The Second Wife
THE
SECOND
WIFE
THE
SECOND
WIFE
BRENDA CHAPMAN
Copyright © 2011 Brenda Chapman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Chapman, Brenda, 1955-
The second wife / Brenda Chapman.
(Rapid reads)
Issued also in electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-55469-832-5
I. Title. II. Series: Rapid reads
PS8605.H36S42 2011Â Â Â Â Â Â C813'.6Â Â Â Â Â Â C2010-908119-6
First published in the United States, 2011
Library of Congress Control Number
: 2010942254
Summary
: A cop with a boring desk job tries to solve a case that might
save her ex-husband from a lifetime jail sentence. (RL 3.3)
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has
printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Design by Teresa Bubela
Cover photography by Getty Images
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For Ted, Lisa and Juliaâwith love as always
CONTENTS
I
don't know why I promised to meet the woman my ex-husband had left me for a year earlier. Maybe because she begged me. Maybe because I was curious. It might have been as simple as her choosing to meet at the Cantonese House restaurant a few blocks from the station where I worked. Lying Brian had ditched our twenty-two-year marriage for a woman from a temp agency he'd hired to sort out his sloppy filing system. It was time I met her and stopped imagining every possible way that she was a better wife than me.
My name is Gwen Lake. I am a forty-five-year-old divorced mother of none. I work for the Duluth police force doing bookkeeping and secretarial work when asked. I trained to be a police officer but never made it past this desk job. It turns out I have a talent for filing and numbers. I can read a document and remember details weeks later. Police Chief O'Malley says I keep the office running. He can't look me in the eye when he says it. I know he thinks women should be teachers or secretaries, not wearing uniforms and carrying guns. I am counting the days until he retires.
I got to the restaurant twenty minutes early. I picked a booth that gave me a good view of the front door. I wanted to see Marjory before she saw me. I'd only caught a glimpse of her once from a distance. It was the day she drove off with my husband into the sunset and out of our bungalow for the last time. But I was sure I'd recognize her. She'd be young and big-breasted with
harlot
stamped all over her.
I pretended to read the menu while watching the doorway. It would have been good if I smoked so that I'd have something to do with my hands. Every time someone came in the door, my heart jumped. I was beginning to wish I'd stayed at work. In the end, I wouldn't have given a second glance at the five-foot-three redhead who walked my way after scanning the room. I would never have imagined that this was the woman who haunted my dreams and fueled my revenge fantasies. She just seemed so small andâ¦ordinary.
“Oh, Gwen, it's good of you to see me. Brian described you to a tee.” She slid into the seat across from me and shrugged out of her black trench coat. “We sure could use today's rain. It's been one hot dry month of May, hasn't it?”
Her troubled eyes were green, the lids painted blue. I placed her close to forty, and she was bonyâlike a chicken that needed fattening up. Her hair was copper-colored and held back from her face with a black velvet band that made her look young and vulnerable. I was beginning to see how Brian would have fallen for her. He was a sucker for helpless women. They stroked his ego and made him feel needed.
“And how did he describe me?” I asked. I should have known better.
“You know, mature. Medium height, blond and no interest in fashion⦔ Her voice trailed away and she looked around the restaurant as if making sure we were alone.
I sighed. Mature meant middle-aged. No interest in fashion meant frumpy. She'd cut me off at the knees without batting an eye.
“So, what did you want to meet me about?” I asked, wanting to get the meeting over with. “You sounded upset on the phone.” I raised a hand to the waitress to bring a couple of coffees. Marjory swung her sad eyes my way. “I didn't know who else to turn to. You've been married to Brian and you're a police officer. I thought you'd know what I should do.”
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“Was Brian at any time overly aggressive with you during your marriage?” Her eyes found mine and held.
“Brian! Brian aggressive? You have to be joking.”
Marjory flinched but kept her eyes steady on mine. “I worried you'd react like this, but you have to believe me. Brian's changed since we got married. He's become so possessive, he frightens me. I need your help.”
I blinked back the laughter tears once I saw she was serious. “Brian is the least violent man I know. I'm sure you're wrong about this.” Not to mention crazy.
“He's changed,” she repeated in a voice so small I had to lean forward to hear. “He's just not the man I thought I married.”
“I could say much the same,” I said, but the irony was wasted on her.
“I don't know who else to turn to,” she whispered. “I think he wants to get rid of me.”
“I'm probably not the best person to ask about that,” I said.
Seeing as how I dream of getting rid of you myself.
Maybe, in hindsight, I shouldn't have blown Marjory off as fast as I did that May afternoon. I could have listened to her fears and found out why she believed Brian was so angry. I should have gotten some details. But how was I to know that a week later Marjory's twenty-year-old son would report her missing and Brian would become the main suspect in her disappearance?
I
was adding up the cost of new furniture for the chief 's office when Cal Rodgers poked his head into my office, which was a tiny corner cubicle with a view of the parking lot. My office was at the opposite end of the hall from the police officers who worked patrol. The three detectives and the chief had closed offices down another hallway not far from me. I had a fan pointed at my face, trying to stay cool. The air conditioner had been broken all week and the building was like a pizza oven. It was the hottest July on record.
“Got a minute, Gwen?” he asked.
“Always got time for you, Cal,” I said, mopping my face with a paper towel. I put down my pencil and watched him cross the floor toward me.
Cal was close to six feet tall and growing a bit of a belly. He hadn't shaved that morning and his beard was coming in gray. He perched his right butt cheek on the corner of my desk and asked me how I was doing. Cal had the red eyes of a drinker, but he was one of the sharper detectives on the force. I knew he wasn't really there to ask me about my health. I decided to wait him out. The sun cut through the blinds on my office window and laid a striped pattern across his grizzled face. He looked like a convict in a holding cell. Sweat beaded his forehead.
As predicted, Cal quickly got tired of the small talk. After a minute of silence, he looked me in the eyes and asked what he'd wanted to know all along. “So what's the scoop on Marjory White?” He waited, chewing on a toothpick. He squinted at me through the sun's glare.
“I don't know why everybody thinks something bad happened to her,” I grumbled. “She probably just got tired of being married and left town.”
“You could be right. But we may as well do the background. What do you know about her?” Cal was still friendly, but his voice had gotten a harder edge.
I sighed. “Not much. Marjory worked for a temp agency when she met my husband. Her duties included typing, filing and removing her clothes.” I tried to sound amusing, but my words came out more bitter than I'd planned.
Cal mumbled something. It sounded like he had a hairball stuck in his throat. His dark blue eyes were regretful. He coughed and said, “Would you believe your ex, Brian, capable of harming her?”
“Not in this lifetime. Brian owns a shoe store for good reason. He'd rather crawl around on his hands and knees at someone's feet than face them head-on.”
“Although, I guess we could safely say you didn't know him all that well since you were surprised when he up and left you,” Cal said mildly. I noticed that his eyes had darkened from regretful to observant.
