting the fact that I’ll have to wait till the end to pick it up.
I finally look up at him. I don’t know if he looks different because it is late or if it’s due to the light stubble on his face. But I do want to know what color his eyes are. They are striking.
“He yelled. I listened. Would hardly call that an argument.”
“Sure.” With one nod and a word he has perfectly made it clear that he doesn’t believe me. “Why did he yell?”
“Because I am behind on my payments.”
Detective Williams frowns, “Isn’t Cups & Cakes doing well?”
I smile at her, “It is. I want to buy another shop and have a— had a deal with Marco. But saving money is a time-taking process, and sometimes he thought letting me know, in a loud voice, that I’m a bad investment was a good way to speed things up. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t have been the last.”
“Did you have a tumultuous relationship with Mr. Sanchez?” She asks.
I shake my head. “He gave me a chance to start anew. I owe him. He might have yelled at me at times, but he had a soft heart. He always came back the next day. Which is why I noticed when he didn’t.”
My voice breaks on the last word and I stop talking, gulping down the sudden lump in my throat.
“On the day he died,” she finishes for me.
I nod, unable to speak at the moment. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of them.
“That’s enough for today. You can leave.”
Detective Williams looks surprised by Detective Roberts letting me off the hook, but she doesn’t contest him. Nor do I. The chair screeches on the floor as I stand up too fast. I stop it before it can make more of that awful sound, apologize, and get the hell out of there.
“Dear god,” I huff and take a fresh breath of air outside the precinct, blinking to get rid of the pesky tears. Who knew police stations were that suffocating?
I’m surprised to see Dad still waiting for me in his truck. Out of the blue, it occurs to me that Stella was right when she said that because I spent all my twenties fending for myself—even when I was married—I now have trouble believing that someone would be there for me without an ulterior motive. Stella, my best and oldest friend, who’ll have a field day when I admit it to her.
I walk up to Dad’s window instead of getting in. He rolls it down when he sees me.
“All clear?” he asks.
I nod.
“I’ll drop you home.”
I shake my head.
“Words please,” he politely urges.
“I love you, Dad.”
His smile widens, creasing his eyes. “I love you too, Lils.”
“Now go home,” I say before walking to the back to take out my bicycle.
“Drop a text—”
“When I reach home,” I finish for him. “You too.”
***
I sign off on the chart and hand it back to the delivery boy. He’s a teenager who looks like he wishes to be anywhere but here. I tell myself that has nothing to do with why I tip him big and the only reason is that I’m generally a good tipper. It almost, almost, redeems me in his eyes and he offers me the tiniest of smiles before gunning it. I sigh as I take the handles of the trolley, holding a week’s worth supply of eggs, and start pushing it towards the alley.
Out of nowhere, someone slams into me, causing me to lose my footing. Whoever it is, grabs onto my clothes. Reflexively, I tighten my hold on the trolley, which topples under the weight of two people. Trays from the top two shelves tumble off and splatter on the ground beside and on me before I push the trolley upright. Covered in eggs, with a bruised bank balance and ego, I turn around to see who it is. The witchy curls of blonde hair immediately light me up on fire.
“What the hell Cora?!” I shove her away from me and stand up even as my legs tremble from the rush of adrenaline.
Unperturbed by the egg yolk dripping from her hair, she just sits there.
“A sorry would suffice,” she snaps.
“Sorry?” I scoff. “Did you hurt your head on the way up to Earth from hell?”
“Excuse me?” her voice grates on my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
“Need I remind you that you bumped into me.”
“Why on earth would I want to be anywhere near a poisonous schemer like you?”
As soon as she utters those words, they echo inside my mind until everything falls into place. I gasp as it dawns on me.
I point a finger at her, “It was you!”
Her face loses all color and she suddenly goes whiter than a ghost. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It was you who told the police that Marco argued with me! It was you who spread rumors about me around town. And now everyone is terrified of me because of you!”
To my surprise, she smirks and looks around pointedly. “Oh no honey, that’s all you.”
I follow her gaze and my anger evaporates, doused by a cold awareness that pours over me as I see people crowded in the street, watching us with horrified wide eyes. No—watching me with horrified wide eyes. I suddenly realize how it looks to them; her on the ground with me standing over and shouting at her.
I am shocked when she yells in a loud voice all of a sudden.
“I said I’m sorry! What else do you want from me?”
Just then a tall shadow falls between us before she can advance with playing the victim. I look up at Max. He takes a second to gauge the situation and immediately acts accordingly. Putting a firm hand under her arm, he lifts Cora to her feet. She doesn’t say anything to him. Not with her magnificent crush on him obstructing her senses. Once she is dealt with, he turns to me. I fist my burning palms as his eyes skim over me.
“Come on,” he motions over his shoulder and starts pulling the trolley.
With one last look at the familiar faces in the street, I pick up the empty trays from the ground and throw them in the dumpster in the alley. I wait for Max to push the trolley up the slope and into storage before I close the door behind us. The sink starts to smell like eggs as I wash up my arms. My palms sting too, though not as much as my heart.
It is unbelievable how quickly everyone in town has turned suspicious of me, when I have spent the past two years doing nothing but gaining a good standing in the community.
“Come here.”
I put a mental lid on the disappointment and face Max. He approaches me with a washcloth in hand. I don’t know why I flinch when he raises it up to my face.
He chuckles, “Relax, I’m just trying to fix you up. You look like a dirty kitten. Smell like one too,” he adds, bunching up his nose.
My neck and shoulders remain tense as he cleans my hair. When he backs up, I breathe, only to recoil again when he comes back with a clean, wet one. I take it from his hand.
“I can do it. Thank you.”
He sighs and steps away, running his hands through his hair.
“What the hell just happened Lily?”
I stop short at his words and tone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean outside with Cora.”
“She made me fall on purpose!” my own voice rises in sharpness.
Max pinches the bridge of his nose, before he lowers his hand and looks at me with clear judgement in his eyes.
“She wanted to make a scene. And she succeeded. Why can’t you just try to pretend to be perfect until everyone calms down?”
I am rendered utterly shocked. My mouth opens and shuts twice, unable to form words. He rubs a hand over his face.
“I didn’t mean it that—”
“I’m going to head home and shower. Can’t be perfect smelling like eggs, can I?”
I ignore his murmurs of trying to stop me and leave.
As soon as I enter home, Loki comes running. He must have sensed that I’m not having a good day because he doesn’t usually greet me like this.
“Hi there,” I bend down to rub his head, and am immediately overwhelmed by the smell as my hair falls around me.
I laugh as Loki takes one sniff and then races down the hall, away from me.
“Nice to know you love me unconditionally, bud,” I call out after him.
He meows in response from the bedroom.
***
Mr. Williams hands me a steaming cup of tea. Freshly showered, scrubbed, and having had a cry-fest, I realized I needed to talk to someone, other than Loki. Since Stella has picked the worst time possible to take a vacation, Mr. Williams seemed like the best option.
His cotton-white hair is combed neatly into a side part. I’ve never seen him in rumpled clothing in all the time I’ve known him. He is always sharply dressed.
“Thank you, Mr. Williams. I can’t tell you what a relief it is that you haven’t turned on me like the rest of the town.”
He smiles, his hand slightly shaking as he lifts the cup to his mouth. It always does when he lifts something heavier than air.
