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Prosecution: Do what?
Marguerite Hill: Murder Roman Tate.
TWENTY-NINE
One Month Before
January 2019
Eliza watched as Anne and Mark walked, hand in hand, back to the police cruiser after a night spent celebrating Anne’s birthday. She found herself idly wondering if Mark had borrowed the vehicle from a friend, seeing as he’d recently made detective. Unless the movies were lying, detectives didn’t drive squad cars.
“That is so freaking romantic,” Penny said, hugging herself as she watched the couple disappear in the rearview mirror. “I wish I could find the same thing Anne and Mark have, but I think all the good ones are taken.”
Eliza found this ironic coming from Penny in light of her situation, but she didn’t comment aloud. She was too busy calculating how far back this dinner would set her financially, considering she’d footed the entire bill. The number at the bottom of the receipt had given her heart palpitations, but she had to keep up appearances, or the other women would start asking questions. Hard questions Eliza wasn’t ready to answer.
“I—That was thoughtless of me,” Penny mumbled, her face brightening beneath the dim light from the streetlamps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…about the good men being taken…”
“It’s fine,” Eliza said shortly.
She didn’t care to linger on the subject of men any longer. Eliza knew the heavy truth about men. All men. Mark included.
For example, Mark hadn’t planned this evening as Eliza had claimed. A week ago, Eliza had called him at work and gently suggested he might want to make plans for Anne’s birthday. Mark was a good person overall, just a little misguided when it came to his marriage. He thought everything was fine in his life. According to Anne, nothing was fine.
Together, over a series of phone chats, Eliza and Mark had cooked up the little cop car skit that would hopefully be enough to impress Anne. Eliza had lost faith in men long ago, but Anne hadn’t, and she deserved better than what Mark was offering. She and Mark had four kids together—a family, a future, a life that meant something. They could overcome their hurdles.
Pulling the car away from the shoulder, Eliza pointed them in the direction of Penny’s apartment. A light rain dusted her windshield, prompting her to switch on her wipers. The car fell into an easy silence. For some reason, Eliza and Penny never quite had as much to say when Anne wasn’t around.
It was funny how groups of three friends worked, especially with women. Why was there always one woman who was the glue that held things together? When Anne, Penny, and Eliza were all together, they each had a great time. Separately, Anne and Penny seemed to be getting closer by the day. Eliza had spent years feeling comfortable around Anne. So why did Penny and Eliza have a harder time finding common ground?
It was with a bit of relief that Eliza finally stopped before Penny’s apartment.
“Thanks for coming,” Eliza said. “I know it meant a lot to Anne.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. Though I really wish you would’ve let us split the bill.”
Really? Eliza wanted to say, but she didn’t. After all Penny had put her through, Eliza still had some strange form of sympathy for the girl. An odd kinship that she couldn’t quite describe. She was intrigued by the young woman if nothing else.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eliza said instead. “My treat.”
Penny finished her thank-you routine, then shut the car door and made her way into her apartment building. Eliza watched, lingering for a second longer than necessary at the curb as she let her mind wander. She rarely let herself think about Penny—not like this. But sometimes, she couldn’t help it.
This was who her husband had chosen to be with—at least for a short time. Eliza replayed the memory of the Pelican Hotel event over and over again. She remembered Penny standing before the elevator doors as they opened, looking hopeful in her pretty red pantsuit while she clutched a card that would change the trajectory of her life.
Or had it? Penny had never opened up to Eliza or Anne about the true identity of the baby’s father. She was sticking to her story about the baby daddy being a young man from her class whom she’d slept with a few times out of sympathy. She’d repeated it so many times and with such steadfast confidence that Eliza was beginning to believe her.
Roman, of course, hadn’t said anything at all to Eliza. He was still distant, but that was the new normal. Ever since the night they’d argued about the loan from his parents, he’d begun to slip away, further and further away.
Eliza wondered if there was more to his change in behavior than a simple loan, but she was too afraid to ask. Their life, their relationship, was holding on by a thread already. Eliza just needed time to get on her feet and out of debt, and then she could decide what to do about her marriage.
Once again, Eliza edged her car onto the road and headed home. She made it to the first stoplight before she glanced down at her hand and cursed. Her damn ring—she must have left it at the restaurant. It wasn’t monetarily important, but she had gotten it on her first trip abroad with Roman, and it meant something to her. She spun the car back in the direction from which she’d come. When she made it to the restaurant, she waved the valet over and explained the situation.
“You can leave your car here, ma’am,” he said. “If someone found your ring, it will be at the front desk.”
Eliza hobbled inside, her feet killing her from the expensive shoes she’d bought a few years back and never worn. Now that she was short on cash and not willing to shop for frivolous items, it was amazing the things she could find in her own closet. Things that looked brand new. Things she’d ignored for years because she had so much fucking stuff.
“Hello, my name is Eliza Tate. We just had dinner here tonight,” she explained to the concierge. “If I could—Oh, there’s our waiter. Could you flag him over? I think I left a ring on our table, and I was hoping someone turned it in.”
The concierge flagged the waiter over and stepped aside to let them talk. Eliza relayed her question. A smile flooded the server’s face.
