I wasn't in good shape to see Sofi.
I'd slept terribly at Guillermo's apartment, finally falling into a vivid dream where I'd been playing the grand piano, the warm weight of Will's head resting against my side as a dreamy nocturne tinkled from the strings. I didn't recognize it, opening in A major and drifting into F minor, a sparse melody like little brass temple bells swaying back and forth on a breeze. I'd wanted to play more of the piece, but I'd been unable to stop myself from running my fingers through soft curls, Will pulling me down into his warmth as the ghost of the melody played on in my ears.
I'd woken up reaching for Will in the bed, and the realization that he was gone, that the Will I'd known had never really existed, had me weeping all morning, Charlotte texting Guillermo in despair at what to do with me. I'd tried to remember the melody of my Will's dream-music to distract me from the tears, but it had long floated away, not even a single note captured on the makeshift staff paper I'd made by ruling lines across the back of Guillermo's take-out menus with a Sharpie.
Charlotte gave me a ride to Este, and Ruby lifted the bright red lobby desk on its hinges, ushering me toward one of the glass-fronted meeting rooms. I glanced at Teresa's old workstation as we passed; no kawaii toys or neon trinkets lining the desk and shelves. Just Ruby's laptop and a half-drunk can of energy drink.
Sofi was sleepy-eyed and subdued, trudging into the meeting room like she was sick of my face. Ruby switched on her laptop mic and I recounted to them how I'd bumped into a starved and terrified Luke, and how I'd begged him to turn himself and Rafa in to the police. Sofi was pissed, but less so when I told her that I'd seen Lars Eriksen's photo in a yoga festival program, and his resemblance to Noah had frightened me enough to ask Charlotte for help.
Sofi scribbled away in her pink book. "You didn't need to hide this information from us. We're on your side."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Zeph, your integrity as a witness depends on your being truthful at all times, and cooperating with the police."
"That's why I wanna tell you everything I know now. Noah was the one who sent Cal to attack Will."
"How do you know that?"
"Well, I don't know it, but I can guess. Noah used Will as bait to attract Cal, and then he must have told el Nube where Cal would be, so that they could kill him."
Sofi sighed into the pages of her book. "Why would Michael Jones want to kill his own security manager?"
"No, Jones didn't direct Noah to kill Cal. Noah wants to take over from Jones, so he needs Cal out of the way."
"What evidence do you have of that?"
I had no reply. I couldn't tell Sofi that I'd talked to Miles on Ruby's phone. Ruby's career in the police force would end after one week.
"Zeph, a simpler theory is that el Nube have been hunting McAllister for weeks to score points in the turf war."
Touché, Sofi.
Her theory did sound a lot less insane than mine.
"I know that Noah hurt you, and that yesterday's...incident was traumatic for you. But you're always trying to implicate Noah for everything. You can't just use the police to get revenge on him. You need evidence. And wild theories aren't helping us to find Raheem."
She held up her little pink book, like it was Exhibit A in me being a fucking idiot. But I just knew that Noah was behind it.
Wasn't he?
"I don't want revenge on Noah. I just wanna get Raheem back."
"I know you do, Zeph. Really." Sofi clicked closed the lid of Ruby's laptop. She didn't want what she was gonna say next to be recorded. "Where did you stay last night?"
"With Charlotte. I know there's a conflict of interest, but...we're friends."
I expected some petty retort about the dangers of being friends with Charlotte Graz, but Sofi stayed quiet. Maybe Will's arrest had put shit into perspective for her.
"And I'm sorry you had to see...all that...between Will and me yesterday."
"Don't apologize, Zeph. I didn't know that you and Will Graz were so...For what it's worth, you can tell Charlotte that I'm going to recommend leniency in my report for her brother's court filing. Mr Graz is remorseful and cooperative."
"Thanks, Sofi. She'll appreciate that." It was none of my business anymore, but I just couldn't help asking, "Is Will recovering?"
Sofi prised open her pink book and pored over the pages. "No nerve damage, just a little muscle damage. The bullet chipped his pelvis when it exited his body, so he'll be sore while it heals." She snapped the book closed.
Thank you, Santa Maria, for keeping him safe.
Whatever he'd done to me, I didn't want Will to suffer alone, in pain, and half-insane on tramadol.
"What about you, Zeph? Are you OK?"
"Me?" Had Sofi ever asked me if I was OK? That was usually an afterthought that Teresa dealt with while Sofi swept off to another meeting. I forced out a smile. "Yeah. I'm gonna get home soon."
After Sofi had disappeared into the mass of workstations, Ruby led me out to shady rows of benches that lined the square in front of Este police station, where officers were drinking coffee in the mid-morning heat.
"How's the job going so far? You like working with Sofi?"
Ruby bit the end off a churro. "It's OK."
"Was Will telling me the truth last night?"
"Yeah. It's pretty-much identical to what was on his charging statement. I'm sorry."
"Fuck." I buried my face in my palms. "I have terrible taste in men."
Will's confessions had obliterated our relationship in a single hit, but it wasn't totally unsurprising what he'd turned out to be. If I hadn't been so caught up in him, I'd have noticed what he was hiding. I'd have seen it all if I'd bothered to look.
"Don't feel too bad. He's not evil, you know? I mean, he's a liar. And a criminal. But he's not a career criminal. Just one of those...total idiot criminals, you know?"
"Wise words, Ruby." A kernel of comfort germinated somewhere inside me. Talking to Ruby was kinda like talking to Teresa, just without the witchy cackling, and curse words, and neon. "How's Teresa?"
"I don't know." A shiver of pain rippled across Ruby's face. "We broke up. I'm looking for a new place while she's in Mexico."
No. How could they break up? Teresa was crazy about Ruby. Crazy enough to get Ruby's name tattooed on her wrist. Was that why Teresa had been so upset the last time I'd spoken to her? Was that why she wanted a new job in Mercedes Precinct?
"I'm sorry, Ruby. That's too bad. How long were you together?"
"Nearly five years," Ruby said with a pained smile. "The Arenosa D.A. seems real nice. I kinda expected her to be way more..."
"Billionairess-y? Tell me about it. She's hard work but I love her. And her pearls cost twenty dollars, just so you know." Ruby giggled at that. "By the way, thanks for letting Miles use your phone to call me from the safe-house. I really appreciate it."
"No sweat. It was Teresa's idea. You know what she's like."
I swung a leg over the bench to face Ruby head-on. "What's she like?"
"You know," she said. "Civic savior. Tries to help everyone," adding under her breath, "which is how she ended up with me."
"She said you guys met in La Perla Negra."
"We did. She arrested me there."
"Arrested you?"
"Yeah. Five years ago. I was selling coke for Stella Maris. I got probation and community service. I couldn't go back to my ex; he was a dealer too, you know? I was gonna go to a women's shelter, but Teresa let me sleep on her sofa for a couple of days until I got a job. A couple of days became a week. A week became a month. A month became five years. I wouldn't be here without her. Civic savior, see?"
Teresa was such a fucking sweetheart.
"Did you get together soon after you moved in with her?"
"It took a few months. She's so smart. She's twelve years older than me, so she knows...how life works, you know? She was into me from the start; she couldn't hide it. I wanted to make her happy, and it just kinda happened. But we both knew that I didn't love her. It was like we were just counting down the days to when I'd be able to stand up on my own, you know? It took five years because Teresa's so nice, and I didn't wanna lose her. But it's done now. She could do way better than me, anyways."
"Don't say that. You're a good person. I mean, you've come from Stella Maris to this awesome job. And you and Teresa can still be friends."
Ruby shook her head. "We can't be friends, Zeph. She's really hurt. She said she loved me at first sight, you know? It's gonna take her a while to...get over stuff. I really miss talking to her. She was my best friend."
I seriously owed Teresa a drinking session at the bar at La Perla. We had a shit-ton to discuss.
"Is this really necessary, Charlotte?"
She looked on with approval as I squeezed my foot into a shiny brown shoe. "Trust me, this will make things a lot easier."
We'd been given a two p.m. appointment with Constance Lyons, and were inexplicably in a department store buying me a suit and shoes, before a swift trip to the Korean Embassy to collect my passport.
"None of these shoes are vegan." I wriggled my toes in agony before shaking off the offending shoe and sliding my foot back into my Chuck Taylors.
"Then we'll find something you can wear." Charlotte waved over a disheveled store clerk. "Please can you tell us which of these shoes are vegan?"
"I don't know." He picked up a shoe box and frantically searched the product information in the hope that Charlotte would get bored and go away.
The kid was either very hung over or slightly high, and certainly not in a state to answer questions about shoe leather.
"This is unacceptable," Charlotte muttered. "Please can I see your manager?" The unfortunate store clerk scampered away while Charlotte straightened the lapels on my gray mid-priced suit. "You look great, Zeph," she said, patting down my gray mid-priced tie with a smile. "I couldn't get you a better suit than this; it would...raise too many questions. My mother has...an eye for these things."
"I don't see why we need to make an appointment to see your Mom, on a Saturday. Or why we need to dress for the occasion."
"She's a busy woman," Charlotte said, her expression clouding. "We need to show that we appreciate the time that she's allocated to us."
Yeah. Constance Lyons still sounds like a fucking bitch.
The store manager arrived with a stack of boxes filled with similarly dull brown non-leather shoes. I snatched the first pair and shoved them on my feet, pacing experimentally.
"These feel fine. Let's get the f—. Get outta here. I hate shopping."
"We should buy you some clothes while we're here, Zeph. You were always wearing Will's—" Charlotte paused too late.
My lungs filled with Will's phantom scent, sea-salt and drowsy musk. Shooting pains pulsed through my chest; the previous night's wounds on my heart reopening.
Will had let me wear his clothes from the moment we'd met.
At the time I'd felt guilty about such an intimate act of kindness, but later I'd become addicted to the frisson of wearing whatever clothes he'd taken off, of breathing in the intoxicating warmth of his scent next to my skin. And he'd loved watching me wear his clothes. Watching me take off his clothes.
Another tarnished facet of his fucked-up fantasies.
Charlotte had her arms around me before a single tear fell. Guiding me down among piles of shoes, she made another frantic call to Guillermo, her hand clutching mine while I wept.
Constance Lyons's magnificent West Huertas house was surrounded by a two-meter wall and security gates. The grounds were encircled by walled-off wooded areas that butted against the winding walls of other houses, giving the impression that West Huertas was made of dozens of little medieval castle-states.
"Did you live here when you were a kid?"
"No." Charlotte braced her arms on the car roof like she was trying to stop her body from wedging itself back into the driver's seat and getting the fuck outta there. "My mother moved here about ten years ago. I've never been here."
I recalled that Constance Lyons had disowned Charlotte around ten years earlier, when she'd found out about Guillermo. How could either of them bear to be apart for so long? I was aching to see Eomma again after nearly three years. But then, Eomma wasn't like Constance Lyons. Eomma accepted whomever I loved.
A housekeeper opened the door as we approached, and ushered us into a cream-colored waiting room while Constance Lyons finished a call elsewhere in her castle.
"It's best if you leave the talking to me." Charlotte's face was a picture of squirming unease, as if Constance Lyons was some end-of-level guardian in a videogame and Charlotte only had one life left.
As if to calm herself she tottered around the room looking at the Indian textiles, ornaments and artefacts that were arranged neatly in cabinets like a little anthropological museum. I prayed that she didn't try to touch anything, her hands were shaking so much.
"Hello, Charlotte."
The thin, reedy voice and the swift click of heels on the polished floor startled me, as Constance Lyons floated into the room and came to stand in front of us.
"Marisol, bring tea."
"Yes, Madame." The housekeeper scuttled away across the tiles.
Constance Lyons was a lady nearing eighty years old. Looking at her face, it was clear that she was Charlotte's mother, but when my eyes took in her clothes, if anything, she resembled an anti-Charlotte. She too wore a black dress and pearls, but a bespoke black Indian silk dress with perfect white pearls, rather than the practical black woolen dress with pulled threads and the roadside baroque pearls that Charlotte evidently wore day-in day-out at City Hall.
Constance had the same pixie hair as Charlotte, but rather than jet-black, its color was purest silver, like her pearls. Where Charlotte's expression twisted and turned with her every emotion, Constance Lyons's expression was completely blank, and reminded me of the stony-faced women in the darkened oil paintings in Will's haunted-house apartment in Este.
Despite the air of practiced serenity displayed on Constance's face, her eyes darted around me, unable to hide her obvious surprise at Charlotte bringing a guest.
"Thank you for meeting us at short notice, Mother." Charlotte air-kissed her Mom with stiff formality.
Constance eyed me, amusement dancing in her eyes. "And this boy is..?"
She had the sing-song voice one would expect of a sweet innocent old lady. But the frigid atmosphere between her and Charlotte suggested that she was far from that.
"My friend, Zephyr. He's...Sabrina's piano teacher."
"Zephyr Park." I stepped forward and took Constance's hand, resisting the sudden urge to bend into a keunjeol[1]. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms Lyons."
"What have you done now, Charlotte?" Constance watched me with a blank face, as if she was totally chill with her estranged daughter suddenly dropping by with a Korean piano teacher.
Charlotte muttered into her lap where she'd knotted her fingers together, perhaps to stop herself from lifting her hand to her pearls. "I have some queries...about the sale of the Este apartment."
Constance's face flickered with an emotion that moved too quickly for me to recognize. Perhaps confusion, perhaps disappointment.
She waved a dismissive hand at Charlotte, then sat on the sofa watching Marisol silently filling teacups and setting them onto small coffee tables dotted around the room.
"I don't have much time to oversee the properties. Nico will know about those things."
Charlotte waited a few moments, as if well-practiced in assessing when opportunities to speak presented themselves. "I called the Estate Office this morning. Nico said that three purchases fell through, but a fourth buyer appeared who wanted to purchase the entire building. Who was the fourth buyer?"
Constance stilled with her teacup at her lips. "A developer, probably. Ask Nico."
Charlotte took up her cup and drank, her eyes swiveling toward me in a silent plea to do the same. I lifted my cup and drank deeply.
"A very good Darjeeling, Mother," said Charlotte in a practiced sing-song.
"Isn't it? Varun brought it back from Base Camp."
"I spoke to Nico this morning, Mother. He preferred that you give me the information about the buyer."
Constance ignored Charlotte, and continued to sip her tea, before turning to me. "Do you like the tea, Zephyr?"
My hands shook, my teacup tinkling against its saucer. Constance seemed to like the effect that she was having on me.
"Yes, Ms Lyons. It's very fragrant."
"You have a beautiful name. Zephyr. Quite lovely."
Charlotte evidently understood the comment as an indirect question to her, namely, why had she brought a piano teacher to visit, and could she please explain herself immediately or get the fuck outta the house?
"Zephyr was sadly a witness to a crime by a criminal gang. There is some connection between the gang and the purchase of the property in Este. The buyer may be the link to the gang."
Constance smiled into her teacup. "The Estate would never deal with people like that."
She continued to sip tea, as if daring Charlotte to appeal. Charlotte stayed quiet.
I couldn't fucking believe it. If Eomma had been anything like this, I'd have moved in with Halmae for good.
Constance put her cup down, as if to wrap up the meeting. "Will that be all, Charlotte?"
"There are still fifteen minutes left of this appointment," Charlotte replied meekly.
For fuck's sake. Do something, Zeph.
Shit was taking too long and Charlotte was fucking useless. But I was too scared of Constance to step in, and I sensed that I was already kinda close to ruining the fucked-up ten-year reunion that they definitely weren't having.
I squeaked out a reply. "Ms Lyons. William Graz, junior, was shot by an attacker last night while he was in the apartment in Este."
Charlotte's cup screeched against its saucer.
Constance's mask slipped for an instant to reveal total shock, before she recovered and slid a blank stare in its place. "Is he..?"
"He'll recover. He was at the apartment collecting Mozhgan Shirazi's belongings, as you instructed."
Constance's features twisted painfully for a split-second, before settling into their customary idle stare. "Is the boy involved in some kind of trouble?" she asked with sickly sweet concern.
"Mother, this is-"
"This will all be kept anonymous," I said, raising my hands to calm both Constance and Charlotte. "Nobody will look into any of the Lyons Estate's transactions. It's best that we ask you the buyer's name now, rather than have the police ask later."
Constance looked seconds away from throwing us out. "I wasn't aware that piano teachers moonlighted as detective inspectors," she said with a twitch of her lips.
Charlotte looked absolutely fucking mortified, but unfortunately for Charlotte, Constance Lyons didn't mean shit to me. I attacked.
"You told the buyers that William Graz would be in the apartment Friday night. It would be in the Lyons Estate's interests to demonstrate that there is no connection."
Constance's eyes almost popped out of her head at my request. She turned toward Charlotte like she was trying to flay her with a stare.
"This is all so vulgar, Charlotte. Who have you brought into my house?" Her airy tone belied the threat underneath.
"Mother, please. Like Zeph said, you don't want the police here."
I thanked Santa Maria that Charlotte had finally spoken. I'd worried that she was just gonna sit there sipping her tea like a punished schoolkid. Will was clearly worth more to her than this shit.
"Have you met the boy, Charlotte? Has he got you running around for him already?"
Under Constance's sneer was an wrinkle of vulnerability, as if she regretted not having done any reconnaissance on Will over the past thirty-three years, and had no idea what dangers he posed to The Estate. Perhaps she was getting an inkling of Charlotte's new ideas about family too.
"I've met him, Mother. Guillermo and the girls love him."
I knew what that meant in Constance and Charlotte's shitty secret code: I love him.
Constance glared at Charlotte with a look of such pure disgust that I couldn't believe that they were parent and child. Then, the blank mask slid back into place, and Constance turned to me.
"There had been three buyers, but they each retracted their offers at the last moment. It was strange. The Estate lowered the price, and we were contacted by a fourth buyer's representative. He came here with Nico, the Estate's Finance Manager. His name was..." She scrolled through her phone, "...Oliver Jones."
"Can you please tell us everything you remember about your conversation with this Oliver Jones?"
Constance turned her back to Charlotte, who'd clearly been reduced in Constance's eyes to nothing but a treacherous errand-girl for Will.
"Oliver Jones wanted the entire building for his company's new headquarters. A printing company. He was very interested in reviving the local area. The Estate had wanted to get rid of the property for decades. It didn't reflect the standard of the Estate's portfolio."
A barely-concealed insult to Will for having inconvenienced the Estate by existing. Constance waved a hand, as if dismissing minor details.
"It was a historic purchase; there were theaters and an opera house in Este decades ago. We agreed the date of the exchange, and he asked if there was a...tenant there. I told him that we'd move the tenant along accordingly, given that the rent hadn't been paid since Christmas. The Estate later informed Oliver Jones that...the boy...would be removing his belongings on Friday night, and that the Estate Office would remove its paintings and furniture today. Mr Jones was happy with the arrangement."
"Thank you for that information, Ms Lyons. Was there anything suspicious about Oliver Jones?"
"No. He was like all young CEOs. Obsessed with his company. He talked my ear off about inks and print head lasers."
I was losing hope; Oliver Jones sounded like a legit printer. "How old was he?"
"Young." Constance raised a white eyebrow. "In his thirties."
It wasn't unheard of for a CEO to be so young.
"What did he look like?"
"He was tall and blond."
Courage, Zeph.
"Was he handsome?"
Charlotte stared at me like I'd gone totally fucking crazy.
Constance's lips twitched. "Remarkably handsome."
Shibal.
Constance added, "He must have other ventures; he was in a suit that was far too expensive for a printer. I wasn't suspicious at the time, but now..."
I shivered in my gray mid-priced department store suit. I understood then what Charlotte had been doing. With Constance's eye for clothing, Charlotte had wanted me to look the part of a lowly piano teacher. And it looked like Charlotte's worn-out dress and farmed pearls had been deliberately chosen to make a fuck you statement to her mother. But Noah hadn't been aware of Constance Lyons's peculiar interest in clothes. In his haste to ingratiate himself with her, Noah had overdone things. Just a little too suave to be a mere printer company owner.
I'd gotten what I wanted: evidence that Noah had known when Will was gonna be at the apartment. He must have told Cal. But the extra information sent waves of unease through my innards; Noah was buying the entire apartment building in Este, but why? Was this what his fundraising mission was for?
Constance tapped at her phone screen and rose from her tea set. "If you'll excuse me I have another meeting now. Best of luck with witness duties, Zephyr. A word of advice: teaching piano is a more secure career path than detective work."
Constance didn't say goodbye to Charlotte, merely instructing Marisol to see us to the door, before turning on her heels and leaving the room with her phone to her ear.
Charlotte sat at the wheel of her car running a shaky finger along her pearls, her face trembling as if she was unsure whether to scream or to burst into tears.
"I'm sorry if I've fuc—. Messed things up further between you two, but," I pulled Charlotte's hand away from her pearls and gripped it between mine, "your Mom was such a bitch that I got impatient."
Charlotte giggled under her breath. "It's fine, Zeph. It was the only language she'd understand. She's a CEO. She thinks about opportunities and risks for The Estate. You were right to tell her the risks. I'm sorry I hadn't been braver myself."
I'd had no choice but to step in. Constance didn't give a fuck about helping to catch Will's attackers, or the fact that her daughter herself had come to collect information to save Lyons from the embarrassment of being invited to the police station. With Raheem trapped in Sigma, I didn't have time for her petty shit.
Charlotte closed her eyes. "She's never going to talk to me again, though." Her finger ran in a practiced motion back and forth across her necklace.
I clasped both of Charlotte's hands. "She doesn't talk to you for ten years, and you get yourself an amazing husband and two amazing girls. Looks like you're better off without her." I wanted to tell Charlotte that, once he was out of jail, she'd have Will too, but she was on the brink of tears as it was. "What's your Mom gonna do? Write you out of her will? Good. You and Guillermo are earning, aren't you? Fuck Lyons."
Charlotte shook her head. "I am Lyons, Zeph."
"You're not, Charlotte. You're the Arenosa County D.A.. You're interested in justice. You're not using your job as a stepping-stone to becoming governor. You're not a route to insider trading for Lyons. You're just you. Besides," I let go of Charlotte's hands, plucking at a pearl on her necklace. "I saw that shit you pulled. Your Mom was expecting you to come groveling back after ten years, and you brought her Will, a Korean piano teacher, and Guillermo's roadside pearls. She knows what you are. And, if she wants to talk, she knows where you are."
"Thank you. Since I met you and Will, I've...liked being me."
The long drive home to Arenosa was mostly silent, Charlotte doubtless fretting over Will's injuries and her strained meeting with her mother.
The passenger's seat felt as comfortable against me as the slate ridges of Arenosa Rocks, while my brain replayed every tender moment with Will. Each smile, each kiss, each lingering gaze into those black-gold eyes, drove home the knife of Will's betrayal.
So many little incidents had been unnoticeable at the time, but when viewed in light of Will's arrest, they stacked up into a grotesque wall of evidence. All of the lies had been by omission. Will had spoken so little that I'd been lulled into thinking he hadn't hidden anything from me. But I'd always known that he had. I just hadn't realized how big the lies were.
Perhaps bitterness was the only ammunition that could fend off my night-time thoughts of Will, at least for long enough to get me back to Korea, where I could set my mind toward moving on. In the meantime, I'd console myself in the most brutal technical piano pieces that I could find.
But then I remembered that I didn't live in Will's house anymore, and that I wasn't gonna play our grand piano again. I wasn't gonna see Santa Elena Beach again. I wasn't gonna see the salamanders in the ponds beyond the cliffs. I wasn't gonna sleep in the white room with Will's warmth around me.
I brushed away the flurry of tears. So, my determination to immunize myself against Will's constant presence in my mind had lasted a full thirty minutes. I'd do better in the coming days. Just as well that I had a passport and could get the fuck out of California.
"Charlotte? Where do I live now? I don't have a guarantor."
Charlotte didn't reply at first, but then spoke in a stilted whisper. "I talked to Guillermo. He offered...to be your guarantor...if you don't mind living with us."
She couldn't be serious.
"I...I still need to go see Will sometimes. But I won't tell him that you're staying in the County. I won't tell him anything you don't want me to. And Guillermo and I won't talk about him in the house."
'But...Sofi said that it was a conflict of interest."
"It's not Sofi's business. It's between you and me," Charlotte looked across at me hopefully, "if you want to."
Even if they never mentioned Will again, did I want to live with Will's sister?
What did I want?
I wanted to be safe until I got back to Korea. I didn't want to be hurt anymore. And I found that, even though she was Will's sister, I did feel safe with Charlotte. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of being with Sabrina and Emilia for a few days too.
I squeezed Charlotte's arm as we drove on along the Pacific Coast Highway, back to Guillermo, and the girls. "Thank you so much, Charlotte. I don't wanna be anywhere else until I get home."
Author's Notes:
[1] Keunjeol: Korean, formal deep bow (body bent at ninety degrees)