Liberty...And Justice for All (4 page)

I
woke
up with a white-wine headache, angry at myself. I didn’t have time for wine headaches and for evil smiles. At least, I shouldn’t. That wasn’t setting a good example for Catherine, and one of the many things Catherine needed was a good example.

I needed to remember that I was doing this for John. No matter how difficult she was, he loved her. And I loved him. So I was going to make this work, come hell or high water.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she snarled a few minutes later when I knocked on her door. I turned on the lights. She lifted up her quilted sleep mask and looked at the clock.
4:55 am.
“You’re taking this whole
Mommy Dearest
thing a little too seriously, Liberty. Now fuck off.”

I sighed and stood back from the bed. I’d already had some coffee this morning, just to be prepared for this. No matter how difficult she was, I was going to get her out of bed, get her exercising and eating right. So that maybe she wouldn’t have a carton of cigarettes for breakfast and drink all of the booze in the house before noon.

So that we could go hunt for the jewel thief. Together. With guns.

“Catherine, you don’t need to talk to me like that,” I said. “But you
do
need to get up. We are going to start working out today, so that at a minimum, we can run away if someone shoots at us.”

She ignored me, her eyes scrunched shut.

I decided that I needed to motivate her. That would involve either carrying a bottle of vodka and running in front of her, like the plastic bunny that the greyhounds chased, or something else.

I decided “something else” was safer. Because I wasn’t that fast of a runner, and I wasn’t sure what she’d do if she actually caught up to me.

“John told me that he’s planning on paying you,” I said, casually. In fact, John had said no such thing. But I knew that he was still largely funding Catherine’s lifestyle. Catherine’s mother and stepfather had plenty of money, but John’s guilt about Catherine, which had more layers than a Club sandwich, compelled him to regularly send money to Eva so that Catherine could shop.

“How much,” she asked, flatly, keeping her eyes shut.

“Enough,” I said, because I had no idea what would actually be enough for her.

She sat up a little and opened her eyes. “I’m listening,” she said.

“I don’t have specifics,” I said. “But I know that John will pay you, and he’s usually pretty generous when it comes to you.” We looked at each other for a beat. “There’s some workout clothes on the dresser. Sneakers, too.”

I couldn’t quite picture Catherine in anything other than dangerously spiked heels, so I ran downstairs before she could protest.

Ian was sitting at the table, having tea.

“You’re up early,” I said. He got up and made me a cup of coffee because he was the best father-in-law that ever lived.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “I want to go through the details of the theft with you. We didn’t talk about it much on the island because we were too busy celebrating. I didn’t want to make you and John upset.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” I said. I threw a bagel into the toaster; the idea of running with just coffee sloshing around in my stomach seemed ill-advised.

“Well, I didn’t tell you everything,” Ian said, his voice a warning.

My stomach plummeted and I turned to him. “Did you tell John everything?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Ian said.

“Why not?”

“Because I was worried that my son would rush off and kill someone,” Ian said, taking his glasses off and cleaning them. His brow was furrowed and I realized that he’d been keeping a secret from us, which was not his style. He must have had a reason. A very good one.

I sat down, suddenly losing my appetite.

“Kill who?” I asked.

Ian sighed. “When I woke up the morning after the robbery, I found one of the ground-floor windows shattered. I immediately checked the house to see what, if anything, was missing. I checked the safe. Its door had been pried open. The necklace was gone and I found a note inside.”

He sighed again. “I’m worried my son will kill whoever wrote it.”

He handed me the note, which I unfolded with shaking hands. It was typewritten.

To Whom It May Concern:

I am taking this necklace because it is a work of art. A symbol of greatness. It is worth over a million dollars, as you know, but I’m not going to sell it. I am going to keep it and care for it like a decent person of good-breeding should. I know the intended recipient of this piece; I can tell you quite frankly that she is not worthy of its luster. Whores and strippers are only good for one thing with a necklace like this—wearing it when they’re being fucked.

If you come looking for me, and for this treasure, I will kill you. I will enjoy it. I don’t tolerate whores and the men who lower themselves to consort with them. If you come for me I will tear you limb from limb, and that would suit me just fine.

Sincerely,

The Person Who Broke Into Your House, You Dumb Fuck

I looked up at Ian and the kitchen swirled around me. I had to grip the table.
So much hate,
I thought, my mind a blur.
So much vicious hate.

“Liberty, I’m sorry,” Ian said, clutching my hand.

“What are you two doing?” Catherine asked, stalking in. She took one look at my white face and Ian holding me and she shook her head in disgust. “You’re pregnant?” She screeched. “Already?”

“No,” I said. “We have a lead in our case.” I put my head on the granite countertop; its firm coolness soothed me even though the words from the note still swirled in my head.
I don’t tolerate whores… I will tear you limb from limb…

I ran to the bathroom and threw up, loudly.

“Are you sure she’s not pregnant?” Catherine asked Ian.

“I heard that!” I yelled. I sat on the bathroom floor, my head spinning. My fifteen minutes of pure happiness were over, it seemed. Why was trouble following me? I’d finally thought I was safe…that my new family was safe.

Who knew about the necklace? And who could hate me that much?

Alexandra knew, of course. John. Ian. Matthew and…Catherine. I’d told Catherine about it, before she’d come out to the wedding.

Catherine.

I stood up, wiped my mouth, and balled my hands into fists. I ran out into the kitchen and Catherine and Ian both looked at me—I must have been a sight. Wild hair, pale face, clenched hands.

Catherine took one look at me and held up her hands, one of which was holding the note, like she was surrendering. “I did
not
write this shit. I swear, Liberty. I wouldn’t talk about having sex with you.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s freaking gross.”

“It’s scary, is what it is,” Ian said. He got up and led me back to my seat. “I’m so sorry to drop this on you. I wanted to show you first, without John.” He brought me a glass of water and sat down next to me, his hand on my back.

“That’s not the only reason I waited to tell you.” He paused for a bit while I took a shaky sip of water. I’d always felt close to Ian, but I felt like he’d just blindsided me.

“I want you to decide how you want to handle this, Liberty. If we’re serious about keeping the business running, and you’re going to be a part of that, I want you to have ownership of what we do. This is some of the ugliness that we deal with…the underside of human nature.

“I want
you
to make the decision about how to proceed before we get John involved. Once he knows, he’s going lose it, and whoever wrote that note can say goodbye to their limbs, to use their term. And I am perfectly okay with that. But I don’t want you to get left out in how we handle this, Liberty. John will be so enraged, so focused, that nothing any of us say will matter.”

Of all the cases I could be responsible for, I had to get the one where the bad guy called me a whore and threatened to tear me limb from limb.

Luck hasn’t been your strong suit, except for John,
my inner voice said, but I just rolled my eyes at her.

No shit.

Ian raised his hand. “I actually vote for just calling the police and walking away,” he said, giving me a sad smile. “This person is sick. And I’m tired of John killing people and being in danger all the time. I’m too old to handle all this adventure.”

“Well, I don’t want anything bad to happen, either,” I said. “But I’m not willing to just let this go. Whoever wrote this is sick, you’re right. They stole the necklace and that’s wrong. And then they made it personal. Which just makes me mad.”

I felt eyes on me and I turned to see Catherine, who was looking at us over her mug of coffee. “I vote for trying to find this guy ourselves,” she said. “I am so
tired
of people who hate women.”

“Hear hear,” Ian said. “I wish we could put them all on a cruise ship together and send it out to the middle of the Atlantic for eternity. With nothing but the
Norovirus
on board.”

“That’s good, Ian,” Catherine said, nodding. “I like that.” She turned back to me. “But since that’s not gonna happen, I say game on with this fucker. You might have noticed, I have some anger management issues. I could really use an outlet. Besides, you said John offered to pay me, and I’ve had my eye on some
very
nice Prada boots. Now I won’t have to wait until Christmas.”

“You want to go after this crazy person because you want a new pair of
boots
?” I asked.

Catherine shrugged. “Everybody wants something,” she said, defensively.

“What do you want to do, Liberty?” Ian asked.

I looked down at the note, my mind racing. It was Wednesday. I was flying out to see John on Saturday. That gave us four days. I knew once I saw John, I would tell him everything. So I was going to have to move lightning fast and find out something before I saw him, so that he couldn’t just swoop in and put a bullet in the problem.

But we didn’t have any clues. Not one, except for the note and for the timing. Whoever had broken in had done it on a night while John and I were on vacation, when the guys were home on leave and Ian was alone in the house, sleeping upstairs. We never used the elaborate alarm system at the house—we were on our own private compound, and John was usually enough security. But we’d been away, and whoever the thief was, he took advantage of the isolation.

“Did you check this for prints?” I asked Ian, holding up the note, even though I knew he had.

He nodded at me. “Nothing,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “So all we have is a motive. Whoever stole the necklace knows me and hates me. They also had to know that the necklace was here. That leaves, like, two people.”

Catherine held up her hands again. “I told you already—it wasn’t me.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Right. I know. But the only people who knew about the necklace were the three of us,” I said, “John, Matthew, my sister Alexandra, and maybe the lawyer who came with her that day.”

“Did the rest of your siblings know?” Ian asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think Alexandra mentioned something about it…that they were pissed that my father left the necklace to me. But I don’t know how they’d know my address, or that I was a stripper, or that John and I were out of town…”

“Unless Alexandra told them,” Ian said, carefully.

I nodded at him. “Right. There’s that. It kind of opens things up,” I said. I started pacing the room. “Let’s figure out who we can talk to and try to start piecing some of this together.
After
we have our morning workout,” I said to Catherine. She frowned at me. “It’s tradition. Plus, maybe it will help you quit smoking. You smell like a dirty ashtray and I’m already sick of it.”

“
Y
ou’re not going
to tell John?” Matthew asked me. We were sitting on the ground, stretching out before our run. Catherine was picking at a cuticle, ignoring us. Matthew was ignoring her back; he’d barely grunted a hello to her.

“I’m not going to tell him for a few days—not until I see him this weekend,” I said. I could feel my face turning red. I didn’t want to keep secrets from John, but I also had to protect him from himself.

“When he finds out about that note—and that we were hiding it from him—he’s gonna blow a gasket,” Matthew said. “I think we should call him. Now. That’s some pretty sick shit that person wrote.”

“If I tell him, he’s going to fly home and lock me in a safe house, and start shooting people,” I said. “You’re right—he
will
be upset that I haven’t told him. But this is my chance to find out who might have stolen it. It’s also my chance to show him that I can do the work—without him shooting anybody.”

I looked at Matthew pleadingly. He looked back at me doubtfully. He did not seem remotely convinced.

“Ian thinks it’s a good idea,” I said, jutting my chin out at him. “He said that I should make my own decision. And plus, John wants Catherine to be involved. She said she’s in.”

“I
said
I wanted a new pair of boots,” Catherine chimed in, still looking down at her nails. She hadn’t stretched at all, and she’d only had black coffee for breakfast. “And that I have anger management issues that I need an outlet for. So I’ll help out. But honestly, I don’t want to do any favors for John.”

“He’s your
father
,” I said, indignant. “You’re lucky that he at least makes an effort with your relationship.”

Catherine rolled her eyes at me. “It’s not a relationship,” she said. “It’s a sad approximation of a joke.”

Matthew snorted and stood up. “No more talking, ladies. I can’t stand it. For the record, Lib, I think you’re making a mistake and we’re all gonna pay for it. John’s gonna pop when he sees that note. Trust me.

“And Catherine, I don’t want to hear you complaining about your dad. He’s keeping you in cigarettes and booze, and also those stupid-expensive clothes you like. Whine on your own time, please,” he said. She glared at him and he ignored her.

“Now, let’s run. And I don’t want to hear about cramps, or wheezing, or anything,” he said to Catherine. “You have a problem, keep it to yourself. But you
will
finish this course. If you don’t, I’m throwing your cigarettes out, or I’ll run ahead of you with them, so you have to catch me if you ever want to smoke one again.”