Liars' Club: Chapter Two

Pete and Logan were dragging Frank out of the surf by the time Joe reached the water's edge. Frank dropped to the sand on all fours, coughing and spluttering to expel the water from his lungs. At least he was breathing.

Joe knelt down beside him and laid a comforting hand on Frank's convulsing, wetsuit-covered back. "It's okay. Take a breath."

"Trying," Frank managed and even in the midst of a crisis there was a twist of humor in his voice. Another point in his favor.

Slowly a crowd began to gather around them. Barbie, the British couple, the rest of Joe's band, all expressing their concern and advice.

"He's going to be fine," Joe said a little too sharply in order to cut off the chatter. His own heart was still pounding from the rush of fear. Stupid, really, considering everything they'd gone through, all the dangers they'd faced. Falling off a surf board wasn't that big a deal, but the note haunted his thoughts.

'Maybe I'll let Frank survive.'

"Let's get you back to the house." With Joe on one arm and Logan on the other, they got Frank to his feet and from there he was able to travel under his own power. As they walked up the beach, the looky-loos fell away and Joe was glad when they were finally alone behind closed doors.

"So what happened out there?"

"I got dizzy. That's all. Probably should have had a bigger breakfast but I was anxious to hit the waves."

"You hit them all right," Joe groused as Frank disappeared into the bathroom. "You scared the heck out of me."

"Because I fell off my surfboard?" Frank called from behind the door. "I'm glad you think I'm that good but it happens. All the time."

"Yeah, but usually you surface right away. I was afraid you'd hit your head on the board or got caught in an undertow."

No response to that.

"Frank?"

The bathroom door opened and Frank stepped out sans wetsuit. He had a towel wrapped high around his waist so it just barely skimmed the top of his thigh. "What do you make of this?"

There was a red circle on his left thigh, about the size of a half dollar but all around that the skin was puffy and blotched.

"Jellyfish sting?"

"Through my wetsuit?" Frank sat down on the bed, propped his leg up then leaned down for a closer look. "Does look like a sting, though, doesn't it?" He touched the wound lightly, then gently pressed around the edges of the center circle. "I don't see anything in there."

The note.

"Frank." Joe pulled the paper out of his pocket. "I found this taped to the sliding glass door this morning." He handed it to his brother and waited for the fearful reaction. There wasn't one.

"This is why you're freaking out? It's a game. A joke."

"That's what I thought before you got dizzy and fell off your board and nearly drowned. Before I saw that mark on your leg."

Frank wasn't getting it. "And what? Someone hired a jellyfish hit man to sting me?"

"You said yourself that it couldn't be a stinger, not through your wetsuit. Which means it had to happen before you put the suit on. Like last night."

Frank sighed and raked his hand through his wet and sandy hair. "We were with our friends last night."

Joe grabbed the note back and shook it in Frank's face. "Welcome to the Liar's Club? Find out who has the most to hide? Maybe one of our friends isn't."

"That's crazy. Joe. It's a prank and it's a coincidence." Frank got to his feet and went to the dresser for fresh clothes. "What are you thinking? That someone. . . " He lost his balance and made a grab for the wall.

"That someone poisoned you? Yeah, that's what I'm thinking."

"That's insane." Frank found his center point, then opened the drawer and took out underwear, shorts and a t-shirt.

"Fine. How about this then? If it's a game, we're supposed to play. Whoever sent the note must have planted clues for us to find. It's like murder mystery dinner theater, everyone is playing a part and our part is to discover who the killer is."

Frank looked up at him, a deep frown crossing his face. "Just in case, can we say liar and not killer?"

"I'm glad you think this is funny, but I'd hang on to the shower handle if I were you so the next dizzy spell doesn't send you crashing through the shower door."

The frown deepened, but Joe could see that Frank wasn't totally convinced.

"How about I take a shower, eat something and rest on the porch for an hour. If I don't feel better after that, I go to the doctor. If I do feel better, then you stop all this nonsense."

"Okay," Joe agreed easily, because he had a horrible feeling that Frank was going to feel worse as the day went on.

Barbie came by while Frank was in the shower to say that the whole gang was going to the Crab Shack for lunch. Joe passed on the invitation with the excuse that Frank wasn't feeling well after his close call with King Neptune. Not a total lie.

His real motivation was something more devious. With everyone gone to lunch, he'd have time to search the other houses. Not a lot of time, since they were spread out over three rentals, but it was a start.

"You know what surprises me," Joe said later as he watched Frank eat a roast beef sandwich and chips. "That your girlfriend hasn't come by to check on you. Surely she heard about your surfing accident."

Frank rolled his eyes as he swallowed what was in his mouth. "I don't think she's too happy with me right now."

"Why?" Joe took a chip from Frank's plate. "What did you do?"

Frank's face flushed red. "Something I'd rather not discuss with my little brother."

"Well, if I don't learn it from you, I'll have to pick it up on the streets. You wouldn't want that, would you?" Joe got up, went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Coke.

"I don't know, okay. She was all hot and bothered last night and she wanted to but afterward, she was weird."

"Weird, how?" Joe popped off the top of the soda bottle then threw it in the garbage.

"Kind of quiet and then she asked me to walk her home and that was that." Frank picked up the last bite of his sandwich then put it right back down on the plate. "Oh come on. You think Ryan poisoned me while we were having sex?" And again Frank's cheeks blushed at the single mention of the word.

Normally, his discomfort would be a source of joy for Joe but not today. "I imagine she was close enough to inject something in your thigh and you probably wouldn't have even felt it if she did it at the right moment."

"Do you hear yourself? This is not a James Bond movie. Why would she do that? What possible motive could she have for trying to kill me?"

Joe picked up the note from the bed and slapped it down on the table. "Somebody has something to hide and –" He stopped at the sound of voices coming through the open sliding glass door. Liz, Logan and yes, even Ryan. They were all talking and laughing as they passed the house on the way to the parking lot.

Joe ran out to the patio to meet them. "Sorry we have to miss out," he said as he counted heads. "but we should be up for volleyball when you get back."

"Sounds good," said Pete. He'd been on the losing team against the Hardy's for three straight games and was anxious for another shot at beating them.

Joe stayed on the patio, watching until the group had rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Suddenly Frank appeared at his side. "You're going to break into their houses while they're gone, aren't you?"

"I am not going to break in. I'm going to walk in. No one ever locks their doors around here."

"Joe. These are our friends."

"All but one of them. I'm just trying to find out which one."

As much as Frank hated the idea of spying on their friends, he agreed to go along if only to keep Joe objective. He felt a little guilty anyway, since technically Joe had won their earlier bet but Frank wasn't about to admit it.

Even after the shower, food and rest, he still didn't feel like himself and his injured thigh was beginning to throb. Still, he found it hard to believe that someone they knew had poisoned him. It simply was too much the stuff of spy novels.

Joe wanted to start with the girls, since his top suspect was Ryan. Frank talked him into starting in the middle with the British couple because they had been strangers up until a week ago. Fortunately, the boys had a great deal of experience searching rooms so they were well organized and systematic about it.

Ten minutes in, Frank said, "got something." He was kneeling on the floor in front of a large, open, Samsonite suitcase. The case was empty but as he ran his hands over the satin lining he felt a shifting lump underneath.

Joe came to peer over his shoulder.

"I don't want to rip the lining. . . " Frank's fingers stopped along the left side. There was a small zippered pouch for jewelry sewn into the satin. Under that was another zipper. This one opened a space between the lining and the case, big enough for him to slip his hand inside. With a little wiggling and working, he pulled out a digest-sized envelope. "Let's see what they don't want anyone else to see."

Frank opened the clasp on the envelope and dumped the contents into the open suitcase. A passport, some photos and another small booklet filled with notations and stamps. All of it in Russian. "Looks like Mrs. Evelyn Scripps is really Ekatarina Chesnokov."

"Welcome to the Liar's Club," said Joe but Frank wasn't listening. He was too busy trying to wish away the cramp in his stomach. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing but as determined as he was to keep it from Joe, he couldn't make it so.

"Damn it." He tipped back on his knees and slid down to sitting on the floor as his hand shot out in search of his brother.

"Frank? What's wrong?" Joe grabbed hold of the flailing hand and squeezed it in his own. "Talk to me."

"I can't –" The words dissolved into a moan as Frank's stomach twisted and lurched. He pressed his forehead to his knees and began silently counting backwards from 100. It was a trick he used to do when he was a kid. Count backwards while waiting for a shot at the doctor's office. Count backwards while dad pulled the splinter out of your hand. Count backwards when the stomach bug made it hard to breath. And when it got to 64, it was over.

He could hear Joe now, voicing his fears, wondering about an ambulance, praying out loud for this to pass.

"Better," Frank said as he slowly unfolded himself and took a tentative but deep breath. Joe was still clutching his hand with his right while his left spiraled circle's on Frank's back. "Damn."

"I'd go with a stronger word. Do you believe me now? This is no game."

Frank nodded as he continued to catch his breath.

"Can you get back to the house on your own?"

"No. Wait." Frank rolled to his hands and knees and Joe helped get him from there to standing. "What are you going to do? We found the liar."

"We found 'a' liar. The note said find the one with the most to hide."

"And then what? How does the person who wrote the note know what you found?" Frank sucked in one more deep breath and the pain was gone. "We should talk to Evelyn and Henry when they get back. If someone is willing to poison me to get to them, then they're in danger, too."

Joe closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. I don't think we should say anything. I want to keep looking. You go home and I'll check the girl's place and then I'm taking you to the doctor."

"Fine with the doctor. But for now, I'm sticking with you."

With no time to argue the point, Joe replaced the documents they'd found, closed up the suitcase then put it back under the bed. Then he did a quick sweep to make sure everything else was as it should be before leaving the rental.

They'd chew up more than a half hour already but Joe was sure they had plenty of time for a second shot. The Crab Shack was always busy and the gang liked to linger, getting the most out of the never ending fry baskets and bottomless sodas. They had at least another half hour, but after that, they'd risk getting caught.

The girl's rental was considerably messier than the one they'd just left. Ryan, the newbie was sharing with long timers Barbie and Liz. The fourth, Helena, was Liz's college roommate. This was her third year at the beach.

"I still don't feel right about this," Frank said as he began sifting through the clothes in one of two bureaus.

"How can you say that after what you just went through? If it makes you feel better, tell yourself we're just looking for some clue to who poisoned you. We'll have a much better chance of stopping this if we know what you were injected with."

"Insane," Frank mumbled, but he kept on searching. Through the drawers, under the drawers, inside every rolled sock and padded bra.

This time it was Joe who hit pay dirt first. It was a souvenir cedar box with a picture of the beach decoupaged to the top and a tiny gold lock threaded through a small hasp. Joe easily picked the lock with a bobby pin he found on the nightstand, then he dumped the contents on the bed. At first look, it appeared to be a collection of jewelry that any woman might own. But closer inspection turned up another liar.

"That's Logan's watch. He lost it last week," said Frank.

Joe picked through the pieces and pulled out a locket. He opened it and showed Frank the pictures inside. "This is Liz's locket." Then his eyes landed on a pair of blue-studded cufflinks. "And these are mine. We have a thief in our midst."

Frank looked over the objects on the nightstand where Joe had found the box. A romance novel, a glass with a pink lipstick stain, and ponytail holders with blonde hair sticking out of them. That narrowed it down to Liz and Barbie, but Liz wouldn't have stolen her own locket. "It's Barbie. She's been stealing from all of us."

"Barbie?" Joe started loading the items back in the box. "Her father is a millionaire. She doesn't have to work a day in her life, why steal?"

"Because it's not about the money. It's about the thrill. It's about the danger of getting caught. Speaking of which. . . "

Joe glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "I know. Just two more minutes." He closed up the box and locked it, then put it back under a towel in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. "If this is Barbie's bed. . . " He made a quick survey of the other three beds in the room and then chose the nightstand that was the neatest. Ryan's.

Joe yanked open the drawers and sifted through, fast but efficient. Frank went to the nightstand on the opposite side even as he felt a new wave of nausea simmering in his stomach.

"Hey," Joe said. "Look at this." He slid a photo across the bed. Two young teens, one too fat for her bathing suit and the other too thin and flat. They had their arms around each other and they were smiling hard for the camera. "I think the skinny one might be Ryan, but don't we know that other girl?"

Frank didn't look. He was completely enthralled by whatever he'd found in the other nightstand.

And then they heard voices. The girls.

"Damn it! They're back." Joe grabbed the photo and stuffed it in the drawer with no time to make sure it was placed properly. Frank had to do the same with whatever he'd found and the two made it to the patio door with no time to spare.

"Well, this is kinky," Barbie said and they knew they'd been caught. "Going through our underwear drawers while we're gone?"

Joe almost laughed at how right she was. He turned to face the group and decided to go along with the joke. "Don't worry, we drew the line at trying any of it on."

"Now there's an image," Helena laughed, then went on about her business as if it wasn't weird to find two men snooping around her house.

"Actually," said Frank. "I wanted to leave Ryan a note but once I got here I couldn't figure out what to say." The other girls ooh and ahh'd over that but Ryan didn't crack a smile. "Can we talk in private?"

"Maybe later would be better," Joe suggested, seeing a new sheen of sweat break out on his brother's face. "He's really not feeling well." Joe tugged up on Frank's pant leg to show off the wound which was now even more discolored and puffy.

All four girls gasped at the sight and Liz looked like she might puke.

"How'd that happen?" Liz asked.

"Got stuck with something," Frank said vaguely.

"Maybe when you were rolling around in the sand last night," Barbie suggested and Frank felt a whole new flush of warmth color his skin.

Joe took hold of his arm. "We should go." He pulled on his brother and there was no resistance. They made it out of the house and half way to their place when Frank crumbled. Joe did his best to catch him, but it only resulted in both of them collapsing on to the rough boardwalk.

"What is going on?" Liz came running down the path to meet them. She stooped down by Frank's side and ran her hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Honey, you need a doctor."

"Or just the antidote," Frank snapped back. "She had a hypodermic needle and a whole lot of drugs in her make-up kit." Getting that out took the rest of his breath away and he was left gasping for air once again.

"You went through my things!" She rose up to standing and backed away, suddenly not so interested in helping anymore. "Why would you do that? Oh, wait. You're some kind of cops, now, right? That's what this is all about? He plays sick and I offer to give him some pills and you bust me!"

"He's not pretending. He's been poisoned." As soon as it came out of his mouth, Joe debated the wisdom of shouting it where everyone could hear. He grabbed Liz by the arm and pulled her closer. "Tell me you had nothing to do with this!"

"I didn't. I don't even understand what's happening. Why were you going through my stuff if you're not a cop?"

"Joe," Frank said softly, lifting his hand for some help up.

Joe took him by the hand and the elbow and Liz took his other arm.

"Let's get him inside."

As they walked the few yards to their rental, Joe pondered then rejected the idea that Liz was involved. Of all their beach friends, she went back the furthest. They'd known each other as children, building sand castles and sharing pony rides, back when these weeks were still family vacations. But if she wasn't involved, why did she have a stash of drugs? Was that the secret the poisoner wanted him to discover?

Once inside, they carefully laid Frank on the bed and he scooted back into a sitting position with his legs stretched out in front of him. Liz went into the bathroom, ran the water for a full minute then came back with a wet washcloth which she laid over Frank's wounded leg. It was warm and heavy and it felt good on the swollen flesh.

"Now can one of you please explain what's going on here?"

Joe showed her the note but it did little to erase the confused look on her face.

"You think he was poisoned? That I poisoned him? That's like something out of a movie, who really does that?"

"We thought it was a joke at first," said Joe as he picked up the telephone and dialed O for the operator. "But he's had a couple of these attacks now."

"Stomach pains, sweats, nausea. I can feel it building up and then it hits me hard. The cramps. . . " Frank let the rest go in favor of taking a deep breath.

On the phone, Joe asked to be connected with the nearest doctor and then he went silent, listening.

Liz sat down on the other side of the bed and pulled her knee up on to the mattress so she could face Frank. "I swear to you. I didn't have anything to do with this. The drugs are mine. You have no idea the kind of pressure I'm under at school, from my folks. I need a little help getting through the day, that's all."

Frank reached out and took her hand. "Aw, Lizzie. That's no good."

"Easy for you to say. I remember your dad. He's cool. Mine? Not so much. I got a C in English last semester and he went ballistic. He makes me feel like I'm stupid and oh god, if he found out about the pills, he'd kill me. He'd pull me out of school and I don't know what. Frank, this has to be our secret."

Joe hung up the phone, then dragged a kitchen chair over to the bed. "I got the answering service. They'll get the doctor to call us as soon as they locate him."

Frank nodded, then turned back to Liz. "Look, I'm not going to condone what you're doing, but I'm not going to rat you out, either. Provided I ever get the chance."

"Oh no, Frank!" She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. "I'm so awful. You're sick and I'm worrying about me. Oh my god. I'm not like that. It's just. . . you caught me off guard."

"Could that be the answer?" Joe asked. He was sitting backwards on the chair, arms and chin propped on the high back. "Could you be the one with the most to hide?"

"I'd say Ekatarina has more at stake than Liz," said Frank.

"Who?"

"Evelyn," Joe clarified. "She's not who she says she is and by the way, I found your locket. Barbie has it along with a whole treasure chest of stolen goods."

Liz's mouth dropped open. "This is officially, the craziest thing I've ever heard."

"Just an average day for us." Frank shifted his hips forward so he could lie instead of sit and both of his nursemaids jumped to help. "I'm fine. I just ache all over." He squirmed to find a more comfortable position and then shivered from cold only he felt.

Liz took the blanket off of the other bed then unfurled it over his body. "What I don't understand is who wrote the note? Certainly not one of the people who has something to hide."

"I've narrowed it down to a suspect pool of one," said Joe and Frank frowned in response. "Ryan. She and Frank have been nearly inseparable all week but today it's like she doesn't want to have anything to do with him."

Liz cast her eyes down at the floor. "I can explain that. She lied to you, Frank and now she's worried about it."

"Welcome to the liar's club," said Joe just as Frank said, "about what?"

"She told you she's on the pill. She's not." Liz glanced Frank's way then averted her gaze again. "She wanted to be with you last night and she knew you wouldn't do it if knew there was a chance she could get pregnant."

Frank huffed out a laugh. "Least of my problems at the moment."

The phone rang and Joe ran to get it. As he talked, Liz ran her hand softly up and down Frank's arm and the motion nearly put him to sleep. Not that sleep would be bad; as long as he could be sure he'd wake up again.

Not two minutes later, Joe hung up with a frustrated growl. "The doctor is off delivering a baby somewhere!"

"The nerve of him," Frank muttered.

"The nearest hospital is about an hour from here but at least—"

"Hold it." Frank struggled to sit up right again. "Just forget it. They won't know how to treat me unless they know what kind of poison is running through my system. Our best bet is to stay here and find out who did this. We're running out of suspects, so it can't be that tough."

Joe returned to Frank's bedside but he didn't sit down. "I don't like that idea."

"I don't care. It's my life. Somebody wants something bad enough to risk going to jail for murder. I don't think they're going to let me die without a last ditch effort to find the truth."

"He's got a point," said Liz. "Someone's bound to contact you, Joe. They have to know you've been snooping around." She took Frank's hand in hers and squeezed it without paying much attention to the action. "Maybe the reason they haven't contacted you is that you haven't snooped in the right place yet."

At that, Joe did drop into the kitchen chair. "I thought of that and I hate it because the only people we haven't checked up on are Logan, Pete and the guys in my band."

"Logan and Pete saved me from drowning," Frank said, then shifted again as a new ache rumbled in his stomach.

"Or that's when one of them stuck you in the thigh. They could have left the note for me, then went surfing with you, waited until you fell off your board and . . . " Joe trailed off noting the raised eyebrow expressions on both Liz and his brother. "Doesn't work, does it?"

"Not really." Liz got up from the bed and went to the sliding glass door. It was closed, but they could still hear the sound of happy voices coming from the beach. "That leaves the band, right?"

"I can't believe that. We have to have missed something."

"What we missed," Frank said, voice faltering, "Is the person with the most to hide. Otherwise we would have heard from the poisoner by now."

Joe stood up and sighed. "If we assume that they're good for their word. What if this is all some sort of sick game and the person who wrote the note has no intention of coming forward, of giving you the antidote."

"Don't say that." Liz came away from the window then sat back down on the bed.

Frank visibly flinched at the movement of the mattress. "Go check the other house." He barely got the words out before the pain sliced through his stomach. He folded in two and instantly, both Liz and Joe had their hands on his back, trying, futilely, to offer him some comfort.

This was getting them nowhere and Frank was running out of time. Joe forced himself to step away knowing what he had to do.

"I'm going to go next door and try to get to the bottom of this. Liz, will you stay with him?"

"Sure, but. . . be careful, will you?"

"I will." Joe hesitated one more moment, his hand resting briefly on the back of his brother's neck. "Hang on, Frank. Just hang on."