Tag Archives: lies

Don’t Rayne On My Parade; chapter nine, part two

“Mrs. Curtis, you’ve been very helpful.  Can you tell me if you saw anything else suspicious next door the last week or so?”  I frown at how I worded that, but it can’t be helped.  I don’t think Mrs. Curtis will notice, anyway.  Besides being batty, she’s draining her glass of lemonade until there’s nothing left.  She looks at it wistfully before setting it down on the tray.  I can tell she wants to pour another glass, but she won’t in front of me.

“I’ve seen girls go in and out at all hours of the day,” Mrs. Curtis says, primming up her mouth; I don’t think it’s from the lemonade.  “Sluts, all of them.”

“Do you remember a week ago Friday?  The day before Moira and Max’s party?  Did you see anything unusual then?”  I don’t know why I’m even asking.  If this woman talks to fairies, how is she supposed to remember mundane events like a party next door?  She surprises me, however, with a factual answer.

“During the day, a girl came to the house.  She looked very upset.  She was crying when she left.”  Mrs. Curtis looks at me triumphantly, proud that she is able to remember this tidbit.

“What did she look like, Mrs. Curtis?”  I am patient, digging for information I’m not even sure will be of any use.

“White, young, raggedy,” Mrs. Curtis shrugs.  “Thin and really upset.”  It could be any of Moira’s students, but I would bet it was Annie.  That put her at the scene of the crime a day before it happened.  I am liking her more and more.

“Thank you, Mrs. Curtis.”  I shut my notebook and beam at Mrs. Curtis.  She may be talking to the fairies, but she also knows what’s going on.  I start standing up in preparation of leaving.

“Wait, don’t you want to know about the other girl?”  Mrs. Curtis reaches out and grabs my wrist.  She has a surprisingly strong grip for someone her age and size.  “The dark one who was angry when she went over that very same day?”  Mrs. Curtis smiles like a cat, pleased to hold back this bit of information until I am about to leave.

“What, when, huh?”  I ask inelegantly.  Finding out about Annie was more than I had hoped for.  I am lost as to what she is trying to say.

“A dark girl, Arabian or something like that with long black hair and flashing brown eyes.  She had a pierced nose.  She slammed her car door so hard, it shook.”  Mrs. Curtis tells these details with relish.  I slowly sink back into the couch as what she says hits me.

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Parental Deception; chapter six, part one

“I’ll take a large latte with skim milk,” I say to the barista at Ye Olde Diamond Shoppe. “And this zucchini pineapple bread.” He sighs and pushes himself away from the counter as if I’m asking him to murder his mother.

“That’ll be six-seventy-five,” he says, a scowl on his face. He’s tall, skinny, with a scraggly blond beard and thick, horn-rimmed glasses. He’s given me attitude every time I’ve been in the café, and if it weren’t so close to my taiji studio, I would never go there. I pay him then go to wait for my latte. That man isn’t here yet, and a part of me is hoping that he won’t show up. We’re supposed to meet at one-thirty, however, and I’m five minutes early. I’ll give him those five minutes and ten minutes more before giving up. I get my latte and put raw sugar in it. As I’m stirring, that man walks in. He spots me and gives me a huge smile. He points at the front counter, and I nod. He orders, pays, then walks over to me.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this weather,” he says, shivering despite wearing a heavy coat, a scarf, and gloves. He looks at me, and his eyes widen because I’m just wearing a sweater over my shirt and no coat. I had been wearing gloves, but they are in my purse now. “Where’s your coat?”

“I don’t need one yet,” I say with a false smile. “I like cold weather.”

“You should wear one! You might get hypothermia.” He’s clucking over me, and resist the impulse to tell him to can it. I wouldn’t take that from him even if he were my father who had been present for my whole life, which he’s not—and hadn’t been.

“It’s not even freezing,” I inform him, keeping my voice even. “I’ll be fine.”

“What did you order?” He asks, peering at my cup. “I got just plain coffee. It’s hard to find these days.”

“A latte with skim milk,” I say. “I order it any time I’m at a coffee shop because I get overwhelmed by too many choices.”

“Plain coffee.” The jerk holds out the cup of coffee, a sneer in his voice. That man goes over, takes it and adds sugar and cream before putting a lid on it. I have an impulse to take him outside, but that would be cruel. I take him to the front room instead, and we sit on the couch and sip at our coffee. It doesn’t appear as if he’s going to say anything, but he’s the one who wanted to meet, so he can start the conversation whenever he’s ready. I’m content to drink my latte and eat my zucchini pineapple bread. After several minutes, he finally talks.

“My husband died two months ago,” he says without preamble. I blink because that’s not what I’m expecting to hear. “Larry. Larry Sato. We’d been together thirty years.”

“I saw a picture of you with him. At Pride!” I pull out my phone and find the image again. “Is this him?” That man glances at the pic and smiles.

“Yes. That’s Larry. Wasn’t he handsome?” His eyes linger on the phone before I put it away.

“You two look happy together,” I say, finishing my latte.

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Marital Duplicity; chapter eleven, part two

“She took the money after much discussion. She didn’t want it, but I insisted.” Reverend Yang’s eyes tear up, and I can tell he’s not over Katie yet. He takes a deep breath and blurts out, “Can I trust you, Megan?” It’s clear there’s something burdening him, and I’ll say whatever he wants to hear in order to get him to reveal the information.

“Yes, Marcus. I’m a very good listener, and I know how to be discreet.” I squeeze Reverend Yang’s hand, and he squeezes it in return.

“She’s here. In St. Cloud. With our daughter.”

“What?!” I shriek, snatching my hand away. I stare at Reverend Yang as if he’s spoken Greek, though I’m fairly sure he hasn’t.

“I pay for her apartment, discreetly, and I go up once a month or so to see our daughter.” Reverend Yang continues. “She’s so smart and pretty and just the best thing I’ve ever done.” Reverend Yang’s eyes are shining, and it makes me sad that he’s living a double life because he doesn’t have the courage to be his own man.

“I take it Sharon doesn’t  know,” I say, though I don’t need confirmation.

“No! She would kill me if she knew.”

“Do Katie’s sisters know?”

“No. They all think she’s living in Orange County.”

“Marcus. How have you been able to keep it a secret for so long?” I am flabbergasted. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Sharon and I don’t really talk, and, well, none of my family are here, so it’s easy to keep them in the dark.” Reverend Yang runs his hand through his hair and slumps against the couch. Suddenly, he bursts into tears, and I pull him to my chest.

“There, there, Marcus,” I say, stroking his hair. “Let it all out.” That only encourages him to cry even harder, which he does for several minutes.

“I really can’t do this any longer,” Reverend Yang says. “It’s such a charade.”

“Marcus, I’m sorry about your situation. I know it’s rough on you, but we really need to talk about why I’m here.” I pull back and straighten my shirt. There’s snot on it, and I’m not sure it’ll come out.

“Sure. What do you want to know?” Marcus is a broken man, and I don’t feel comfortable grilling him, but I soldier on.

“I need to know what happened with you and Hayley Wu. The truth.” I squelch my misgivings, trying not to see his hangdog look.

“Lee,” Reverend Yang says, his voice coming alive. “She was the first woman to make me feel alive in a long time, but….”

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