“Her son—,” I said.
“Is in town,” Dr. Michelson finished my sentence. “And if anyone can help her through this, it’s him.”
He’s in town? Boy, would I like to meet him.
Before I could ask another question, Dr. Michelson brought the subject back around to the matter at hand. “Now, as for you, the muscles in your neck feel a little tight. Ibuprofen should help. You can also use ice or heat packs, whichever feel better, as necessary. Call if you have any new symptoms, and we’ll get you in right away,” he said.
“Thanks, Doc,” I replied.
“You’re really lucky. You know that, kiddo?” That was one way to look at it. “So is Marion. She’s just doesn’t know it yet,” he said.
I wanted to ask what he meant exactly, but the doctor already had one foot out the door. Luck wasn’t an adjective I’d use to describe someone who just had their husband murdered in her home.
“Take care, and call Sandy if your pain worsens. If you get any numbness or radiating pain, we’ll look at scheduling some tests; but if not, you should be fine. Just give it time to heal,” he continued.
Before I could reply, he slipped the rest of the way out the door, and I was left with more questions than answers.
* * *
I left Dr. Michelson’s feeling restless. Inside, I knew the real person I wanted to talk to was Marion; but I wasn’t sure how to approach the topic. I needed to be smart about it. No matter what I thought, getting choked out in her kitchen didn’t make me privy to her sex life or the secrets of her marriage, but that was exactly what I wanted to talk to her about.
The right conversation starter still eluded me when I turned down her street and saw a silver BMW backing out of her driveway. I hung back a minute, giving the man time to pull out and drive off, before pulling in. Marion was sitting on the porch swing, looking blissfully content for once. I’d like to think it was the sapphire eyeliner she was wearing that made her eyes sparkle like that, but I knew better.
“I take it that was your son?” I said.
“You know Philip?” Marion seemed surprised.
“No, but I heard he was in town.”
“He is, and it’s so good to have him home. I can’t tell you how much of a help he’s already been.”
Marion started to get teary-eyed, and I hoped she wasn’t about to cry. I really, really hated to see people cry. It rated about a ten out of ten on the uncomfortable factor.
“Right now, he’s headed down the police station to try and get some answers,” she continued. “I told him they’d call us if they knew anything, but he couldn’t wait that long. That’s Philip for you.” It sounded as if Philip was as restless as his mom.
“It sounds like you’ve missed him,” I said.
“You have no idea. Roger never got it, and heaven knows Philip didn’t care for him. Not that I blamed him.”
“But you? He had to miss you.” At that comment, Marion did start to cry. Crap. I stood there for a minute thinking about what I should do before deciding to just go with it. If she’s already an emotional mess…
“I hate to say it, but your life seems better without Roger in it,” I said.
Marion gave a little hysterical laugh. “It is. It really is. How awful is that?”
“I’m not sure it’s awful, but it does make me wonder why it had to come to this for you to realize it. I mean, why didn’t you two split years ago?”
“Believe me, I would’ve loved to, but I just couldn’t,” Marion said.
“What do you mean? Did you have like a crazy prenuptial agreement or something?” It was really the only thing I could think of.
“No, and even if we did, nothing as trivial as money could’ve kept me married to that man.”
“Well what was it then? I don’t understand.”
“I’m sick. Did you know that?” Marion asked.
“I do. Well, I didn’t, until recently; but now that I know, I’m sorry.” I was surprised by the shift in conversation. I tried to follow where this was going.
“That’s okay. Truthfully, I didn’t want people to know. I wanted to go about living my life as normal as possible, but that became harder to do last year.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“My cancer spread, and I was at stage four. Heaven knows I was so fed up with Roger and ready to walk away, but I couldn’t. Not when I depended on him for so much.”
“Roger was really there for you?” I asked.
“No, not at all. But his insurance was. I had no idea what would happen to my coverage if we separated. I couldn’t chance it.”
“I’d never thought of that.” Something so simple, yet so important kept Marion married to Roger. It made perfect sense. Marion was a much stronger person than me. I wouldn’t be able to face the public scrutiny or the lies with nearly half the dignity she projected. I could see why she had to though. What an awful situation to be in. The thought of Roger cheating on his wife while she battled cancer was disgusting and heartbreaking. It felt like the ultimate betrayal. Hurting your wife when she was at her weakest, for your own selfish pleasure. Roger was scum. I thought back to the girls at the strip club and how much they said Roger doted on Ann Marie. If you asked me, he should’ve spent more time doting on his wife, the one he took vows with, and not some stripper. Shame on Ann Marie, too. I don’t care what the man was showering her with, she should’ve respected his wife and kept to a look-but-don’t-touch policy. Neither one of them rated all that high on my moral meter.
“How are you feeling now?” I asked Marion.
“Well, the cancer seems to be in remission, if that’s what you’re asking. Of course, I had to have a double mastectomy and some lymph nodes removed, but I’m healing.”
“That’s good.”
“Rich, Dr. Michelson, you know, sees to it that I don’t do too much, but let me tell you, it’s hard to take it easy with the mess Roger’s left me with.” Marion motioned toward the house. “Don’t say a word, but you wouldn’t believe the trouble he dug us into. Foreclosure notices on the house, his car’s been repoed. I hate to say it, but it’s almost worse than his death. His life insurance policy and selling the boat should cover some of it, but I’m hoping the bank will work with me on the rest.”
So, that’s why they were selling the boat. Something still didn’t add up though. If Roger was headed to the poor house, how did he still afford the lavish gifts he poured on Ann Marie? Was he just living above his means and it got out of hand? No way was I bringing that question up to Marion. She’d suffered enough because of Roger. That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask Eric about it. Maybe Roger had hidden funds somewhere that now belonged to Marion, like an off-shore bank account. The rich always seemed to have one of those; and if Roger did, Marion’s financial situation wouldn’t be so dire.
“I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do, or even if you just need someone to talk to, I’m here,” I said.
“Thanks for that. I appreciate it.” Marion switched gears. “As much as I’d like to sit here and chat though, I really don’t have time. I have some paperwork to get over to the bank and fax into the insurance company before they close for the day.” Marion seemed to be charged back up to full power. “Oh, and I have to stop by the florist. I keep forgetting to do that.”
“Of course. I’ll let you get to it. And if you think of anything I can help you with, let me know.”
“Thanks, but I think we’ve got everything covered,” she replied.
“Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later then.”
As we said our goodbyes, I’d already made up my mind that my next stop was to talk to Eric. Generally, I liked to wait a day or two before calling a guy after a date, but this was different and much bigger than dating protocol. Besides, I was pretty sure dating etiquette didn’t apply to murder investigations. I was convinced Eric would know more about Roger’s financial mess than anyone. I was also sure he could keep a secret. After all, people trusted him w
ith their financial futures every day. That had to count for something.
* * *
Eric was kneeling on the floor under the reception desk when I walked in. His black leather loafers stuck out at the end like a little kid who wasn’t very good at hiding. He was mumbling to himself and dropped a swear word or two that came out louder than he probably expected. I laughed to myself. He looked slightly ridiculous and I couldn’t help but smile, wondering what in the world he was up to.
“Hello?” I rapped on the door with my knuckle.
Eric jumped.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said, half laughing. Eric stood and straightened his jacket. The surprise on his face was quickly replaced with a smile. He looked anything but flustered in his black pinstriped suit. He had skipped the tie once again and left the top button open, giving off that sexy businessman look he was so good at. I started wondering what his closet must look like. It was definitely a walk-in, probably organized to a “T” with rows of tailored suits, silk ties, shined shoes, and leather belts. I pictured it right down to the impressive square footage and wooden hangers. I doubted the man owned a pair of jeans. Khakis were probably as low brow as he went. Yep, I was definitely more attracted to the guy’s style than his clothes, if I was sitting here imagining his closet.
“Sorry I keep stopping by,” I said, not meeting his eyes.
“Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s just, these files…,” Eric pointed down to the floor. “They’re a complete mess.” I peeked over the desk and witnessed the disarray for myself.
“Where’s your secretary?” Filing had to be part of her job description. I was surprised she hadn’t taken to the task with the same fervor she had acting as gatekeeper. Organization seemed right up her alley.
“Alicia’s no longer employed here. There were a couple of, let’s say, indiscretions that couldn’t be ignored,” he replied. Like the fact that she was a total witch, I thought. I wonder what Tart did to finally get the heave ho. Truthfully, I couldn’t fathom how she ever got hired in the first place.
Wait, who was I kidding? From the type of guy I’d learned Roger was, I’m sure Alicia hadn’t been hired for her friendly disposition or typing skills.
“Sorry to hear that,” I lied.
“No, you’re not.” Eric smiled. It was funny how quickly he read me. “And that’s okay, because I wasn’t either. She was terrible at the job and would’ve been let go a long time ago if Roger had allowed it.”
“My friend Aria used to temp before she got married. I could see if she could help you out for a bit.” Personally, I knew Aria hated temping, but I figured she’d be willing to do me a favor, especially knowing that it was a short-term gig, and she wouldn’t get roped into anything more.
“That’d be great. I have a call into a staffing agency, but I think I’m going to be a little more selective with perspective hires this time.”
I peeked over the desk again. He may have been a heck of a businessman, but when it came to filing, Eric didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing. “It might only be for a couple hours a week, but I’ll have her give you a call as soon as she can.”
“Anything would be great. Thank you.” The look on Eric’s face was a little too sincere. I had to break eye contact before he made a move, and I found myself in an awkward situation. I knew how I felt about Eric, but it looked like he still considered me dating material.
Eric picked up on my body language and backed up. “Here, just give me a minute to gather these together and then we can talk.”
“Sure, no problem.” I walked around the lobby and scanned the business magazines, while Eric disappeared back under the desk. It only took a minute and he was ready to join me. We both sat down on the lobby’s chairs.
“You know, I never could understand Roger’s filing system. You think it would’ve killed him to use a computer.”
“Nice.” Talk about the wrong thing to say.
“Sorry, bad choice of words. I’m just frustrated. This is just such a mess.”
I knew he was talking about more than just the files. “I know what you mean. It’s gotta start getting better though, right?” That’s me, the forever optimist.
“I hope you’re right.”
I hoped I was too.
“Anyway, enough about my problems. What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I know this isn’t the best time, but there’s something I want to talk to you about. It’s a private matter and really not my business, but I have to ask.”
Eric adopted a solemn expression. “What, what is it?”
“How was Roger doing? Financially I mean. Is the company going bankrupt?” I hadn’t planned on blurting the question out like that. It just came out that way.
Eric was dumbfounded for a moment. “Bankrupt? Why would you think that?”
I tried to come up with a more tactful explanation.
“I had a talk with Marion this morning, and she said something about having financial difficulties.” That was probably the nicest way to put what she had said. “Don’t say anything to her, but I wanted to get your take on it. After all, if that is the case, maybe there’s something linking Roger’s finances to the murders.”
Eric appeared to think the situation through before replying, “Well, Roger handled the company finances, but he never gave any indication of the sort. Frankly, I’d have a hard time believing it.”
I thought so too, not only because of Roger’s gifts to Ann Marie, but also judging by Eric’s expensive wardrobe. It didn’t appear SIS had a hard time making payroll.
“So, why do you think Roger wasn’t paying the mortgage?” I asked.
“Are you sure that’s what Marion said?”
“Positive. She’s really stressed about it.”
“I doubt Roger was really strapped for cash. Knowing him, he only wanted Marion to think he was.”
Well, wasn’t that just rotten.
“Why would he do that?” I didn’t think it was possible for my impression of Roger to get any lower, yet it was sinking further by the minute. Roger rated about one level below sludge.
“I can only guess, but knowing Roger, it had something to do with the state of his marriage.”
I gave him a funny look. I wasn’t following.
“Marion wouldn’t be able to demand more alimony if she didn’t think Roger had the money,” Eric explained.
If you asked me, it was official—Roger was a horrible person. The worst of mankind. Any hope I had of any redeeming qualities vanished. I’m thinking karma may have had a larger role in his demise than I previously thought. I’d reached the point that, if I hadn’t been attacked or threatened, I might not be so zealous to track down the murderer.
“I’ll look into it though. Maybe I’m mistaken. I hope to hell I’m not,” he said.
I didn’t blame him. First, his business partner is murdered, then he finds out his business might be tanking? Well, aren’t I just the happy fairy. It’s a shame I left my glitter and unicorn at home.
“I have a favor to ask. Keep this business between you and me. I don’t need is for the press to get wind of this,” Eric said.
“Of course. And don’t let Marion know I told you, got it?” The last thing I needed was for my clients thinking I was gossiping about them. Clients’ secrets weren’t mine to tell, but sometimes they were so hard to keep.
“Agreed.” Eric’s eyes got that googly look again. I think we just shared a moment. I checked my inner-radar again. Nope, he still wasn’t dating material.
“What are you doing this Saturday? Do you have any plans?” he asked.
I tried to think quickly. I always hated this part. Letting a guy down was awkward, no matter how you worded it. Eric must have sensed what was coming because he quickly changed tactics.
“It’s just, I promised you I’d help digitize those files. I was thinking this Saturday would be a good time to do that,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, for sure.” That was
something I could agree to. It would also give me time to think of a way to put Eric firmly in the friend category.
12
It felt good to be home. I flicked on the television and settled on the couch with a warm fuzzy blanket and a big bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Today, I felt like I had earned some lazy me time.
I hadn’t flipped through all the channels, when a muffled ring came from my purse on the table. Seriously? I assumed it was Mrs. J. Patsy Ann probably told her all about the note on my car, and Mrs. J. was eager for the details. Right now, I didn’t care what she wanted. She could just wait.
When the second call came in, less than a minute later, I started second guessing myself. For once, Detective Brandle might be calling, or maybe it was Finn. Not that I wanted him to call. Wait, did I want him to call? Ugh, men were so confusing. This is why I had been avoiding relationships. Truth be told, I wouldn’t be able to move on with anyone until I had closure with Finn, or at least some answers. That wasn’t asking for too much. That last thought was enough to make me run over to my phone and to try and catch it before the call went to voicemail. I wasn’t quick enough.
While I waited to see if the caller would leave a message, I scrolled through the phone’s call log. I didn’t recognize the last two numbers. One of them had left a message. My voicemail chimed soon after.
I dialed into my mailbox and waited for the voice to instruct me to enter my security code. Per the recording, I had two new messages. I was right about the first one. It was Mrs. J. She claimed she was calling to set up a makeover party for her granddaughter Georgia’s sixteenth birthday. I hadn’t done one of those before but was open to the idea. The second message, and the one that I was most eager to hear, was from Philip Siebold. He said his mom had told him about me and what had happened at their house. He was wondering if we could meet up tonight to talk. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the time. It seemed much later than seven o’clock. Not that the time mattered. I would’ve agreed to meet him even if it was midnight.
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