Page 2 of The Liar in Room 5

The room was different.

The piano had been moved away from the window and shoved into the back corner. My breezy sheers that framed the ocean view had been replaced with ones that featured an…interesting chevron pattern in lime green. Odd that Jonathan hadn’t mentioned hiring a decorator.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t realize you were coming back today.”

The man by the window was about my age, maybe a few years younger, but I didn’t recognize him from anywhere. He must have been a guest of Jonathan’s because he was dressed casually in white linen pants and a matching unbuttoned shirt. His hair was styled to perfection, slicked back and gelled. It seemed a little much for a Saturday, but what bothered me most was that I had no idea who he was. Business associates were usually much less casual, and I knew all of Jonathan’s family and friends.

A hellhound of dread nipped at my heels, but I wasn’t ready to turn around and face it.

“Mr. Greene, may I speak to you in the other room?”

Jonathan’s housekeeper, who had been with him for years, spoke from the doorway. Her tone was polite but firm. She wasn’t asking. She was telling.

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Calloway. Let me just put my things away first.”

My mistake was looking at her.

Her face was grim, but her eyes were kind. Maybe grim was the wrong word? Resolute, maybe? Determined, obviously. Whatever was happening, she was clearly aware of it.

“This is important. Perhaps your bags can wait?”

“Is this about to get awkward?” The curiosity in the man’s tone jolted me.

He’d finished his call and slipped his phone into his pocket. He glided over to the sofa and picked up his drink from the coffee table. No coaster.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Kayden.”

“And you’re a friend of Jonathan’s?”

Kayden smiled with bland politeness.

“Something like that.” His twinkling laugh was pleasant, but it still grated on my last nerve. “I certainly hope we’re friends because that makes life so much sweeter,” Kayden added.

Oh, fuck me.

“Mr. Greene, come with me.”

This was definitely about to get awkward.

“Mrs. Calloway, what am I missing?”

I asked the question the moment we were out of the living room, but she held up her hand in the universal sign for wait and kept walking toward the kitchen.

Truthfully, I didn’t spend much time back here, but it was just as tasteful as the rest of the house. I followed her until we reached the sterile kitchen with its white cupboards and marble countertops. She nodded toward a stool at one of the islands.

“Please sit down, Andrew.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve called me by my first name,” I said with a nervous smile.

Her wan expression wasn’t the most encouraging response I’d ever gotten.

The dread I’d felt in the living room had followed me in here.

“Mr. Waite has a new companion.” She said it quietly but firmly. If he’d hired a new assistant, how that required a sit-down in the kitchen wasn’t as clear. “It’s best if you don’t unpack your bags.”

“Mrs. Calloway, I’m not following.”