The Tell-Tale Con (25 page)

Harrison gestured out the window when we'd driven past the south valley and into a place where it looked like the subdivision gods had puked all over one side of the road and the other side was used for sheep grazing.  “This whole area of town used to be nothing.  Mesas and dirt.”

I scanned the miles of cookie cutter stucco houses lining the roads.  “Well, there's plenty here now.”

“Albuquerque is boxed in.  Mountains and reservations keep it from growing in almost any direction.  Even out here they're going to run out of space eventually.  But this is one of the cheapest places to buy a house in town.  It's very popular with big families.”

He sounded like he was writing a brochure.  “Does Mark have a big family?”

“Huge.  He got divorced a few years ago but then he married this other woman and they started having two million kids.  I think they've had one every year.  Plus they adopted.”

I had no idea what to make of that information, so I was reserving judgment.  Liking children did not immediately release you from the possibility of also being a murderer.  We turned into one of the nicer-looking subdivisions, one where there was at least a nod at trying to differentiate between houses.  Harrison pulled to a stop on a street packed with cars.  People were out, milling around, walking with toddlers in strollers, riding bikes and taking children to the park.  I felt like I was in some kind of weird alternate reality.  Downtown, not so much like this. 

I took a good look at Mark's house before we knocked on the door.  I hadn't paid all that much attention when I'd met him the first time around because I'd had no reason to suspect him.  That was before I knew about the accident and its true origin.  I would pay better attention this time.  But he was certainly a man who took care of his home.  The exterior paint was flawless, the landscaping perfect, and pots of geraniums lined the walk.  Nary a weed dared poke up through his xeriscaping. 

Harrison went to the door, and I followed behind, watching for any movement of the curtains inside or any sign of suspicious activity, but there was none.  This was the kind of place where suspicious activity went to die. 

The door was opened promptly by a woman who was so short she would have looked about twelve years old from behind.  From the front she was in her mid-thirties, with long, curly blond hair and dimples when she greeted Harrison.  “Oh, hey Harrison.  Come on in.  I'll get Mark.”

I was no expert in gestation, but I would have pegged her as about twenty-six months pregnant, give or take.  She closed the door behind us and waddled off to her husband.  She didn't ask who I was.  I had no idea what that meant, though.  Harrison moved into the formal living room, a tiny receiving area to the right of the door, and flopped on to a black microfiber couch with crumbs all over it. 

Eying the mess suspiciously, graham crackers, I thought, I elected to stay where I was.  Three children, the oldest a boy about seven and two girls about six or so, ran past us screaming.  Literally screaming.  They didn't look our way.  They bounded by and then pounded up the stairs, making enough noise with their footfalls to be three large and angry men, rather than three elementary school aged kids. 

Mark, who was on his way out to us, didn't react at all to their passing him or to their screaming.  Maybe they had a special yell for real emergencies.  He didn't look at them, except for a vague smile when one of them stepped on his foot on the way past. 

Weird. 

I was still reserving judgment, but I had no idea what to make of what I was seeing.  Mark came into the room and brushed off the crumbs carelessly, dropping into the spot he'd cleared. 

“Hey, what's going on?” 

He finally seemed to notice me, and his eyes slanted suspiciously.  He glanced at Harrison and then back at me and arrived at the same conclusion as everyone else.  “Who is this again?” 

He said it like a dad would tease a kid about their newest romantic conquest.  In a minute there would be eyebrow waggling. 

“This is Talia Jones.”  Harrison didn't bother to correct Mark's obvious jump to the wrong conclusion.  Maybe it was easier to explain me away when people operated under that misconception.

Mark smiled at me benignly, and as hard as I looked, I could see no malice in him.  In fact, all I could see was a contented family man kicking back in his house, not at all concerned about why we might be there.  He had nothing to hide, as far as I could tell.  But I wasn't ready to dismiss him yet. 

“How many kids do you have?” I asked.

“We have six.  Two more on the way.  We adopted a sibling group of two before we started having our own.  Then we had our first baby, which turned out to be
babies
.  Then when Dora got pregnant again, it was babies again.”  He laughed.  “The doctor says it's practically statistically impossible, but this pregnancy makes three sets of naturally occurring twins.  We're pretty sure we aren't willing to risk it again after this.” 

He didn't sound like he thought it was much of a risk though.  If I had eight kids I would kill myself, but he sounded proud of his very noisy children.  I could hear them upstairs, still screaming. 

His wife, whom he introduced as Dora, came back into the living room and perched on the end of an easy chair.  Harrison must have been enough of a regular here that they hadn't bothered to ask why he'd come.  Unless Harrison had broken the rules and called ahead.  But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

I decided to start the ball rolling, though this was supposed to be Harrison's court.  “So Harrison tells me that you used to be a stuntman.”

There was no hint of discomfort or unhappiness in his face when I said it.  He merely reached up and grabbed his wife's hand across the arms of their respective seats.  It was an unconscious movement, something he did because she was there and he could reach her and it was their way.  There was nothing in it that suggested he was uncomfortable and looking for support.

“I did.  But that was years ago.”

“Did you, like, get bored or something?”

Mark, again, did not react as though he was bothered by the question, though Harrison did, shooting me eye daggers across the room.  “No, I was injured.  Doing a stunt.  I couldn't do my old job anymore, so I found a new one.”

I turned to Dora.  “How was that?  Did you mind the job change?  That must have been cool being married to a stuntman.”

She laughed slightly and glanced at the carpet.  I didn't sense she had anything to hide either, but I didn't suspect her anyway.  Just her husband.  “I wasn't married to him at the time.  Though I certainly knew him.”

Mark smiled at his wife, and there was a tenderness between them that was visible. 

And kind of disgusting. 

“I was married to someone else,” he told me, turning his attention my way.  “A playboy bunny, actually.  Tyffanii.  With two i's at the end. 
She
was not pleased about my accident.  When she heard I would be finding new employment, she was out of there.  She was gone before I got out of the hospital.”

Dora smirked.  “Stupid girl.  Of course, I'd been sitting around waiting for Mark to notice me since second grade.  I swooped in for the kill immediately.”  She dimpled at her husband, and he cocked an eyebrow at her, and I didn't know whether to be touched or to throw up. 

“Dora's been my best friend since we were kids.  If it wasn't for the accident, I never would have noticed she's a girl.”  The look he cast her way was seriously not for my young eyes.  “She's definitely a girl.”

Wow.  How could I make this stop?

It was obvious, even to me, that Mark was not missing his old life of danger and glamour.  The guy couldn't be more content and husbandly if he were Mormon.  Then again, what did I know?  Maybe he was.  That might explain everything about this pair. 

Harrison sighed.  “Mark, I need to talk to you.”

Mark leaned forward in his seat, responding to the seriousness in Harrison's voice.  He looked at me cautiously, and I could read on his face, as clearly as if he'd said it out loud, that he feared I was pregnant.  As if. 

“Someone is trying to kill me.”

It wasn't what Mark had been expecting to hear, and it took him a second to switch gears from my tragic teenage gestation to attempted murder.  “What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me.  I've been run over and shot at.  I don't think they're going to stop until they kill me or I stop them.  I think that same person killed Nate.”

“Have you gone to the police?” Mark demanded.

“Actually, the police think I killed Nate.  They aren't much inclined to believe me.”

“That's ridiculous,” Dora scoffed. 

“Well, they don't think so.  I'm kind of on my own figuring out who might have killed Nate so that they don't also kill me.”

“I don't like this, Harrison,” Mark said. 

“I don't like it either.”  There was the slightest hint of amusement in Harrison's voice. 

“Who would hate Van enough to want to take their revenge out on Harrison?” I asked.

Dora glanced up at me, and the last few minutes finally clicked into place for her.  “Oh, my goodness.  That wasn't a conversation.  That was an interrogation.” 

I shrugged unapologetically.  “We have to check everyone.  If it makes you guys feel any better, Harrison was not into the idea of questioning Mark.  I had to drag him over here.”

Mark nodded.  “It's fine.  It was reasonable to ask.  But if you are looking for people who hate Van, the list is long.”

Literally.  But he didn't know that.  “Who would be your first instinct?  Who hates Van the very most?”

Mark threw up his hand.  “I don't know.  I'd check with his ex-wives.  Hell, I'd check with his current wife.  Being married to Van would make me want to kill someone.”

It was amusing, but not particularly helpful.  However, since I wanted to check Kanako out anyway, it was right where I was headed.  “Please think hard.  Any little detail might be much more important than you think.  Call Harrison with anything you think of.”

Mark stood when Harrison and I did.  Dora tried to struggle out of her chair, but then gave up and stayed where she was.  “I will,” Mark said.  “Please be careful.  If you need anything you call me.  I'm not the head of your father's security team for nothing.  What does your dad think of this anyway?”

Harrison shrugged.  “Nothing, because I haven't told him.  He's out of town anyway.  Maybe Kanako has told him.  I mean, she was with me at the police station.  But I don't know.”

Mark looked like he wanted to follow us out to the car and then maybe to wherever we went next, but instead he led us to the door and opened it for us.  “Maybe you should stay at home.  No one can break into that place and hurt you.”

Not unless they were a prostitute with twenty bucks, anyway.  “I can't do that.  But I promise I'm being careful.”

Probably we weren't being careful enough.  That would bear some thinking about.  “Where are you going next?”

“Ana's.”

I was surprised, but slightly pleased, when I saw the discomfort that flashed on Mark's features.  “Be careful with Ana, okay?  She won't take kindly if she thinks you remotely suspect her.  She isn't…she is less delicate than we might think.”

I knew that was true, but it was heartening to hear from someone else.  Maybe Harrison was more inclined to listen to Mark than he'd ever been to listen to me. 

 

 

 

 

 

Rules of the Scam #19

Always be careful.  Careful is how you steal from right under people's noses and don't get caught…

 

We thanked Mark and Dora for their time and walked out together in silence.  Mark caught Harrison's arm, and Harrison fell behind.  I didn't listen, merely walked on ahead, but I saw that Mark's expression was serious.  Once Harrison joined me in the car, we both spoke at once. 

“I'm sorry.  I know I was supposed to leave the questioning to you.  I wanted to get it out of the way.”

“Mark wants to follow me around.”

Harrison didn't respond to my apology so I moved on to his comment.

“Are you going to let him?” I asked, curious if he'd let someone protect him.

Harrison scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  Of course I'm not.” 

I sat back and considered that while he drove.  We weren't being careful enough.  But that didn't mean our behavior was likely to change.  I wasn't going to tell my mom, if someone was trying to kill
me
, let alone Harrison.  His parents were out of town, and he didn't seem to want anyone else involved.  I had to wonder why. 

We got back on the highway and headed east, toward the mountains.  What were we doing?  Did we honestly think that we could figure out who killed Nate?  I hadn't been hired for that exactly.  Just to find out who was doing the whole demon thing.  Could I figure the murder out too?  Maybe.  But I wasn't sure we could do it before Harrison got arrested or got dead. 

“Why aren't you asking anyone for help, Harrison?” I asked as he pulled off onto the Tramway exit again. 

He glanced at me, surprised.  “I did.  I asked you.” 

I sighed, unsure if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he was that naïve.  “In case it has escaped your notice, I'm seventeen.  You're seventeen.  Together that doesn't make us thirty-four!”

His eyebrows arched comically.  “I'm surprised at you Talia.  You don't exactly strike me as the ‘go begging for help' type.  Plus you're the one who said you could figure this stuff out.”