Текст книги "The Lies That Bind"

Автор книги: Kate Carlisle

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 3

“Oh, my God.” I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed 911. When the dispatcher answered, I cried, “Somebody’s been hurt or—or . . .”

They’re dead. I didn’t say it out loud. I’d heard a groan. They had to be alive.

“I need your location, ma’am,” the woman said.

I gave her the information.

“Are they breathing?” she asked.

“So far. I’ll check to make sure.” Duh, good idea. It was still so dark, I could barely see my own hands in front of my face, but my eyes were beginning to adjust. I hunched down and felt an arm, covered by a soft wool sweater, indicating it was probably a woman. Moving my hand up her arm, I felt her shoulder, then her neck. There was a weak pulse. She was still breathing.

“She’s alive, but very weak,” I said. “Hurry, please.”

“We have a squad car in the area, ma’am,” the dispatcher said. “Please don’t panic. They’re less than two minutes away.”

“I’m not panicking,” I said, standing. “I just can’t see anything. Are you sending an ambulance, too?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll stay on the line until the police arrive.”

“Thanks.”

The door to another office opened suddenly. Naomi peered into the hall. “What’s going on out here?”

A sliver of light from her desk lamp cast her in shadow and did nothing to light up the situation in the hall.

“What are you doing in there?” I asked.

“I’m trying to work,” she said, her tone petulant.

“Really sorry to bother you, but somebody passed out in the hall.” Hey, I could be cranky, too. She wasn’t the only one whose peace and quiet had been disturbed. “Can you turn on some more lights? I can’t see a thing.”

Naomi didn’t move, just stared at the body. “What happened?”

“How should I know? Turn on some lights. This woman fainted or something.” I was getting crabbier by the minute. I hated stumbling over bodies.

“Oh, my God.” Naomi fumbled for the light switch on the wall outside her office door, but nothing happened. “Sorry, I guess the hall light’s burned out. I’ll have to get it fixed.”

She flipped her office light on and opened the door all the way, and the hall was illuminated. She tried to open Layla’s door, but it was locked. She skirted the body and tried Karalee’s office. It was unlocked so she shoved the door open and turned on the light.

“How’s that?”

“Much better.” As I said it, I could hear a siren wailing in the distance. “Police should be here any second now.”

“Is she breathing?” Naomi asked, still staring at the body.

“Barely,” I said.

Naomi wrung her hands. “It’s a good thing you found her. You probably saved her life.”

“I just happened to come along,” I said modestly, clasping my hands together. They felt tacky. I held them up to the light, then wished I hadn’t.

Blood. My stomach twirled and my head started to spin. I really hated blood. “Idiot,” I muttered. I couldn’t help it, though. The sight of blood made me sick. I took deep breaths and stared at the woman on the floor. Since she was bleeding, she must’ve hit her head on something. Something sharp or hard enough to draw blood.

As I stared more closely at the woman, my insides took an even more unwelcome dip. That fuzzy black angora sweater looked alarmingly familiar.

“Oh, no.” I inched back until my butt hit the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi demanded.

Icy chills slithered down my spine, worse than I’d ever felt before. God help me, I had just saved the life of Minka LaBoeuf.

The blast of sirens brought everyone out of the classrooms. I managed to keep the hall clear while Naomi ran to the front door and led the two police officers through the gallery to the hall. One officer looked around while the other knelt and checked for a pulse.

“Watch out,” I muttered. “There’s blood.”

The officer kneeling looked up at me. “You found her?”

I nodded, then shivered and looked away.

“Okay, good job.” He grabbed his walkie-talkie and called for an ambulance. He was answered by a squawk, then the dispatcher responded, “Ambulance en route.”

“I’ll wait up front,” I said, and walked back to the gallery, where all the lights were now glaringly bright. Alice rushed over and met me.

“What happened?” she whispered. She looked even more pale than when she’d first showed up in class. “Is somebody sick?”

“Somebody’s been hurt,” I said.

Tom, Cynthia, and Gina crowded behind Alice.

“Who is it?” Tom asked, staring past me into the hall.

“Another instructor,” I said, unable to utter Minka’s name out loud.

“It’s Minka LaBoeuf,” Naomi announced from behind me. “Brooklyn saved her life.”

I winced. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Naomi insisted, then added, “Brooklyn found her and called nine-one-one. Look, she’s got Minka’s blood all over her hands.”

Oh, great. I knew she meant that in a nice way, but it really didn’t sound good.

“I . . . I need to wash my hands,” I whispered, staring at the dried streaks of blood.

“How did you get her blood on your hands?” Cynthia asked, her eyes focused on my outstretched hands.

Her tone carried a strong hint of accusation and I was about to shoot back something when Alice took hold of my arm and said gently, “Let’s go wash your hands.”

Just then, the tall, good-looking Hispanic officer whose badge read “Ortiz” zeroed in on me. “You found the victim.”

“Yes, I did,” I said. Soldier up, Wainwright, I thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “She was passed out in the hall. I stumbled over her on my way to Layla Fontaine’s office and called the police.”

“Who’s Layla Fontaine?”

“She runs this place,” I said. “Her office is at the end of the hall. I think she must’ve gone home already.”

“What do you do here?” he asked, taking notes.

“I’m just one of the instructors.” I waved my hand toward Naomi. “This is Naomi Fontaine. She’s the facilities coordinator for the center.”

“But—but I didn’t do anything,” Naomi declared, her wide-eyed gaze whipping back and forth between Officer Ortiz and me. “I opened my office door and Minka was lying there, and Brooklyn was kneeling over her.”

I shot her a look. “They already know that.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Ortiz said calmly.

No, it wasn’t. Was Naomi deliberately trying to throw me under the bus? Whatever happened to me being the big hero, saving Minka’s life? You couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

“Where’s Layla?” Tom asked, looking around.

“She went home,” Cynthia said through clenched teeth. “Brooklyn just said that. Try to keep up.”

Someone was even crankier than I was.

The cop tending to Minka called from the hallway, “Can somebody turn on the hall light?”

“It’s not working,” Naomi explained to Ortiz.

He walked a few feet into the hall, stretched his arm up, and tested one of the exposed bulbs by twisting it. The hall filled with light.

“Now that’s weird,” Gina said, her eyes big and round.

Cynthia frowned in agreement.

Another blast of a siren announced the arrival of the ambulance. Two EMTs rushed through the gallery carrying their packs filled with equipment. I managed to corral the onlookers away from the hall to give the techs enough space to pass through.

Whitney walked over and joined us. “What’s going on? I thought I heard a siren. Are we on a break?”

Gina grabbed her arm. “Girl, where were you?”

“I was on the phone,” Whitney said defensively, then lowered her voice to add, “That skinny guy let me use one of those storage rooms down the hall so I’d have some privacy.”

Was she talking about Ned? I looked around the gallery, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Somebody was attacked while you were gone,” Gina whispered excitedly.

“We don’t know that,” I said quickly.

Officer Ortiz signaled me over. “We’ll need to get everyone in one place and start some interviews.”

“You can use my classroom,” I said, then turned to Gina and Whitney. “Can you help me lead everyone back to the classroom?”

“You bet,” Gina said. She gathered my people while Naomi assembled Minka’s students and led them back into their classroom. Within five minutes, the area was cleared.

“You should go wash your hands,” Alice murmured.

I scowled as I held out my hands. “I completely forgot.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

I smiled in gratitude. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay.”

In the small bathroom, I let hot water run over my hands. My stomach took another dip as the water turned pale red from Minka’s blood. I wasn’t sure what made me feel worse, the blood itself or the fact that it was Minka’s.

And wasn’t that a horribly uncharitable thought? Nevertheless, I used lots of soap and plenty of paper towels to clean and dry my hands completely, then tossed everything in the trash can.

And no, I didn’t consider that destroying evidence. I hadn’t done anything to Minka but save her life, sort of.

Back in the classroom, Officer Ortiz was trying to keep order.

“If anyone saw or heard anything,” he said, “I want to talk to you first.”

Everyone began speaking at once.

“Stop,” he barked. “Did anyone actually witness anything specifically related to the assault on Ms. LaBoeuf? Raise your hand if you did.”

I was impressed that he pronounced Minka’s name correctly, although I always preferred to hear her referred to as La Beef. I should’ve felt more remorse that Minka had been hurt, but I was almost giddy. Not in a happy way, but more of a shaking, freaking-out kind of way. Maybe I was in shock. I’m sure the fact that someone had been attacked a few short minutes before I walked down that hall would sink in later.

Since nobody in the room could offer any real help, Ortiz gave up and passed around a sheet of paper, asking everyone to write down their contact information.

As the students took turns complying with his request, I asked Ortiz where the ambulance would take Minka. He mentioned San Francisco General Hospital, barely a mile away.

Somehow, the name of the hospital made Minka’s injury sound even more life-threatening. “I don’t suppose she just fainted and hit her head.”

It sounded lame, even to me.

“She didn’t faint,” Ortiz said bluntly.

“Was she attacked?” Whitney asked.

“Are we all in danger?” Marianne asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Ortiz said. “Until we find out, I strongly suggest that you leave here in pairs or in groups. Don’t let anyone walk to their car alone.”

“Absolutely not,” I assured him.

“Is class canceled?” Dale asked.

I looked at Ortiz, who shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. We’ll be here for a while, asking questions and checking the premises.”

I glanced around. “Who wants to keep working?”

I was surprised to see everyone in the room raise their hands.

“I guess we’ll keep going,” I said.

On the drive home, I tried but failed to find some connection to all the strange events of that night. First, the Asian man had shouted and stormed out of Layla’s office, followed by Layla giving me grief over the provenance of the Oliver Twist.

Then Minka showed up and ruined my day. And shortly after I started my class, Layla came in to make nice and introduce Alice Fairchild. That’s when I saw the pathetic look of adoration on Tom Hardesty’s face. Apparently he had the hots for Layla, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his wife, if her expression of sheer contempt was any gauge.

Then there was the attack on Minka. Followed by Naomi’s lame attempt to blame me.

And damn it, why did I have to be the one to discover Minka? My shoulders shook with dread as I recalled her statement earlier in the evening.

“Wherever she goes, somebody dies.”

And sure enough . . . Okay, she didn’t die, but tonight’s attack was a little too close for comfort.

And that train of thought had to stop immediately. This was not my fault and I refused to feel guilty about it. And hey, Minka was a rude bitch for bringing it up in the first place.

Still, I wondered what this meant for Minka. How badly had she been injured? It couldn’t be a good sign that she hadn’t regained consciousness by the time the EMTs took her off to the hospital.

True, I didn’t like her. To be honest, I pretty much despised her. She’d been a thorn in my side since the day we met back in graduate school, where she developed an unhealthy crush on my boyfriend and tried to physically injure me badly enough that I would drop out of school. There were other weird and creepy happenings during that time. A dead cat on my porch. My tires slashed. I knew Minka was responsible, but she was never caught.

So as far as I was concerned, Minka was not a nice person. And yes, on occasion, I’d wished her ill.

But the “ill” I’d had in mind was something along the lines of a large potato bug crawling up her nose and laying eggs. I’d never wished for her to die or anything. Basically, I just wanted her to go away and leave me alone.

I turned off Seventh Street onto Brannan, then waited until the oncoming traffic cleared and the security gate in front of my building garage opened. I quickly turned in and parked my car.

I had less stuff to carry upstairs than I’d brought down with me. Naomi had given me a key to my classroom so I could leave some of my cheaper, less dangerous tools and supplies at BABA. I was determined to keep the more lethal and expensive ones in my possession at all times. Thanks to my recent misadventures in Scotland, I hesitated to leave hazardous tools in a place that might not be completely secure.

The block-long brick building I lived in had been built as a corset factory in the twenties and retained some of the old quirks from those days. One of my closets used to be a dumbwaiter with ropes and pulleys to move supplies up and down. It was sealed off now, of course, but it still had steel walls, so I used it to store important documents and the occasional rare book.

Most of the windows in my apartment were original as well, and reinforced with old-fashioned chicken wire. The heating ducts were exposed. Those touches, together with the interior brick walls, gave the large loft-style living space the look and feel of the old factory.

I loved my apartment, loved the South of Market location that was a mix of converted industrial lofts like mine, small ethnic restaurants and shops, and decorators’ outlets selling tiles and used brick and wrought iron gates. You could shop and dine in upscale luxury, then turn the corner and find a blighted, burned-out factory, waiting to be bought up and converted. The recession had slowed down some of the growth in the area, but I expected it to pop back any day now.

I stepped inside the service elevator and pushed the button for my floor. This lift was original, as well. It was wide enough to carry industrial-sized machinery, with a four-inch-thick wood plank floor and an iron gate that folded back to let passengers in and out.

As the elevator rumbled to life, I recalled again the angry words of the Asian man who’d left Layla’s office earlier that night. Did he have anything to do with the attack on Minka? I should’ve mentioned him to the police. What if he’d come back to threaten Layla and Minka had interrupted him? I didn’t know who he was, but Layla would know. And if she were his real target, I figured she’d be more than glad to give the police his name.

As the elevator stopped and the gate opened, I saw my neighbor Vinamra Patel peeking out her door. Everyone in the building could hear the old-fashioned industrial elevator when it was in motion, so we all kept an eye out for each other.

“Ah, Brooklyn,” Vinnie said, waving me over. She wore overalls and high-top Converse All Stars, and her glossy dark hair was braided down her back. “I was hoping it would be you.”

“It’s me,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“Guess who went out to dinner tonight?” she said seductively.

“Really?” My eyes must’ve lit up because she laughed and grabbed my arm.

“Yes. Come in. I have leftovers packed up and ready for you.”

I followed her like a puppy. “You guys don’t have to feed me every night, you know.”

Vinnie grinned. “But you’re always so pathetically grateful, it’s fun for us.”

“Hey, I like to eat,” I said in my own defense.

And my favorite neighbors knew it. Vinnie and her girlfriend, Suzie Stein, were wood sculptors. They worked at home, as I usually did, and their loft was filled with huge, oddly shaped hunks of wood and burl. Their sculpting tools of choice were chain saws, and a number of those were mounted on the walls. It was an artistic statement in itself.

Because of the sawdust and mess they made while working, they liked to dine out most nights. And they invariably brought home leftovers for their hungry neighbor. Me.

As I stared at their latest sculpture, a massive wooden pyramid with wings, two cats approached me, purring loudly as they rubbed up against my shins. I bent over to scratch their necks. “Hi, Pookie. Hi, Splinters.”

“They love you so much,” Vinnie said, smiling fondly at the cats. “You take such good care of them.”

My gaze met Pookie’s and she cocked her head as if to say, Aren’t you glad I can’t talk?

I sent her a telepathic message. Yes, ma’am. I am.

The last time Suzie and Vinnie left town, they’d left me in charge of their beloved pets. One morning, I walked out without feeding them. I remembered by the time I got to the garage and raced back upstairs to set out their food and water. But there had been a moment . . . okay, maybe five or six seconds, during which I’d actually debated whether or not it would make any difference if I waited until that night to feed them. In the end, my guilt got the best of me and I rushed back to meet their needs.

So yeah, I was eternally thankful that cats couldn’t talk, because these two would have spilled their guts about my lackadaisical caretaking skills. And Vinnie and Suzie, who loved their pets to distraction, would never give me another bag of leftovers again.

I couldn’t live with that.

“Have you seen our new neighbors?” Vinnie asked, shaking me out of my guilt trip.

“No,” I said, straightening. “But I heard them moving in. Is it a family?”

“No, two lovely men,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “A chef and a hairdresser. Aren’t we lucky?”

I laughed. “The perfect neighbors.”

“And your new class?” Vinnie said, leading me toward the wide bar that separated their massive living/work space from their kitchen. “It is pleasurable?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I said. “But you’ll never guess what happened tonight.”

Suzie walked into the room just then, cracking her knuckles. “Let me guess. Somebody died.”

I was taken aback. “Why would you say that?”

She flopped onto the couch and stretched her arms out. Her spiky platinum hair was still wet from her shower and she wore pink flannel pajamas and Bullwinkle slippers. It was possibly the most feminine outfit I’d ever seen her wear. “Just seems whenever you show up somewhere, somebody gets their bucket kicked.”

“Suzie, stop,” Vinnie said. “She teases you, Brooklyn.”

“That’s okay,” I muttered. “Minka said the same thing.”

“Minka?” Vinnie frowned. “Is she not the girl we revile?”

“She is. But she was attacked at BABA tonight and left unconscious. Somebody must’ve hit her over the head.”

Suzie grimaced. “Oops.”

“Yeah,” I said, pacing now. “And the weird thing is, Minka said the same thing to me earlier this evening, that whenever I show up, somebody dies.”

“You poor thing,” Vinnie said. “Suzie, you are not to be mean.”

“Hey, I’m a sweetheart,” Suzie protested.

“Yes, you are,” Vinnie whispered, “but Brooklyn is sensitive because people really do have a tendency to die when she is around.”

“I’m standing right here,” I reminded her.

Suzie snorted. “Yeah, Vinnie. I think she can hear you.”

Vinnie gasped. “Now I am the rude one.”

“No, you’re never rude,” I said.

“As opposed to me,” Suzie said, “who’s a thoughtless pig.”

I laughed, as she’d meant me to, but the merriment didn’t last as I explained what had happened. “I was the one who found her. I practically fell on top of her. She was still out cold when the paramedics took her to the hospital.”

“Good heavens,” Vinnie said.

“Freaky deaky,” Suzie said.

“Yeah.” I nodded, then shivered. “There was blood, so somebody must’ve attacked her. I’ve been trying to figure out who might’ve done it.”

I told them about the irate Asian man, then mentioned how nasty Layla had been to me.

“That woman sounds horrible,” Vinnie said as she walked into the kitchen area. “My money is on her as the culprit.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty awful,” I said. “But she gives me work, so I can’t be too critical of her. Well, I can, but I shouldn’t. You know what I mean.”

“Oh, yes,” Vinnie said, nodding sagely. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a shopping bag.

“Anyway, I stumbled over Minka on my way to see Layla, to apologize for our disagreement. I don’t want her to be pissed off at me.”

“Oh, balls,” Suzie said. “Why should you care? She’s a bitch.”

“Language, Suzie,” Vinnie chided. “But, Brooklyn, Suzie has a point. Why must you be the one to apologize to this foul woman?”

“I just want everyone to be happy,” I said. Then I saw Suzie’s eyes widen in horror, so I played back what I’d said. “Oh, dear God, I’m channeling my mother.”

Vinnie nodded. “Yes, but your mother is a lovely woman.”

I shook my head and tried to get back on track. “What I meant was, I wanted to make nice with Layla so she’d be happy and continue to give me work.”

Suzie shrugged. “Can’t blame you for that.”

I sat on the edge of the cushy chair across from Suzie. “But Layla wasn’t even in her office, and then I ended up saving Minka’s life.”

“Wow,” Suzie said. “Bad luck. For her, I mean. Because, you know, she owes you big-time now.”

“She doesn’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, Brooklyn, she now owes you her life,” Vinnie explained. “This will not make her happy.”

I made a face. “No kidding.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Suzie warned. “She’s about to make your life a living hell.”

Vinnie patted my shoulder in sympathy. “May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

I rubbed my forehead, where a headache was blossoming to life. “Yeah, thanks for that.”