The Invisible Wife

by Thomas Fincham

  Fisher asked, “Did Big Bob want to sell the dealership? I mean, the dealership had made him very popular around the city.”

  “I don’t think he did,” Wallis replied. “He loved the business and he loved cars. But after he won, he suddenly had other interests in life. From what I heard, he ended up investing in so many other businesses he had no experience with before.”

  Some of them were scams, Fisher thought.

  Wallis said, “I think the real reason he sold it was so that his ex-wife, Joan, didn’t get it during the divorce.”

  “She was also involved in the dealership?”

  Wallis nodded. “What most people didn’t see was that she was a big part of why the business was a success. Big Bob was the face of the dealership, but she was the heart of it. When customers came in, she made them feel like they were a part of her family. They trusted her, and they brought their friends, colleagues, and even strangers to purchase a car. She always joked that one day she’d change the name to ‘Lady Joan’s Lot.’”

  “How did you end up buying it?” Fisher asked.

  “I owned a dealership down the block. I’ll confess, mine wasn’t as successful as theirs, but I did okay. Big Bob would show up in my dealership and gloat about the number of cars he had sold that day or week. But a lot of the time, though, he came in just to talk. He wasn’t the loudmouth he portrayed himself as in commercials. He actually cared about car business. He would give me a heads-up on people I should be wary of doing business with, or if there were other dealerships who were playing loose with the rules. Big Bob and I weren’t friends, but he was friendly, you know. So, when I heard he was thinking of selling his dealership, I jumped at the opportunity. The price was right, and like I said, I thought his location was better than my old one.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to him?” Fisher asked.

  “It was actually a couple of days ago. He sounded depressed, to be honest with you. He kind of wished he’d torn up that lottery ticket.”

  Fisher’s eyes widened. “He said that?”

  “Numerous times. I got the feeling he wanted things to go back to how they were before. He missed his life prior to winning all that money. After winning, Big Bob would drop by the dealership every so often to pick up a new vehicle. He always paid cash. He would tell the staff all these stories about his time owning the place. Before leaving, he’d always say that one day he’d buy the dealership back from me, and I’d always say it wasn’t for sale. He’d grumble and say he’d open one across the street from me, but I knew he was joking. He just missed the place.”

  “You know anyone who’d want to hurt him?” Holt asked.

  “No one at this dealership, I can tell you that,” Wallis replied. “Big Bob made it cool to buy a used vehicle. I owe him a lot for what he did for the business.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Callaway was on his fifteen-minute break when he walked to a café in the mall. He bought a coffee and a donut. He found a bench and munched on the donut.

  The morning had been uneventful. The store saw very few visitors. It was the middle of the week and business was slow as most people were still at work. Stay-at-home moms were their regular customers at this time of the day.

  Even with the quiet, Callaway was battling a war inside his head. He could not stop thinking about the woman in the limousine and the twenty-five thousand.

  He could do a lot with that much money.

  It was odd that the moment he decided to walk away from his PI business, everyone wanted to hire him. He had received emails and voicemails from people inquiring about his services. Even Mason had summoned him to his office with an offer for a job. Callaway would think twice before agreeing to work for a man like him. Mason was a businessman, but Baxter was crazy and dangerous. There was no telling what he would do to Callaway if he got the chance.

  Then there was Mrs. Gilford.

  How long will she wait for my reply? he thought.

  He knew she wanted him for the job, but he also knew people with money were not known for their patience. They were used to getting whatever they wanted, and fast. If he took his time, she would surely look elsewhere.

  He pulled out the piece of paper she had given him. The telephone number was scribbled in blue ink.

  A part of him wanted to dial the number and tell her he was taking the job. But then he looked down at his watch. His fifteen minutes were up. He finished the donut, downed the coffee, and returned to the store.

  He spent the next hour strolling the aisles. He was still trying to talk himself out of taking the job when he saw a woman down the aisle. The woman was in her mid-forties, with streaks of gray in her hair, and a large handbag swung over one shoulder. She was constantly looking around to see if the coast was clear. She had not seen him yet, so he watched her from a distance.

  She removed a price tag from one item and placed it on another. He could not make his move just yet. He wanted to see what she did next.

  She headed for the cashier.

  Callaway approached her.

  “Ma’am,” he said as professionally as possible. “Are you purchasing that item?”

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “Then you must know it is fraudulent to switch price tags.” He was not sure if this was true, but he was certain it was wrong.

  “I did no such thing,” she huffed.

  “I saw you. I was down the aisle when you did it.”

  Meanwhile, the cashier stared at them in horror. She was hoping the situation did not escalate.

  The woman put her hand on her hip. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “No, I’m just saying...”

  She pointed a finger at him. “You got no proof.”

  “We have cameras in the store. They’ll show that you switched the tags.”

  The woman’s face turned red. She turned to the cashier, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I want to speak to the manager,” the woman demanded.

  The cashier instantly picked up the phone and spoke a few words. A moment later, the manager emerged from a door in the back of the store.

  “How can I help you?” she asked with a smile.

  The woman pointed to Callaway and said, “This man is accusing me of a crime.”

  Callaway put his hands up in defense. “All I said was that I saw her switch price tags from one item to another.”

  “And I told him I didn’t do it,” the woman shot back.

  The manager’s smile never wavered. “That’s alright, ma’am. Why don’t we checkout your purchases?”

  Callaway could not believe it. The cashier entered the price on the tag, and the manager gave her an additional ten percent off for her troubles.

  The woman then turned to him. “You should stop harassing honest people and get a real job.”

  Callaway was seething. He had to grit his teeth from saying something he might regret.

  After the woman left the store, the manager said to him, “Next time you see someone switch tags, don’t confront them.”

  “But you just lost money on that item,” he said, baffled. “She switched it with a lower price tag.”

  “They do that all the time.”

  “And you don’t do anything about it?”

  “What can we do?” she replied. “The customer is always right.”

  Callaway’s head was spinning. “If I see something improper, I’m not supposed to take any remedial action?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then what am I doing here?” he asked.

  “You’re supposed to stand in the corner and keep your mouth shut,” the manager replied.

  That’s it, Callaway thought.

  He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a card. He held the card out for her.

  She was confused, but she still took the card. “Lee Callaway Private Investigations?” she read aloud.

  “That’s right,” he proudly said. “When you are ready, give me a call. I
’ll give you a discount.”

  “Why would I need a private investigator?”

  “Last week I saw your husband waiting for you in the parking lot. Right before you arrived, he was on the phone with someone. It wasn’t hard to tell he was talking to a woman.”

  The manager’s face hardened. “You can’t accuse my husband…”

  “I think I heard him call her Shelley,” Callaway interjected.

  The blood drained from the manager’s face. “That’s his ex-girlfriend’s name.”

  Callaway headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” she said.

  “I quit,” he replied, and left.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Big Bob’s ex-wife lived in an affluent neighborhood where all the houses were gated, had French windows, and a manicured lawn. Unlike her ex-husband’s gaudy mansion, hers was elegant and sophisticated.

  After introducing themselves, Holt and Fisher were lead to a room with a brown sectional sofa, a fireplace, and a coffee table made of marble.

  Joan Burley looked like she had just returned from the salon. Her hair was permed, her eyebrows were waxed, and her face was shiny and smooth.

  “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” she asked as a good host.

  Holt and Fisher declined.

  “We have to ask you some questions regarding your ex-husband,” Fisher said.

  “You can ask whatever you want about Robert,” she replied.

  “You don’t call him Big Bob?” Fisher asked.

  “Everyone did except for me. I knew him before he became Big Bob. We saw each other in high school, but we never dated. While I was in college, we met up through a mutual friend. Robert never pursued a higher education. After finishing high school, he started working for his uncle’s dealership. He had a knack for salesmanship. If you came to the dealership only thinking about buying a car, by the time you left, you had already bought one. He made you feel like he was doing you a favor by selling you a car. The customers always went away happy.”

  “We found out you were also involved in the business,” Fisher said.

  Joan nodded. “Once we got married, Robert planned to open his own dealership, but we didn’t have the money. But Robert was undeterred. He waited for his time, which was almost two years later. His uncle was considering selling his dealership when Robert worked out a deal with him. He would take out a loan from his uncle and buy the dealership. He would then spend the next ten years paying back the loan plus interest. But with Robert’s enthusiasm, we paid the loan back in half that time. Once the dealership was ours, the sky was the limit.”

  “I heard you wanted to take over the dealership?” Fisher asked.

  “I did,” Joan replied. “I loved that place as much as Robert did. I actually loved the people who worked there even more. Our receptionist had been with us since the time we took over. Some of the salespeople were with us for years. When I say it was like a family, I mean it.”

  Fisher said, “Why didn’t your husband let you have it? I mean, he was already looking to sell it?”

  Holt knew where Fisher was going with this. She wanted a motive. Did Joan Burley kill her husband out of spite? The murder had hints of a crime of passion.

  Joan looked down at her hands. “We were a team, he and I. We weren’t struggling or living paycheck to paycheck. We were successful. But the moment he got his hands on all that money, he suddenly became a different man. It was like all his demons came out. He bought things he didn’t need. He started building that eyesore of a house.” Joan shook her head. “I even caught him going to strip clubs.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t let you have the dealership,” Fisher prodded.

  Joan said, “A year after we won, someone took a photo of Robert passed out drunk in front of a bar. It ended up in the newspapers. When a reporter came to our house, I told him how I wished we never won that money. Robert read what I said, and he was furious. We had a big fight. By then we were going at each other. I didn’t like what he was turning into. I told him we should give the money away as it was bringing us nothing but bad luck, like the universe was punishing us for something we did. I remember he quieted down, and then the next day he sold the dealership to Ed. It was soon after that we separated.”

  “After your divorce, you received half the winnings. Why didn’t you give it away?” Holt asked.

  “I did, almost all of it,” Joan replied. “This house and my living expenses are paid for from the money I received when we sold the dealership, from the sales of our old house, and from any joint assets we had during our marriage. I wanted nothing to do with that God-forsaken lottery money. I knew it would destroy us as a family, and I guess in the end it destroyed Robert.”

  Holt glanced over at Fisher. He knew she was thinking what he was.

  Money was one of the biggest motivators for murder. Jealousy was second. The third was revenge. Prior to coming here, they hoped to fit Joan into at least one of those categories.

  Money was not a factor in this case. Joan had given most of it away. And also, as per the law, she did receive half of her husband’s winnings during the divorce, which was enough to take care of her.

  Maybe she was jealous that her husband had found a younger wife. But why kill him after all these years, especially when he was separating from his second wife? It did not make sense.

  But what about revenge?

  Holt asked, “Didn’t it make you angry that instead of selling the dealership to you, your ex-husband sold it to someone else?”

  “I was very upset about it. I hated Robert for what he did. It was another reason why I sold everything from my previous life that would remind me of my time with Robert. And also…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  Holt sat up straight. “Also, what?”

  “I’m not sure if Ed told you this, but he and I are in a relationship,” she replied, sounding a little embarrassed. “He’s a good man. He’s honest and hardworking. Sometimes I’ll go to the dealership. Ed’s retained some of our old staff, so it’s nice to see them again. But I don’t go there often. I prefer to keep our relationship private.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “Even though Robert hurt me badly, no one deserves to die like he did.”

  Holt and Fisher thanked Joan for her time and left.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The first thing Callaway did after leaving the mall was go straight to a bar. He needed a drink to steady his nerves. He had made a lot of effort to get the security guard position. He had to interview at an employment agency, pass some standardized competency tests, wait for a position to become available, and then apply. And now he had thrown all that away in an instant. He did not have a degree he could fall back on, and his skills as a private eye did not transfer from one job to another.

  He pulled a stool up to the bar and ordered a drink. He downed his drink and ordered another. Halfway through the second glass, he started to feel better.

  This is the right decision, he thought. I wasn’t going to last long at the store anyway.

  Sooner or later something would have pushed him to quit. The woman who changed the price tags was just a catalyst. He was waiting for someone like her to give him a reason to go back to what he loved.

  I’m a private investigator, dammit!

  He looked at the time. It was still too early to get drunk. He had work to do.

  He dialed the number on the piece of paper, and after saying a few words, he hung up.

  He was slowly sipping the remainder of his drink when his phone buzzed. He answered, and then he left the bar.

  The familiar limousine was parked across the road. He walked over and got in the back seat.

  Isabel Gilford had a smile on her face. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, you made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  Isabel placed her hand in her purse and pulled out a thick envelope. “So, how does this work?” she asked.<
br />
  “First, you tell me something about your husband,” Callaway replied.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “His name would be nice.”

  “Of course. It’s Cary Gilford.”

  “What does your husband do?”

  “He is president and C.E.O. of Gilford Investments.”

  Callaway searched his memory. He never heard of that company.

  Isabel said, “It’s a private equity firm. They have a portfolio of two hundred and fifty million dollars. It’s relatively small compared to some other firms. They specialize in natural resources such as oil, crude gas, and shale.”

  “How long have you and your husband been married?” Callaway asked.

  She stared at him. “Why is that important?”

  “It’s not, I suppose, but it gives me a better idea of who I’m dealing with.”

  “We’ve been married over twenty years.”

  “Children?”

  “Two.”

  “Ages.”

  She paused again. “Nineteen and seventeen. But please don’t ask me their names. It’s no one’s business.”

  Callaway nodded. “That’s fair. Do you know who your husband is having an affair with?”

  “His assistant.”

  “Okay. Have you seen them together?”

  “Of course.”

  “You have?” He suddenly wondered why she was even hiring him.

  “As his assistant, she has to work closely with my husband and this has caused major arguments in our relationship.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As a wife, I can sense when my husband is not being honest with me. I have confronted him to find out if he is sleeping with her. He has denied it. He always says she is an invaluable employee of the firm. I’ve asked him to fire her.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s young and attractive.”

  “What did she do prior to becoming your husband’s assistant?”

  Isabel paused a moment. “She used to be an actress,” she replied.

  “Have I heard of her?”