by Shari Lapena
“Yes,” Webb says, “Sharpe told us about that. In detail.”
Becky watches her husband’s face flush.
“That’s all it was, I swear, that one incident. I wasn’t seeing Amanda. I knew her from her temping at the office and they live next door, but we didn’t have much to do with them. I think we had drinks with them once or twice.” He adds, “I don’t know what happened to her.”
“Where were you the weekend that Amanda disappeared?” Webb asks.
“You can’t be serious,” Larry protests.
Webb just looks at him and waits.
Becky is staring in alarm at her husband. He glances at her. “I was away that weekend, and when I got back, I heard that she was gone and that her husband had reported her missing, but it was generally believed that she’d packed a bag and left him.” He adds, “I was at a conference from Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon.” He looks up at them. “I wasn’t even here.”
“Where was the conference held?” Webb asks.
“At the Deerfields Resort.”
“And where’s that, exactly?”
“It’s a couple of hours from here. In the Catskills.”
“You don’t say,” Webb says.
EIGHTEEN
Olivia can tell that something is bothering her husband. He was restless the night before, tossing and turning through the night. When she asked him if something was wrong, he denied it. Perhaps he is simply worried, like she is, about Raleigh. Waiting for the cops to show up at their door.
She’s upstairs in her office the next morning when the doorbell rings. She freezes. She’s afraid that it’s that woman, Carmine, back again. She hurries to the front window in the upstairs bedroom and looks out, but she can’t see who is at the door. The doorbell rings again. She waits. The doorbell rings a third time. Whoever it is isn’t going away.
Finally she steels her nerves and goes downstairs. She’s determined to put a brave face on things and completely deny anything Carmine says. She’s angry enough that she thinks she can do it.
She opens the door and is completely surprised to see her friend Becky standing on her doorstep. She’d last seen Becky at book club, on Monday night. Now it’s Friday morning, and there’s something about Becky’s wary expression that puts Olivia on guard. And she looks like a mess. Her hair is neglected, and she’s not wearing her usual lipstick.
“Becky,” Olivia says. And then, “Is something wrong?”
Becky nods and says, “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Olivia says. “Come have coffee with me.”
They make their way automatically to the kitchen. Olivia pours two cups of coffee from the carafe. “What is it? Something’s obviously upset you.”
Becky sits down at the kitchen table. “This is really awkward,” she says.
Olivia sets the coffee mugs on the table and sits down. She wonders if Carmine has been talking to Becky. She steels herself again. “What is it?”
“It’s about the investigation, about Amanda.”
Olivia recalibrates. Not Raleigh, then. She feels a sense of relief, at least for herself, but she feels concerned for the woman sitting across from her. Why is Becky here?
“The police came back to talk to me yesterday,” Becky says.
“Okay,” Olivia says, taking a sip of coffee.
“Oh, God, I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Just tell me, Becky.” Olivia can feel her anxiety climbing.
Becky grips her coffee cup with both hands. She finally looks Olivia in the eye and says, “I saw Paul with Amanda, before she disappeared.”
Olivia is stunned. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t this. “What?”
“I saw Paul with Amanda in her car one night, shortly before she disappeared. They—it looked like they were fighting.”
Olivia says, “Paul didn’t know Amanda.”
“I know what I saw,” Becky says carefully.
“You must be mistaken,” Olivia says coldly. He would have told her. Wouldn’t he?
Becky says woodenly, “I’m not mistaken. Paul’s admitted it. To the detectives.”
Olivia feels her insides turn. She’s suddenly light-headed. Paul has spoken to the detectives? “What do you mean?” she asks. “When did he talk to them?” She feels like she’s standing on the edge of a cliff, and all Becky has to do is give her a gentle push.
Becky shifts uneasily in her chair. “Yesterday. They went to his office. They talked to him there.”
“How do you know that? Why would they go see him?” She’s trying to make sense of what Becky is saying.
“Because when they questioned me about Amanda I had to tell them that I’d seen Paul with Amanda in her car.” She adds, “I didn’t want to tell them.”
“He never said anything to me about the detectives,” Olivia whispers, in shock.
“I’m sorry,” Becky says, and sits quietly, as if waiting for Olivia to put it together.
“You think Paul might have been seeing Amanda?” Olivia asks in disbelief, sitting perfectly still. “That’s impossible.” But she thinks of Paul, tossing and turning all last night. Apparently he’d spoken to the detectives earlier that day. What else has he kept from her? She can feel herself starting to tremble. A darkness passes before her eyes, like a shade, and she grips the edge of the table. Was Paul cheating on her? She’s never suspected him of being unfaithful. Ever. But now another realization hits her: If Paul was having an affair with Amanda, he will be a suspect in her murder. She remembers him reading the article in the newspaper, his feigned lack of interest in the case. Her stomach churns.
Becky says, “He admitted to being in the car with her, but he denied having an affair with her.”
Olivia stares at Becky. She has to know what the hell is going on. “How do you know? Why was he in the car with Amanda? I don’t understand.”
Becky says carefully, “He told the detectives that he thought she was having an affair with Larry, and he was telling her to stay away from him, but I’m sorry, that’s just not true.”
“Your Larry?”
Becky nods.
Olivia is astonished. “Why are you so sure Larry wasn’t having an affair with her? And you’re suggesting that Paul was?” Olivia protests.
Becky leans closer toward her over the kitchen table. “I don’t know if Paul was having an affair with Amanda, but I saw them together, and I had to tell the detectives.”
Olivia says, “Why would Paul say that about Larry, if it wasn’t true?”
Becky sits back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest. “You remember what Amanda was like. Remember her at that party? Oozing sex appeal, basking in all the male attention. Apparently it was worse at the office. And Paul caught her behaving inappropriately with my husband once. But he says it meant nothing.”
“Behaving inappropriately how, exactly?”
“I don’t know the details,” Becky says, averting her eyes.
“I can’t believe that Paul was seeing Amanda,” Olivia says.
“Well, I don’t believe Larry was either.” She reaches for her coffee cup. “Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding. Perhaps Paul misinterpreted the situation and overreacted.”
“So—what, now the detectives are investigating Paul and Larry?” Olivia asks in disbelief. Becky nods uneasily. “And what do they think?”
“I don’t know. They never say what they think. But they spoke to Paul yesterday, and came to our house last night after Larry got home, and accused Larry of having an affair with Amanda. He denied it.” Becky turns her face away and looks bleak. “We had the most awful argument after.”
Part of Olivia wants to comfort Becky, but another part of her hates Becky for bringing all this into her house and dumping it in her lap. She thinks about the argument she and Paul will ha
ve that evening. She doesn’t believe that Paul was sleeping with Amanda. But he’s obviously not telling her everything either. If he thought Larry was having an affair with Amanda, why didn’t he tell her? Why didn’t he tell her the police had come to his office yesterday?
“I thought you should know what was going on,” Becky says, “in case Paul didn’t tell you.”
Olivia recoils, as if from a slap. Does Becky expect her to thank her?
Now Becky is staring down at the kitchen table. “There’s something else. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s probably not going to stay secret for long. And I need to talk to somebody and I don’t want you to think I’ve been lying to you.”
Becky seems so distraught now, that Olivia feels a sudden twinge of sympathy for her. But what she feels most is a sense of foreboding. What more can there possibly be? “What?”
“It’s about Robert Pierce.”
Olivia sits back. She could tell, even at book club, that Becky had a bit of a thing for him. He’s very attractive, and lives right next door to her. Larry is away a lot. Her children go to school out of town. “What about him?”
“I slept with him, when Larry was away,” Becky confesses, looking up at her. “Twice.”
Olivia just stares, shocked into silence.
“I must have been out of my mind,” Becky admits. “But there was this chemistry between us. I don’t know what came over me. I—I just couldn’t resist him.”
“My God, Becky. He probably killed his wife.”
“He didn’t. I’m sure he didn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” Olivia says, aghast. “If people were aware of what Amanda was like—if Paul thought she was sleeping with Larry, even if it wasn’t true—then her husband must have had some idea what she was like. He might have been jealous. Angry.” She adds firmly, “He’s probably the one who killed her.”
Becky says, shaking her head, “I don’t think he did it. I don’t think he could kill her. I think it was someone else.”
“Who, then?”
“I don’t know. Some stranger—someone we don’t know. Paul and Larry had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course they didn’t,” Olivia says. “I still think it was her husband.”
* * *
—
Robert Pierce looks coldly across the interview table at the two detectives who have become such a nuisance to him. When Detective Webb called him at home a short while ago, asking him if he’d be willing to come down to the station to answer a few more questions, he considered his position carefully before he answered. He suspected that if he refused, they would simply arrive at his door and place him under arrest. So here he is.
He knows they suspect him of murder, even if they won’t say so. He must convince them otherwise.
“Am I under arrest?” he asks.
“No,” Detective Webb says, “you know you’re not.”
“Then why does it feel that way?”
“You can leave at any time,” Webb says.
Robert doesn’t move.
Webb leans back in his chair and asks, “Did you know your wife was having an affair?”
Robert eyes him warily. “No. I told you that.”
“Were you aware that your wife had a reputation for flirting, for—cheating?”
Robert feels his face darken but remains calm. “No, I certainly wasn’t aware of it. But she was a very attractive, very confident woman. People will talk.”
“Yes, they do talk.” Detective Webb leans forward and says, “We spoke to a number of people who worked where Amanda was a temp. Some of the places she temped regularly. One of those was Fanshaw Pharmaceuticals.”
“Yes, she liked working there.”
“People there said she had a reputation,” the detective says.
Robert stares back at him, refusing to rise to the bait.
“A reputation for having sex in elevators, for instance,” Moen says.
He glares at her silently.
“In fact,” Webb says, “we think we know who was having an affair with your wife.”
Robert remains silent for a few seconds and then shrugs and says, “It’s possible. I told you. I don’t know what to think since I found out she lied to me about going away with Caroline. Maybe she was having an affair.” He leans forward now himself. “But if she was, I didn’t know about it.”
“You absolutely sure about that?” Webb says.
“Yes. I trusted Amanda,” Pierce says, leaning back again in his chair.
“And yet you cheated on her with your neighbor,” Moen breaks in.
He fixes a hard look on her. He finds her annoying, picking away at him. “That was a moment of stupidity. Becky came on to me. I shouldn’t have done it. Just because I did something wrong, it doesn’t mean my wife did.”
“Doesn’t it?” Moen asks, arching an eyebrow.
He doesn’t like her. He doesn’t like either one of them. He considers getting up and leaving. He knows he’s within his rights to do so—he’s here voluntarily.
Moen continues to goad him. “You haven’t asked who was having an affair with your wife.”
“Maybe because I don’t want to know,” Robert says bluntly.
“Or maybe it’s because you know already?” Webb suggests.
Robert gives the detective a hostile look. “Why would you say that?”
“We think she was sleeping with your neighbor, Larry Harris.”
He is suddenly furious, but tries to tamp down his anger. “I didn’t know.”
“Sure, you didn’t,” Webb says pleasantly. “That’s not why you slept with Becky Harris, is it, to get back at your wife’s lover? You wouldn’t do that, would you? Just like you wouldn’t kill your wife.”
NINETEEN
Glenda waits in the Bean for Olivia. She’s late. Glenda glances at her watch again and wonders what’s keeping her. It’s not like Olivia to be late for anything.
Finally she arrives, flustered, and approaches. Glenda has deliberately chosen a table where they can’t be overheard. Looks like maybe that’s a good thing.
Olivia sits down. She’s obviously upset. “What’s wrong?” Glenda asks.
“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you,” Olivia says nervously. “Not even Keith.”
Glenda sits up straighter. “Of course. I promise. I don’t tell Keith a lot of stuff we talk about anyway. What is it?”
Olivia lowers her voice and says, “Becky Harris seems to think Paul might have been having an affair with Amanda.”
Glenda feels a shock run along her spine. She stares at Olivia in dismay. “Why would she think that?”
As Olivia explains, Glenda tries to process everything she’s hearing about Olivia’s earlier conversation with Becky. But it’s hard to square with the man she’s known for years. “Paul wouldn’t cheat on you,” Glenda says. “I simply don’t believe it.”
“Me neither,” Olivia says, her voice fraught with emotion. “But why isn’t Paul telling me these things? Why didn’t he tell me he spoke to Amanda? Why didn’t he tell me he thought Larry was having an affair with her? Why didn’t he tell me he was questioned by the police?”
Glenda hears the growing hysteria in Olivia’s voice. “I don’t know,” she says uneasily.
“I thought we had a solid marriage. We’re honest with each other. I can’t believe he’s been keeping these things from me.”
“If Paul told the police he thought Larry was sleeping with Amanda, and he was warning her off, I believe him,” Glenda says firmly. “I think it’s much more likely that Larry was cheating on Becky than that Paul was cheating on you, don’t you?”
Olivia nods; she seems relieved to hear someone else say it. “Actually, I probably shouldn’t even tell you this, but . . .”
“What?”
“Becky confessed to me that she slept with Robert Pierce. Before Amanda disappeared.”
Now Glenda is truly shocked; she certainly wasn’t expecting this. Finally she says, “Well, well. There you go. There are obviously problems in that marriage.” Then she leans anxiously over the table. “Listen, Olivia. You don’t want the police to think Paul might have been seeing Amanda. Then he might be a suspect in her murder. You don’t want that. You don’t want them snooping into your life.”
“It’s too late,” Olivia says miserably. “I think Paul is already a suspect. I think Becky already told them her suspicions about Paul and Amanda.”
Glenda says quickly, “Well, you have to make sure that they drop that idea, fast. Tell them he was with you all weekend.”
“He probably was with me all weekend!”
“So, that’s okay then.”
Olivia says, clearly tense, “I have to talk to him tonight when he gets home. I’ll ask him why he didn’t tell me about any of this. And I’ll ask him straight out if he told the police the truth.”
Glenda nods. “Let me know what he says.” Now she notices Olivia looking at her more closely, as if noticing for the first time how tired she is. Glenda knows there are dark circles under her eyes—she’d studied herself in the mirror this morning.
“How are things with you?” Olivia asks.
“Not good,” Glenda admits. “Adam seems to hate his father.”
“Why?” Olivia asks.
“I don’t know,” Glenda says, looking away. “They clash constantly. I suppose it’s normal for teenage boys to clash with their fathers. They have to separate themselves, stand on their own.” She pauses. “Mind you, he doesn’t seem to like me much better these days.”
After they part, Glenda walks home, thinking more about what Olivia has told her. Surely Paul wouldn’t cheat on Olivia. She’s known them for sixteen years. But she’s uneasy. She remembers what Amanda was like, the one time she ever really saw her, at the party last year.
