Get You Good (23 page)

“OK.” She sat down on the step beside Sydney. “We'll wait.”

Sydney looked over at her sister for a moment before looking away.

“Go home, Lissandra,” Sydney said. “You don't need to be here.”

“Neither do you,” Lissandra said. “But this whole crazy mess was my idea. And Dean is my brother, too. We started this together, we'll finish it together.”

Sydney looked at her for a long time. She leaned over and nudged her sister with her shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Back at you,” Lissandra said. “Just make sure we end up in the same cell when we go to prison for this.”

Sydney laughed. But deep inside she wondered if that just might be a possibility.

“By the way, when I was going through the bedrooms, I found this.” Lissandra pulled out an envelope and handed it to Sydney. The first thing that fell out was a small circular pill pack with space for twenty-eight pills. Almost half were missing.

“She's been on birth control?” Sydney asked, looking over her sister.

“At least for the past two weeks,” Lissandra said dryly. “And last time I checked, pregnant women don't take birth control.”

Sydney shook her head. Sheree had not only stolen from her brother, but she had lied and manipulated him into marrying her. It seemed like there was nothing this woman wasn't capable of.

“Party ain't over,” Lissandra said. “Keep looking. Now we know why we couldn't find anything on her after 2004.”

Sydney slowly perused the envelope of personal documents that included a passport, credit cards, and miscellaneous IDs for a woman named Shayla Vaughn. When she opened the passport and checked the photo, however, she saw that Shayla was none other than Sheree.

Sydney jumped up. “Why didn't you show me this before?”

Lissandra shrugged. “We already found her home. I didn't think it was that important. We were too busy searching.”

Sydney began pacing. “But don't you get it? Now we can find her. We thought we couldn't track her because she was only using cash, but she was just using different cards. We were looking for the wrong person.”

Sydney pulled out her cell phone. “We have to call Essie—”

“Already on it,” Lissandra said, her phone to her ear. “Hey, Essie, can you run a search for me on Shayla Vaughn? We have her passport number and social insurance number.”

Sydney held up the documents for Lissandra as she read off the details to Essie. Their aunt ended the call, promising to call back when she found something. As soon as Lissandra hung up the phone, Sydney heard her stomach growl.

“Dang, girl, you need to get some food into you before you eat me,” Lissandra said.

Thoughts of Hayden's offer to cook for her came drifting back into her head. She glanced at her watch. If they left now, they could be back in Toronto by eight thirty. Maybe not too late for Hayden to make good on his offer.

“I passed a fish-and-chips place on our way in. Let's see if it's still open,” Lissandra said, getting up.

Sydney paused. “I can wait. I don't want to chance her coming while we're gone.”

“We have her real info now,” Lissandra said. “We can find her easy. Plus, if you're that hungry, she'll probably beat down your scrawny behind, no problem.”

“All right, but let's be quick,” Sydney said, getting up.

Lissandra paused and glanced back at the front door. “What about the money?”

Sydney cracked a smile. “Yeah, we should probably do something about that.”

Within fifteen minutes, they had hidden the money in a different part of the house and found the small diner that Lissandra had seen before. The crowd in the diner was pretty thin. Sydney guessed that most people probably stayed in on a Sunday night. All the better for getting them quickly in and out.

The waitress had just brought their order when Sydney's phone rang.

“Hey, it's me,” Essie came across the line.

“You have anything for me?” Sydney asked, her hunger passing almost immediately.

“Yeah,” Essie said. “Looks like our girl has been busy. A friend of mine managed to access her credit card records. She made some purchases in Montreal late last week and yesterday. But yesterday evening, we have her making purchases in Ogdensburg and Alexandria Bay.”

“So she's on her way back.”

“That's right,” Essie said. “In fact, she could be there already.”

“OK, thanks,” Sydney said, even as she signalled the waitress for a check. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Essie said. “My contact says she uses her card a lot at some place named The Toucan. You might want to check there.”

“Thanks, Essie,” Sydney said honestly. “I owe you.”

“Don't worry about it. You just be careful.”

Sydney hung up the phone just as the waitress was placing the bill in front of them. Given her most recent conversation with her aunt, she decided to pay in cash.

“Quick question.” Sydney handed the woman the tray with the bill and the money. “How do I get to The Toucan from here?”

F
rom the outside, The Toucan didn't look like a bar. Darkly tinted, tall arched windows contrasting elegantly with gray brick walls made the place look more like an architectural piece than a pub. Sydney suspected that it probably was, until the city discovered that it could be used as revenue and decided to lease it out. Inside, however, was a totally different story.

It was definitely classier than your corner pub. With TSN and ESPN live on strategically placed flat screens and framed athletic jerseys on the wall, there was definitely more of a sports bar vibe. But the ever-present haze of smoke and the smell of alcohol quickly reminded Sydney that it was still a bar like any other.

She heard Lissandra cough from behind her.

“You sure she's here?”

“No,” Sydney said, looking around as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. “But there's a high possibility.”

“Hey, ladies, welcome to The Toucan,” a skinny girl with a high forehead and dirty blond hair called out from behind the bar. “Can I get you anything?”

Lissandra flashed a big smile and stepped forward.

“Thanks! We're actually new in town.”

“Oh, really!” the bartender said, her eyes brightening. “Well, welcome to Kingston, and welcome to the best spot this side of Ontario. I'm Mindy and I'll be your bartender tonight. What would you like to drink? We have a great brew on tap tonight. . . .”

“Actually, we were here to meet our friend Shayla?” Sydney said, adding her smile to Lissandra's. “She never stops talking about this place. We heard so much about it, we decided to stop by on our way through town and grab a drink with her here.”

“You know her, right?” Lissandra asked.

“Shayla?” Mindy said, her mouth forming into a smile of her own. “Who doesn't know Shayla in here? She's one of our best customers.” Mindy laughed. “She comes here so often we might have to offer her a job.”

Sydney forced herself to laugh like Lissandra was already doing, and tried not to roll her eyes.

“That's our Shay Shay,” Lissandra said, with all the affection of a cobra.

“You wouldn't know if she's come by yet, would you?” Sydney asked casually.

Mindy smirked. “Oh yeah, she's here. She's with Junior in the back at their regular booth, of course.”

Sydney and Lissandra exchanged the same look. Who was Junior?

“Let me go call her for you. The lights are pretty low back there, and she's such a tiny thing, she can be hard to spot.”

Lissandra snorted. “You don't have to tell me.”

“But don't trouble yourself with that,” Sydney said quickly. “You've already been a big help. We'll just pop back and say hi.”

“But thanks,” Lissandra threw after her as Sydney dragged her away.

They walked carefully through the narrow bar toward the back, trying to not trip over anyone as the light grew dimmer. Suddenly Sydney felt her hand jerked back as Lissandra stopped and tightened her grip.

“There she is,” Lissandra hissed.

“Where?”

“There!” She jerked her head in the direction of a booth on the back left. “The woman with the dark brown hair and the tight dress.”

Sydney's mouth fell open a little. “That's her?”

“Yeah,” Lissandra said. “I could spot those fake lopsided silicones anywhere.”

Sydney was not about to get into a conversation about the authenticity of Sheree's breasts or anything else. There would be time for that later. After she beat the conniving out of her.

This was the moment they had waited for. And now it was time to get the show on the road. With a hand over her mouth, Sydney screamed.

“Oh my goodness, Shayla! Is that you?” Sydney squealed and ran over to the table, throwing her arms around a redfaced Sheree. Sydney almost lost it when she saw the shocked look on Sheree's face. She would never forget that look. It was priceless.

“Oh my word, look at you, girl!” Sydney continued, releasing Sheree and looking her up and down. “You look good. Sandi, get over here and look at Shayla.”

“Mm, mm, mm,” Lissandra said, sauntering over to the table and looking at Sheree, her eyes sparkling. “Shayla, girl, you done gone and done the thing. Look at you!”

“Doesn't she look great, Sandi?”

“Fabulous, Nini,” Lissandra said with a shake of her head. “Must be the inheritance from her dead husband.”

Sydney glared at Lissandra. “Sandi, stop, you know her husband ain't dead.”

She turned back to Sheree, whose caramel skin had gone through three shades of red. “Ain't that right, girl?”

Sheree opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came.

“Shayla, darlin', what they talking about?” Junior asked.

Sydney looked over at the man on the other side of the table. So this is who Sheree ditched her brother for? This ashy-skinned man, with sunken cheeks and two-day-old stubble who looked like he weighed less than a hundred pounds soaking wet? Sydney scowled and wondered if she could toss him through the glass windows of The Toucan so she could focus on Sheree.

“N-n-nothing, Junior,” Sheree stuttered. “I don't even know these women. Come on, let's just go.”

Sheree stood shakily and Lissandra and Sydney exchanged an amused look. This chick was crazy if she thought she was going anywhere.

“Sit down, Sheree.”

Junior paused halfway from getting up, his eyes widening. “Who's Sheree?” He looked at Sheree with a mix of confusion and suspicion. “Why they calling you Sheree, Shayla?”

“Why you listening to them for,” Sheree said, raising her voice at him. “I said let's go.”

“And I said sit your behind down,” Lissandra ground through her teeth. She held up her right hand. “These rings? They ain't just jewelry.”

Sydney put a hand on Sheree's limp shoulder, pushed her back down into the booth, and sat down beside her, blocking her in.

Lissandra looked over at Junior, who was standing and looking at Sheree as if he had never seen her before.

“Shayla . . .”

“Her name's not Shayla,” Sydney said, sitting back and looking up at Junior. “It's Sheree. She's not from Kingston or wherever else she told you. And she's married, to my brother, who she put in the hospital after she ran off with all his money.”

Junior's mouth fell open. He turned his eyes slowly to Sheree as if trying to confirm their story. She looked away at the wall.

“You lied to me? How could you . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, look, buddy, we kind of have some business to do with your girl here, so can you take up the whole brokenhearted routine with her later?” Lissandra asked impatiently.

“But . . .”

“Beat it.”

Junior looked up and down at Lissandra as if considering his options, then slipped on his baseball cap and slumped out toward the exit. Lissandra took the seat he exited, effectively blocking Sheree in on both sides. Finally they had her—and there was nowhere for her to run.

Sheree pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it, taking a deep draw. She had either recovered from the shock of seeing them and was planning her next move, or was resigned to whatever was coming next. From everything Sydney knew about Sheree so far, she suspected that it was the former.

“So you found me,” she said finally. She clapped her hands mockingly as she blew out a puff of smoke. “Congratulations. Now what?”

“What do you think, heifer? We want our money back!” Lissandra snapped.

“That's my money. Me and my husband's money,” Sheree spat nastily. “And who you calling heifer, you fat cow.”

Danger flashed in Lissandra's eyes as she began to stand up, but Sydney caught her arm and gave a slight shake of her head.

“Nice try, Sheree,” Sydney said. “You're not going to get us kicked out on a bar fight so you can get away. So how about we quit playing games. Give us the money, and we can just walk away from all this right now.”

OK, so all of them knew that Sheree walking away was not going to happen. But it made them sound more civil to put it out there as an option.

“It's gone,” Sheree said, taking another drag from her cigarette as she flipped a lock of her dark brown bob out of her eye. “I already spent it.”

“Yeah, we know,” Lissandra said dryly. “We saw the house and the clothes. And the fifty thousand in the kitchen cupboard.”

The smug look slid off Sheree's face. Sydney suspected that she was starting to realize how tight the noose was around her neck.

“You're a liar, Sheree. You said you were pregnant, but you weren't. Now you're saying the money's gone, but my guess is it isn't,” Sydney said. “I know you must have a chunk of it left. Even
you
can't spend that much money that fast.”

Sydney was bluffing. A professional scammer like Sheree
could
spend that much money that fast. She would know to put her money in luxury items and assets. But Sydney was hoping that somehow she was wrong.

“Just give us the money, Sheree,” Lissandra said impatiently, her hands pressed on the table. “It wasn't yours. It was Dean's—you stole it from him.”

“Oh, please,” Sheree snapped. “OK, so I lied about being pregnant and I took the money. At least I'm doing something worthwhile with it. Your brother would have burned through that money in a year spending it on that silly studio and those third-rate artists of his who were going nowhere fast.”

That was probably the only thing Sydney and Sheree would ever agree on. She was probably right about Dean burning through the money. But he never would have gotten his hands on that money if it wasn't for her.

“He wouldn't have had the money if you hadn't convinced him to sell Decadent. Don't think for a second that I don't know you were behind that, too. Don't you even care that you destroyed our family's history by forcing him to do that?”

Sheree laughed. “I didn't force your brother to do anything. The idea was all his. I just passed the information that he was planning to sell to the right people and encouraged him along.”

She leaned forward. “See, that was always your problem, Sydney. You always thought that Dean cared. Dean didn't give two hoots about the shop. You did, though. He told me how you poured your sweat and blood into that little family shop. How you did everything for Daddy Leroy. Gave all your time after school and during college, sacrificed your social life for Daddy's little business. He told me how sure you were that that little hole in the wall was going to be yours. How you stayed in that little fifteen-dollar-an-hour manager position even after you got your degree, so that when the time came, it would be yours. But that didn't happen, did it?”

She took another draw from her cigarette and sat back watching Sydney with amusement. “When old boy Leroy finally kicked the bucket, he gave everything to Dean. The one who didn't even care about Decadent. The one who had never even worked a day in the shop, much less knew how it operated. And that killed you, didn't it.”

She laughed. “That's why you're here, Sydney. You think you're so much better than me. But you're not. You and me, we're the same. I wanted that money for me, and you're here now because you want it for you, too. Well, guess what, sugar. Game's over. I've got the money.”

“And just like the day they read Leroy's will”—Sheree paused to take another draw—“you get nothing.”

She blew the smoke straight into Sydney's face and laughed.

But before the smoke could even clear, Sheree's laugh was cut off by long slim fingers around her neck. The cigarette slipped from her fingers onto the table and her eyes widened in fear as she struggled in vain to pull Sydney's ever-tightening hands from around her neck. Her ears rung as she gasped for breath.

“Syd, what are you doing?” Lissandra hissed, looking around nervously. “This is not the place. Syd!”

But Sydney only had ears for Sheree. Her eyes watched the younger woman gasp for breath.

“Look at me.” Sydney's voice was so low and so unnervingly calm that it sounded foreign to her own ears.

Sheree focused her terrified eyes on Sydney's cold, calm face.

“Listen very carefully. I'm going to say this only one time.” Sydney spoke quietly but she knew that Sheree heard every word—especially since her next breath literally depended on it. “You will give us back that money. One way or another. Do you understand?”

Sheree nodded her head quickly, even though Sydney's grip made it difficult.

Sydney leaned closer. “I'm sorry. I didn't hear you.”

“Ye-yes,” Sheree squeaked.

Sydney glared a moment longer at Sheree's face, which had gone from red to pale to tinted blue. She let her go and the younger woman slumped back in the booth, gasping for air.

“You ladies doing all right?” Mindy asked, coming to the back with a pitcher of beer and glasses for all of them.

“Oh yeah, we're doing great,” Lissandra said cheerfully. “Right, Sher-Shayla?”

Sheree nodded and rubbed her neck, offering a weak smile.

“OK, then,” Mindy said cheerily. “I know it's pretty loud in here, but just holler if you need anything.”

“Gotcha,” Lissandra said.

Sydney was glad Lissandra was doing all the talking, because suddenly she wasn't feeling so good. What had just happened? Had she just put her hands around a woman's neck? She could have killed her. She knew, because for a brief moment she had thought about it. It had crossed her mind. What if she had just kept squeezing . . . just until she couldn't speak . . . just until her words stopped hurting . . . until they stopped being so painfully true?