The Tell-Tale Con (26 page)

“I said I could figure out the demon thing!  Not a murder.  This is the first time in my life someone is trying to kill the person I'm with.  So that is kind of a game changer, I'm thinking.”

It was his turn to sigh.  “I've already told the police.  I told them everything.  Well, not what we were doing, but everything about the car and the attempts on my life and the supposition that Nate might have been killed by the same person trying to kill me.  Do you know how much they cared?  Not at all.”

Yeah, that was a question I could have answered without his help.  Cops were never there when you needed them, but always around when you were trying to get some old dude to sign his baseball card collection over to you.

“I won't tell my dad.  He wouldn't believe me, and if he did, I'm not sure he'd actually care.  I won't freak out my mom.  She couldn't do anything from India anyway.  And I'm not sure I trust Kanako.  She was nice when the police were accusing me, but then when we got home it was like I'd never said anything at all.  I don't know what she thinks, but I'm sure it isn't that I'm telling the truth.”

Yeah.  There was no one.  Except Mark, and Harrison had turned him down.  But when I got home I'd see about that one.  Even if Harrison wasn't into the idea of an armed guard, I was kind of getting into it.  I just couldn't let him know. 

We drove down Tramway until we reached a section of upscale townhomes, all contemporary, tall and thin, lined up on both sides of the road.  Harrison pulled into one of the complexes, a half dozen two-story places made entirely of glass, metal and weird, jutting geometric shapes, like some kind of giant art sculpture that no one actually understands. 

“Okay, this time I want you to let me do the talking,” Harrison said. 

I shrugged.  He didn't know it, but I had nothing I wanted to say to Ana at this juncture.  I still wasn't certain what her game was, and I didn't want her looking too closely at me.  Though, I couldn't imagine why I cared if she managed to influence Harrison into never seeing me again.  He was just my lab partner. 

Or whatever. 

Feeling distinctly surly, I followed Harrison to a townhouse in the middle of the complex.  The one with orange triangles sticking out all over it, like a horrible, horrible accident waiting to happen. 

He rang the doorbell and shuffled his foot while he waited, looked up and down the parking lot and then at his watch.  He was nervous.  He either wasn't as sure of Ana as he pretended to be, or he was intimidated by her wrath, despite being very fond of her. 

It took another ring and a decent wait before Ana finally showed up at the door wearing an electric blue silk caftan like she was an actress from 1941.  Of course, she looked amazing in it.  Not exotic enough for Van, though.  Was being slighted enough to kill over?  Probably.  But enough to kill a person's child over? 

Her surprise seemed sincere.  I wasn't sure she'd noticed me at first.  “Harrison?  What are you doing here?”

“Hey, I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.”

She finally noticed me, and her eyes narrowed.  She looked old and hard instead of mysterious and dramatic.  I had no doubt that I looked every bit as hard whenever someone bothered to really see me.  Maybe just not quite so old.  I thought, for a second, that she was going to refuse to allow me in and make me wait in the car like a dog.  But finally she opened the door wider and gestured for us to pass. 

I could feel the frigidity coming off her in waves as I passed.  Neither one of us said anything to each other though.  She wasn't willing to reveal her hand yet, and neither was I.  Dealing with Harrison was hard enough without him knowing that I had grown up as a crook with a dubious lineage. 

Inside Ana's house, the AC was cranked up so high I was actually shivering.  I should have brought a sweater.  If only I had known we'd be dropping in for a visit on Frosty the Snowman.  She favored muted colors and soft angles which surprised me considering the design of the building.  The stuff that had come with the house was smooth and sharp, but everything she owned was soft and nubby.  A fat orange tom cat glanced up at us and then returned to his grooming with a disdainful toss of his head. 

Harrison sat down on the brown tweed couch, but I stayed where I was.  Close to the door and ever watchful.  “Ana, I've got a problem.”

I was surprised he was planning to tell her the truth, but then again what could it hurt?  If she was the killer, she would already know that he was aware of his situation, and she'd feel soothed, as though he still trusted her.  If she wasn't the killer then she might know something helpful. 

“What kind of problem?”  Like Mark, Ana's eyes immediately darted to me.  But I could see she was anticipating an entirely different kind of problem than Mark had.  Good.  At least she was wary of me, and that gave me a little bit of power. 

“Someone is trying to kill me.”

She didn't react with horror the way Mark and Dora had.  In fact, she barely reacted at all.  Her nose crinkled very slightly, and her eyes narrowed.  It was an expression that could mean anything, but certainly didn't scream out her concern for Harrison and his situation.  “What makes you think that?”

Briefly, he explained Nate's murder, the attempts on his life and the reaction of the police.  Her expression never changed during the entire story.  When he was finished, it was as though someone flipped a switch, and I knew I wasn't seeing sincerity.  I had to wonder if Ana, like me, was so far gone she was no longer sure what sincerity was.

“Why didn't you tell someone before?  Oh my goodness, you poor little thing.  Tell me what I can do for you.  Right now.  You're not leaving until you let me help you with something.”

Like the ingesting of poison? 

“Actually, you
can
help me with something.  I need your opinion on who might hate Dad enough to want to kill me to get back at him.”

The corner of Ana's lip twitched.  She was restraining a smile, as though the question were funny.  “Harrison, you know your dad is kind of…hard to work with.  I mean, anyone might hate him.  He isn't exactly a friend of the people.  But I can't imagine anyone I know, and I know almost everyone that Van does, trying to kill you because your father is…difficult.”

I wondered why she was picking such delicate words when she hadn't been nearly as tender on the set.  She'd come right out and called him names.  Now she was acting as though she would never have said something like that.  I watched her hard, but I couldn't see any outward signs she was trying to kill Harrison off, but I also didn't see any outward signs that screamed at me she was innocent.  Not like I'd seen with the others.  I still didn't trust her.

“I need you to please think hard and then bring me a list of the people who really, really hate my dad.  Could you do that for me?”

“Well, I guess, but Harrison…the list will be rather long.”

Harrison nodded.  “I know.  So was mine.” 

There was something so sad about that, that I brutally had to squelch my sympathy and aim a hard look at the concrete floors.  I wasn't going to feel sorry for Harrison.  His life was no better or worse than mine was.  And sympathy was for friends.  And losers. 

“Is there anyone else you can think of who might want to hurt me?  Any other reason I might be intended as a victim?”

Ana spent a long silent moment looking lost in thought, but I could tell it was manufactured.  Her shrewd mind was hard at work on some puzzle that had little to do with Harrison's question.  What was she up to?

“I'm sorry, but no.  I can't.  You will be careful though, won't you?  If anything strange happens at all, you'll call the police.”  It wasn't a question.  It was a directive.  “Even if they don't believe you.”

We said our goodbyes—well, Harrison did anyway; I stood aside and watched—and left Ana in her apartment.  That hadn't helped me much.  It hadn't been that long a conversation, but I had learned nothing from it.  Ana looked neither more guilty nor more innocent.  Basically, it had been a waste.  I still thought she was suspicious as hell. 

Harrison, however, seemed to be contented with the conversation.  He didn't appear nervous anymore.  I was not nearly as convinced.  But I also wasn't stupid enough to tell him that. 

It was getting dark by the time we got back to Mr. Wong's and The Library.  Harrison parked on the curb and shut off the ignition.  “Talia…”

I had no idea what he meant to say but he hesitated so long that I began to be uncomfortable, picturing any number of things he might be brewing.  As long as none of them were about emotions, I'd be okay. 

“I hope that you're being careful.”

It was not what I'd expected him to say, so I had no idea how to respond.  He sounded exactly like the talk that my “mentor” in the “endangered teens” program in Cali had given me about safe sex.  I cringed. 

“Um…I'm always careful.”  It was true.  Careful was how you stole people's treasures, memories, futures, and didn't get caught.  Careful had been bred into me from birth.

“I know, but honestly, I feel bad.  I mean, I got you into this.”

“Actually, I got me into this.  I'm the one who convinced you to hire me.  You don't need to feel guilty.”

He shrugged, looking sullen.  “I didn't have to hire you.  I mean, it's not like you have a ton of experience.  You just seemed so competent.  I was fairly certain that you were capable of solving the demon problem.  There was no way of knowing what it would escalate into.  I want you to be careful.  Watch, all the time, okay?  I'm worried.”

I took off my seatbelt and opened the car door, sliding out a foot.  “I'm fine.”

“You're going to refuse to watch out for yourself?”  He seemed incredulous.

“I don't need to take any extra care.  I'm okay.  I'm always watching.”

Mouth pinched, he opened his door too and pulled himself out.  “I'm walking you across.”

I didn't need him walking me home like I was six.  Or like it was a date.  I'd be fine.  “I'm okay.  I don't need an escort.”

He sighed.  “Look, I feel bad.  If I could feel any better at all for doing the one little thing, that wouldn't actually hurt you at all, couldn't you just let me do it?”

When he phrased it that way it made me sound petty and stupid to refuse him.  “Okay, fine.” 

“Thank you.” 

We waited until the traffic passed and ran across.  He followed me through Mr. Wong's at hyperspeed since I didn't want any questions from the Wong contingency.  He was going to start getting ideas about Harrison and me, if we weren't careful. 

Even if he didn't, if he saw me he'd want to tell me all about what I ought to be doing, and I didn't have the time or patience for that crap now. 

We stomped up the stairs, and I stopped on the last step and turned to say goodbye.  He was directly behind me, and not so much with the stopping.  He slammed right into me, full frontal.  I held out my hands to break his movement, but I didn't end up checking him, just pushing myself off his chest so that I almost fell against the door.  He grabbed me around the waist and kept me upright. 

Then we stood there for a second, looking like the cover of some cheesy romance, his arms around me, my hands on his chest, me sort of bent over backwards in that bizarre position romance heroines were always standing in to best display their bosoms a'heaving.  He smelled insanely good.

Though it wasn't his fault, I gave him a shove in my haste to get away and
he
started to fall backward, caught unawares.  Bracing my feet, I reached out and grabbed him, and now we were in the reverse cover trope.  He laughed softly, and I had to smile at that one.  But only for a second.

“Go home, Harrison. 
You're the one who needs to be careful
.”

“I will be.” 

He gave me a long, measured look like he was trying to figure something out.  But whatever it was, he didn't share it with me.  I was glad when he tossed out a casual goodbye and disappeared back into the laundromat.  I stayed where I was, leaning up against the 70's style wood paneling in the hallway until I heard the bells chime over Mr. Wong's door. 

 

Getting Mark's number didn't prove to be hard, and though I felt bad for calling at eight since he had all those kids and everything, I dialed him up the second I was in my room. 

“Hello?”  He sounded tired. 

“Um, hi.  This is Harrison's…friend.  Talia.  From earlier.  Also from the set.”  I hated talking on the phone unless I had a plan, like with Ginger the assistant.  It was impossible to see what the other person was doing or thinking, and that made it a useless exchange for me. 

“Right.”

“Look, Harrison told me that you offered to watch him.  You know, follow him around or whatever.”

He didn't sound as though he'd yet formed an opinion as to why I'd called.  “Yeah, I did.”

“He also told me he said he didn't want you to.”

Now Mark sounded irritated.  “That's also true.”

“Yeah, well, I was kind of wondering if you would do it anyway.  He'd never have to know.” 

There was a long silence on the other side of the phone.  So long that I was almost ready to ask if he was still there, when he finally spoke.  “I was going to anyway.  I already called some of my employees about taking over on the set.  I didn't want anyone to know, because I don't want Harrison to know.”

“Well, I certainly won't tell him.  And I hope that you won't tell him I called recommending you go against his wishes.”

“I won't.  I appreciate you calling.  It makes me feel better to know that Harrison has you.”