The Second Wife (3 page)

I wasn't going to let him sidetrack me with regrets.

“Were you ever violent with her? Did you ever threaten her or hit her?” I watched him closely. He avoided eye contact and that set off alarm bells in my brain. I knew him too well. He was about to dance around his answer.

“I got angry, sure. She kept bugging me about stuff until I'd lose my temper. I never touched her though.”

“What about her son, Jason?”

“That lump of useless space? He kept showing up and leaving. He and Marjory had a huge fight a few months after we were married. They seemed happier with each other when he came to stay in April. He moved from the couch to her bedroom when she disappeared. I didn't feel right throwing him out until we found her.”

“Who else was she fighting with?”

Brian thought for a moment. “She'd started a job somewhere and was working late a lot.” He hesitated. “I think she was having an affair.”

“
No!
” The sarcasm came from deep inside. “Not our Marjory.”

He dropped his head.

“I deserve that,” he said. “I've been a prime idiot.”

“You won't get any argument from me,” I said. “Has this new love interest got a name?”

Brian shook his head. “No, but she let slip that he's married with four kids.”

I turned. A guard the size of the Hulk was coming down the hall toward me. I looked back at Brian. “Anything else you can tell me? Now would be the time.”

“I think Marjory had a past. She wasn't who she seemed.” He reached a hand through the bars. “I miss you, Gwen.”

A beefy hand tapped me on the shoulder.

“Your supper will be along shortly,” I said to Brian. “Next time you have a complaint with the food, suck it up.” I spun around and nodded at the guard. “All yours,” I said. “They don't make killers as tough as they used to.”

I shook my head and stomped down the hall like I had somewhere to be. I didn't look back to see if the Hulk was following.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

T
he next morning, I slipped into my cubicle unnoticed. I planned to finish some overdue accounting, then figure out what to do next about Marjory's murder. I filled in some numbers on a spreadsheet on my computer screen. As I typed, an idea hit me. I'd begin by phoning all the temp agencies in the city to find out where Marjory had worked. How many could there be?

I had the phone to my ear when Cal showed up in my cubicle just after nine. He wore a green golf shirt and tan pants. He'd shaved and his hair was still wet from the shower.

“Going on a hot date?” I asked. “You're all prettied up. You smell like an ocean breeze.”

Cal grunted. “Can I see you in my office, Gwen?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

I followed him slowly. Cal was being even less charming than usual. It was a bad sign when he closed his door and pointed to a chair. He'd set the chair near the window where the sunlight shone on me like a heat lamp. I was sure it was no accident that he stayed in the cooler, shadowy end of the room. He absentmindedly rolled a pencil on the desk as he talked.

“How come you were visiting Brian in jail yesterday?”

No beating around the bush with Cal. I shrugged. “Just making sure he couldn't escape. I think you should shackle him to the floor. Brian might want to do me next. You know, once you kill one wife…”

Cal didn't smile. He changed tactics. “Is there something about Marjory White you should be telling me?”

I thought back to our meeting in the Cantonese House restaurant. What could Cal possibly know? I shook my head.

Cal looked disappointed. His jawline tightened. “The thing is, Marjory White kept a diary. That's how we know she met with you on May twenty-first. I'd like to hear your take on the meeting.”

Busted. I shrugged. “Nothing to tell. We had coffee. We talked. We laughed. I left.”

Cal pulled a couple of papers from a stack at his elbow. He cleared his throat. He began reading, “‘Met with Brian's ex, Gwen Lake, to discuss my growing fear that he is becoming angry and violent. Could tell she didn't believe me. Don't know where else to turn. I feel so alone.'” This time, Cal's eyes were def initely unhappy when he raised them to mine. I felt my insides squirm.

“Marjory had to be confused. Brian wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone someone he liked enough to marry.”

“Her son Jason and a co-worker named Tina Sweet confirm her growing fear that Brian was going to hurt her. The last entry in her diary was a call from Brian to join him for lunch at a restaurant…near Interstate 35. It was the last time anyone saw her. She recorded the meeting in case something happened.”

“Wow. That sure looks bad for Brian,” I said, my mind not catching up to my mouth. Why hadn't he told me this when I saw him in jail? “So I guess you're not looking too hard for other suspects.”

“Not when we have such overwhelming evidence.”

“But, there's no motive.”

Cal spoke slowly, as if I was a child who'd failed a test. “There's always a motive if one partner wants out of a bad marriage.”

His words got me thinking. People mostly kill for love, money or revenge. “Who inherits his business and home?”

“If Brian gets convicted of killing Marjory, it all goes to the kid, Jason. He's the next of kin.” Cal picked up a thick brown file folder and began flipping through the report. “There's also a life insurance policy with Jason named as the beneficiary. Marjory took out the policy before she married Brian. She told her lawyer she was going to change the name over to Brian. Looks like she never got around to it. Kid's lucky.”

“How much is that worth?”

“Half a million. The boy won't be suffering money-wise anyhow.”

“Well, that gives Jason a motive. Why aren't you looking at him?”

“The kid loved his mother. It's in almost every page of her diary. No way Jason killed her for half a mill.”

“Don't forget about the store and condo.”

“Jason told me that he thought his mother had changed her will. He believed everything would go to Brian. He was as surprised as anyone when he found out he was to inherit.”

“How convenient.”

“Listen, Gwen.” Cal ticked off his fingers as he made the list. “Marjory was scared of Brian. Even you have to admit that. She and Brian were not getting along. Brian was the last one to see her alive. He set up a meeting at a restaurant about a mile from where we found her body. We also know that he was capable of lying. Look at how he treated you. Any more evidence and he'd come tied up with a bow and a sign saying
wife killer
.”

“I guess,” I said. I wasn't convinced.

“I'm going to ask you to stay out of this, Gwen. Stop nosing around. Maybe book off some holiday time. Go on a Club Med cruise and put this whole sorry mess out of your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” I said. I watched him put Brian's file on his desk. A thought was forming in my brain that Cal would definitely not like. “I should just leave this to you to solve,” I said.
Big strong you with all
the brains.
I resisted batting my eyes.

Cal smiled for the first time since he'd appeared at my desk. “That's right, Gwenny. I need to work without stumbling across you everywhere I look. You have to let the expert handle this. I've got everything under control.”

“I'm breathing easier already,” I said.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

I
waited until Cal and the other detectives left for the night. I stayed at my desk an extra fifteen minutes to make sure Cal wasn't coming back for something he'd forgotten. He sometimes went for supper nearby and returned to work. Something told me that was probably what he was up to this evening. That would give me a half hour tops to do my snooping.

The cleaning lady was down the hall emptying garbage cans when I snuck into Cal's dark office. The overhead lights were on a motion sensor. They clicked on when I stepped inside. I crossed quickly to his desk. Marjory's file was not where he'd left it. Could he have taken it with him? I rifled through the remaining papers and folders but came up empty.

I circled the room. I flipped through files stacked on the window ledge and piled up against the wall. The clock was ticking. I raced toward the filing cabinet and tripped over a briefcase. It was on its side next to the desk. I knelt and popped open the catch. Relief flooded through me. Marjory's file was on top. I scooped up the folder and headed to the photocopier next to my cubicle.

I knew what I was doing could get me fired. Cal had always been friendly with me, but that would mean nothing. He wouldn't take kindly to anyone messing with the evidence. He had a reputation for being tough and relentless when working on a case. The other detectives always said that they were glad not to be one of his suspects. I could only imagine what he would do if he saw me copying the file.

As the copier ran off the pages, I studied the crime-scene photos. Cal hadn't been kidding when he'd said there wasn't much left of her. I would never have recognized this as the woman I'd met a few months before. The summer heat had done its work. A wild animal or two had done the rest.

The printer finished and I stuffed all the copies into my big handbag. I ran back to Cal's office and put the file back inside the briefcase. I tried to put the case back exactly as it had been. I heard the cleaner talking to someone down the hall. I hunched over and scooted out of the office and around the corner. I glanced back and saw Cal bent over the water fountain. This gave me time to keep going down the hall to the exit. I hoped that he wouldn't notice the overhead lights on in his office. Maybe he'd think it was the cleaner who'd been inside.

I drove home as if I was being chased. I ran a red light before I calmed down. I'd even tucked my handbag out of sight under a blanket in the trunk. My fear was that Cal would notice that somebody had gone through his papers. He'd have to figure out that I was the only one interested. He'd track me down and throw me in the cell next to Brian.

None of this happened.

I made it home without being stopped. I ran inside, locked the door and set the house alarm. Then I closed the curtains in the living room and spread the file out on the coffee table. I settled myself on the couch with a glass of red wine and a yellow highlighter.

I read through all of the evidence and statements. I stopped only long enough to heat up a frozen dinner in the microwave. I wolfed it down while looking at the shadows in the backyard through the kitchen window. I thought I saw a flash of white behind the raspberry bushes in the corner of the yard. I kept watching. A plastic bag blew from the bush and across the grass toward the house. I let out my breath. For a minute I'd pictured Cal lurking in the bushes, waiting to arrest me.

I carefully read through the file a second time. I learned that the body had been wearing Marjory's wedding band. Jason had recognized what was left of the clothes. That would have confirmed the positive id from the dental records. The dental X-rays were also in the file. She'd been strangled. Jason had reported that his mother and father divorced when he was twelve years old. He'd moved with his mother to an apartment on Oak Street three years ago. Before that, they'd lived in Ohio.

My eyes were getting blurry. I packed up the papers and hid them in the bookcase. Then I went to bed.

I had trouble falling asleep with all the information swirling around in my brain. I dozed, but it was a fitful sleep. When the birds started singing, I gave up trying. I staggered into the kitchen and made the coffee extra strong.

I poured a cup and sat at the kitchen table, thinking. The information replayed in my head like a series of pictures. By the second cup of black coffee, I'd come up with a plan. The file had given me the first place to start digging. It was the Hampton Temp Agency—the place Marjory had worked when she met Brian. According to Cal's notes, the owner was a woman named Sally Peters.

I stood up to fill my cup again. I'd make some eggs and toast to go with it. Then I'd get dressed and spend my Saturday playing detective.

CHAPTER
NINE

S
ally Peters was unlocking the door when I drove into the parking lot. She held a coffee in one hand with a newspaper tucked under her arm. I stepped out of my car and walked across the parking lot toward her.

“Do you have a few minutes?” I asked. “I'm with the police and have a couple more questions about Marjory White.”

She glanced at the badge I flashed at waist level. Then she pushed the door open. “Why not? You're lucky to have caught me. I just came in today to catch up on paperwork.” She was a tall woman with bristly orange hair and a hooked nose. Her red workout outfit had a designer logo. Gold jewelry dripped from her ears, neck and arms. The woman was making money, no doubt about that. I wondered how much her employees were being paid. Probably not enough to buy the bling hanging around her neck.