“So we’re left with either Forrest or Kyle as a suspect. Or Jarret.”
“Forrest is in the clear. A bellman at the hotel saw him in the Patio Café around the time of Laycee’s murder. And even if I’m right about Kyle’s motive, I don’t understand why he killed her at the house—unless he intended to frame Jarret.”
“Or Jarret committed the murder,” Nick said.
“The symbol makes the least sense of all.”
“I’m not giving up on the Schelz connection yet,” Nick said. “There’s a chance Schelz’s daughter left a fake address at the prison. If we’re lucky, the woman who gave Weisel the pamphlet will show up at the liquor store and we can talk to her. Until then, maybe Jarret’s parents or one of the Smiths in Bull Valley or McHenry knows Margaret. We’ll find her.”
I read the time on the mantel clock. “We better get going. You have to meet Stan at my house in a half hour, and I should take a shower and get ready for my meeting with Carla.” I froze, gut twisting with apprehension—if Carla had enough evidence to hold me, I might not be back.
Erzulie hopped on the sofa behind me and purred. I knew she would be safe with Nick. But my practice, my house, my—
“Liz?” Nick lifted my chin with his finger to face him. “You’ll be fine. Meet me at your house after you’re done.”
“But what if—”
“‘If they hang you I’ll always remember you.’”
“What?”
“Joking.” His eyes twinkled in affection. “It’s a Bogart quote from The Maltese Falcon. Have confidence in the truth, Liz. And know that whatever happens, we’ll get through this together.” He picked up his keys and left me with a short kiss, walking out the door like he was going out for a carton of milk.
His light attitude and support calmed me. Smiling with confidence, I watched him drive away. I took a quick shower and dried my hair then put on slacks and a collarless white cotton blouse. As I added a touch of lipstick, Nick’s desk phone rang.
After three rings his answering machine clicked on, echoing the message through the house. “Nicky? It’s Izzy.” Her voice, young with a Hispanic accent, came across as worried and questioning.
“Please, please call me back. I just left a message on your cell. We have to talk today. I haven’t heard from you since Thursday and I’m going crazy. Did you have the conversation yet? You promised me you would talk to Liz before the weekend is over. I can’t hide anymore. Everyone will know soon. Please call me. Love you.”
Click.
Chapter Twenty-six
Love you? Be calm. Don’t overreact. Maybe I misunderstood. I set the lipstick on Nick’s bathroom sink, went into the living room, and replayed Isabella’s message.
Nick promised her he would talk to me. About what? She’s tired of hiding. From what? Everyone will know soon. Know what? “Love you” wasn’t difficult to interpret. Or was it?
The message ended. I stood dazed, her words racing through my mind. Battling old feelings of betrayal and emotional abandonment, I tried to center myself. Stop. Be logical. Quit overreacting. How would I advise a client faced with the same situation?
Get more information. Talk to Nick. Face your fear.
Erzulie, with an uncanny knack of sensing when my body was in the room but my mind was in outer space, jumped on the desk and stared at me. I stroked her head. “You heard the message. What would you do?”
She jumped down and trotted away. Big help.
I had thirty minutes to drive to Oliver’s Van Nuys office. In light Saturday morning traffic I could make it in twenty. Time to stop muttering to myself and get moving. Gathering my purse and keys, I left the house and traveled, head down, across the debris-ridden path to my car.
Buckling up, I pulled onto the street then called Nick. His cell rang once. I’d tell him about the message. Second ring. Let him explain. On the third ring his phone went to voice mail.
“Nick, it’s me. Liz.” As opposed to your other girlfriend or girlfriends. “I’m on my way to meet Oliver. Check your messages at home. Isabella called. She needs to talk to you right away.” So do I.
I hung up without leaving my love, a substitute for you-better-explain-now. Instead of feeling better, I felt childish.
My psychology training didn’t exempt me from runaway emotion. Intellectually, I understood my reaction: working myself up over Isabella’s call allowed me to avoid my apprehension over meeting with Carla. I needed to talk things out with someone rational. When Robin answered her phone, I gave her the high points of Isabella’s message.
“I’ll kill him if he’s cheating on you,” she said.
“Don’t do that. I’ll need your support in the aftermath if it’s true.”
“Then I’ll have Dave kill him. He’ll be sad to lose his best friend but family comes first,” Robin deadpanned. “But we do nothing until Nick has a chance to explain. I see the way he treats you, Liz. He adores you.”