Chapter 7
Liza couldn’t shake the feeling that she was dreaming. She focused on the man now rifling through her underwear. That part was reality. She knew because she would never dream something so embarrassing.
“Everything is clean,” he announced.
“Of course it’s clean,” she said. “I would never put dirty underpants in my drawer.”
He turned away to hide his smile, but she still saw it. “That, uh, wasn’t what I meant. Whoever has been here didn’t leave any traces of his presence.” He turned to face her again. “Is there anyone who might have seen someone enter or leave your house?”
“My neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. She watches me like it’s her job.”
“Don’t knock busybody neighbors. I would be lost without them in my line of work.” He closed the drawer. A pair of black underpants impeded his progress, so he stuck his hand in to try and tug them free.
“Leave them,” she choked. She was sure her face was puce by now.
He nodded and coughed. The cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
He was dressed better today than last time she saw him. Today his pants and shirt looked new and crisply professional. Still, there was something casual about him that made her feel at ease. He wore an open, friendly expression that under normal circumstances would have made her feel comfortable. Now she was so keyed up she found herself questioning its authenticity. Was he only pretending to believe her story? Did he think she had something to do with the murder?
She bit her lip as she led the way to Mrs. Jenkins’ house. Should she get a lawyer? She was over her head, but at least her thoughts distracted her from reality. An assassin had been in her house. She shivered and tried to pretend she hadn’t when she caught Agent Stone watching her.
Mrs. Jenkins was her usual acerbic self. She opened the door with a scowl while three cats prowled at her feet and wove themselves around her ankles.
“Mrs. Jenkins,” Liza began, “this is my friend Mr. Stone. He’s helping me with a problem, and I was wondering we could ask you a few questions.”
Mrs. Jenkins looked Agent Stone up and down. “Another one, huh? You sure have a lot of ‘friends’ for a missionary’s daughter.”
Liza’s cheeks flamed. “I have only one boyfriend, the same boyfriend I’ve had for five years.”
“Uh huh.” The older woman sounded unconvinced. “Awful lot of cars of men coming and going from your place.”
“There are?” Liza asked.
“That’s what we would like to talk to you about,” Agent Stone said. “We’re concerned Miss Benson may have been the victim of foul play. Anything you could tell us might be helpful.”
The old woman’s eyebrows drew together. “I got better things to do with my time than watch her place every minute.”
“I’m sure you do,” Agent Stone said smoothly, “but sometimes we pick up on things without meaning to. Any observations would be very helpful.”
“Well come in then.” She sounded slightly mollified as she turned and led them into the living room. At least a half dozen cats were strewn about, prowling or purring. The house smelled like cat urine. Liza felt sure she was glimpsing her future without Dirk.
“We’re specifically interested in last Saturday,” Agent Stone said. “Liza went out in the morning and came back late afternoon.”
The old woman scrunched up her face and tried to think. “Saturday.”
“It was the day I came home with yellow hair.”
“Oh, that day.” The sound that came out of her mouth then was somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. “Never seen hair that color in my life. It was like Big Bird curled up on your head and decided to take a nap.” She laughed again and this time Agent Stone joined her, at least until he caught Liza’s look and tried to suppress it.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, do you remember anyone stopping by while she was out that day?”
“Just the usual,” Mrs. Jenkins said. She shot Liza a disapproving look.
“The usual?” Agent Stone repeated.
“The same one that comes all the time. The dark-haired one.”
Liza frowned. “Dirk? My boyfriend?”
Mrs. Jenkins nodded. “Except this time he was dressed in his uniform and driving his truck.”
“But,” Liza started, but Agent Stone cut her off.
“His uniform,” he prompted. “Can you describe it?”
“He’s a cable repairman. He comes over during the middle of work, I guess, because whenever he’s dressed like that it’s the middle of the day. When he comes at night he’s dressed regular and driving his fancy black car.”
“Do you ever see anyone else?” Agent Stone leaned forward.
Mrs. Jenkins shook her head. “At night I hear cars and doors. Once I saw headlights pulling away at three in the morning, but that’s none of my business.” Her eyes bore into Liza’s as if to say it was most certainly her business and Liza should be ashamed of herself.
“But,” Liza began, but once again Agent Stone cut her off. He rose and tugged her arm to pull her up.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Jenkins. You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else, I hope you’ll let Miss Benson know.”
“But,” Liza said again, but Agent Stone clamped his hand on her arm and practically dragged her outside.
When they reached the porch she shook him off. “What are you doing? She thinks I’m some sort of…I don’t know what with a constant stream of men. And she’s wrong about Dirk. He doesn’t work at the cable company.”
“I know,” he said calmly. Too calmly. She saw the calculation in his eyes and stopped short.
“It’s not Dirk. I don’t know who she thought she saw, but it wasn’t Dirk, obviously.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “How much do you really know about him?” He had to ask over his shoulder because he didn’t stop when she did.
She trotted to catch up with him. “Enough to know he’s not an assassin.”
“You didn’t even know he was in
Cleveland
this week,” he pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean he’s a murderer!” she yelled, and then forced her voice to a whisper. “Look, I know you think I’m not being logical, but I am. Dirk has a key to my house. He can come and go at any time without arousing suspicion. Why go to the trouble of dressing as a cable repairman? That would draw unnecessary attention.”
“That’s true,” he said. She smiled in triumph until he continued. “But maybe he didn’t dress up for the soul purpose of coming here. Maybe he stopped here on his way to or from something else.”
Something else being murder, she presumed. “No. Absolutely not. I refuse to even consider the possibility. I may not know every detail of his life, but I know this much: Dirk is not a murderer.”
He shrugged. He looked unconvinced.
“It’s not logical,” she insisted. She opened the door to her house and he followed her inside. “He doesn’t have a motive.”
“Money is a powerful incentive, and murder for hire is lucrative,” he said.
“He already has money,” she told him. “He’s a full partner in his family’s car sales business, and it’s huge.”
“There’s money, and then there’s
money
,” he said.
“I don’t know what that means,” she snapped. The whole conversation was making her irritable.
“You could work a year and earn fifty thousand dollars, or you could work an hour and earn fifty thousand dollars. To some an hour seems a whole lot easier.”
“Not if it involves murder. I know Dirk. He’s incredibly honest and hardworking.”
“Unless his whole life is a lie,” he said.
“It’s not,” she insisted. She stamped her foot. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes, but she pushed them back. “Where would he learn to be an assassin? He’s never had military training. It’s not like you go out one day, pick up a gun, and decide to be a killer.”
“Maybe it’s a family business. Their car emporium grew awfully quickly in the seventies. Where did that money come from?”
“So you’re telling me his father became an assassin in order to make his car business a success,” she said.
He spread his hands in supplication. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m suggesting that things aren’t always as they appear. The depravity of humanity can be shocking.”
“But so can the goodness. Dirk is good, and nothing you say will change my mind.”
Her obstinate and blind faith rankled him for some reason he didn’t understand. “He must be a great boyfriend to have earned your trust so completely,” he said, and then wished he could take it back when she reeled back like he slapped her.
They stood in awkward silence for a minute.
“All right, I won’t say anymore about it, but know that I’m going to be doing some serious checking into Dirk Xavier,” he said at last.
“You won’t find anything,” she said confidently.
His face told her he didn’t believe her, but he kept it to himself. “Do you want me to stay here tonight?” He had no idea what made him offer, and he was suddenly embarrassed, especially when her cheeks pinked in response. “The fact is that an assassin has been in your house,” he added curtly.
She blanched. “If he wanted to harm me, I think I would be dead by now.” She tried to sound brave, but in reality she was petrified. But what would Mrs. Jenkins say if she saw Agent Stone’s car out front all night long?
“You can’t let one biddy’s opinion endanger your life,” he said, more gently than she expected.
“It’s not just that. How would I tell Dirk a strange man slept over?”
“You wouldn’t. You can’t tell him anything until we’ve cleared him in our investigation. You can’t tell anyone, not your brother, not your friend who is dating Puck, and especially not Puck himself. The guy can’t keep his mouth shut.”
She nodded absently. He stood watching her for a moment before turning to go. She looked so…shattered, so innocent and unprotected. He was a professional and he felt ruffled by current events. How much worse must it be for a civilian and a schoolteacher nonetheless? She dealt with children, not assassins.
After he left, Liza sat on the couch and stared at the blank television. Over the years she had defended Dirk to her family and friends for a few reasons, most often his scorching indifference to her. But never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would ever say the words, “Dirk is not an assassin.” It was preposterous.
But he was here, and then your pajamas were gone,
a little voice inside her insisted.
“No,” she said out loud. Dirk might have his secrets, but his character was good. She knew it. She would hold onto that belief, no matter what.
Chapter 8
The next week Liza was nervous as she prepared for Dirk’s arrival. He had called her just once during his absence. “From
Cleveland
,” she said out loud, and grimaced at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t supposed to know where he went. It would be awkward to let that slip.
When he let himself in, she was still standing in the bathroom staring at herself in the mirror, trying to school her features into a placid mask. She thought she had failed when he stood behind her, a look of astonishment on his face, and then she remembered her makeover. Last time he saw her she had bright yellow hair.
She turned to him with a look of apprehension. His surprised look was neutral, and she couldn’t tell if he was pleased or upset.
But then he abruptly picked her up and set on her on the bathroom counter before kissing her breathless. When the kiss finally ended he rested his head on her shoulder and tried to get a breath.
“Did you have a good trip?” She aimed for a pleasant, casual tone, but her fingers trembled as they sifted his hair.
He straightened and smiled. “No. It was intensely boring, and I missed you.” He kissed her again, softly this time. “You look amazing.” He wrapped his arms around her in a crushing embrace.
“Dirk, are we going to be late? I don’t want to be rude to your parents.”
“What parents?” His lips pressed against her neck and sent ripples of sensation up and down her spine.
She was delighted and confused. He had never been so ardent before. Was it because of her makeover? Or had he really missed her as much as he said? Or was it because he somehow knew he was being investigated and wanted to assuage any suspicion? That was far more likely than the thought of him being bowled over by her beauty, but she still refused to believe it. The investigation was secret. There was no way he would know about it. And even if he did, he had no need to ease her suspicions because she didn’t have many.
Any
, she corrected herself with a wince.
Dirk noticed and paused mid-nibble on her earlobe. “Did that hurt?”
“No, it has the opposite effect of hurting, which you know. No fair to work me over and then drag me flushed and distracted to your parents’ house.” She rested her elbows on his shoulders and clasped her hands behind his head.
“Work you over,” he repeated. “I’m not sure you know the correct meaning of that term.” He looked down at her with an indulgent smile.
“Do you?” she asked, more abruptly than she intended. He frowned and she arched up to distract him with a kiss.
His phone rang and he paused mid-kiss.
“Is that your mom?” She couldn’t imagine anyone else who could drain the passion from such a heated exchange.
He straightened and stepped away from her. “No, it’s Sal.” He put his hands on her waist and lifted her off the counter and then checked his watch. “I forgot he was coming tonight. You know how punctual he is.”
The awe Liza felt for Dirk paled in comparison to the awe Dirk felt for his cousin Sal. They were both only children and they had been raised together like brothers. Sal was five years older and, according to Dirk, perfect in every way. There was no competition or jealousy between them, at least on Dirk’s behalf. Cult leaders would be lucky to earn the sort of love and devotion Dirk gave Sal. Liza had only met him once, five years ago when she and Dirk first started to date. Sal was what she pictured from Dirk’s description: perfect. Somehow he was even more handsome than Dirk, but he held no temptation for Liza. Probably because his eyes had raked over her dismissively as if she were the healthy section of a fast food menu. In a way she was surprised Dirk hadn’t broken up with her after that meeting. Sal seemed to hold complete control over Dirk’s decisions. Despite his callow attitude toward Liza he must have given his approval of her or she would never have made the cut. It was too much to hope that Dirk would defy his beloved cousin for her.
“You’re quiet,” Dirk said as they made the drive to his parents’ house. It was a McMansion on the north side of town. At first Liza had been petrified and intimidated to go there, but meeting his parents put her at ease. There was no snobbery in Donna and Milton Xavier. If anything, they were slightly backwards socially, like two people from the wrong side of town who suddenly find themselves wealthy.
“Just thinking,” she said.
He took her hand and kissed it. “About how much you missed me? You never said.”
“I always miss you,” she replied.
Even when we’re together I miss you.
She was watching him warily. He was acting odd. The change to outright affection was pleasant, but suspicious.
“What did you do all week?” she asked. Was it her imagination or did he tense? He faced forward but kept her hand.
“Oh, you know. The usual.”
“No I don’t know. What’s the usual for you?”
“You’re curious lately,” he commented. They reached his parents’ house. When he put his hand on the door she understood the conversation was over, but she wasn’t willing to let him get away without answering. She remained seated. He closed the door and leaned his back against it to face her.
“Sal wanted me to check out a new parts supplier. He spent the week attempting to woo me when what I really wanted was some bottom line facts and figures. These didn’t appear until the end of the week when I realized he was more expensive than our current supplier. The whole thing could have been handled by fax in an hour, and instead I wasted a week in
Cleveland
. Do you have any idea how boring
Cleveland
is?”
“No. I’ve never been.”
“Count yourself lucky. There are only so many times you can visit the Rock n’ Roll hall of fame.” He put his hand on the door again.
“Is that what you did with your free time?”
“Among other things.” It wasn’t her imagination that he suddenly looked cornered.
“Were there girls?”
His mouth fell and his hand released the door. “Liza,” he exclaimed.
She had the feeling he was waiting for her to apologize. Should she tell him it was going to be a long wait?
“I have a girlfriend,” he reminded her. He put out his arm and cinched it around her waist, drawing her tight against his chest. “A girlfriend who at the moment is making us late for supper.” He kissed her. “I’m starving.” When he kissed her again, she wondered if he was talking about food when he said he was starving.
A knock on the window caused them to jump and break apart. Dirk’s cousin Sal opened the door and leaned in.
“Well, well. I haven’t caught Dirk making out in a car like a teenager since he was a teenager. Hello, Liza.”
He gave her what would probably a heart-stopping smile if she wasn’t too flustered and embarrassed to feel it.
“Sal,” she said shyly.
Sal and Dirk exchanged the sort of look men do whenever they’re feeling cocky and superior. Liza straightened her skirt and chanced looking in the mirror before exiting the car. She looked exactly like someone who had just been caught making out in a car, and her cheeks pinked with embarrassment. She had to remind herself she was twenty six years old and not sixteen like Sal made her feel.
By the time they reached the house she had managed to regain some comportment. Dirk’s parents greeted her with a hug, and she tried to remember the last time she saw them. His mother must have been thinking the same thing.
“Liza, we haven’t seen you since Christmas. Sometimes I think Dirk is trying to hide you from us. He’s always so mysterious.”
“Isn’t he, though?” Liza agreed. Her eyes flicked to Dirk. He stood talking with Sal on the other side of the large kitchen. If he knew he was being talked about, he didn’t give any indication. But Sal did. He turned to wink at her and then resumed his conversation.
Liza spun on her heel to hide her surprise. Sal was a flirt, this much she knew, but last time they met he ignored her like she didn’t exist. What had that wink meant? Last she heard he was dating a former Miss
America
contestant, so she didn’t flatter herself that he was interested in her. She was simply puzzled over the fact that he noticed her at all. Had longevity finally won him over? After five years maybe he figured she was here to stay, and he might as well approve of her.
Was his approval the reason for Dirk’s sudden intensity? Had he been waiting for Sal’s nod in her direction before he advanced their relationship to the next level? Her heart started to thud. What was the next level for them? For her it meant marriage and commitment. What did it mean to Dirk? An extra weeknight spent at her house for supper?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a touch at her waist.
“Sal and I are going to talk business with Dad. I’ll catch up with you later.” Dirk leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Am I going to have to throw a bucket of water on you two kids?” Sal asked. His tone was teasing.
“Why don’t you call your girlfriend and leave me and mine alone?” Dirk suggested.
“That’s cold, Dirk. You know I don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” Sal said. He turned to Liza. “Liza, do you have any friends you could set me up with?”
“Um,” Liza began, but didn’t know how to finish. She tried to imagine one of her sweet, plump single teacher friends on a date with the physically perfect Sal.
“Stop poaching Liza’s friends,” Dirk said, and the two men left the kitchen together.
Liza stood staring after them in dismay. Had she stepped through the looking glass? Usually as soon as they arrived here Dirk dumped Liza on his mother and went to watch television with his dad. Once he had patted the couch beside him and put his arm around her when she sat down. The memory of that small gesture had kept her buoyant for days. Now suddenly he was kissing her in front of his family and informing her of his plans. And Sal was asking to be set up with her friends.
She turned questioningly to Dirk’s mother. Had she noticed the difference?
Apparently so because she was now beaming at Liza. “Do you have any friends for Sal?” she asked.
“I’m not sure I know anyone who is his type,” Liza answered honestly.
Mrs. Xavier nodded. “Probably not. He’s always been the wild one of the two. Dirk has always been the stable one who wanted a family and commitment.”
Liza choked on her reply. Dirk? A family? Commitment? If he wanted either of those things, it was news to her. In five years he had never once hinted at their future together. He seemed content with their casual status quo. Maybe all mothers preferred to think of their sons as family men.
“You want children someday, don’t you, Liza?”
Liza coughed again. Could this evening get more odd and awkward? “Yes,” she said at last. “A lot.”
Mrs. Xavier smiled happily. Her dreamy expression told Liza she was most likely picturing Dirk’s face on a swarm of kids, but Liza suddenly felt inexplicably sad. Was she simply putting in her time with Dirk in order to one day hand him off to the true mother of his children?
“What can I help you with?” she asked to cover the unbidden lump in her throat. Thankfully there were a few things left to do in order to finish supper and she was able to throw herself into her work.
While they worked they made small talk. Mrs. Xavier probed gently into her life, but Liza didn’t mind the intrusion. She had always gotten along well with Dirk’s parents, and she knew they approved of her. Once, a few years ago, Mrs. Xavier commented that Liza was a better choice for Dirk than Scarlet. That comment had earned her Liza’s lifelong love and devotion.
“Liza,” Milt Xavier said as soon as she entered the dining room. “You look incredible. What did you do?”
“Milt,” his wife snapped. “Liza always looks pretty.”
“Yes, but now she looks…” He trailed off when his wife shot him a silencing look. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, supper looks delicious.”
Dirk caught Liza’s eyes and smiled before holding out her chair for her. “Liza is always full of surprises,” he said. He glanced at her hair, probably remembering when it was the color of the sun.
She wrinkled her nose at him and he laughed. Across from them Sal watched with a benevolent smile.
“I think I’ve been missing out by not getting to know Liza better before now,” he said. “I guess I’ll have more time now that I’m single.”
Liza smiled as if this was good news, but in reality Sal made her nervous and always had. She still had the sense his newly accepting mood was an act. It felt more patronizing than approving. Maybe recent events were making her paranoid. After all, what possible motivation could Dirk’s cousin have for not wanting her to be with Dirk?
If she was lukewarm about Sal’s company, Dirk was ecstatic. “You should spend some time with us. Liza is an amazing cook. We’ll have you over and she can cook something impressive.”
“Sounds very domestic,” Sal said. She couldn’t be sure if his tone was sarcastic, but Dirk didn’t seem to think so. He smiled happily at Liza and tucked into his food.
“Liza is a wonderful cook,” Dirk’s father agreed. “Much better than that other girl. The famous one. What’s her name?”
An awkward silence fell over the table.
“Scarlet,” Sal supplied at last. “Although her cooking must have improved because she has a cookbook coming out.”