The Trophy Wife Exchange

by Connie Shelton

  “Other guy?”

  “Yeah, the one who came out here a couple days ago, all white shirt and tan slacks, from the insurance company? You know him? Maybe not—it’s gotta be a big office. That corporate shit, that’s why I moved down here.”

  “I’ll look him up. Do you remember his name?”

  He laughed. “Ha—I barely remember my own name some days. Hang on, let’s see …”

  He set the phone down with a clunk and she heard the crisp sounds of paper rustling in the background.

  “Yeah, okay. Here’s a card he left behind. It’s … geez, I gotta get me some glasses … it’s Bradley Muggins. Weird name, huh.”

  Pen couldn’t very well ask the name of the insurance company or the phone number on the card, but she figured Amber could come up with those. She thanked Stink for his help, her mind flying ahead. So, a real insurance investigator was asking questions, too.

  Chapter 43

  “Me? Oh, no-no-no-no-no.” Mary groaned as she said it. “I’m no actor. I can’t make up these stories and playact the way you guys do. You’re so good at it. I’d suck.”

  “You won’t suck,” Sandy said. “In fact, you won’t even be acting. This is the real you, going in to ask legitimate questions. You’re going inside and you’ll ask Derek Woo about Clint’s insurance policy, whether you were listed as a beneficiary.”

  “That’s the thing—I’m not supposed to know the policy exists.”

  “He doesn’t know that. For all he knows, you and Clint talked all the time.”

  Mary gave the others a sideways look. “All the time. Right.”

  They sat in the parking lot of a three-story office building near downtown Phoenix. Sandy was behind the wheel of her Mazda, with Pen in the passenger seat, Amber and Mary in back. Gracie had left to deliver one of her kids somewhere. Over lunch, Pen had filled everyone in on her calls to the Philippines. Pen’s overriding feeling, after making those phone calls, was that Tiko Garcia and Angelo Reyes both knew a whole lot more than they had admitted to her. Garcia, in particular, was out-and-out lying. She had made that point several times during today’s lunch.

  The more they discussed the situation, the more they felt Derek Woo was involved. The attorney seemed to be everywhere Clint went in his last weeks. The insurance letter confirming Clint’s new life insurance policy indicated a copy designated for Mr. Woo.

  Part of their mission this afternoon was to learn whether Clint might have had a generous moment—okay, that possibility was slim—in leaving at least part of the proceeds from his policy to his ex-wife. Maybe he’d heard about Mary’s hopeless financial situation and decided to do the right thing. Maybe pigs could fly.

  The other purpose for the visit was to see what other information they could glean about Woo. Too many things pointed to his playing some part in Clint’s death: his Chinese connections, his knowing so much about Clint’s finances, the way he showed up in Shanghai within hours of the boating accident to tell Kaycie. How had he known to be there?

  “Mary, I can go with you,” Amber said. “I’d hold your hand and you could pretend I’m your daughter. I could do a good fatherless-child imitation.”

  They all looked at her and laughed. Strawberry-blond Mary and lily-white Clint had produced this half-black, very Mediterranean-looking girl?

  “Um … your adopted daughter?” Amber’s dark eyes sparkled.

  “Yeah, no. I’m fairly certain Clint’s lawyer would know Clint had no children.” Mary squeezed Amber’s hand. “But thanks for offering.”

  “Perhaps Sandy should go along. She could pretend to be your attorney,” Pen suggested. “Mr. Woo might not be so quick to dismiss you if you have counsel alongside.”

  Sandy spoke up: “Only problem with that is he’s met me. He knows I’m a banker, not a lawyer.”

  “Okay, well, somebody’s got to go in there or we’ll sit here all afternoon debating it to death.” Mary opened her door. “Amber, I vote for you going along. Only you’re not going to be my daughter. I won’t explain to him who you are, you’re just a friend. What you’re there for is to be extra eyes and ears. I’ll get Woo tied up in conversation and you spy around.”

  “Ooh—I love it.” Amber grinned and opened her car door too. She slung her spacious bag over her shoulder. “Who knows what I’ll come out with.”

  They walked across the parking lot together.

  “If I have to, I’m going to admit to Mr. Woo that I’m dead broke,” Mary said. “He told Kaycie Clint’s insurance coverage was very generous. Well, then, I’ll come right out and ask for some of it.”

  “Throw in some tears and get him to turn his back on me,” Amber said with a wiggle to her eyebrows. “I’ll snatch up any piece of evidence I can find.”

  Mary pulled open the tall glass doors to the lobby. “Just be careful. The man might be dangerous.”

  They rode the elevator to the third floor without a word. The car was filled with suited lawyer-types. Double doors to Suite 301 faced them when the elevator door opened for the final time. A plaque to the side said Danby & Associates, with a long list to follow. It was impossible to tell how high up the ladder Woo had made it. The women exchanged a glance, a subtle thumbs-up.

  Mary didn’t hold hope for much time with Woo. When Pen had called from their lunch place to request an appointment, she’d been told there was a two-week wait unless she could take a fifteen-minute space today which opened up because a conference call had been cancelled. She’d grabbed it, and here they were.

  A receptionist pressed one button on an intercom and Derek Woo appeared at the door which connected the spacious reception area to the heart of the operation.

  “Ms. Holbrook? And?” He glanced at Amber.

  “My friend, Ms. Zeckis.”

  Mary hitched her shoulders straighter, wishing she’d had warning of this meeting, wishing she’d worn something nicer than stretch capris and a warm-up jacket to lunch. She took a deep breath and set aside her insecurity. The unfashionable outfit might work in her favor, since she was here to beg for money.

  Woo led them to a small suite where a huge wooden desk dominated one room, a narrow table and six upright chairs filled the other, separated by a wall of glass with mini-blinds, which were open at the moment. Mary caught sight of a small beverage setup with coffee maker, mugs, and a dorm-sized fridge in the conference room.

  He seated himself behind the desk, indicated the two visitor chairs for the women, and got right down to business. “What can I do for you, Ms. Holbrook?”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you know about me. I’m Clint Holbrook’s ex-wife.”

  “I’m aware.” A yellow writing pad sat beside his hand, a closed laptop computer in front of him. He made no move to touch either one.

  “I understand Clint had life insurance. I wonder if I was named as a beneficiary?”

  He shuffled for the right way to politely dump her and get on with his day. “I’m afraid not. At least as far as I know.”

  No point in delaying this. Mary played the weeper card, thinking of the saddest times in her life to bring on the tears. “Mr. Woo, this is so hard for me to admit.” She reached toward Amber, who gave her hand an encouraging pat. “Clint left me penniless. Our home … the one we lived in together for eighteen years … gone …” She used the sleeve of her warm-up to wipe her eyes.

  He stared at his yellow tablet.

  What was it going to take to budge this guy? Mary sobbed out the story of losing the house and living in a homeless shelter, building the tears into full-fledged sobs.

  He began to look uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to tell you. Have you spoken with someone at the insurance company?”

  Her words came out in an incomprehensible torrent. Amber picked up her cue, jumping out of her seat and standing at Mary’s side.

  “Do you have some water?”

  Woo, anxious for anything that would get the women on their feet and, hopefully, out of his office, was
quick to comply. He went to the fridge in the other room.

  “Quick,” Amber whispered. “Follow him. Get him standing with his back to me and keep talking. I just had a brilliant idea.”

  Mary staggered into the small conference room and edged around Woo. When he handed her a tiny bottle of water she had him in the perfect position. Amber pulled a small plastic thumb drive from the pocket of her jeans and jammed it into a USB port on the side of his computer. A flashing green light came on.

  She signaled Mary to keep talking. Woo reached for a tissue box on the conference table and held it out to her. Mary grabbed his arm, keeping him facing toward the far wall.

  The moment the green light quit flashing, Amber pulled the thumb drive out and seamlessly slipped it into her pocket at the same instant Woo turned around.

  “I’m very sorry for your situation, Ms. Holbrook, but there’s nothing I can do to change your ex-husband’s policy.”

  Mary grabbed for his sleeve again and missed. She sent Amber a frantic look, but Amber had picked up her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder.

  “Come on, Mary,” she said. “I guess he’s done all he will.”

  Mary shot Woo a withering stare and blew her nose loudly into his tissues.

  “I can’t believe you went along with Clint on this.”

  “Clint was my client. Carrying out his wishes is my only duty in the matter.”

  Amber took Mary’s elbow and steered her toward the door. She kept up the sobs until they’d passed through the reception area, grabbing the attention of a suited man who was most likely Woo’s next appointment. In the elevator, both women nearly got the giggles.

  “Overplayed the weeping widow thing a little bit there, don’t you think?” Amber said as they exited the building. “Blowing your nose like a foghorn—seriously?”

  “You said I had to keep his attention. Did you find anything at all? There was really no time.”

  They joined Sandy and Pen in the car.

  “I’m hoping I hit the motherlode,” Amber said, patting her pocket.

  Chapter 44

  Kaycie woke up on a white sand beach with gentle waves lapping at her feet, the distinct smell of ocean water surrounding her. She was wearing the cotton shorts and tank top she’d gone to bed in and she could tell by the way the sun felt on her skin that she’d not taken time to apply sunscreen or moisturizer.

  She looked around. There was not a single sign of human life. As the waves began to reach her knees, she stood and moved inland, walking through deep sand. It reminded her of her honeymoon on Barbados, except there’d never been a place without the imprint of man—a grass palapa or shack, a boogie board, a footprint. When she realized this, her anxiety level rose. Where am I?

  The views in both directions revealed only sand, sea, palm trees and dense bushes. Inland, the ground rose and she could see a jutting hill in the distance. Gulls swooped low over the water, squawking constantly. But behind their chatter some other sound came through—a whistle. She focused more intently, looking for the bird who made such an unusual call. Then she realized it couldn’t be a bird. It was a tune, a recognizable song.

  Just as she was about to shout out, movement at the edge of the foliage caught her attention. A man. Fragments of the tune came to her on the wind—something from a Disney movie—“Whistle While You Work.” As soon as she identified it, the man turned to her.

  It was Clint.

  Tears clogged her throat when she tried to call out to him. “Honey Bear! You’re here.” But it came out all muffled and he didn’t hear her. He turned back into the tangled bushes.

  She ran, impeded by the soft sand but determined he wouldn’t get away again. Away from the swooshing of the waves and the bird cries, she began shouting his name. He walked into a thicket and she kept her eyes on the spot as she followed.

  A small clearing appeared and there he was, kneeling in front of a fire. She realized Clint’s hair had grown long and tangled and he had a full beard. His clothes were tattered. A ring of stones surrounded the fire pit and a pile of boxes sat nearby, all with the FedEx logo.

  Kaycie startled awake, panting. She was on their king-sized bed in the Scottsdale condo. Her heart raced and she closed her eyes quickly, hoping to recapture the dream. But the vision, she realized, had been Clint’s face on Tom Hanks’ body and the scene was from the movie. Clint hadn't really survived, wasn’t living on a deserted island somewhere. She would never be able to watch that movie again.

  She rolled over. A bright strip of light rimmed the dark bedroom drapes. She’d probably slept until noon again. Noon. Was this the day she’d agreed to have lunch with her mother?

  She sat up and rubbed her face. Sleep granules caked the corners of her eyes and her hair felt greasy. She didn’t have the energy for a shower; she would have to cancel the lunch plans, although she dreaded making the call. Mom was increasingly becoming a pain, insisting Kaycie get out and do something. She had even suggested going back to work might be good for her.

  Kaycie couldn’t imagine dressing, having her hair and makeup done, and appearing on camera. She started to fall back against the mattress and give in to more sleep, except she felt the need to pee. She stumbled to the bathroom. Whose idea was it to put a skylight in here? The room was too damn bright. She grumbled and sat on the toilet, burying her face in her hands.

  She’d no sooner finished than she heard the insistent, nagging sound of the door buzzer coming from the living room. Her cell phone sat on the bathroom vanity and when she pressed the button to wake it, the device faintly glowed with the numerals 11:58 before they faded and it went dead.

  It had to be her mother at the door. Sylvia had learned from the past week’s experience that Kaycie wouldn’t necessarily show up for meals or shopping simply because they had an appointment together. Last night she’d pestered Kaycie to agree to lunch. Now she was here to enforce.

  Kaycie pulled up her shorts, noticing they were loose. The waistband elastic must have stretched out. Not bothering with a robe, she walked through the living room and pressed the buzzer beside the door. Now, if she could find some coffee and clear her head before she had to face her mother’s judgment.

  The kitchen was a disaster. That cleaning woman certainly wasn’t doing a very good job. Then Kaycie remembered. She’d sent the woman away twice because she wanted to be alone in the condo. She rummaged through food cartons on the countertop—things her mother had dropped off—and found several mugs. All were caked with the sludgy residue of half-finished coffee. The dishwasher reeked—a skillet Mom used to prepare garlic shrimp sat there because Kaycie had forgotten to add the coffee cups and run the cycle. She closed the machine tightly.

  An upper cabinet held one clean cup and she’d barely reached for it when a knock came at the front door.

  “C’mon, Mom. Just let yourself in,” she muttered.

  The coffee maker’s basket held a nasty clot of grounds. Geez, it might have been simpler to shower and dress and go out for coffee.

  The knock came again. She dropped the coffee basket into a sink filled with used forks and spoons, and stomped to the door. When she flung it open, ready to snap at her mother, she was startled to see a strange man standing there.

  “Kaycie Holbrook?” he said. “I’m with Cooper Life and Casualty. It’s about the insurance policy your late husband purchased.”

  Chapter 45

  “I need ice cream,” Amber announced when she and Mary climbed back in Sandy’s car.

  “So, what did you guys learn in there?” Sandy asked.

  “First, Cold Stone. There’s one just around the block.” Amber buckled up and refused to say another word until Sandy started the car.

  Once they had parked in front of Cold Stone Creamery, time had to be devoted to making choices. Amber went straight for the double chocolate and had the clerk stir in brownie chunks and walnuts. Even Pen couldn’t resist that particular combination. There were plenty of empty tables outside so that�
��s where they gathered.

  “You have one of those cat-who-caught-the-mouse looks,” Sandy said, dipping into her maple with caramel and pecans. “What did you learn in there?”

  Amber grinned and pulled the tiny thumb drive from her pocket. “If this baby worked, we have all kinds of good stuff.”

  “What is it?” Pen asked.

  “A cloning device. I had planned to use it on Clint’s computer, if I’d found it, in Shanghai. With luck, now I’ve captured everything on Derek Woo’s computer.”

  Spoons paused in mid-air. “How is that possible?”

  “A buddy of mine from school invented it. It’s not on the market yet, but he’s hoping to get a patent and make a fortune from it. He and I each have one and we’ve practiced with each other’s computers.”

  “So this isn’t something legal?” Sandy asked, eyeing Amber sideways.

  Amber waggled her fingers. “Let’s just say the less you know the better.”

  “Okay, then, I’m not asking.” She went back to her maple ice cream.

  “When do we learn the results of this little magical thief?” Mary asked, dropping her empty cup into a nearby trash basket.

  “As soon as I get to my computer.”

  “Okay, ladies, let’s finish up that ice cream and get on the move,” Mary said.

  Forty-five minutes later they were crowded into Amber’s tiny efficiency apartment, watching over her shoulders as a series of boxes appeared on her computer screen. Amber hit a key now and then but for the most part the process seemed to happen on its own.

  “Okay … okay …” Amber said. “I’m getting some logins to bank accounts. Can’t tell yet if this is Derek getting into his own stuff—” She sat up straighter. “No, wait. This is one of Clint’s account numbers. I’ve typed it often enough I know it well.”

  Sandy fidgeted, fighting her impulse to turn away and ignore the process.