Liquid Lies Part 17

"And?" He turned some pages, making grunting noises as he perused the contents. "What about that night? What caused a huge rift in your friends.h.i.+p?"

If there was more in the journal he would've revealed it and gotten this over with. He must be fis.h.i.+ng to see if I'd cave in. I looked straight at the mirror. My head was beginning to throb. "It was a long time ago."

"And I'm sure it's been a long day for you. I'm sorry Ms. Coe that you have to put up with all this questioning. Why not just tell us the truth and get out of here?" Detective Gentry put a hand on my back.

Good Cop.

Uncrossing my arms, I leaned forward in the hard metal chair. My b.u.t.t was falling asleep. "I've been telling the truth. But now I think I need a lawyer."

"Why do you need a lawyer if you say you're not guilty? C'mon, level with us. Was her death an accident?" Detective Wurkowski wiped his hand across his mouth. He closed the journal and began tapping it like a deck of cards.

Bad Cop.

I looked him in the eyes. "I did not kill her." Oh and why weren't they asking if I carried around something to chop off a head? Jeez. This was lame. Perhaps this was the first murder case either officer, or Round Lake, ever experienced. Therefore, they were learning as they went along how to handle something like this.

"Okay. So you're not a killer. You're not a bad person. You didn't mean to kill her, it was an accident. A mistake. h.e.l.l, we all get in situations we shouldn't be in, and do things we normally don't do," Detective Wurkowski continued.

I let out very audible long sigh.

"Am I right?" Detective Wurkowski stared me down.

This line of questioning went on for an hour. My eyes were closing, my body felt deflated. I was ready to wrap it up. "If you're done with the questioning, I'd like to leave please."

"Give us one minute please," Detective Gentry said to me.

The detectives both left the room.

Upon their return, Detective Gentry said, "Fine. I think we have enough information now. You're free to go."

Detective Wurkowski glared at me. "Ms. Coe you're free, for now. Don't leave Round Lake."

"Do you miss Francesca?" Detective Gentry asked as he held open the door to the interrogation room.

I nodded yes. The memories of her weaved in my thoughts constantly. No matter what happened to our relations.h.i.+p, I had always loved her. I made my way to the lobby.

Mark sat in one of the chairs lining the wall.

As soon as he saw me he got up. "Oh my G.o.d. You're free. I heard what happened. h.e.l.l, the whole town heard what happened. Did they strip search you? Were you in the slammer? Were there any other criminals trying to rough you up?"

"No, it wasn't that much fun. It was just questioning."

"I know you're innocent." His voice was loud.

Shus.h.i.+ng him until we were out of earshot, I grabbed him by his s.h.i.+rt and pulled him down to my eye level. "Cool it for a while, please?" I was afraid Mark would spill some information I didn't reveal to the police. I whispered, "I'm fine."

"But why you?" Mark said quietly as we exited the station.

"Francesca kept a journal. In it she alluded to the secret she and I had. And some other things as well. Now the police think that I may have had the motive to kill her."

"That's ridiculous, you didn't kill her. You killed the trucker," Mark added.

Whipping my head around, I glared at Mark. "Thanks for the discretion." No one was in earshot.

A TV4 van pulled up and out popped Paul the news anchor. The TV station must have had a police scanner.

"I think we better get out of here," Mark said pointing to the TV4 truck.

"You read my mind," I said.

"Of course I did. I'm the peanut b.u.t.ter to your jelly."

"Yes you are," I said. We might as well be compared to a sandwich; we were doing a c.r.a.ppy job of playing detective.

"Where to?" he said.

"My house."

"Let's take the long way. We'll lose them."

Mark and I walked through small alleys while we made our way to Estelle's house. Even if the whole town knew about my having been brought in for questioning, I didn't want it broadcast to the tri-city area.

Chapter Twenty.

It was after nine in the evening when Mark walked me to Estelle's house. "I've had enough excitement for one night."

"Oh wait it gets better. I heard that the weapon may have been discovered," Mark said.

"What was it?"

"I'll know tonight. Listen I have to get back to the funeral home. Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course, I'm back home." I kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for being you." I watched him walk down the sidewalk.

Estelle and Hazel were waiting for me when I arrived. I briefed them on what happened, and tried to ease their worries. They agreed that the police made a huge mistake to even think for a minute that I could commit murder.

Hazel decided to spend the night. I insisted she have my room while I took the fold out sofa. She said she wouldn't let anyone bring me in any more for questioning on her watch.

I felt better being here, with people I loved and with Skipper in my own home. My own cozy life. Soon all this would change. Once I could prove that Jacob was Francesca's killer, I would have to disclose how I knew, thereby implicating myself in the murder four years ago.

But if that's what I needed to do, I'd do it when the time came. Finally do the right thing like I'd wanted to four years ago. On the other hand, if for some reason Jacob was not the killer, then I would keep our secret buried. Like Francesca had wanted it to be. Protect her father's reputation and ours.

What could I do now? It was a little past ten in the evening. My body was exhausted, but my mind raced. There would be no way I could sleep. I needed answers. I needed facts. My cell rang. I answered it.

"I called to check on you. Are you okay?" Jacob asked.

Hearing his voice I felt a toxic combination of s.e.xual excitement and fear. I liked him as much as I felt that I should hate him. "As good as I can be for having been publicly disgraced," I said.

"Don't be. The police have been questioning everyone they can, nonstop. The whole town's on edge," Jacob added. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"They're just doing their job. There's a killer on the loose," I said. As much as I didn't want to talk to him, I loved hearing his deep soothing voice. He was so kind. Surely he couldn't be the killer. I had to know for certain if he was or was not.

"You're a.s.suming the killer is still in town?" he asked.

"Of course. They say that most criminals never leave the scene of the crime," I said.

"Perhaps this person was smart and high tailed it out of here after it happened," he added.

"Possibly. But let's go back to the theory that he's still in town," I baited him.

"Why do you think it's a he?" Jacob asked.

"A she would never decapitate anyone. That's a gruesome macho killing," I speculated.

"Have you never heard of Patricia "Katie" Krenwinkel, the Tate-l.a.b.i.anca murders in 1969?"

"Her name sounds familiar," I said.

"She was with Charles Manson. You know the whole thing with him and the Beatles song 'Helter Skelter?'"

"I guess they're some horrible female killers. But my point is that Francesca was killed by a man," I said.

"What's your proof?" he asked.

I didn't have any. But I thought I'd bluff him and see if he fell for it. "I found a clue connected to the murder. It's near the pavilion."

"I'm sure the police found it. They've scoured every inch within miles," Jacob said.

"Oh no, this isn't a spot they would've looked." My heart pounded so hard it felt like it could jump out of my chest. I had to think of something quick.

"And where might this spot be?" Jacob said.

"By the ticket booth. I was planning on leaving right now to take a look," I improvised.

"Why didn't you just tell the police while they were questioning you?" Jacob asked.

d.a.m.n. Think. Think.

"I'm sort of on their suspect list. I wanted to make sure the clue would lead them to the killer, before I told them," I lied.

My call waiting clicked. It was Mark. Thank goodness. I needed him as backup if my plan went wrong. "Listen I have to go now."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jacob asked.

After you follow me to the pavilion tonight and I get the police to arrest you, I'll be just fine. "I'm okay. Feeling better every moment." I hung up and clicked over to Mark's call.

"Did you hear the latest? The police have pulled three more people in for questioning," Mark said.

"They're on a mission. I'm sure they're feeling pressure from Mayor Pike. Everyone wants to get this solved." I wanted it more than anyone.

"Come to think of it, this is wrecking tourist season too. Which means all the hotels and businesses may suffer, so they're bearing down on the mayor too. Listen, I've got another few minutes here then I can wrap up. What are you doing?" Mark asked.

I told him how I was luring Jacob to the pavilion and that I was heading over there.

"I'll meet you there as soon as I finish up. I've got more details about the weapon, but I'll wait to tell you when I see you tonight."

"Hey Mark," I added.

"Yeah?" Mark replied.

"Thanks for always being there for me. You're my best friend ever."

"What about Francesca?"

"She was my best friend. You are my best friend."

Chapter Twenty-One.

I meandered along the lighted sidewalk to the pavilion. A gust rustled through the trees sending leaves fluttering onto the ground. Pulling my jacket tighter, I sped up my pace. The full moon shone down, illuminating the tips of the branches, adding an eerie glow to the night.

Thoughts ping-ponged in my head. Would Jacob be at the pavilion? What would I say or do if he was? 'Ha Ha. The murderer is the carpenter, at the pavilion with a....' But this was not a game of Clue. This was real life. I had to be smart. Think this through.

Once he realized I had pegged him, would he try to kill me too?

Mark was going to meet me, so it made sense to wait until he arrived. Then at least I'd have a backup. Surely, Jacob wouldn't kill us both.

As I waited for Mark near the pavilion, I took in the surroundings. The police tape was down. The dock and pavilion were open again. But this late at night there was little activity. There was a smattering of people on the dock. A couple walked hand in hand under the moonlight near the sh.o.r.eline. A lone man sat on a bench overlooking the lake. Across the street, music poured from H&K's.

Scanning the surrounding area, I didn't see either Mark or Jacob. Was I wrong about him being the killer? Or was he just too smart to fall for my trap? Did he know it was a trap? What was holding up Mark? A half hour went by while I cruised the area. I watched who arrived and who left. I tried Mark's cell a couple of times and it went right to voice mail.

In the distance a siren pierced the silence. Waves crashed against the dock. Taking in a deep breath, I was filled with the comforting earthy smell of the lake. How long should I wait? I didn't have a plan B yet if my hoax didn't work for snaring Jacob.

My cell rang. The caller I.D. said Ken. I answered the call, "Hi, I'm glad that you called. I was thinking about you."

"Mark's in the ER," Ken interrupted.

Numbness momentarily fogged my brain. "Oh my G.o.d. Is he okay?"