The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 10

Frazier watched his partner lurch from the bumper of the car, spring to his unsteady feet, and make a panicked scurry toward the precinct building. Stoudemire understood that the sound of Lizzie's voice alone would short-circuit what little remained of Tarpick's nerves, pushing him toward the brittle edge of sanity.

"He didn't even see me?" Lizzie said. "Oh, geez, he was looking right at me."

"I think he had to go to the bathroom," Frazier replied with a grin.

Lizzie's expression conveyed nothing. Did she find a sliver of humor in Frazier's comment? There was no way to tell, even for a seasoned detective. When her eyes met Stoudemire's, she remained impassive.

An awkward pause expanded during which the detective felt increasingly uncomfortable. 

Mercifully, Sonya broke the silence. "I'm glad we ran into you," she said. 

"We didn't run into him!" said Lizzie. "We're six feet apart. Maybe six feet, eight inches."

"It's a figure of speech," Sonya explained. "I need to be very careful about what I say around her."

"I can see that," the detective replied.

Anxiety tugged the edges of Sonya's mouth and eyes, the kind of anxiety that grips you on Thanksgiving Day when drunken Uncle Jimmy looks like he's about to launch into another loud conspiracy theory-fueled rant.

"I was going to drop this off at the front desk," she said, "but I believe this belongs to you and your partner." She opened her shoulder bag and handed him the Halo case file.

Stoudemire's eyes widened as he opened the folder.

"That guy who just ran away left it in Mr. Gibbs' apartment," said Lizzie.

"Thank you," Frazier replied. "Thank you very much. You didn't need to come all the way down here. You could've called."

"She insisted," Sonya replied.

"Is that the whole file?" Lizzie asked. "I mean, is that all the information pertaining to this case? Pertaining. Isn't that an interesting word? I saw it in an article about dogs."

Stoudemire flipped through the folder. "Looks like it's all here."

Lizzie shook her head. "Well, let me just say, there are some things that just don't make sense."

"You read this?" Frazier asked.

"I saw it in her room when I was cleaning," said Sonya. "I told her not to read it. It's official police business."

"That's right," he said. "This is private and confidential material."

"If it's so private and confidential, why did your partner leave it in Mr. Gibbs' living room?" This time she applied a slight edge to her tone.

"That was a mistake," Frazier said. "You didn't share any of this information with anyone, did you?"

"Like with who? My hundred and eighty-seven best friends?"

He knew she didn't have one hundred eighty-seven best friends. He guessed that she probably didn't have any friends. But he had to give her credit for her attempt at sarcasm, feeble as it was.

Sonya grabbed her wrist. "Let's go, Lizzie." 

As she was escorted away, Lizzie looked over her shoulder at Frazier as though he had just informed her that her favorite ice cream was no longer BOGO or BOGOF.

"Wait," the detective said and drew closer.

Sonya's lip quivered. "You're not going to arrest her, are you?"

"Arrest her? No. No. I just want to talk. If you have a minute."

"Well, go ahead and talk," said Lizzie. "Who's stopping you?"

"Lizzie! That's rude."

At the shift change, with more officers crossing through the parking lot, Stoudemire offered a suggestion. "Can we talk in my car?" He gestured to the undercover vehicle. "That is if I'm not keeping you from an appointment."

"Well, I suppose we could spare a few minutes," said Sonya.

They walked to the vehicle. Frazier opened the back door and Sonya got in.

He opened the passenger side door and gestured for Lizzie to enter. She stood there for a minute, her brows furrowed, watching him walk to the driver's side and then get behind the wheel. Reluctantly, she eased onto the passenger seat.

"So, tell me, Lizzie," he said. "You said there are some things that don't make sense about this case." He placed the case file on the seat between them.

She sighed. "The pictures don't match what it says in the report."

"They don't?"

"No. You didn't see it?"

"See what?"

"Oh, geez. According to your report, the interior decorator guy–"

"Seamus Pinkney."

"Yeah, him. You or that other detective think he's the one who did it. You're going to arrest him."

"Maybe," said Frazier.

"Oh, geez. That would be a mistake."

"Why shouldn't we arrest him?"

The toe of her sneaker tapped against the floormat. "He said he was behind schedule. What schedule? What does that even mean?"

"It's a figure of speech," said the detective. "People say that when they're running late."

"Running late? Another figure of speech, right? They're so confusing."

He tried to explain. "When people are not very good at managing their time. They have multiple things that they want to do that end up taking longer than they thought–"

"Never mind," Lizzie snapped. "Anyway, he said he needed to get to the victim's home–"

"Farrah Halo's home."

"Okay, yeah. He needed to get there before she left for her yoga class. He wanted to show her the color samples he picked. I wish they would have been in the report. I like putting colors together with other colors. Sometimes you don't think they're going to go together but they do. Do you know that everybody sees colors differently?"

Frazier tried to steer her back on topic. "So when Seamus Pinkney got to her house, Ms. Halo was already in a bad mood because he was late and she was afraid she was going to be late for her yoga class. And Pinkney said they argued. The neighbor confirmed that Ms. Halo often argued loudly with her decorator."

"You're talking about the next-door neighbor. Vickie somebody."

"Right. Victoria Westerly."

Her brows dipped into a deep V. "So her name is Victoria but she likes to be called Vickie."

"I think so," said the detective.

"That makes sense. So Vickie the neighbor said she heard Farrah Halo scream. She saw the decorator driving away real fast in his car and then she went to check on Ms. Halo and found her dead."

Frazier reviewed a few pages of the report. "That's what it says in her testimony."

Lizzie shook her head. "Vickie is lying."

"Lizzie!" said Sonya then added some quiet tsk-tsks.