Page 28 of The Liar I Married
Nodding, I stare at my coffee. As far as I knew, Michael had been overseas. “Did anyone in the house mention to him that I was waking up?”
“Not that I’m aware.” Maria piles pancakes on a plate, adds crispy bacon, and hands me a warm bottle of maple syrup. “No one talked to me about you until you woke up and needed meals.” She refills my coffee cup. “Although I hear Dolly talkingabout you on the phone, all the time. She gives everyone updates on your condition.”
I nod. “Don’t tell her about the note. I need you to contact my brother’s office and leave a message that, the moment he comes back, I need to speak to him.” I indicate to the pen and notebook on the counter. “Pass me the notebook and I’ll write down his details. Don’t tell anyone. There’s another thing. My friend Alex might visit. If you see him, don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Yes, of course.” Maria nods. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
I finish my meal, fill two travel mugs with coffee, and wedge them inside my walker seat before heading toward the conservatory. I look over one shoulder at Maria. “I haven’t seen Dolly today. If she comes searching for me, tell her I’m in the conservatory getting some sun.” If she finds me there with Alex, it’s just too bad.
Time drags by. Nine seems so far away but I’m enjoying the peace of this place. It’s all marble, with ornate columns and a huge expanse of glass. It is essentially a massive greenhouse, although with the addition of comfortable furniture including a table and chairs. Plants fill the space and give the air a damp quality, like walking in the forest after the rain. The mingled scents of the flowering shrubs and hanging baskets overflowing with flowers are as delightful as the sight. The colors are intense, purples, pinks, bright orange, and red, spread out like an artist’s palette. The comparison immediately reminds me of Alex, and his hilarious antics in the art studio. He had everyone laughing most of the time with his stories.
As if on cue, Alex emerges from the pathway through the rose bushes. When he sees me, a wide grin splits his face. I smile back, suddenly conscious of my pathetically thin body and sunken eyes. “Alex, how good to see you.”
“I figured you needed someone to talk to.” His gaze moves over me and he frowns. “Why are they keeping you isolated?Surely familiar surroundings would help with your recovery?” He hands me a box of coffee creams from the little candy store in Grande Haven. They’re my absolute favorites.
I hug the box to my chest and moan in appreciation. “Thank you.” I nod toward the closed door leading to the rest of the house. “I agree, being at home would help but I don’t believe they want me to get well.” I went on to tell him my suspicions.
“You had concerns before the accident but you told me John was coming home more often and you were prepared to sort things out with him.” Alex sat opposite, hands held loosely together between his knees. “What makes you figure they want to make you appear unstable?”
Memories flood my brain. “First, John having me followed and not telling me. Then the day after I regained consciousness a couple of women came by. I’m sure I don’t know them although they acted like my friends, what they said made no sense whatsoever. Anyway, they said John had given all my things to Goodwill, but when I asked him to bring me something to wear he sent a few new things and Dolly said it was because I’ve lost weight.” I sigh. “I don’t know if he has cleaned out my things or not.”
I went on to tell him about seeing my mom with the girls and the flowers in my room the next morning. I mention the ringing disconnected phone. I look at him as he assesses my story. “They kept me under video surveillance as well but I flushed the camera this morning.”
“Heavens above, Jessie, I couldn’t write this stuff.” Alex rubs the back of his neck. “When I take into consideration everything you’ve told me, I believe the key to everything going on here is tied up in the night you had the car wreck. I’ve been thinking about that day as well, trying to piece together everything that happened before you went home. I recall you telling me thatyour housekeeper was going to collect the girls from school and so you stayed a little longer to finish.”
The day falls into place and I nod. “Yes, I remember. Then what happened?”
“You took the painting home with you and we had to drape the back of the SUV with plastic sheets to prevent the paint damaging the upholstery.” He pauses a beat. “Let me see. It was getting dark when you left but you did mention you’d be home before dinner. Can you remember what happened next?”
I dive into the seat of the walker and take out the two cups of coffee and hand him one. “I get bits and pieces. I recall most of the accident. Someone was screaming at me and there was a hand on the wheel. I’m sure whoever was in the car with me caused the accident. I recall fighting to keep the vehicle on the road, and someone was trying to push me into a tree. I remember the tree vividly; it had a jack-o’-lantern hanging from one of the branches.”
“That’s good because most people would forget the actual accident. That was the traumatic part of what happened to you.” He scratches his cheek. “I’ve been to the library and hunted through the various reports of the accident. One of the tree branches smashed through the side window, and that’s what cut your face. The report I read was quite informative, so I called the reporter and was able to speak to them. They actually went to the scene and looked at the SUV.” Alex sucks in a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Here’s where it becomes strange. He said the airbags deployed but your head injury came from the right-hand side. The SUV wasn’t damaged on the right-hand side at all. Nothing was said in any of the newspaper reports, but the reporter told me in confidence that in their opinion something or someone hit you from the right. You should have walked away from there with a few cuts on your face.”
I swallow hard. The implications of what he’s saying terrify me. “Do you figure they were trying to kill me and hit me hard enough to put me in a coma to make sure?”
“The thing is, you were trying to make things better between you and John. From what you’ve told me, it was John’s idea.” Alex sips his coffee. “So why would he want to spoil things? What reason does he have to want you dead or insane?”
Nodding slowly, I meet his gaze. “He has a reason. See this place? The house and the estate have been in my family for generations, add a substantial portfolio of shares and it adds up to my inheritance. Greed would be a reason, don’t you figure?”
“Maybe but that would surely only involve the person who benefits from your will.” Alex leans back in the chair. “How many people are we talking about?”
I nod, glad he understands. “Yes, I agree, and it’s not John, but he doesn’t know I made a new will, leaving him out at my grandmother’s request. The person I left the estate to doesn’t know either.”
“So when you wrecked the car, John still believed he’d inherit everything?” Alex snorted. “That kinds of points the finger at him, don’t you agree?”
The idea saddens me but I nod in agreement. “The thing is, my grandmother’s will is still going through probate. It was almost through and then I had the accident. Yesterday, John tried to get me to sign a power of attorney, so he could manage the estate on my behalf. He actually brought Ms. Lawson to the meeting, even though he knows I hate her being near him. I don’t trust her and I don’t trust him with her, so I refused, saying I needed more time to recover before making such a momentous decision.”
“Then what happened?” Alex places the travel mug on the table.
I lift my chin toward the door. “My nurse, Dolly, caught me in the kitchen just after I called you. Then the next thing I know my hot chocolate is drugged and I hear her talking on the phone about me. I believed I could trust her and now I know she’s working for John.” I search his face, willing him to believe me.
“So John inherits everything if you die? If you don’t die and you’re proved incompetent, he can take over the estate and run it on your behalf?” Alex narrows his gaze. “That would be a solid motive if I was writing a book.” He rubs his chin observing me with interest. “But why now? When you’re better and the estate passes into your control, you’ll likely have John involved. Am I correct? If so, he doesn’t have a motive.”
I consider his argument. “Unless someone told him that I’ve changed my will.” I bit my lip, not sure if I should divulge the secret. “Wouldn’t that be a perfect motive for him to want power of attorney over me?”
“The thing is, Jessie.” Alex meets my gaze. “It doesn’t make sense if he were trying to make things right with you. I would have believed the opposite. Once you inherited, you’d probably hand over the running of the estate to him like I said before.” He clasps his hands together. “It seems to me everything hinges on the night you had the accident. You had an argument with John and, from what I heard from your neighbors, you left the house in a hurry. What happened during that argument is crucial.”
I stare at him blankly, trying to fit together a jumble of memories. “I don’t remember.”
