The Second Wife (4 page)

We stepped inside. She and a trail of strong perfume led me into her office. I sat down across from her with a desk between us.

“Sad news about Marjory,” she said. She raised the coffee cup to her lips. “Horrid way to go, really.” She didn't sound all that broken up.

“I understand she met her husband through your agency.”

Sally leaned closer as if telling me a secret. “I hate to gossip about my staff. Still…you are the police. He wasn't the first client she dated. I never knew what men saw in her. Each to his own, I guess.”

“Would you say she was looking for a man?”

“No. Well, maybe.” Sally laughed. “Aren't we all?”

“She kept working after she was married?”

“Not at first. About three months ago she phoned and asked what I had.” Sally pulled out a file and traced down the page. “Last two jobs included a doctors' office and a dental clinic.” Sally looked up. “She told me that she wasn't working for the money. She said it was difficult at home. Her husband was jealous. Working was the only reason he'd let her out of the house.”

“Are you sure she said that?”

“As sure as I'm sitting here. To be honest, I don't think he should have thought work would keep her from meeting somebody else. She knew her way around men.”

“Was she good at her job?”

“She was my best worker. I thought sometimes that she was too smart to be hired as a secretary. She told me once that she'd stayed home to raise her son Jason. That's why she didn't go further in school.”

“Did she ever talk about her ex-husband?”

“Just that they divorced when Jason was twelve. They didn't keep in touch.”

“I met Tina Sweet at the funeral. She didn't seem too close to Marjory.”

“Well, they used to be friends when Marjory started working here. They'd go shopping or to the bar after work. Then they got upset with each other over something. I have no idea what. They weren't really friends when Marjory died. There's not much else I can tell you. I did most of my talking with Marjory by phone or email. I don't get together after work with the help as a rule.”

The help.
That's rich. “I wonder if I could get a photocopy of Marjory's record.”

“Is it important?”

“It might be. I won't know until I've finished all the interviews.”

“Then you're welcome to it. I can't see her filing an objection anytime soon.”

“No, I'd say her complaining days are all but over,” I said.

CHAPTER
TEN

W
hen I returned to my car, I glanced through the papers that Sally had given me. They included the address Marjory had when she first moved to town. Before she got her claws into Brian. It was time to find someone who knew more about her past.

I started the car and headed toward the south end of the city. It was a fifteen-minute drive. I used the time to think about what angle to take with people in the building. Should I be a police officer or pretend to be a friend from Marjory's past? Which would get me more information?

The apartment building was four stories—brown brick, late seventies. The balconies were rusted iron. The front door and windows were original to the building. Marjory had lived on the second floor. I got in easily enough. The front-door lock was broken, and the door opened when I pulled the handle. I climbed the stairs to the second and looked around. Marjory's apartment had been the one at the end of the hall. The apartment next to it had a wreath of faded plastic flowers on the door. I took this as a good sign that the tenant had lived there a while.

The woman who answered my knock was white-haired and tiny like a bird. “Can I help you, dear?” she asked.

“I'm looking for a woman I think lives next to you. Her name is Marjory White. She doesn't appear to be home.”

“Goodness. She hasn't lived there in over a year.” The woman's smile disappeared. “I hate to tell you, dear, but I just read in the paper that she died.”

“No! I can't believe it.” I was ashamed at lying to this trusting old woman. I had to remind myself why I was there.

She opened the door wider. “You've had a shock. Come in for a cup of tea. It'll make you feel better.”

“You are very kind,” I said. I stepped inside the apartment.

“My name is Rose Gatto,” she said. “Make yourself at home while I pour the tea. I just made a pot before you knocked.” She shuffled to a galley-sized kitchen. I followed her.

“Let me help you,” I said. I took the tray and carried it to the coffee table. I set the tray onto a stack of magazines.

Rose took her seat in the rocker. I cleared a space to sit on the couch across from her. Boxes of dishes and kitchen gadgets, clothes still in packages, books and ornaments were stacked everywhere. A plastic Christmas tree stood on top of the tv. Pink and red valentine hearts hung from the ceiling. Rose waved a hand to take in the room.

“I keep buying things. It's that damn shopping channel. I have trouble sleeping, and those smiling salespeople keep me company. It's nice to have a real live person to talk to.”

“Have you lived here long?” I asked. It seemed a silly question when I looked at all the junk.

“Dear me, yes. I moved here in 1984. It was just after I retired from teaching. I turned eighty-three last month. Don't think I'll move unless I have to. Still have my wits about me.”

“Are you able to get around okay?” I asked.

“Well, I don't like to complain. I have a niece who brings me food once a week. A woman from the church comes for tea on Tuesday mornings.”

“There's a seniors' center not far from here,” I observed.

“No way to get there.” She drank some tea. Then she set her teacup down in its saucer. “But you've come about Marjory. I read about her murder in the paper. A terrible end for that young lady.”

“We weren't all that close. I only met her through my ex-husband. I'm wondering if you remember her. I understand she lived at the end of the hall for a year or so.”

“Marjory and her fella moved in two years ago October. He came and went for the first few months. Then he stopped coming. It was a few months after that when she moved out.”

“I think you mean her son Jason. I'm told he came and went all the time.”

“No. I know who Jason is. This was a different man. Older and smarter. I think it was her husband.”

I was puzzled. “But she was divorced.” Maybe Rose wasn't as sharp as she looked.

Rose looked at me as if I was the slow one. “Divorced or not, you don't have to be married to sleep together. For certain they were having relations.”

I nodded. I'd skip over that one. “So how was Marjory as a neighbor?”

“I had her for tea once or twice. She was a cagey one. Told me she came from New York, but I knew that was a lie. Her accent was local. She had a girlfriend that used to visit up until April. She was younger than Marjory but they could have been sisters.”

“I think they worked together. Was her name Tina Sweet?”

Rose tilted her head. She stared at me again as if I had a screw loose. “No, this woman was named Alice. They knew each other from a long time ago.”

“Did Marjory tell you anything about her past life?”

Rose chuckled. “No need. I've seen her kind before. She used people. Sorry to speak ill of the dead.” Rose's teacup rattled as she lifted it from the table. Her eyes were shiny buttons behind her glasses. “She tried to get me to give her money. Don't look so surprised. I'm old and she thought she could put one over on me. She stopped coming around when she didn't get me to hand over my bank account information.”

“That's terrible.” This clinched it. Marjory had used Brian too. He'd been even stupider than I thought. No wonder he couldn't look me in the eye.

We finished our tea and Rose talked about the kids she had taught. She had a special fondness for the ones she called rascals. I thought that the kids must have been lucky to get her for a teacher.

“You've been a big help,” I said as I stood to leave. I looked down at her. “I'd enjoy if you'd come with me to bingo next Saturday evening at the seniors' center. I read a notice in the paper this week. They're looking for new players. I could pick you up and bring you home.”

Rose's face lit up. “Why, I'd enjoy that. I used to like a night out.”

I returned her smile. “I'll come by to get you around seven.”

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

I
thought about what I'd learned as I waited for my frozen dinner to cook in the microwave. Marjory came to town without much money. She was a liar, and if Rose was to be believed, a thief. She had fights with her son and her co-worker Tina Sweet. Brian thought she had started having another affair.

I sighed. Everything I'd found out about Marjory gave Brian even more reason to kill her. I could either give up in defeat or keep turning over stones. If I gave up looking, Brian would go to jail for a long, long time. It also would mean that I should have listened to Marjory when she begged for my help. I would have to spend the rest of my life knowing I might have saved her. Both ideas were difficult to accept.

I decided to dig deeper into the last months of her life. The documents that Marjory's boss gave me listed the recent employers—a doctors' office and a dental clinic. The next day was Sunday. The offices would be closed. I'd have to wait until Monday to pay them a visit.

I sat with the plastic tray of fried chicken, potatoes, green beans and applesauce in front of my computer screen. I clicked on Google. A search gave me Tina Sweet's address. She lived not far from me. I'd drop in on her tomorrow afternoon. That should give her time to recover from the hangover that she probably was working on getting right that moment.

I decided to take the night off. I called a girlfriend, then my brother in Boston. After that I went to bed and dreamed I was in an eight-by-eight cell. Brian stood on the outside of the bars, waving at me. He was holding a chocolate cake. I got up off the bed and walked toward him. I was relieved to see him. I knew he was there to save me. When I reached the bars, he pressed his face close to mine. He smiled and whispered into my ear. He thanked me for killing Marjory and giving him back his life. He said that she'd deserved to die.

Tina Sweet lived in a townhouse on Wildwood Drive. I parked on the street and walked to the front door. It was just past one o'clock. I hoped she was up.

I was surprised at how full of energy she looked when she opened the door. She was wearing a denim miniskirt and halter top. Her face was scrubbed and her bleached hair was tied back. She had taken out the gold nose ring. Her smile disappeared when she saw it was me. She looked over my shoulder as if expecting someone else.

I flashed my badge. “Sorry to bother you, Tina. We met at the funeral service. I just have a couple more questions about Marjory White.”

“They have the guy who did it.”

“I'm just tying up loose ends.”

“Well, come in then. Let's get it over with.”

We sat at the kitchen table. Tina lit a fresh cigarette from one burning in the ashtray. “Is your boyfriend here?” I asked.

“Who? That guy I went to Mexico with? Roy and I broke up the day of the funeral.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. He didn't look as good once I sobered up. So what are your questions?”

“I'm curious about something. You were friends with Marjory until something happened. Could you share what it was?”

Tina shrugged. “I guess it doesn't matter now she's dead. It was because I started dating her son, you know, a while ago.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah. He's not a great talker, but he's lots of fun. Not hard on the eyes either.”

I was speechless for a moment. Jason wasn't what I would call attractive. Alcohol must have lowered her standards. “Is that why she and Jason were fighting too?”