Laura Caldwell - Red Hot Lies

Sam explained Forester’s plan. He told Shane how his dad had called that night he died, how he’d found Forester facedown on his patio table, how he’d sprung into action and taken off to Panama. “I have documentation that your father drew up,” Sam said. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a sheaf of papers. He handed them to Shane. “These are copies, and they were translated into English, but you can see your father’s signature there at the bottom.”

Shane flipped through the pages. “I have no idea what these mean.”

“They mean that your father gave me the authority to possess and sell the Panamanian corporation that owned the real estate. And I did what he asked.” Sam’s voice was getting louder again. “What we’re here to talk about tonight is what you did to your father, Shane. And I want you to quit playing dumb about it!”

“Enough!” came a familiar voice somewhere behind Shane.

We heard footsteps in the hallway. I looked at Shane, whose expression turned to one of fear.

Sam moved closer to me, as if to protect me. “What’s going on?” he said softly.

Shane turned in the direction of the voice, then back to us. He didn’t seem to know what to do. “Don’t!” he called out.

But it was too late. “Leave him alone,” said the voice, that voice I knew somehow.

The owner of that voice stepped into the room.

It was Q.

The living room pulsed with tension. None of us said a word. I watched as Q stood beside Shane and placed a hand on his shoulder. Shane’s face twisted into a mix of panic and helplessness, the face of someone watching the beginnings of a car crash and unable to do anything to stop it.

Sam pointed at Q and then Shane. “Are the two of you…are you involved somehow?”

“Yes,” Q said at the same time Shane said, “No.”

Q turned to Shane and bent his head toward him. His skin looked deep-black against Shane’s pallid white face. “Listen to me,” Q said, low and insistent. “It is going to be okay.”

Shane breathed in deep, seeming to draw strength from the sight of Q and the sound of his words. He nodded, a small fast movement.

“Yes,” Q said, turning to us, “Shane and I are having a relationship.”

I felt my mouth form a surprised O. “This is who you were cheating with?”

Q bowed a little. “Yes. And I love this man.”

Shane’s eyes fluttered closed. But then he opened them, looked at Q and nodded again.

“You were together the night Forester died,” I said to Shane. “That’s why you weren’t that surprised at the news of his death, and why you were being so evasive after that.”

Q nodded again.

“But wait a minute.” I pointed at Q. “When I told you Shane was giving Tanner the Pickett Enterprises work, you were pissed off. So you were just pretending?”

“No. He hadn’t told me because he knew I would try to stop him.” Q glared at Shane. “We’re in love, but we’re not perfect yet.”

“Did the two of you plan Forester’s death?” Sam blurted.

“No!” Q shouted. “And I’m sick of all these accusations against Shane. No one killed Forester. I’ve seen the autopsy, Izzy, so have you. Why have you been so caught up in the idea that someone deliberately hurt him?”

“You know about the letters.”

“Yes, and I told Shane about them after I learned about them from you. He had never seen the letters or heard about them. He certainly didn’t write them. The autopsy showed a heart attack, Iz.”

“Yeah, but we believe someone caused that heart attack.”

“How do you cause a heart attack?” Shane looked thoroughly confused and distraught now.

“You know those herbs your father got from Dr. Li?”

Shane nodded. “He was always putting them in water and drinking them. But those couldn’t have caused it. He’s been on those for years.”

“He was on certain herbs for years. The last batch he got from Dr. Li, though, contained what was essentially an overdose of an herb that can cause heart attack, especially in patients with a history of heart problems. I think Dr. Li did that deliberately.”

“Why?”

“Because someone paid her. It turns out she and her husband had serious financial problems. They were in debt. Their building was about to be foreclosed and now they’ve taken off. When I spoke to her, Dr. Li basically admitted that she had given your dad too much of this herb, and she said that ‘they’ only meant to make your dad sick. She seemed very upset to learn that he died.”

“Who would have paid her?” Shane asked.

“It’s better to be violent than impotent, isn’t that right?” I said.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s part of a Gandhi quote that was in one of the threatening letters your dad received.”

“I didn’t write them!” Shane yelled. “I loved my father more than anything! I was never the man he wanted, I know that, and I know he wouldn’t have been happy to find out about this.” He pointed between him and Q. He looked at me, deep into my eyes. “Izzy, I loved my dad.”

I glanced at Q, whose expression was one of pain. I knew that expression. It was how I’d felt when Sam told me about finding Forester dead. It was the expression made by a person who sees someone they love in agony.

Slowly, without breaking my gaze with Shane, I nodded. I believed him. Not just about his adoration of his father but about not hurting him. I shot a glance at Sam, and I could tell he believed Shane as well.

Q put a hand on Shane’s shoulder, a silent support.

“If it wasn’t you, who would have paid Dr. Li?” I said. “Who stood to benefit from your father being ill enough to step down from the company, assuming Dr. Li was telling the truth about just wanting to make him sick?”

Shane shrugged. “Chaz and Walt run the place now that my dad is gone.”

“And your dad and Walt had been warring for years,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but in a healthy business way, I’d always thought.”

We stood quietly, working over the other possibilities. “Chaz is a goddamned bulldog,” Q said.

Shane nodded. “He did orchestrate the recent sales of all those TV and radio stations. It was like he’d been planning it for years.”

I spoke up. “I should tell you that my mother’s charity was given fifteen million by Forester’s will.”

Shane’s eyes went big. “Jeez. That’s a lot. But then again, my dad always said that was his favorite charity.”

Sam and I exchanged glances. I’d told him about my mother’s affair with Forester, but I wanted to keep her secret from everyone else unless it was absolutely necessary.

“My mom had no idea that money was coming to her charity,” I said, “and she adored Forester.”

Shane nodded.

“What about Annette, your dad’s housekeeper?” Sam asked. “Izzy said she’ll get two million from the estate.”

“I just can’t believe Annette would hurt my dad. I can’t believe Dr. Li would either. I’ve never met her, but my dad had been seeing her for a while, and he really liked her.”

“How did he start seeing her?” I asked.

“She was highly recommended by Tanner, who saw her for anxiety or something. Tanner said-”

We all froze. I looked from Sam to Shane to Q.

“Tanner has been seeing Dr. Li for years,” Shane said, his voice slowing down, as if he was reading the words off a sluggish teleprompter. “And then, right around after my dad died, Tanner started going to see a psychiatrist. Now he’s seeing this shrink twice a week. He says he was having depression and feeling guilt. When I asked him why the guilt, he mentioned his ex-wife.”

Q scoffed.

“I know,” Shane said, his eyes fixed on a point on the floor. It was as if he was seeing Tanner, listening to him in his mind. “I couldn’t believe it when he said it. He’s never felt guilty about either of his ex-wives or what he did to them, although he’s had a lot of anxiety since the last divorce.”