Kathryn Shay - Tell Me No Lies

The ugly industrial scenery of downtown Iverton rolled by. He’d checked out the diner where she had worked all those years ago. They had new owners, too, who didn’t remember any Trixie Lawrence.

Now, he was headed to the south side of town. That bitch Janey, who was always trying to interfere, always trying to protect Trixie from him, for God’s sake, had ditched this place, too. But her old boyfriend, Teaker, still lived here. He might know something about Trixie.

Frankie got off at Farrell Street and walked up the hill; the bartender at Crane’s Beer Hall had told him where Teaker lived. Man, what a dump, Frankie thought as he found the shack. An old man tottered out.

“I’m lookin’ for Teaker. The guy at Crane’s says he lived here.”

The man came closer. “I’m Teaker. Who are…holy shit, Frankie, is that you?”

Frankie knew his mouth dropped. “What happened to you?”

“Fifteen years, Frank. You look older, too.”

Can’t be as bad as you. He ran his fingers through his gray hair, noticed the veins in his other hand were more pronounced. “I guess.”

“I had some bad times. Not as bad as you, though. I never went down. How’d ya hold up in there?”

“Letters. From Trixie.”

“I thought she was in the can, too.”

“Got out after a while. She wrote me every day from here. That’s why I’m back.”

“Trixie? She ain’t living in Iverton no more.”

“I don’t get it.” Frankie cocked his head and thought hard. The pain, which had started to recede, instantly came back. “Got any beer?”

“Yeah, sure. Come onto the porch.”

Frankie sat on a rickety chair under an overhang. Once he chugged some ale, he could think more clearly. “You ever hear from Janey?”

“Shit, no. She married some doctor and went to live in New York.”

His heart began to beat fast. “New York’s a big place. The city?”

Teaker lit a cigar and sat back. “Nah. On a lake, I think.”

“There’s a shitload of lakes in New York.”

“I dunno which one.”

“Who might?”

His old drinking buddy raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “I think there was somethin’ in the paper a while back about her doctor husband getting a grant to find a cure for some disease.”

“Yeah? Who’d know about that?”

“Maybe Mrs. Fox.”

Frankie recognized the name of the librarian he and his buddies used to terrorize. “Hell, she ain’t dead yet?”

“She’s too mean to die, Frankie.”

“You remember Janey’s new name?”

“Nope. But the article could tell you.”

Frankie finished his beer and crumpled the can in his fist. Promising to bring up a six-pack later that night and reminisce about old times, he left.

No way was he going to come back, though. He wouldn’t waste his time with that loser when he could be looking for Trixie. Frankie still couldn’t figure out all those letters coming from Iverton, if she hadn’t been here.

He found old lady Fox at the library. She was ancient now and just as nasty. Everybody in this hick town treated him like dirt. Everybody was always after him. The bitch turned him over to her younger staff member, who found the article on the computer for him.

He read it anxiously.

Janey Lawrence…Christopher.

Married the up-and-coming doctor, had two boys.

Bingo! In Orchard Place, New York.

Almost as an afterthought, he googled the husband. The guy had a freakin’ Web site for his practice and the grant thing Teaker told him about. It also had a section on family. He clicked that link. There was Janey. Older, heavier, but Janey all the same. She had Trixie’s looks, but Trixie was prettier. He waded through photos of the kids, the colleagues. The last picture was a family shot of all the Christophers. And arm in arm with Janey was her sister. Tessa. God he hated when people called her that. He stared at the different hair and clothes, but she had the same eyes, mouth and features of his beloved Trixie. He’d recognize that face anywhere. Glancing around, he printed off the picture.

Frankie smiled all the way to the bus station. If Janey was in Orchard Place, chances were her sister would be there. Those two were like Siamese twins. And Janey had hated Frankie with a passion. She’d tried every way she could to break them up but never could.

At the bus station, he bought his ticket. The attendant told him it was a ten-hour ride from Iverton to Orchard Place, stopping several times. But Frankie didn’t care. He was gonna see Trixie. He might have to bitch-slap her around some for not staying put, but after that there’d be pure bliss.

Finally, him and Trixie were going to be together again.

TESSA ARRANGED FOOD at the picnic table on the patio of her sister’s home, where the family had gathered for their Memorial Day picnic. The sun was shining and the sky was cloudless; a warm breeze wafted over her, carrying the sweet sound of chirping birds, making this a halcyon afternoon.

“I like seeing that.”

Tessa looked up at Janey’s husband, Brad, who’d come over from the grill. “What do you like seeing?”

“You smiling.” He slid his arm around her. “We were worried after the accident. Your sister freaked.”

“I’m sorry she spends her time fretting over me. She always has, Brad. I can’t seem to break her of the habit.”

Brad shook his head—he was mostly bald now and had shaved off what was left of his hair. Still, he was fit and youthful-looking for forty-five. “You two had a hard life. You, especially.”

“I guess.” She held Brad’s gaze a moment. He knew about her past, of course, because he was married to her sister; after Tessa had been released from prison, she had lived with Janey.

Just the thought of her time in jail made her shiver. Dawson Federal Prison Camp was a minimum security facility, without bars, but the prisoners were locked down at night, performed long tedious work details and had no say over their time. Worse, Tessa had always had a sense of foreboding, as if something bad was going to happen to her. A few times, awful things had…even now, she sometimes woke up in a cold sweat from a bad dream.

Hugging her tighter, Brad whispered, “Don’t think about it, kid.”

“I try not to.”

“Hey, buddy, what are you doing with my wife?”

Tessa and Brad both smiled as Dan approached. He’d just gotten out of the pool, and his muscles were outlined by his T-shirt. Damp from the water, his navy shirt heightened the color of his eyes.

“Just catching up.” Brad took a carrot stick from the plate on the table. “I haven’t seen her much.”

Dan shrugged. “You’ve been out of town a lot.”

“Yeah, this grant thing’s great, but it’s hell on my life. We had to hire a new internist to take on some of my patients. Janey’s been terrific but I know it’s hard on her.”

“That’s what you get for being such a world-renowned researcher.”

“Says the hotshot D.A.” Brad glanced over at his wife, who was sprawled in a lounge chair getting some sun. “I wanted to ask you two to watch out for her and the kids. I’ve got that trip to London coming up, and I’ll be gone awhile.”

“Of course.” Dan’s expression grew serious. “Any time.”

“I’m sorry I can’t get back for the Citizen of the Year dinner. Janey will stay for it, though, and come to London afterward when Oxford officially awards me the grant.”

Dan clapped Brad on the back. “It won’t be the same without you.”

After exchanging more small talk, Brad went to check the meat on the grill, and Tessa and Dan stood watching the kids playing in the pool. Dan’s mother, Claire, who’d been taking pictures of them, got up from the poolside bench. At sixty, she was an attractive woman with gray-bobbed hair, youthful skin and a generous smile, though today it seemed forced. “Can I help?” she asked Tessa.