The Second Wife (2 page)
I slapped the side of my thigh. “Ha. Ha. Got me there,” I said. “But fooling around on your first wife isn't the same as killing your second.”
“Maybe, it's the start of the slide.” Cal shifted and a stack of papers fell over. He tried to straighten them, but a second pile landed on the floor.
“Forget it,” I said. “Touch one more thing and I'll have to handcuff you to the wall.”
Cal smiled an apology before his mouth turned down at the corners. “You see, Gwen, a woman's body matching the size of Marjory White was just found in the woods off Interstate 35. Too bad it's been such a hot summer. There's not much left of her. We're making an id through dental records as I speak.”
My heart felt like a can of pop that had been shaken and then opened. “It won't be her,” I said. “There's no way that's Marjory.”
“We'll have our answer soon enough.” Cal grunted and pushed himself to his feet. “I'm sorry about all this, Gwenny. I know you and Brian were happy once.”
“Yeah. Once upon a time, but I've moved on.”
“That's good. Because it's not looking like there's much of that happily-ever-after shit for any woman stupid enough to marry him.”
T
wo days later, Marjory White's body was id'd, and the day after that Brian was charged with first-degree murder. Cal arrested him at home and put him in the city jail. His bail hearing was set for the following week.
As usual, the bad news traveled through the station like a head cold. When it finally reached me, I was sitting at my desk eating a ham and cheese sandwich. The shock hit me hard. I had to bend over and put my head between my legs, or I would have passed out. Jan Hill from hr brought me a cup of tea and two stale cookies from a bag she kept in her desk drawer. She patted me on the back and said she was there if I wanted to talk. The detectives and patrol officers tip-toed around me all afternoon as if I was about to crack. Cal Rodgers wisely stayed in his office.
I spent the next two days going through the motions. Each morning I got up and put on the same clothes as the day before. Then I went to work and sat at my desk, staring into space. In the evenings I sat in front of the television and changed channels with the remote. I couldn't believe that a man I lived with for twenty-two years was a killer. I couldn't accept knowing that Marjory had come to me for help and I'd turned her away. The guilt weighed heavily.
By Thursday morning I'd had enough of grieving for the man I'd never really known and the woman who stole him from me. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and shook my head. There were dark circles under my eyes. My face was pale and my hair was a mess. It was time for a shower and a day off. I had to pull myself together. “He's not worth it,” I said to my reflection.
I stood in the shower and let hot water rain down on me for twenty minutes. Then I dressed in clean sweat pants and a yellow T-shirt. I walked into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee pot. Two cups and the fog began to lift.
I got the newspaper from the mailbox and settled at the kitchen table. I skimmed the pages, not letting my eyes rest too long on any disturbing articles about politicians or pretty actresses in rehab. I flipped to the personals section and kept skimming. My eyes doubled back. I'd almost missed the notice of Marjory's funeral above the real-estate ads. She was to be buried that afternoon in Forest Hill Cemetery. First, there was to be a private service in a downtown chapel.
I raised my head and looked out the kitchen window at the line of lilac trees at the end of our property. Brian and I had planted them the second year we lived in this house. He'd told me they'd keep growing long after we'd moved into an old-age home together. I'd believed everything he'd told me back then. It had taken me a long time to accept that he could throw away our life together.
My eyes dropped back to the newspaper. I reread the funeral notice several times. Brian might have turned into a lying little turd over the course of our marriage, but was he really a killer? Could somebody change that much in a year? The service was at two o'clock on the other side of town. There was time to make it if I hurried. I jumped up from the table to go in search of my little black dress. I needed to get the lowdown on his late second wife. Her funeral service would be a good place to start.
A
handful of people were sitting in the front pews of the chapel. I slid into one a few rows back. The oversized blond boy sitting directly in front of me had to be Marjory's twenty-year-old son. I glanced over to my right in time to catch Cal Rodgers staring my way. I slowly rotated my head forward. It was common practice for the police to check out the funeral. But the sight of him bothered me somehow. It had to do with the pity I saw in his eyes before they hardened over and got impossible to read.
Hymns played softly over the sound system while we waited. Cold air was being pumped into the chapel. I shivered in my sleeveless dress. A woman in a light green pantsuit sat down at the end of my pew. She smiled at me briefly before facing forward. I tried not to let my eyes linger on the gold ring sticking out of her nose.
The chaplain's sermon was long and rambling. He talked about crossing over to a better place and embracing the light. All very generic. Marjory's name was inserted into the right places. Her son kept his head bowed the entire time. I could have sworn he was sleeping. That might have been because I caught myself nodding off once or twice. The chaplain became more animated delivering the closing benediction, and then the organist launched into one final hymn.
I had to shake my leg awake before I hurried up the aisle to catch up with my pew mate.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked.
She kept walking as if she hadn't heard me.
“I'm a police officer and have a few questions.” Chief O'Malley would have had a fit if he'd heard me use that line.
The woman turned. She tilted her head to the door. “Outside,” she said. She led me down the steps to a shaded piece of sidewalk. Then she lit a cigarette that she'd pulled out of her bag. After a deep hit of nicotine, she was ready to talk.
“Not sure if Marjory would have enjoyed that.” Her pale eyes met mine, a trail of cigarette smoke connecting us. She had bleached hair and bright red lips. I put her just over thirty. “What I knew of her, she would have wanted something more elaborate.”
“How'd you know Marjory?”
“We worked together. We both started at a temp agency a few years ago, but then she got married. She took several months off. Not long ago she came back. She only took the odd bit of work when it suited her. In fact, she was working a job just before she went missing.”
“Sorry, what's your name?”
“Tina. Tina Sweet.”
“Nice to meet you, Tina. Would you happen to know where Marjory was working last?”
“A dentists' office, but I don't remember which one. I was on holidays in Mexico with my new boyfriend Roy. He won tickets in a radio contest. We got drunk on tequila and stayed an extra three weeks. Just got back a few days ago.”
“That must have been fun.”
Tina sucked on her cigarette. “Marjory thought she was so brilliant marrying into money. She acted like she was better than the rest of us. Just goes to show.”
“Brianâ¦that is, from what I hear, her husband was doing all right but he wasn't exactly rich.”
“When you have nothing, comfortable is a big step up.”
“I guess you'll miss Marjory,” I said, hoping she would say something personal. I tried not to stare at her nose ring. It was one of the biggest I'd ever seen.
“Nah, not really. I just came today because the boss couldn't. She said one of us had to show.” Tina took another long drag. Then she flicked the butt onto the pavement where the tip lay glowing orange. “Well, if that's all, officer, I'm off. There's a cold beer waiting at home with my name on it.”
I
followed Tina Sweet as far as the parking lot. I stepped around a flower bed to wait under the shade of an elm tree. I hoped to talk to Marjory's kid. My dress was sticking to me like flypaper in the heat. My sunglasses kept sliding down my nose.
Cal hurried past me a few minutes later. He was looking at the parked cars, one by one. I was sure he was trying to see if I was in one of them. I stayed very still and watched him get into his filthy blue Ford. He took a final look around before driving away. He did
not
look pleased.
A few minutes later Marjory's son sped past me like he was late for aâ¦I was thinking funeral, but that was just bad taste. I caught up with him as he was unlocking a black suv with tinted windows.
“Sorry for your loss,” I said, catching my breath. “Lovely service though. Your mom is probably up there somewhere smiling down on you.”
“Yeah, thanks.” His eyes were pale blue and his blond hair reached just below his collar. He was a big boyâover six feet with a neck as thick as my two thighs tied together. Some women might have called him rugged. He kept sliding his eyes across me and around the parking lot. “How'd you know my mom?”
“We met over coffee a few times.” I let my voice drop on the “few times” since I'd only met her once. “She spoke fondly of you.”
“Yeah, great. What was your name again?”
“Wendy,” I lied. It was more of a fib than a lie. Gwen and Wendy were from the same name family. “Nice to meet you⦔
“Jason.”
“That's right, Jason. The last time I saw your mother, she told me how proud she was of you. She told me you were one terrific son.” I winced. Maybe I was laying it on too thick.
Jason shifted from one foot to the other. His forehead was an accordion of puzzled lines. He lifted an arm to wipe his forehead and showed off a dark circle of sweat under his armpit. “She really said that?”
“Yeah.” Time to change the subject. “Where will you live now, Jason?” I had to be careful not to ask for information a friend of his mother's should know. He looked suspicious enough, even if he didn't appear to be the sharpest tack in the box.
Jason pulled the suv door open and made to step inside without answering. Then he seemed to remember his manners. He turned and looked at me. “With my dad in Wisconsin. I'm going once everything with my mom is settled. I'm kind of in a hurry so I can't stay and talk.”
“Well, good luck to you.” I stepped back.
Jason climbed into the front seat and slammed the door. His tires sprayed up a shower of stones as he rocketed out of the parking space. In his beeline to the street, he narrowly missed hitting a flock of seagulls rifling through garbage.
I
t was time to pay a visit to my ex-husband behind bars. On a list of things I wanted to do, this came dead last. But I had to find out more about his marriage to Marjory. If he killed her, I needed to know. If he was aware of someone else who might have, that would be even better.
I drove home first and dug my police uniform out of the back of the closet. I hadn't worn it in several years. My desk job in admin didn't require a uniform. Luckily, it still fit, although it was snug in a few places best not mentioned. Then I made my way to the jail on Haines Road. I drove slowly. I wanted to arrive at four o'clock when shifts were changing. A little confusion would help me to pass through security.
Luckily, the kid on the sign-in desk was a summer student and easily impressed by my badge. Unluckily, I had to sign in. This meant Cal would find out I'd been to see Brian. If he wasn't happy to see me at the funeral, this would raise his blood pressure for sure. I waved off the kid's offer to get someone to take me to Brian's cell.
“Just point me in the right direction,” I said.
Brian was lying down on his bunk when I stepped in front of his eight-by-eight living space. He was an average-looking man except for his doe brown eyes. I used to call them his Al Pacino eyes. They were the kind that made you want to keep on looking. His face flashed surprise, then a smile when he saw me. He got up and came to stand a few feet from me, the bars between us.
“I don't know how you got around the no-visitor rule, but I'm glad you came,” he said. “Sorry I can't invite you to sit down.”
“Never thought I'd see you in an orange jumpsuit,” I said. “I couldn't even get you to wear a pink shirt.” I looked down the hallway. I dropped my voice. “I might not have much time. Sooner or later, they will figure out I'm not supposed to be here.”
“What, no cake with a crowbar baked inside?” Brian grinned, but his puppy-dog eyes were worried. “You look good in uniform, Gwen.”
“Yeah. But I smell of mothballs. So, anything you want to share about Marjory?”
The grin disappeared. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don't think just saying so will get you off. Who do you think did it, if not you?”
“Believe me, I've been asking myself that. Marjory and I weren't getting along so great. After we got married, she said she'd made a huge mistake. She even moved me into the spare bedroom. I wish I'dâ¦well, I wish I could take back the last few years.”
