As Anne picked up one of her daughter’s water bottles and slurped wine from the straw, it dawned on her that the emotions she was experiencing were faulty. Instead of the hurt she had prepared to feel, the only thing in her chest was the pilot light of rage that had been simmering for the past several weeks.
As Anne plunked the Mickey Mouse wine bottle back into the cup holder and pulled away from the curb, she knew… That pilot light would burst into an inferno if she wasn’t careful.
TRANSCRIPT
Defense: Mrs. Wilkes, please describe your relationship with Eliza Tate. How did you meet?
Anne Wilkes: We were roommates in college. We’ve been good friends for a long, long time.
Defense: Are you still friends?
Anne Wilkes: As far as I know.
Defense: Were you being blackmailed, Mrs. Wilkes?
Anne Wilkes: Not exactly.
Defense: What if I told you we had evidence to the contrary?
Anne Wilkes: I’d ask who’s the son of a bitch that spilled the beans.
Defense: So you were being blackmailed?
Anne Wilkes: If we’re being honest here—
Defense: We are being honest. You’ve sworn to tell the truth.
Anne Wilkes: The truth is that I’m not the one on trial here. And apparently, motives are easy to come by in this case. Eliza’s not the only one who wanted him dead, okay? That doesn’t mean I killed him.
SIX
Seven Months Before
July 2018
Eliza hated asking for anything.
She stared into the water glass as she waited for the rest of her party to arrive, watching as sweat beaded on the outside and slipped down like raindrops on a window. A pool of water gathered on the table beneath her cup. She extended a hand and swiped listlessly at the dampness.
An attentive server jumped to attention, moving quickly to Eliza’s side. He lifted her water glass without speaking, patted it down with a towel, then added a napkin beneath it. The whole thing was over and done within a matter of seconds.
Eliza hadn’t always dined at expensive country clubs, worn sky-high heels, or splurged on weekly blowouts from the best salons in Beverly Hills. She’d grown up in Beijing under the watchful eyes of two incredibly strict parents. Eliza’s mother and father had expected nothing but greatness from her, and when she inevitably achieved it, there was no reward. No pat on the back. To say they had been pleased with her accomplishments was a stretch.
Eliza had moved to the States just before college. She had enrolled at UCLA where she blew through an undergrad degree in three years, then rolled straight into a master’s program. After graduation (and a quickie wedding), she’d gone on to secure a prestigious job at Thompson Public Relations along with a fat salary. She had risen rapidly through the ranks until she’d obtained a position second only to Harold. Fucking Harold.
Eliza had no plans to tell her parents she’d been laid off; they just might die from the shock of it. Her parents hadn’t visited America in well over five years, and the last time they’d come, they’d spent the entire visit prodding her about the possibility of children. Before they’d left, her mother had said the next time they visited would be for the birth of Eliza’s first child.
Eliza wondered if she’d ever see her family again.
Two beautiful figures arrived at the restaurant then, drawing Eliza from her daydreams as she pulled herself to her feet. She fought hard against the bile rising in her throat, biting down on her lip at the thought of the task that lay ahead of her.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Tate.” Eliza stood, brushed her hands over the trim skirt covering her thighs, and smiled at her husband’s parents. “I’m so pleased you could join me for dinner.”
“We’re very glad you reached out to us,” Mrs. Tate said. “And for the millionth time, Eliza, call us Todd and Jocelyn.”
Eliza smiled politely as she did every time her mother-in-law insisted Eliza call her by her first name. Not only would Eliza’s upbringing not allow for such informalities, but deep down, she suspected both Todd and Jocelyn preferred the demure image of the daughter-in-law that Eliza had presented from the very start. Todd especially.
Eliza watched the handsome older man as he slid off a suit jacket and looked over his shoulder impatiently for a waiter to take it off his hands. Eliza had chosen Todd’s country club as the location for their meeting because she’d known that making him comfortable, letting him feel superior and powerful, would give her the best chance of getting what she wanted. It didn’t matter what Todd thought at the end of the day; Eliza held the reins. She didn’t need to be bold and brash if she could daintily pluck each string just the way she wanted.
Todd had the chiseled look of a Hollywood star and often turned heads whenever they were out as a group. However, Todd Tate had no interest in the arts whatsoever and had made his money as some sort of financier. His lack of interest in creative pursuits made for dull discussions of Eliza’s and Roman’s careers at the Christmas dinner table.
Jocelyn Tate, however, was more interesting to Eliza. A small woman nearing seventy, she appeared outwardly to be in her early fifties. Her blond hair was kept up at the same expensive salon where Eliza received her weekly blowouts, and her figure remained trim through rigorous exercise routines and strict diets. She looked the part of a rich man’s wife, but Eliza suspected that a peek below Jocelyn’s veneered surface would lead to some peculiar secrets.
“It’s lovely to see you, darling.” Jocelyn sat first, gesturing for her daughter-in-law to follow suit. “We’re sorry to hear Roman couldn’t make it, but—”
“Is he still teaching those ridiculous classes?” Todd sat next, his legs spread wide, one arm sprawled over his wife’s chair as if he owned the world. “The ones at that decrepit studio? Can’t believe anyone buys into his nonsense.”
Eliza gritted her teeth. Todd’s habit of cutting his wife off every time she spoke had always grated on her. As her marriage progressed and the years ticked by, Eliza was finding it more and more difficult to keep her tongue in check.
“Roman loves his work.” Eliza measured her words, feeling Jocelyn’s eyes fix on her. “It’s what initially drew us together, actually, but you’ve heard that story.”
“Yeah, yeah. You met in one of those hippie classes,” Todd muttered. “A theater degree. I still can’t believe I paid fifty grand a year for my son to chase women and dance around onstage.”
“Todd.” Jocelyn’s fingers trembled. “Eliza and I would like to enjoy our dinner without your colorful commentary.”
Eliza looked down at her fork, studied it like it was a piece of art. She’d never been under the illusion that Roman’s parents’ relationship was perfect, but recently she’d been seeing more and more cracks appear.
“Eliza knows I didn’t mean anything by it.” Todd eased back in his chair, daring his daughter-in-law to make a peep. “I’ve got nothing against the…” He hesitated and glanced at his wife. “I mean, those kinds of people. Hell, I just didn’t think I’d ever see my son wearing tights.”
“I apologize, Eliza.” Jocelyn’s fingers twisted her linen napkin before she seemed to realize her nervous tic was on full display. She spread the cloth in her lap, smoothed it before turning a pleasant expression back to the table. “Where were we?”