Sweet Little Lies (21 page)

As she ate her sandwich and sipped her Diet Coke, she thought about what she would say to Tim Landry. What would he say to her? Kelly pulled out her compact and touched up her makeup. God, she hated foundation. It felt like it was dripping off her face in this blistering New Orleans sun. Kelly picked up her Diet Coke and walked over to the payphone in the back near the bathrooms. She fished fifty cents out of her wallet and dialed. It only rang once before someone answered.

“The Spence Law Firm, may I help you?”

“Tim Landry, please.”

“One moment.”

Kelly tapped her foot while she waited for Tim Landry to pick up his phone.

“This Tim,” the man on the other end said, the “is” getting lost in his lazy southern drawl.

Kelly paused for a moment. “Kelly Monroe.”

She heard him suck in his breath.

“Are you there?” she asked.

“Where are you?” he finally said.

“Right in your backyard.”

“I guess you have some questions for me.”

“Damn straight.”

“How much do you know?”

“Not enough.”

Tim let out a tired sigh. “Where are you stayin’?”

“Wrong.”

“You can trust me.”

“Mark said the same thing.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.”

“I pick the place. You stay by the phone, and I’ll call you when I’m ready.” She went to hang up before she pressed the receiver to her ear again. “And don’t try any bullshit either.”

Kelly slammed the phone down before he could say anything. Her heart was thumping wildly. She looked at her watch; it was three-fifteen. Taking a big sigh, she picked up the phone to make another call. Scrounging around in her purse for the change she’d asked for at the counter earlier, she began to deposit all of it into the phone. God, she missed having a cell phone. Dialing from memory, Kelly waited for the line to connect.

“Hello?” the pleasant voice on the other end answered.

“Jeannie, it’s Kelly—”

“Oh, my goodness, baby, are you okay?”

“Jeannie, I don’t have a lot of time. I need you to walk, very calmly, next door and tell my father you have a leaky faucet you need help with. Tell him you need him to look at it right now because the drip-drip-drip is driving you crazy. You cannot tell him anything else, and you must stay calm. That’s very important. I will call back in exactly five minutes.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, of course, dear, of course. Five minutes.”

“Thanks, Jeannie,” Kelly said abruptly before she hung up the phone.

Kelly sipped her Diet Coke while she waited for the five minutes to pass. Jeannie had been the Ross’ neighbor the entire time they’d lived on Barton. Kelly and Stacy had grown up with the Pullman’s three children. Mr. Pullman had been killed in a car accident a few years ago, and Jeannie would often call on Harry Ross to help her with odd jobs around the house. Out of habit, Kelly drummed her finger against the phone, forgetting she no longer had acrylic nails to make that distinctive tapping noise she liked. Kelly looked at her watch and saw the five minutes was up. She picked up the phone, pumped it full of change, and re-dialed Jeannie. The phone had barely made one ring before it was snatched up.

“Hello?”

“Daddy, it’s me.”

Kelly smiled at the audible sigh of relief from her father.

“Oh, Bunny. Are you okay?”

Being the daddy’s girl that she was, Kelly dissolved into tears at Harry calling her by his childhood nickname for her. She gripped the metal cord of the phone so hard, it pinched her finger, drawing a sliver of blood.

“Oh, Daddy, I’m just so tired.”

“Where are you? Bunny, you need to turn yourself in.”

Kelly sniffed as her nose began to run. “I can’t, Daddy. Not yet. I’m really close to finding out what was going on with Mark. I…I just…I didn’t know if they were watching the house or tapping the phones, and…I just wanted you to know I’m okay and that I love you.” She chuckled. “I figured I would call you instead of Mom. This way at least only one of us is crying.”

“We’ve all been crying, baby.”

Kelly nodded as the tears fell faster. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I have to go, Daddy, but I love you, and I promise this will be over soon.”

“We love you, too. And please. Be careful. The cops have made this personal.”

“Yeah, well, this whole thing has been personal. Okay, bye.” Kelly hung up the phone before she lost it completely. She stayed slumped against the wall next to the payphone for a few minutes before she straightened up and returned to the business at hand, namely Tim Landry.

She decided to make her way back toward the Quarter and find a place where they could meet. She pulled out her compact to swipe some powder over her face to cover the streaks of tears. She slid her sunglasses over her face and stepped out into the bright sunlight. Kelly began to walk, hoping a cab would come by. After about ten minutes, she saw one and hailed it.

As she was taken back to the Quarter, she again tried to prepare herself for what Tim Landry might tell her. She both feared and welcomed it. She’d asked the driver to drop her on Bourbon Street, and she began to walk, searching for something seedy, something with anonymity. After about an hour, she unearthed the dark little hovel she was looking for.

Kelly peered around the bar, searching for a table. An overhead fan twirled with lazy strokes above her, but it did nothing to chip away at the concrete wall of heat. She found a table tucked in the corner, far from the door, and decided it was perfect. She wanted a few minutes to herself before she called Tim. She ordered a glass of chardonnay and nursed it for the next hour and a half, lost in memories of Mark. Beautiful, beautiful Mark.

Though they’d been together for four years, they were just as hot for each other as they had been the night they met. She’d never done the one-night stand thing. Patric had been her first lover, Mark her second. The funny thing was, she’d felt no trepidation about taking Mark home with her that night. She knew she would spend the rest of her life with him, that he was the one. They’d spent the entire weekend in bed, and when Mark finally left on Monday morning, she slipped him a spare key; he was back that night. Her friends thought she was nuts, that she was headed for a fall. However, anyone who saw the two of them together knew there was no denying they had the real thing. It was more than that they were both beautiful and successful and ambitious. They just fit together, like they had been made for each other.

Kelly swallowed the last bit of wine in the glass and signaled for another. While the waitress got her a refill, she walked over to the payphone and dialed Tim Landry.

“This Tim.”

“I’m at a charming little establishment in the Quarter, with a woman in fishnets on the sign. Do you know it?”

“Of course.”

“If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m leaving.”

“I’ll be there in seven.”

Kelly hung up the phone without a word and went back to her wine.

T
rue to his word, Tim appeared in front of her seven minutes later.

He was a handsome man, though not in a glossy, pretty way. He had a medium build, sandy brown hair, and soft blue eyes. He was flushed under his golden tan and slightly out of breath.

“Kelly.”

She gulped and waved to the seat across from her, indicating he should take it. He slid into the booth and stared at her.

“So. We finally meet. I just wish it wasn’t like this.”

Kelly sniffed and looked into her wine glass. “Think how I feel.”

It was Tim’s turn to look down. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he repeated, his voice laced with sadness.

The waitress came over, and Tim ordered a Scotch on the rocks. He loosened his tie a bit while he waited for his drink. He and Kelly didn’t speak in those awkward moments before the waitress came back with his drink. He took a long swig before he spoke.

“Where should I start?”

“I’ve found the beginning is usually a good place.”

Tim took another guzzle of his Scotch before he hunched over the table. “You mind if I smoke?” he asked. “This one of the few places in town where you can still smoke.”

Kelly shook her head, getting impatient. “Fine. The beginning.”

Tim lit his cigarette, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember how this whole thing started. Or maybe I just try to forget.”

“Why don’t you try to remember?”

“Tell me what you already know.”

“I don’t know anything. I need you to fill in the blanks.”

Tim let out a deep sigh. “God, I wish Mark was here…” His voice trailed off as he remembered, and he burned red. Kelly looked away, her eyes shining with tears. She picked up a cocktail napkin and blew her nose.

For the next three hours, Kelly listened as Tim Landry told her all about Mark Monroe and Geneva Jenkins. At times, she cried. Sometimes, she cringed, and sometimes she smiled at the fond memories evoked by Tim’s words. At times, she fired questions at Tim like a machine gun and other times remained silent as stone.

When Tim finally leaned back, finished with his story, the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts and the waitress had run through more than half a bottle of Scotch just on him. Tears streamed down Kelly’s face.

“Why didn’t you say something as soon as you heard about Mark?” she sobbed as she grabbed another cocktail napkin to blow her nose.

He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and pushed it toward Kelly. He withdrew a handkerchief from another pocket and gave that to her as well.

“I’ve been out in L.A. since last Thursday taking depositions. My wife called and told me about Mark. I got back into town this morning, and I booked the trip today. I figured the police in Chicago would want to hear what I know.”

Kelly looked down at the paper Tim had put in front of her as she dabbed her nose with the white linen handkerchief. It was an itinerary for a trip from New Orleans to Chicago, leaving at six p.m. that night.

“Obviously, I’ll need to reschedule.” He paused and swirled the swallow of watery Scotch in the bottom his glass.

Kelly snorted and shook her head. “Guess so.”

“Truth be told, when my wife said Mark’s wife was wanted for questioning in his death, I thought it was Geneva.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, still digesting his story.

“Yeah, well, considering what you just told me, I can understand why.”

Tim blew out his smoke before he stubbed out his cigarette. “If you don’t mind me askin’, what happened that day?”

Kelly rubbed her hands over her face before she looked up and recounted the whole story to him. She leaned back and ran her finger up and down the stem of her wineglass before she drained her wine.

“Now it all makes sense.” She bowed her head. “Well, some of it anyway.”

He looked at her and gave her a small smile. “You look a little different than your pictures.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I probably look like complete shit now since I’ve been crying so much.” She paused. “Let’s just say when you’re on the run from the law, being a former model who knows a little something about makeup comes in handy.”

He gave a soft, wry chuckle then grew quiet. “What now?”

She shook her head and let a deep sigh rumble from her lips. “Go back to Chicago. Turn myself in. Spend the rest of my life in jail. You?”

“Well, I’m going to reschedule my flight and…after that, I guess wait and see.”

Kelly nodded sadly. “Yeah.” She looked at her watch. It was late, and she was exhausted.

“Well, it’s time for me to disappear. Will you give me a good night’s sleep?”

“Kelly, you don’t have to worry. As far as anyone knows…we never met.”

She nodded and smiled before she folded up the damp handkerchief and slid it across the table to Tim.

“You know? You’re alright. I can see why Mark trusted you.”

“He’d a done the same for me.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Be careful.”

She stood up and smiled. “Goodbye, Tim.”

“Good luck, Mrs. Monroe.”

Kelly looked at him for a moment. “Thank you,” she said before she gave his hand a brief squeeze and rushed out of the bar, disappearing into the madness of Bourbon Street.

•

Tim stared down into his glass, now sweaty and filled with watery Scotch. He wanted to order another, but he should head home.

And yet, he couldn't. He felt better, sitting here in this seedy bar thinking about his friend. How much he would miss him. How tragic it all was.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and signaled the waitress for another, ignoring the flood.

“M
an, I will be damn glad when we’ve passed the bar. I feel like I’ve been run over by two trucks,” Mark said.

Tim took a final drag off his cigarette before he flung it to the ground. “You ain’t kidding, man. If I never see another yellow highlighter, it’ll be too soon.”

Mark laughed. “Amen, brother.”

It was Saturday night, and the two friends and roommates had spent the entire day holed up at the Tulane Law Library studying for the bar exam. They had a full day of studying ahead of them tomorrow, but the need to interact with people other than law students and things other than law books had pulled them out onto the streets of New Orleans for hot burgers and cold beer.

It was June, and the two men would be graduating in July, taking the bar shortly thereafter. They ducked into Cooter Brown’s, an establishment where many a Tulane student could be found quenching their thirsts. The pair each ordered a beer and chugged them while they waited for their burgers and fries.

Tim ignited another cigarette and leaned back. “So, you still thinkin’ you gonna leave?”

Mark swallowed his beer and nodded. “Yeah, man. Gotta go where the dough is.”

“How’s Sasha feel about that?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Man, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t take her or her moods anymore. I told her last night I thought it was for the best we break it off, and she didn’t take it so good. Don’t be surprised if she’s calling the house day and night.”