Truth, Lies, and Second Dates - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,35
Tom to Ava and back. “And you are…?”
Tom opened his mouth, and then locked up. Just stood there. You could almost see 01010101 does not compute 01010101 behind his eyes.
Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding about being a bad liar. Actual deer in actual headlights don’t freeze up like this.
“He’s my podiatrist!” Oh my God. And it was the best I could come up with. Why didn’t we work this out beforehand? We both suck.
“Your … what?”
“Yes. Podiatrist. I doctor feet.” He cleared his throat, which didn’t sound like he was caught off-guard at all. “Extensively. They are my passion. The metatarsals, you know. And the phalanges distalis. The calcaneus and the talus and the subtalar joint. I simply cannot get enough of them.”
In ninety-six hours of bad ideas, we have a new winner. “He’s completely devoted to my feet so he’s here for … for…”
“Longitudinal arch support,” Tom suggested.
“Yep, that’s it.” Tom winced and she realized she’d clamped onto his arm a bit too hard. She made a conscious effort to loosen her claws. “Where’s Pat? I wanted to give him my condolences.”
“The first memorial was too much for him. He’s been hospitalized, and the doctors didn’t think him coming was a good idea.”
“Oh. I’m very sorry.” If it was any other family, she’d have added something lame like, “But he’ll bounce back!” Except it was almost obscene that Dennis and Danielle’s grandfather was still alive while Danielle wasn’t. And speaking of Dennis, where was he? Was it rude to ask? Did she care?
“That’s why Dennis isn’t here, either.” Xenia sniffed. “He couldn’t take another day of you.”
“He said that?” she asked, appalled.
“He didn’t have to!”
“So he didn’t say that. I feel like you might be projecting just…” Ava held up her thumb and forefinger. “… a smidge.” She couldn’t blame Dennis for skipping memorial 2.0, but doubted it had anything to do with her.
“Ava?” A new voice, and out of a face she didn’t immediately recognize. Jack? Jerry? One of the cousins, for sure. “I can’t believe you came.”
“Of course I came.” Jim? Jeff?
“No.” The man, another brunette, this one in his midthirties, had the Monahan eyes and the sleek look of a lawyer who never bought his own lunch. “I meant, I can’t believe you had the goddamned nerve to show up.”
“The … goddamned nerve?”
“Jon, we agreed,” Xenia began, still sniffling and glaring.
“Jon! Yes!” Shit. That was out loud. “I knew it was something like that.” And so was that. “Agreed to what, exactly?” She looked around at the faces, most of which wore an expression of stunned dislike.
She said you looked prepared. She said it was “convenient” that you happened to have funeral-appropriate clothing in your bag.
“Oh, Christ.” She looked around at the grim faces. Had she stumbled into Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”? She definitely felt surrounded, though a few couldn’t meet her gaze and scowled at the carpet. “You guys don’t think I had anything to do with any of this … right?”
Dead (so to speak) silence.
“Oh, come on!” She was so upset she could actually feel her eyes bulge. “I was just a kid when Danielle was killed! And I certainly didn’t come back and redecorate with her ashes! Besides, I was talking to Mrs. Monahan the whole time! We debated the merits of various hotdishes! Tuna won, but only the kind where you crumble up potato chips for the topping!” Oh my God, I just said all that at a funeral.
“You could have had a partner. Then and now.”
“My podiatrist didn’t kill her, either! He was even younger back then.”
“That is a certainty,” Tom replied, because (Ava almost had to laugh) it wasn’t a lie.
“You guys. Think this through.” She made a conscious effort to lower her voice and project calm. “Again, I was just a kid myself when Danielle was murdered.”
“You could have had help,” Jon repeated stubbornly.
“You did find the body,” someone said from the back.
“You did get the hell out of town as soon as you could,” Jon pointed out. “And I’ll bet you’re getting ready to leave again.”
“Because I don’t live here anymore! And it’s literally my job to get the hell out of town. Daily.”
“See?” Xenia said, triumph ringing through her tone.
“Why would I have killed her? I loved her like a sister. I know people say that all the time, but I really did—” She heard her voice crack and steadied it. “I really did. Love her like that, I mean.”