Before drifting off to dreamland, I had more or less decided that, for better or worse, I would take on the task of spying on the current wife of Carter Delaney. Business was business, I convinced myself, even if it happened to involve my ex-husband and his ex-mistress. I still hadn't decided if I wanted his suspicions to prove false or right on the money.
Only time would tell...
CHAPTER THREE
Every morning at five o'clock, Ollie and I ran on the beach for an hour or so. While he was comfortable in his furry body, I preferred a loose T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. Staying in tiptop shape was becoming more and more difficult for me as gravity and age became natural obstacles. Fortunately, I had determination and powerful legs on my side. Ollie also had determination and strong legs, matching me step for step on a short leash.
It was seven o'clock when I called Carter's office. His voicemail picked up so I left a message for him to call me. Oddly, in not having to speak directly to the man I once could never get enough of, I somehow felt as if I had been given a reprieve.
Maybe this wasn't meant to be after all, I thought.
Somehow, I had a feeling I wouldn't be let off the hook that easily. As if on cue, the phone rang and it was Carter on the other end.
"Aloha kakahiaka, Skye," he said, which meant good morning in Hawaiian.
If you say so, I thought, but responded nicely in kind: "Aloha kakahiaka back at you."
"Hope I didn't wake you," he said, sounding like he really meant it. Apparently Carter wasn't returning my call.
"You didn't," I told him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he'd somehow forgotten I had always been an early riser.
He paused. "Look, I wanted to apologize about running out on you like that yesterday. Guess I just let my frustrations and suspicions get to me."
That was about the most I could expect from Carter Delaney as far as groveling. And it was enough for me, considering I'd already had a change of heart.
"I'll take the case."
"Really?" There was a note of surprise in his voice that was clearly more for my ears than anything.
"I charge two thousand a day, plus expenses," I informed him. What I didn't say was that I had raised my normal fee by five hundred dollars, figuring I deserved it from my rich ex for what he wanted me to do.
He didn't argue the point.
"When can you start?" he asked anxiously.
Was he that desperate to find out if his wife was sleeping around? Or was I missing something here?
I decided not to think so much and just do the job he was paying me handsomely for.
"If you can stop by the office this afternoon to go over some details," I told him, "I'll be happy to begin right away."
"How does eleven sound?"
"Perfect. I'll see you then."
I remained seated on my sofa for several minutes after hanging up, second-guessing if I was doing the right thing in getting involved in my ex-husband's marital problems. I had to admit, there was a certain amount of irony and a lesser degree of curiosity in taking this case. My bottom line wish was that it was over and done with as soon as possible with minimal casualties along the way.
* * *
"Where do I begin?" Carter asked as he sat before me in my office. As usual, he was impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, as if to wear anything else would somehow spoil his image of the consummate successful businessman now that he no longer had to get his hands dirty as a prosecutor.
I looked down at my desk nervously and started counting the dust particles, as though about to go on my first date or something. I realized that, in effect, we were starting all over in communicating with each other in the post marriage era. And I had a feeling it wasn't going to get any easier.
"Why don't you start by telling me why you think your wife is cheating on you," I suggested with a straight face.
Carter reverse-crossed his legs clumsily. "There are a number of reasons. Darlene's never home for one, and when she is, she's usually bitchy, lies about where she's been and who with, and"—he forced himself to look at me—"we haven't made love in months..."
I colored a little in that moment where it seemed like our own intimate past had come back to haunt us. He had certainly given what seemed to be legitimate reasons for his suspicions. I took notes, attempting to treat his case as I would any other client's.
However, that seemed to be asking the impossible.
"I take it she doesn't work?" I'd heard that through the grapevine. Not that she needed to work, since she was married to a man who appeared to be more than capable of supporting his wife. Of course, that hadn't stopped me from wanting to do my own thing when I was married to him back in the day. But then that was just me.
"Not on this planet," Carter moaned. "Hell, not even in this city! The word work is not in Darlene's vocabulary."
Strangely enough, one of Carter's pet peeves in our relationship was that I did work (never mind the fact that it was his hiring me that led to our romance in the first place). It had something to do with the balance of power most men prefer to have in their favor. Had he changed his tune over time? Or was this really only about Darlene doing something with her time other than maybe having an affair?
Another one of those awkward moments between us left an eerie silence that hung in the air like thick smoke.
"What about your child?" I asked. "I thought most mothers had their hands full just getting through the day."
Carter's brow creased in the center. "One of the advantages of being independently wealthy is that you can afford hired help," he bragged. "Darlene has made an art form of it. Usually the only time I can get her to live up to her responsibilities of being a mother is when she wants something."
A sad statement, I thought, if true. "Have you confronted her about your suspicions?"
He paused. "Yes."
"And?"
"And she denies it." He curled one side of his mouth into a sneer. "She says I'm jealous, paranoid, and way off base."
I had never known Carter to be jealous or paranoid in our marriage, probably because I gave him no reason to be. On the other hand, the word possessiveness did come to mind.
"Well, where does Darlene claim she's been when she goes out?" I asked.
"Shopping or at a girlfriend's."
"What makes you think she's lying?"
He scowled. "She never shows me anything she bought during the times in question, though she never has any trouble doing so the rest of the time whenever she decides to run up the charge cards." He sighed. "As for friends, I've never known Darlene to have any female—"
We were interrupted by the untimely, irritating presence of a giant whitefly that invaded my office and seemed to take particular delight in watching us squirm. It finally had the decency to land in a most appropriate spot. I kept an insect swatter in my desk drawer for such routine occasions and didn't hesitate to use it when I thought I could nail the critter.
"Don't move!" I ordered Carter, who had apparently lost sight of the insect. Fortunately, I knew exactly where it had landed. I raised the swatter, took two looping steps, and lowered the boom right between Carter's legs.
Bull's-eye!
Or right on the money, pun intended.
Carter buckled, more from sheer embarrassment than anything else.
"Oops," I said, and managed to suppress a giggle. It felt better than I could have expected. "Let me clean that nasty little creature off you..."
I yanked a couple of tissues from the box I kept on the desk and scooped up the victim's remains.
Carter grimaced. "Dammit, Skye! Couldn't you have waited for it to land somewhere else? This suit cost me a pretty penny!" He grabbed two tissues to finish wiping his pants—which turned into smearing what was left more than anything else.
"So have them professionally cleaned," I uttered half sympathetically, "and send me the bill." I made a feeble attempt at justification. "Sometimes they just won't leave on their own. Sorry."
"Yeah, I'll bet you are," he grumbled, and now seemed to find humor in it himself. "I suppose I had that one coming—long overdue." He chuckled. I smiled, but kept my mouth shut. "At least it was that poor bastard," he said, glancing at the wastebasket, "who got the worst of it."
The incident appeared to break the tension in the room that had been palpable. A moment later, it was back to the business at hand.
I asked: "Do you have a picture of your wife?"
I had never had the pleasure (or lack of, was probably more like it) of meeting or laying eyes on his former mistress, having chosen to spare myself the indignity.
Carter removed a five-by-seven picture from his suit coat pocket and handed it to me. It was a wedding photograph of him and his bride.
"It was all I could find," he said guiltily. "We haven't taken many pictures—"
I hated to admit it, but Carter's former mistress and current wife was beautiful. It wasn't surprising really. If nothing else, Carter Delaney definitely had an eye for attractive women, present company included. It was the fact that he couldn't seem to settle for one woman at a time that pissed me off. At least it had back in the day.
Darlene Delaney looked at least ten years Carter's junior and she was several inches shorter. She had short blonde hair, blue eyes, and a shapely body in what looked like a very expensive wedding gown. Or certainly much more than what I paid for mine. Whether I chose to acknowledge it or not, Carter and Darlene were a nice looking couple. But then so were we and look where it got us.
I wondered if Carter and his present wife were headed down the same path toward divorce.
"This will do," I said evenly, putting the photo on my desk. "I'll also need your address, the type of car Darlene drives, and some idea of what time she likes to go out."
"No problem." Carter dug into his wallet and pulled out a snapshot. Sporting an uneasy smile, he said: "Thought you might like to see what my daughter looks like—"
Silently, I took the picture of a baby not more than a year old, with beautiful blue eyes and curly blonde hair.
"Her name is Ivy," Carter said proudly.
I tried to imagine this pretty little baby as mine—ours. That thought quickly gave way to reality. Ivy was the product of Carter and the woman he essentially gave me up for and now questioned her faithfulness to him.
I bit the inside of my lip, but managed a smile while handing him back the photo.
"She's cute," I said honestly.
Carter beamed. "You should see her now—"
It was something I was understandably in no hurry to do. I changed the subject by handing him a yellow notepad. Apparently, he got the message.
"So what happens if your wife is cheating on you?" I asked more out of curiosity than anything else.
Carter shrugged. "Probably a divorce..." Our eyes locked, and he said: "Guess I really never knew what I had with you until it was too late—"
"Don't, Carter—" I said quickly for both our sakes. "Let's not go down that road. Just keep this strictly professional."
He seemed to contemplate it for a long moment before asking: "What made you change your mind about taking my case? Or is that privileged information?"
"There's no hidden agenda here," I assured him. "I felt there was no reason why I couldn't work for you just as I would anyone who came into this office and requested my services. It's as simple as that!" To suggest anything else would only complicate matters, I thought. Including the added pressure Ridge had given me to take the ball and run with it rather than give in to past demons.
My response seemed to irk Carter, but he tried hard not to show it. "So how much of an advance do you want?" He pulled an envelope out of his briefcase and removed a batch of crisp bills. "Will ten thousand do for starters?"
He put the cash down in front of me. It was certainly a nice way to begin an investigation, though I couldn't help but feel he was flaunting his wealth. Or reminding me of what I'd missed out on financially.
I picked up the stack of hundred dollar bills. Though I was very tempted to take it all, as he apparently wanted me to, I didn't bite the bait. Since I figured it should take no more than two or three days at the most to get the goods on his wife, if there were any goods to get, I counted out five thousand dollars and handed him back the rest.
"This should be fine for starters," I told him, choosing professional ethics and personal pride over a more than generous advance. "I'll bill you if you owe me more."
He nodded. "You make the rules..."
I stood. "I'll be in touch as soon as I have something for you."
Carter rose almost reluctantly, and favored me with a grim look. "Thanks for your help, Skye. If you run into any roadblocks, don't hesitate to let me know. Darlene may be giving it up to someone other than me, but she sure as hell isn't going to spread her legs for you without fighting tooth and nail to hold on to what she thinks is rightfully hers."
* * *
Read the entire MURDER IN HONOLULU, available in print, eBook, and audio. Mahalo!
# # #
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R. Barri Flowers is an award winning criminologist and bestselling author of more than sixty books, including thriller fiction, young adult mysteries, true crime, and criminology titles.
Bestselling mystery and thriller fiction, including Seduced to Kill in Kauai, Murder in Maui, Murder in Honolulu, Killer in The Woods, Dark Streets of Whitechapel, State's Evidence, and Justice Served. Other novels by the author include the bestselling romance, Forever Sweethearts, and the young adult novels, Count Dracula's Teenage Daughter, Ghost Girl in Shadow Bay, and Danger in Time.
Flowers has also written a number of bestselling true crime books, including The Sex Slave Murders, The Pickaxe Killers, Serial Killer Couples, and Mass Murder in the Sky. He was also editor of the bestselling anthology, Masters of True Crime.
The author has been interviewed on the Biography Channel and Investigation Discovery.
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Ph.D in Murder (A Cozy Mystery Short) Page 7
