Read Generation of Liars Online

Authors: Camilla Marks

Generation of Liars (44 page)

She twisted the silver key between
her fingers. “No, dear, it’s a key to a safety deposit box in Johannesburg that
stores my stolen diamonds.”

My eyes dilated at the shimmer of
the key, and something covetous welled up inside me. I could feel my fingers
trickling towards the key. Rabbit was getting six million dollars as a parting
gift, and I wouldn’t mind a second-place prize of diamonds.

“I got it!” Vivienne interrupted.
The top of her head was crowning up from out of the hole now. “I got the bag!”
She had the bag of money slung on one arm and blotchy scratch marks all down
her neck from Motley’s blunted fingernails. From the bottom of the hole, Motley
moaned a deep, guttural sound that originated in pit of his throat.

“You are all going to pay for what
you’ve done.” Cleopatra was livid. She zipped by me, her robe loosening with
her motion, and kneeled down to cock her ear into the hole. “Leon, my dear, are
you alright down there?”

“You’ve made this too easy,” I
said. I shoved my silver stiletto into the small of her back and jettisoned her
into the hole. Her robe fluttered around her like mossy plumes of ethereal
smoke as she spun downwards like a fallen angel. I saw the key catch its shine
one last time. Her thrashing limbs made a thud when she landed on top of
Motley.

“You bitch!” Cleopatra’s voice
funneled from the depth of the hole.

I twirled around to Rabbit and
Vivienne. “Okay, guys, let’s push one of these heavy wine racks over the hole
so they can’t climb out.” Rabbit and Vivienne took hold of opposing ends of the
nearest wine rack and began shoving it towards the hole.

I was certain it was a foolproof
method. My confidence was quickly dashed as I felt something raw and wet clasp
my ankle. I looked down and saw a red, throbbing hand circling my skin as it
clenched my ankle from the abyss of the hole. “You shouldn’t have done this,”
Motley seethed, his torso wiggling upwards on Vivienne’s rope as his fingers
pulsed around my ankle. Beyond him, I could see Cleopatra’s shiny, she-devil
eyes flicker in the dark. I tried to kick him off of me but he squeezed my
ankle with an iron grip. Rabbit and Vivienne stopped what they were doing and
came to my side. Vivienne stomped his hand with her thorny stiletto.

His fingers were bloodied and
braided by the time he let go and he fell back down into the hole, clutching my
high heel shoe in his fist. As he flew back backwards, I saw the note concealed
inside my shoe fly up into the air like a paper bird. I stood over the hole and
watched it flutter to the bottom of the hole to meet its destiny.

“Quick,” I called out, “we need to
cover the hole before he tries anything again.” As a trio, we raked the shelf
over the hole. Rabbit bundled the bag of money underneath his arm. We walked
the threshold back into the hallway and I took one last lingering look at all
of the compartments of the house, the pool room and poker room, scenes to such
unforgettable moments. Vivienne’s spiked heel dragged spots of the blood she
had drawn from Motley’s hand down the hallway like thin tire tracks.

Chapter Forty-six: The Wife

W
HEN
WE GOT back outside, the cold frigid air and falling snow felt good against my
calescent skin. My heart was still thumping in my chest.

“Wow.” Rabbit was heaving to catch
his breath. “You really did it, Alice. You got the money back just like you
promised.”

“You came through,” Vivienne said.
Her glossy petunia lips graced my cheek with a soft kiss. “You put helping
Rabbit above protecting yourself against your own fear.”

“I just can’t believe Cleopatra is
the ex-wife that Motley always moaned about. I can’t believe they reconciled,”
I said.

“If you ask me,” Vivienne said,
“they look like they deserve each other.”

“So, Alice,” Rabbit cut in, “I
guess your hunch about Ophelia Le Fur being the ex-wife he was always hating on
was totally wrong?”

“Yeah, I guess it was. But I still
wonder what Ophelia’s motive was, and how she was so damn good at tailing us.”

“I think we can quit worrying about
her now, Alice. There hasn’t been any action from her in months, she’s probably
moved on to something else or maybe she pissed off the wrong person and wound
up dead.”

“I suppose you’re right. But she
seemed so determined. I just hope she doesn’t pop up ever again and raise
hell.”

“It’s too late for her to do
anything to us now, Alice. I’ve got my money, and after we make a quick phone
all, Motley is going to be in the trunk of a homeland security van on his way
back to prison.” His eyes dived to the pavement. “The only reason she would
come after you is if she thinks you still have the dynamite stick and she
catches wind of you trying to sell it.”

“I don’t plan on keeping the
dynamite stick much longer, but I’m not going to sell it.” I knew I had to tell
Rabbit the rest of my plan, and it might not make him happy. “You might not
like what I do next.”

“What is it, Alice? I mean, you already
got me shot and stole my money once. Can it get worse?”

“Let me just lay out my plan for
the evening and you can tell me how bad you think it is.” Rabbit nodded in
agreement. “First, I’m going back to my boyfriend’s apartment.”

Rabbit’s eyebrow shot up like a
lightning bolt. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah you might say I have a little
Ting
of my own going on. It’s Ben, the doctor who removed the bullet
from your foot. The plan is that I go back to his apartment and I get the
dynamite stick from where I’ve been hiding it. Then I phone in a call the U.S.
State Department and tell them the whereabouts of one a Mr. Leon Leor, known
fugitive and, more recently, attempted briber of American diplomats.”

“So far this all sounds fine with
me, Alice.”

“But I haven’t finished. There is
another part you might not like, and that part is that I’m going to hand over
the dynamite stick to them too.”

“You mean you don’t plan on
destroying it?”

“No. I’m tired of running. It turns
out the secret I was running from this whole time wasn’t what I thought it was.
But I know you never wanted to go back to the way things were. I know you don’t
want to go back to being Lenny Rabitz.” I cut a coy smile. “Rumor has it he was
a loser.”

Rabbit’s hand was on my shoulder.
“It’s okay, Alice. Do what you think is right. I have six million dollars and
woman who loves me and I don’t care if I have to answer to the name Lenny
Rabitz again.” Vivienne leaned her chin onto Rabbit’s shoulder and kissed his
cheek. “Vivienne loves me for who I am, and once you find someone who loves you
for you really are you can stop being a liar.” Rabbit leaned into Vivienne and
they did that snuggly thing with their noses that I once heard someone call an
Eskimo kiss.

A did a pert cough. “I better go and
get a head start on my plan in that case.”

Rabbit and Vivienne wished me luck
and resumed their kisses. I treaded back in the direction of Ben’s apartment.
The streets were lined with lamplight halos and the dusting of snow turned my
toes numb. What Rabbit said really stuck to me,
When you find someone who
loves you for who you are, you can stop being a liar
. Ben loved me for who
I was. Heck, he even loved me when he was under the impression I was a sleaze
dancer from Pigalle. After tonight, after I turned over the dynamite stick, I
wouldn’t have to be a liar anymore. I was free to love. I would just be a
normal girlfriend and Ben and I could really be together. Maybe forever. I
hoped forever.

*   
*    *

I returned to Ben’s apartment
building. As I climbed the stairs, I could hear Christmas music seeping from
under the doors of Ben’s neighbors. When I got inside the apartment, I brushed
off the snow and rushed to the bathroom to retrieve the dynamite stick from the
linen closet. I set it down on the edge of the sink and looked at myself in the
mirror. My blond hair was a matted, stringy nest and my lips were colorless. I
lit up a cigarette and gave myself a smile in the mirror. “You’re almost done
now.”

I went into the kitchen and grabbed
the telephone directory. I found the page for the U.S. Embassy in Paris. I was
unhooking the phone from its cradle when I heard the sudden sound of sleigh
bells on the other side of the door. It took me a moment to recognize it as the
jostling of keys.

“Ben?” I called out. The door swung
open, blasting in a chill from the hallway. “You’re back early.”

“Looks like I will have Christmas
Eve with you, after all,” he cheerfully announced. He was draping his scarf on
the hook by the door and brushing the snow from his shoulders.

“Slow night at the ER?” I asked,
watching him kick off each of his frost-lined boots.

“They scheduled too many of us on
the overnight shift. It was a quieter Christmas Eve than they anticipated.”

I snapped the phone directory shut
and jumped to my feet. “That is fabulous news. Maybe we can go out and get
something to eat or just order in some takeout.”

“Sure. Just give me a second to use
the bathroom. I’ve been holding it in since the hospital.” He went into the
bathroom and shut the door behind him. “So what kind of food are you thinking?”
he called through the door.

“How about Tai?” I asked, nervously
looking at the phone and wondering when I would have a chance to sneak out and
finish my plan. “I could go pick it up since you just got in.”

“I haven’t had pizza in a while.”

I walked over to the drawer where
we kept the takeout menus. “But I really like that Tai place we ordered from
last time. What do you think about that?” A few seconds of dead air occurred where
he didn’t answer me. I wondered if my shaky voice was making him suspicious of
me. “Ben?”

Another moment of dead air passed
before his next reply. “Sure, Alice, Tai sounds fine.”

“What is the name of that stuff I
like? Is it chili pepper pork? I always forget.”

I heard the thrashing of the toilet
flushing. “I think it’s curry chicken.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t beef?”

“I’m positive it wasn’t beef,” he
answered, and I heard the bathroom door swing open.

I flicked through the menus. “Do
you remember the name of the restaurant we ordered from last time?” I could
feel the warm shadow of Ben’s body standing behind me, but he didn’t say a
word. “Ben?”

“Oh, Alice, can I ask you
something?” His voice was endearing, but something was off.

“Of course you can.” I spun around
to face him.

I was shocked by what I saw. He was
dangling a thumb drive by the pinch of his fingers.

“What is this, darling?” he asked.

“Oh, that?” I shut the menu drawer
behind me. “That’s nothing.”

“Are you sure, Alice? I found it
sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink.”

“It’s nothing, Ben.” I wondered if
my nerves were showing. I was kicking myself for being so careless about
leaving it out in the open. “It’s just a disk I’ve saved some of my job
searches on. My résumé and such. I know how eager you’ve been for me to get a
job and leave the apartment once in a while.” Our eyes were in a stalemate.
“Why don’t you give it back and I can put it away somewhere safe?”

“A disk with your résumé, is it?”
He was rotating it on the balls of his fingers. “Are you sure that’s all it is?
You seem kind of nervous.”

“That’s all it is. So just give it
back.” I did all I could to sound relaxed. I reached out to grab it, but Ben
clamped his fist shut around it.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

His eyes blinked, as though
clearing away room for a new identity. Without warning, he lunged forward at me
and pushed me down over the hard corner of the kitchen counter. He was on top
of me, twisting my hair at the crook of my neck and his voice was roaring into
my ear. “It wouldn’t by any chance be the dynamite stick, would it, Alice?”

“What are you talking about?” I had
already begun crying.  

He jerked my head up by my hair and
dragged me to the couch, where he threw me down, face first, into the cushions.
He was heading for the kitchen again. I lifted my head and croaked out, “Ben!
What the hell are you doing?”  

“You’ll see.” There was a smirk on
his face. His hands were busily rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen.
He found what he was looking for. A roll of silver duct tape and the knife we
had used to carve our Thanksgiving turkey. He was coming back towards me.

I slid off the couch and tried to
circumvent him, but he caught me by the hair and pulled me to one of the chairs
at the kitchen table. I tried to fight, but the utter shock of what was
happening left me like an amnesiac for all my fighting skills. I thrashed the
air with my hands and my nails sliced a trail of blood across his cheek. He
pressed the icy knife to my throat and throttled my hair at the crook of my
neck. I was stiff. He twisted my arms behind the chair and dragged the tape
across the circumference of my body. I wouldn’t be moving any time soon.

He went back to the couch. A mobile
phone was in his hands. I had never seen him use it before. “Honey.” He was
grinning into the phone as he spoke. “I have it, yes, I have the dynamite
stick. The stupid girl brought it right to my apartment. I’ll wait for you
here.”

“Who was that?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” His hands were inside
his pocket. He whipped out his fancy cigarette case. The one he showed me in
the park on our second date.

“You told me during our stroll in
the park that you only smoke on special occasions.”

“That was true.”

“What are you celebrating?” I was
searching his eyes, once so sweet, now appearing like a pair of polluted lakes,
so black and wretched.

“Success.”

“What success?”

“Getting the dynamite stick back
into my hands.”

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