False Premises (28 page)

“He was angry that I’d given his name to the police, and he told me to mind my own business. Then, after that, there was a knife stabbed into the front door at home.”

Sullivan paled and sat up straight. “Wait. You mean, Wong got so mad at you, he stabbed a knife into your door?”

“It was an . . . anonymous door stabbing. I found the knife there when I got back from Laura’s service on Saturday. It had a black wooden handle, just like the murder weapon used on Jerry Stone.”

Sullivan uttered a very colorful four-letter word. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Erin. And it’s going to be my fault.”

“No, I’m not, and nothing that happens to me is
your
fault. I’m in charge of making my own decisions and dealing with the consequences.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be forced to make these kinds of decisions if I hadn’t dragged you into my screwed-up life in the first place.”

I said firmly, “For one thing, you
didn’t
drag me, and for another, your life’s no more screwed up than anyone else’s.”

But Sullivan wasn’t listening. He grumbled, “If it hadn’t been for the damned broken leg . . . Shit! I knew this was going to happen! I tried to get you uninvolved clear back when I found that ashtray in Toben’s storage unit. I
knew
you’d flip out. But then I fell, and now—”

“You already knew about the gorilla’s paw?”

“They delivered it Saturday afternoon, right before Laura’s service, along with the exchanges. That’s part of why I was so . . . weirded out at the time. I had to sign for the ashtray. How
else
did you think it wound up in the delivery truck?”

Stunned, I stammered, “I . . . couldn’t figure that out at the time, then I forgot all about it.” I searched his flushed features. “
That’s
why you made the crack about sewing the paw back on the gorilla’s leg? You were trying to get rid of me?”

He clenched his teeth. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, Gilbert. This is
my
mess, damn it all, not yours.”

Someone knocked, and Steve hollered, “Come on in, Norton,” without leaving his seat.

I was still too shocked by Sullivan’s latest revelation to assess my feelings. Numb, I automatically rose and started toward the door as John opened it. He pulled me into a hug and whispered into my ear, “I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this.”

“Thanks. It’s been a messy couple of weeks, I’ve got to admit.”
And getting messier by the minute.

With his arms still around me, John muttered, “Hey,” in Steve’s direction, then said to me, “This is insane. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here, Erin. Let me take you away for a few days.”

“I already suggested that,” Steve interjected, “but she said no.”

“Did you?” He was looking at Steve over my shoulder, and though John didn’t push me away, every muscle in his body grew tense. “You suggested that she go away with
me
? Or with
you
?”

“Give me a break,” Steve retorted in a smoldering voice as I pulled away from John.

“Hey. No problem, dude. You want me to take out your other leg?”

“Stop this right now!” I scolded. “Both of you!” I knew I was sounding like their mother, but then,
they
were acting like children.

Steve held up his palms as he looked at me. “Hey, Gilbert, this is all due to loverboy’s ego trip. Don’t blame me.”

“Like hell!” John grumbled.

I turned to him and said, “Of
course
Steve didn’t ask me to leave town with him, John! Sullivan and I are just friends!”

“And barely even that,” Sullivan added.

That stung. I’d made similar comments, but this wasn’t the time for sarcasm or rudeness. John, apparently, begged to differ, for he taunted, “Steve Sullivan always gets the girl. It’s carved in stone someplace.”

“What the hell
is
this, Norton? Sour grapes? Almost two years after the fact?”

“There you go again. You don’t seem to have learned a damned thing from what happened between you and Laura.”

“What exactly was I supposed to have
learned
? You two were past history. She was already with Dave Holland, for Christ’s sake!”

John ticked off on his fingers. “She wasn’t available, she was my ex, and the three of us still traveled in the same crowd! You broke the code by chasing after her.”

“What code? And, anyway, what’s it to you now? You’re lucky you got away when you did. That woman destroyed me!
And
Holland.”

“Maybe you deserved it. Bad karma.”

“Come on, guys.” I tried to step between them. Sullivan was now sitting up on the chaise, gripping his cane in both hands as though it were a baseball bat. “This isn’t—”

“I deserved it for falling for the same woman as
you
, you mean?” Sullivan retorted, speaking straight through me as if I were invisible. “Did you kill her?”

“Jesus, Sullivan! Of course not! If you’d get your brain back in your skull where it belongs, you’d realize that!”

“You hated Laura for dumping you, didn’t you?” Steve said, rising. “Why
else
would you be bringing it up, after all this time!”

“
You’re
the one who hated her, not me! I’m starting to think
you
killed her and are trying to get me to take the rap!”

I hollered at the top of my lungs, “Stop it! Now! Both of you!”

They gaped at me, dumbfounded.

“I discovered a
murdered
man today! I’m not going to stay here and listen to you two shout horrible accusations at each other!”

I stormed out of the house and marched to my van. While fumbling for my car keys, I hesitated.
Wait a
minute!
Sullivan wasn’t so callous as to say that we were “barely even friends” unless he intentionally wanted to hurt me. I whirled around. Sullivan had just done it again; he’d duped me into walking out on him. The man had manipulated me twice.

John followed me. “Erin, wait. We need to talk.”

Sullivan had staged his part of their confrontation. But
what was John’s excuse?
He
was the one who’d actually cast
the first stone.
Unwilling to look at him, I growled, “Now’s not a good time, John. Call me tonight, after I’ve had some time to cool down, if you want.”

“Steve’s just pissed about his life getting so out of control. He was just lashing out at me, you know. He knows I didn’t kill anyone, for God’s sake.”

I looked at John’s handsome face, realizing that I didn’t know the man at all. He went on, “I said some stupid things just now that I didn’t mean. Truth is, it bugs me that he’s always the first one you turn to, rather than me. The bottom line is, Laura meant nothing to me.”

“
That’s
your ‘bottom line’? Is it supposed to make me feel better about you? Laura meant nothing to you, so I’m supposed to be impressed?”

He sighed. “No, Erin. That just . . . came out all wrong. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I care about you . . . a lot. I don’t want you to leave like this.” He tried to give me a sheepish smile and said gently, “Come on, Erin.” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s get a fresh start on things, okay? We’ve got a good thing going.”

I yanked my hand free from his. “No, we don’t, John. We almost did . . . if none of this had happened with Laura. But I just don’t think we can bounce back. I’m sorry, but I think we need to end things.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“Yes.”

His face went slack, from shock to anger, then he pivoted and started to walk away—to my surprise and confusion, heading back toward Sullivan’s house. “Fine. I’ll . . . see you around.”

“I really
am
sorry, John.”

“Me too.”

“If you’re going back inside, please give Sullivan a message. Tell him he’s fired.”

I got into my car and drove away, too numbed by the day’s events to cry, too confused and disgusted by Sullivan’s manipulations and his shouting match with John to feel much sense of loss.

After a full hour at home by myself, Audrey still hadn’t
arrived, and I waited impatiently for her. I’d decided to vent by throwing myself into a home-improvement project. There was nothing I could do about the ever-present wall-to-wall furniture in the parlor, so I’d gone straight to my notebook computer and had scoured the Internet sites till I found the perfect armchairs for Audrey’s old-world Italian den. Though I’d shown Hildi the chairs on my screen, the experience hadn’t been fulfilling for either of us.

The doorbell rang. I checked the sidelight.
Sullivan.
I threw open the door, ready and eager to go on the offensive. “I’m really not in the mood to—”

“Whoa.” He held up his palm. “I need a woman’s perspective on something, Gilbert. I just want to ask you one question, then I’ll go. Promise. Okay?”

I sighed. “Go ahead.”

“How long should a guy wait before he apologizes to a woman for acting like a total ass?”

I looked at him in surprise.

“I mean, I gotta figure I’m the last person you want to see right about now, but then, the longer I wait, the more opportunity there is for you to think about what a jerk I am. So, tell me . . . what’s your advice here?”

“First off, I’d need to know
which
asinine behavior you’re referring to. When you were deliberately egging John into fighting with you? When you were pretending not to care about Henry’s buying goods from poachers? Either way, I don’t need or want you to shove me out of the way and take the bullet for me, Sullivan. And, besides, don’t you think you owe
John
the bigger apology?
He’s
the one you wound up accusing of murder, for crying out loud!”

“Ah, I already took care of that last part. He came back inside after you took off. We’d both let some things explode in us, but in another month or two, we’ll go grab a beer and shoot some pool, and it’ll be fine. But . . . what about you?”

I crossed my arms and quipped, “You mean, do
I
want to grab a beer and shoot some pool?”

“
Do
you?”

I tried not to look at him, and fought back a smile. My resolve was already breaking. Did the man
have
to be so freaking gorgeous? “Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad. But I’d rather wait till you’ve got two good legs, so you can’t blame your defeat on a measly broken bone.”

“Does this mean you’re accepting my apology?”

“
What
apology? You haven’t actually said you’re sorry yet. Or even that you’ll quit treating me like your weak little underling who needs your protection.”

“True.” He gave me a cheerful shrug. “Ah, well. That’ll give you something to look forward to in the future.” He turned and started to limp back down the walkway toward his car.

“So that’s
it
? You’re leaving?”

He paused, then turned back. “I
said
I just wanted to ask you a question.”

“You’re incredibly annoying, Sullivan!”

He grinned at me.

“You know, sooner or later you’re going to have to accept that Laura was what she was.
She
determined her own fate. She cheated and stole from the men she duped into becoming her lovers. You’ve got to get past it . . . quit letting it louse up your life.”

His smile faded completely, and just as quickly, I felt like a heel for kicking a man with a broken leg. “That’s exactly what I
am
doing, Gilbert. But right now, I need justice. I need to know that her killer is going to rot in jail.”

Chagrined, I replied, “I understand how you feel. I’m sorry I carped at you.”

He snorted. “Okay. Then we’re even. And I accept
your
apology.”

I groaned in exasperation and started to shut the door, saying, “Go home, Sullivan.”

“Sure, but I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. We’ve got a meeting with Pembrook and Toben at Toben’s house.”

At that, I swung the door fully open again. “No!
We
don’t.
I
do.” Although it would be safest if
neither
of us went, I needed to get Robert to sign off on the work, or I wouldn’t get paid. “This is
my
project. You wouldn’t even accept payment, and all you’ve got to show for it is a broken leg!”

“Whatever. I’m still
your
assistant on Toben’s job.”

“No, you’re not. You were fired. Didn’t you get my message?”

He turned toward his van and said over his shoulder, “I called Toben a few minutes ago. He told me he finished installing the interiors himself . . . that he even replaced the booby-trapped picture frame that the police confiscated. All that’s left to do is to get Pembrook to sign off on everything.”

“Even so, you’re
not
coming with me.”

“Yeah, I am. See you tomorrow.” Limping, he rounded his van and got in, giving me a mocking wave in the process.

The next afternoon, I drove to Henry’s home. Sullivan
sat in the passenger seat. After all, there was safety in numbers, and my decision soon seemed prudent: a spring-green VW Beetle was parked in Henry’s driveway. “Oh, my God. George Wong’s here!” I cried as I parked behind the Bug.

“How would
they
know each other?”

“Other than via a nefarious connection?” I asked rhetorically, opening my door. “Henry’s expecting us, so he obviously isn’t trying to hide the relationship. That’s got to be a good sign.”

“Maybe. In any case, it’ll be interesting to hear their explanation,” Steve replied as he got out, already sounding a bit out of breath, as he had to balance his weight awkwardly on his good leg to rise and shut the door behind him.

Predictably, he became grouchy when I tried to carry his briefcase for him. Interior designer or not, the man truly was insufferably macho. We reached the front door, and I pushed the doorbell and could hear the regal gong inside. My prediction was that Henry would soon swap that classy bell with one that sounded like a trumpeting elephant. Or screaming monkeys.

Henry’s eyes widened as he threw open the carved hardwood door. “Hi, Erin. Steve. I . . . forgot you were coming, or I’d have told you sooner: there’s no need for you to come out. I love what you’ve done with the house, so thanks. It’s been a pleasure.”