Page 71 of Things We Do in the Dark
Drew can’t help but snort. “Bullshit.”
At this, Ruby throws her head back and laughs. “I knew you wouldn’t buy that. Everyone else did, though. I’m sure Joey told you what a nightmare our family is. Especially my mother.”
“Well, you had to get it from somewhere.”
Ruby ignores that. “The real answer—and I feel like I can be honest with you, considering our personal connection—is I’m hoping not to be in Maple Sound too long. Me, in that bumfuck town, living with two of the worst bitches I can think of?” She shudders. “Anyway, my plan is to move back to Toronto and buy myself a little house. Somewhere right in the heart of things, so I can enjoy the pulse of the city. Maybe I’ll get one of those electric cars. I can’t wait.”
“With what money?” Despite himself, Drew’s curiosity is piqued. “You think you can get paid for interviews? Or some publisher will pay you to write a book? As a convicted murderer, you can’t profit off your crime.”
“No, but I can profit off someoneelse’scrime.” Ruby’s smile lights her face, and she wiggles in her chair, giddy. “I’m being paid to keep a secret. I’m actually dying to tell someone about it, but that’s all I can say for now. It’s funny, though, how things are working out in my favor. For once.”
Drew doesn’t believe her. Ruby is a liar. It’s in her DNA. “What secret could you possibly know that anyone would pay you money to keep?”
She doesn’t answer, and his mind sorts through all the possibilities. Secrets plus money can only mean one thing.
“Are you blackmailing someone?” he asks.
Ruby clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “I prefer to think of it as receiving compensation for withholding information that someone does not want to be made public.”
“Are you going to tell me or not?” Drew waits five seconds, and when she doesn’t answer, he stands. He has no idea what game she’s playing, but they’re finished here. He selects the pack of Twizzlers from the snack pile for the long drive home. “I’d thank you for your time, but all you’ve had is time.”
She nods toward the issue ofPeoplehe never got to read. “So sad about Jimmy Peralta, isn’t it? We used to watchThe Prince of Poughkeepsiein here all the time. Fascinating case. Murdered by his fifth wife, who was almost thirty years younger than he was. Did you know she’s a Filipina?”
Drew did not know that, because he doesn’t pay attention to celebrity marriages. “A Filipino woman murders an older white rich guy? Sounds familiar.”
“You should do your next podcast about it.” Ruby settles back into the chair, looking pleased with herself. “When you’re done with me, of course.”
Drew sticks the Twizzlers in his back pocket. “Ma’am, I am so done with you, there isn’t even a word for it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Though Drew is exhausted when he gets back to Toronto—an hour with Ruby Reyes would do anyone in, not to mention the ten hours of driving—he heads for his mother’s place. Since Junior’s is on the way, he impulsively stops for takeout, and makes small talk with Charisse while waiting for his food.
Fifteen minutes later, he arrives at Red Oak Senior Living, where Belinda Malcolm has lived for the past two years. He gets to her apartment just as one of the staff nurses is leaving.
“Hey, Maya,” Drew says with a smile. “She good today?”
“Blood pressure’s a little low, but we’re keeping an eye on it. I’d like her to eat more.” The nurse glances at Drew’s takeout bag. “Ooh, Junior’s. That should help. Enjoy your dinner, you two.”
“Well, aren’t you a sight,” his mother says warmly, when Drew closes the door behind him. She’s seated in her wheelchair, and he bends down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Is that curry goat I smell?”
“Yes, ma’am, and I got plantains, too. I hope you’re hungry.”
He sets the takeout bag down on the table and tidies the half dozen magazines his sisters have left here. Same as the prison, it’s mostly celebrity crap and a couple of fashion magazines. He begins unpacking the food.
“Maya likes you.” His mother wheels herself over. She says this every time Drew visits. “You know she’s single, right?”
He takes a seat across from her. “You’ve mentioned it.”
“She’s cute. Those big brown eyes. And I saw you looking at her booty.”
“I only look at women above the neck.”
“She just bought her own condo.”
“She’s also twenty-eight. Way too young for me.”
His mother gives him a sideways glance. “How do you know how old she is?”
