It's Always the Husband

by Michele Campbell

  And Jenny had done more for Rizzo than just vote for him. She hooked him up with an apartment, so he could move to town without the stress of buying a house on short notice. Not just any apartment, either. This apartment was on the ground floor of Jenny’s mother’s house. Below-market rent, perfect location, and Jenny’s mom was the type who’d bring by a casserole, or babysit in a pinch, free of charge. Rizzo didn’t seem to appreciate any of that. But that was nothing compared to the solid Jenny did for Rizzo when he caused an uproar by firing Pam Grimaldi with no warning. Pam had been the department secretary for twenty years, and people loved her. Rizzo let her go so he could afford to hire some new detective to work on his pet projects. Did he consult Jenny about this first? No, he didn’t consult anybody. And if he was so hell-bent on having an extra detective, did he promote one of the very deserving traffic cops who’d been waiting in the wings for years? No, he hired a young girl straight out of Carlisle who was the daughter of a friend of his. Jenny should’ve made a move against Rizzo then, but instead, God knows why, she saved his butt. She found Pam Grimaldi another job, and smoothed things over with the rank-and-file officers. Then she tried to talk some sense into Rizzo about how to get along with folks in Belle River, and suggested that he would be well advised to run major decisions by her. She was right about that; he would be well advised, and he was lucky she still cared enough to try to set him straight. But instead of taking her words to heart, he lost his temper and told her to mind her own business. Well, maybe Rizzo didn’t realize it, but this town, and everything that happened in it, was Jenny’s business.

  Their tense relationship left Jenny in a difficult position when it came to getting inside information about Kate’s death. If Jenny went in now with guns blazing and demanded a detailed briefing, Rizzo might overreact. He might start to think things that were unwarranted, or start looking into old rumors when he shouldn’t. So she decided against paying Chief Rizzo a call. As soon as she pulled into her parking space at work, she texted Robbie Womack instead.

  At her desk, Jenny spent a couple of hours pretending to work. Soon it would be time to run for reelection, and her campaign manager, Drew Novak (her old buddy from Carlisle student council days), had given her a list of potential campaign events to plan. But she didn’t have the emotional fortitude today, and anyway it was illegal to do any electioneering from her office in Town Hall. Jenny ordered in a salad and ate it at her desk. After she finished, she stopped fighting her feelings, and picked up an old photo album from freshman year that she’d found in the back of a closet last night. Then she sat behind her big desk facing onto Briggs Street and paged through the photos with tears leaking from her eyes.

  A picture of the young Kate stretched out in her bikini on a lounge chair by the pool in Jamaica made Jenny smile. There was Griff, right beside her. They were so innocent then, all of them, and Kate and Griff were gorgeous. Kate was still beautiful when Jenny saw her three days ago, on the morning of her fortieth birthday, walking into the Belle County Courthouse. Jenny had a full-on view of the courthouse from her office window, and on that particular Friday morning, Kate had turned up unexpectedly. Jenny watched her go into the courthouse, then watched her come out afterward. People visited the courthouse for lots of reasons. You filed lawsuits there, probated wills, paid traffic tickets. Also, the county attorney’s office was located on the first floor, should you happen to be accused of a crime—or want to confess to one.

  What the hell was Kate up to? She spent almost thirty minutes inside the courthouse Friday morning, and for that thirty minutes, Jenny was beside herself with nerves. Had Kate somehow decided after all these years that she wanted to come clean about Lucas’s death? That would send Jenny’s entire life down the toilet. Aubrey was the one whom Jenny had been worrying about on that account, ever since she’d threatened to expose Kate after finding out that Kate was sleeping with her husband. As far as Jenny knew, Aubrey had not acted on her threats, but here was Kate, visiting the courthouse. The rest of that Friday had passed in a blur for Jenny, as she contemplated the destruction of her career and her marriage, and wondered what she could do to prevent it from happening.

  And now Kate was dead.

  Her secretary buzzed. Jenny wiped her eyes and sniffed hard. “Yes?”

  “Officer Womack is here to see you. I told him you’re not taking meetings today, but he says it’s urgent police business.”

  “Send him in,” Jenny said, stashing the photo album in a desk drawer.

  Jenny stood up as Robbie Womack entered. She leaned across her desk, and they clasped hands for a long moment. She and Robbie went back years, though he was always more Tim’s friend than hers. Robbie and Tim were the same year from high school and did a regular guys’ poker night with some of their old crew. Jenny served on the PTA with Robbie’s wife, Val. She was always careful to include the Womacks in her big events—they’d come to her Labor Day party with their four kids and Val’s parents—even though they didn’t move in the upper echelons of the town like Jenny and Tim did. When she decided to support Rizzo for chief, Jenny sat Robbie down and explained her decision to him. She made it sound like she had no choice, because the entire town council was so dazzled by the city boy and his fancy credentials. But she promised Robbie that she’d have his back if Rizzo gave him a hard time, and she tried to live up to that.

  “Thanks for coming by,” she said.

  “Of course,” Robbie said, as they sat down. “I forgot until I got your text that Kate Eastman was a friend of yours. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. We were close at Carlisle, so it comes as a shock. The reason I called, Robbie, is that I need to get the facts straight about her death before the shit hits the fan.”

  “You mean the press?”

  “Exactly. Kate was young and attractive, she was from a prominent family. There’s bound to be serious press interest, and I haven’t heard a peep out of the chief of police.”

  “Rizzo isn’t keeping you in the loop? We told him specifically to give you a heads-up.”

  “Well, he didn’t, and I don’t get it. Chief Dudley would have called me first thing. Is there some reason Rizzo is keeping me in the dark?” Jenny asked.

  “Other than being a dick?” Robbie said, with a grin. But he immediately turned serious. “That’s not a joke, I’m afraid. The only opinion Owen Rizzo cares about is his own. He doesn’t listen, and he doesn’t consult.”

  “It’s not anything other than that?”

  Robbie looked at her closely. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. That I was close to Kate and might not be objective.”

  “I doubt he knows you were friends with the victim. He’s not big on learning about the town he’s policing.” Robbie paused. “I’m getting the sense you want to tell me something about the case. Is there anything I should know?”

  Jenny made an effort to keep her expression blank and her voice steady. Robbie might look like a dumb jock, but he was actually a very shrewd cop, and he surely remembered the rumors that had swirled around Lucas Arsenault’s death. She didn’t need to arouse his suspicions.

  “I’m trying to understand what happened to my friend, that’s all. I assume it was a suicide?”

  “I’ll tell you what I know, Jenny, but it has to stay between us. Rizzo’s the type who’d come after me for leaking information.”

  “It’s not a leak if you’re talking to the mayor.”

  “He wouldn’t see it that way.”

  She made an irritated noise. “That’s ridiculous. But you have my word, I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Okay, then. To me, I agree, this death is most likely a suicide. I think we ought to wrap it up nice and quick, and spare the family the embarrassment.”

  “You think that. But Rizzo doesn’t?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, he’s convinced Kate Eastman was murdered.”

  Jenny drew a sharp breath. “Why the hell would he think that?”

 
“Apparently—forgive me, Jen, this may be hard to hear.”

  “Go on.”

  “Apparently the autopsy says skull fracture, no water in the lungs, so she died from blunt-force trauma before she hit the water. I’m thinking, so what, right? She jumped, and hit her head on the way down. But Rizzo went and hired some fancy outside expert, who claims this particular fracture came from somebody bludgeoning her from behind. I think Rizzo likes the idea of having a murder case in town, you know. Makes him feel like a big man.”

  Jenny’s hands clenched in her lap. She forced herself to unclench them, and cleared her throat, which was thick with anxiety.

  “Outside expert?”

  “Yeah, some famous forensics guy.”

  “How did he manage that? I never saw any request for an appropriation.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know where he got the money. That’s a good question.”

  “Does he have a suspect?” Jenny asked, holding her breath.

  “He does. The husband.”

  “Griff?”

  “I’m sorry, is he a friend of yours?”

  “We’re not close. I’m just surprised. He was crazy about his wife,” Jenny said.

  “Those are the ones who turn violent when things head south. You knew they were getting a divorce?”

  “No! That can’t be true.”

  “It is true,” Robbie said. “I saw the complaint. The wife’s the one who filed, so presumably she’s the one who wanted out. Some guys flip out when they get hit with divorce papers. Rizzo might have a point there.”

  A divorce action against Griff? Could that explain Kate’s courthouse visit last Friday? If so, Jenny had been freaking out for nothing.

  “What do the papers say? Is there anything specific about why Kate wanted the divorce?” Jenny asked.

  “No, just basic irreconcilable differences. It’s the timing that has Rizzo bent out of shape. She filed this past Friday, the same day she went missing.”

  “Oh,” Jenny said, and her eyes widened.

  So that was definitely why Kate visited the courthouse. Jenny never considered the possibility that Kate and Griff might split, but it seemed obvious in retrospect. Aubrey made that scene at the Labor Day party about Kate and Ethan’s affair. But then the controversy seemed to melt away. Jenny figured Aubrey had decided to look the other way. She’d done that enough times before. And Griff didn’t seem to know anything about the affair. On the surface, everything was placid. They had even planned for the three couples to have dinner together in the back room at Henry’s Bistro on Friday night, to celebrate Kate’s birthday, though then they’d changed it to girls’ night out, no guys. And when Aubrey called with word that Kate was sick, they ended up calling the whole thing off.

  “Rizzo thinks the husband might’ve been having an affair,” Robbie Womack said.

  “That Griff was having an affair?”

  “Yeah, apparently Aubrey the yoga teacher came to collect him from the station yesterday, and somebody spotted them looking pretty cozy. She’s a friend of yours, too, right?”

  “No. I mean, yes, she is a friend, but Aubrey and Griff? That’s not possible.”

  “Maybe it’s just Rizzo talking out of his hat.”

  “That’s insane. He has it completely backwards.”

  “I believe you, Jen. Rizzo’s running off half-cocked, and good people are gonna get hurt. He’s out there right now, executing a warrant on the husband’s house.”

  “The house on Faculty Row? Keniston Eastman’s house?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.”

  “Oh, this is out of hand,” Jenny said. “I can’t believe he would do that without consulting me.”

  “We told him not to. He doesn’t listen.”

  Keniston had an old WASP’s horror of public embarrassment. He would be furious that Jenny had allowed things to escalate to the point that his daughter’s death would be fodder for the tabloids, that his house would be invaded and his furniture and personal effects pawed over by the police. Jenny had spent years carefully cultivating her relationship with Keniston. He was her most important patron. She couldn’t afford to jeopardize his goodwill by having the town mishandle the investigation into his daughter’s death. Rizzo was out of control, and she had to do something to rein him in.

  “Where’s Chief Rizzo now?” Jenny asked.

  “Still searching the house. He’s not even using Belle River officers. Doesn’t trust us, I guess. He brought the state police forensics unit to serve the warrant.”

  “That’s crazy. That place leaks like a sieve. Every detail will be in the press tomorrow morning.”

  “I know, it’s a problem,” Robbie said, nodding. “If I was you, I’d be very worried. I might even drive over to the search location and call a halt.”

  Jenny considered whether there was any way she could stop the search of Keniston’s house before it hit the news. On the town’s organizational chart, the mayor sat above the chief of police. Unfortunately, that was in name only. Jenny had no day-to-day authority over the police department. She could vote to fund them or defund them, and she could vote to hire or fire. That was about it.

  “I’d need a vote of the town council to get Rizzo to stop. I’d basically have to remove him from office,” she said.

  “Well,” Robbie said, sitting back in his chair deliberately. “Maybe you should.”

  And there was the rub. Robbie wanted Rizzo’s job; he’d always wanted it. Jenny was beginning to see that she’d made a big mistake when she elevated a newcomer whom she couldn’t control to a position as important as chief of police. She needed a reliable source of information inside the department. She needed someone who would follow her lead when it came to big cases. It was becoming apparent that Owen Rizzo would never do that. But Robbie Womack might.

  “Chief Rizzo has caused some trouble, lately, Robbie. I agree. But removing him from office is a big step. Even if I decided I wanted to, it wouldn’t be easy.”

  “I understand. Things take time.”

  “We’d need to build a real case before going to the council. We’d have to show misconduct,” she said.

  “He fired Pam Grimaldi for no good reason,” Robbie said.

  “True, but it’s not like that was discriminatory or anything. We need something that looks really bad. Misappropriation of funds. Sexual harassment. Something of that nature.”

  “I get the picture.”

  “Anything you find that might help, I want to hear about it,” Jenny said. “The more I know, the more ammunition I’ll have against Chief Rizzo.”

  “Consider it done,” Robbie said.

  They made plans to talk on the phone once each night so Robbie could report on the case, then said their good-byes.

  As the door closed behind him, Jenny took the scrapbook from her desk and opened it to the photo of Griff and Kate in Jamaica. So Owen Rizzo was focusing on Griff as a suspect in his wife’s murder. To anyone who knew the two of them, that seemed laughable. No man had ever loved a woman so devotedly. But if Rizzo wanted to call Kate’s death a murder and try to hang it on someone, better he look to Griff than start digging into what happened at the bridge twenty years ago.

  27

  Searching Kate’s house was strangely moving for Owen. He marched around in a paper suit and shoe covers, barking directions at a bunch of guys from the state police. But in the midst of the bustle, he felt a strange communion with Kate. He enjoyed looking at photos of her from when she was a kid, and searching through the clothes in her closet, which smelled of her perfume. (He left no trace on the things he touched, since he wore latex gloves.) It was intimate, a way to get to know her better, since he’d been cheated of the chance to do that while she was alive. She’d been dazzlingly beautiful as a girl, but in the pictures she never looked happy to him. She’d always been unhappy. She’d told him that. There was one picture in particular he loved. In it, Kate was maybe seventeen or eighteen. She was sitting on a sto
ne wall with a big white mansion behind her, wearing riding clothes. It was a bright, sunny day, but the tree beside her cast a shadow across her perfect face, making her seem doomed, like a princess in a story.

  What a body, though.

  Ah, he was getting sentimental. He needed to get his shit together and focus on making the case against the man who killed her. Owen had been slightly perturbed when they rolled up to serve the warrant, and Griffin Rothenberg was nowhere to be found. Had he cut and run already? That was what the prosecutors called consciousness of guilt, but it was also frigging inconvenient. Owen had Gene and Marv out cruising around looking for Rothenberg now, although if they found him, they were instructed to back off and surveil from a distance because Owen didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest. Yet.

  Owen studied their wedding picture, taken on a beach somewhere. Kate’s smile for the camera seemed fake. Was she ever in love with the guy? Rothenberg’s father had been filthy rich. Maybe she married him for the money. She wouldn’t be the first girl to do that. Owen wasn’t about to judge her for it; she’d paid a big enough price already. He dropped the wedding picture into an evidence bag, sealed it up with tape, and put it on the cart for transfer to the state police lab. Prosecutors loved stuff like that to show to the jury, set the stage, create a little atmosphere. The couple in their happier days, before it all went wrong. The one of Kate in riding clothes he tucked inside his shirt.

  The forensics guys were here to handle the technical stuff. They had gone up to the second floor and were working their way down, looking for anything that smacked of crime scene. A murder weapon, obviously, but also—blood spatters, suspicious stains, mud on shoes, cleaning supplies, places that looked staged or like they’d been mopped up or swabbed with bleach. They sprayed their luminol and collected their samples for the lab. Hair strands from Rothenberg’s comb, water glasses that could be dusted to lift his prints. That asshole wasn’t likely to come in and give a DNA sample voluntarily. But there was more than one way to skin a cat.