Down to the Liar(10)

“I’m not in a snit. I’m smacking down one of my minions.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Murphy says.

I ignore him. “What do you want, Mike?”

“I need your help on a case,” Mike says.

“Right now?” I mouth the words Text me his address at Murphy, who shoots a glare at me but still picks up his phone to find Carter’s info. “What kind of case?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

I sigh. “I don’t have time to play criminal informant with you at the moment. I’m engaged in some serious damage control on my own job.”

“Guessing that has something to do with why you’re being unduly harsh to Murphy.”

“I’m not being harsh.” I glance through the window and see Mike’s Honda parked on the street. “Wait, you’re here?”

“I told you I need your help. Come on. Should only take an hour or so.”

I rub my face. “Fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

I hang up and grab my coat and bag.

“He didn’t do it, Julep.”

“I don’t care if he did it or not. I care that you hid it from me.”

“Not telling you is not the same as hiding it.”

“Can you honestly say that it didn’t once occur to you that telling me about Carter’s crush on Skyla might change my approach to the job?”

Murphy doesn’t answer, which is all the answer I need.

“You have to trust me, Murphy, or this partnership is never going to work.”

He doesn’t argue, but his frown is as firm as ever. I suspect this is not going to be our last discussion on this issue.

“I have to go,” I say. “Try not to flush the entire job down the toilet while I’m gone.”

Okay, that might have been a little harsh, but I’m still too mad to take it back. I stomp back down the stairs and out into the street without so much as a wave to Yaji.

“Nice to see you, too,” Mike says when I slam into the front seat of his car.

“You’re welcome,” I snap for his missing thank-you.

He drives us to the Water Tower Place mall. I follow him into the atrium without comment, still fuming over Murphy’s complete lack of professionalism. But once we infiltrate the food court, I get tired of flying blind.

“What exactly are we doing here, Mike? Is one of these storekeepers secretly laundering money or something?”

“Not exactly.” He leads me to the nearest jewelry store.

“Is it a jewel heist? You think it’s an inside job? I can probably squeeze the salespeople to—”

Mike shakes his head. “I need you to help me pick out an anniversary present for Angela.”

My jaw drops. “Are you on drugs? I thought you said you needed my help on a case.”

“I do.” He looks at the glass cases like they’re full of sphinx riddles. “You know how to read people. You’ve been living with Angela for several months now. I figure if anyone can tell me which of these dangly, sparkly things she likes, you can.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Mike.” I take one look at the case and point at a three-strand-twist Tahitian pearl necklace with matching earrings.

He wears a relieved, satisfied smile as he pays the clerk far too much money for the set. I purposefully wait until we’re out of the mall before I say, “Of course, if you wanted to get her something she’d really love, you’d have bought her that outdoor pizza oven she’s been drooling over for weeks now.”

Mike winces. “Ouch. You are ruthless when somebody crosses you.”

I have never been accused of an overabundance of ruth, that is true. But I still don’t have to dignify this rude observation with a response.

“Come on, it’s not just me and Murphy. What’s really bothering you?”

Tyler’s dead. Because of me. And I can’t fix it. And none of this—none of it—is fair.

But I can’t say any of that. It sticks to my tongue like cement. So instead I say something else equally true. “It’s this whole job. It irks me.”

“That’s not like you. You’re the only person I know who never lets a case get personal. Well, except…”

He wisely trails off. We don’t speak of the Night That Shall Not Be Named. I still have some issues with him over how that all went down. Besides, it’s too close to the truth of why I’m so angry all the time. I don’t need a shrink to tell me that I’m not over what happened to Tyler. And I’m not encouraging Mike to send me to more therapy by admitting as much.