by Margot Hunt
“We both know that doesn’t necessarily clear her.” Mr. Wyeth stared moodily at the fish, his customary bonhomie gone. “And I know you spoke to the police.”
The sudden change in his manner unnerved me.
“They interviewed me, but I certainly didn’t say anything to implicate Kat,” I said carefully.
“You told them Howard was having an affair,” Mr. Wyeth said. I stared at him, wondering how he knew this. He again seemed to be reading my thoughts. “The Jupiter Island Public Safety Department is hardly the FBI. You couldn’t possibly have thought that what you said to them would remain confidential.”
I actually was annoyed at how naive I had been. But at least I finally knew why Kat wasn’t speaking to me, at least in the days since I’d spoken to the police. My telling them about Howard’s affair was problematic for her in two ways. One, it established a clear motive for why she might want Howard dead. And two, it now looked like she had been hiding her knowledge of the affair from the police. Which, of course, was exactly what she had been doing. That still didn’t explain why she had been avoiding me before the police had interviewed me.
“I had to tell them about the affair because Kat told the police that her housekeeper and I were the only two nonfamily members who knew how to access the spare key and house alarm. That made me a suspect.” I knew I sounded defensive.
“I’m sure that wasn’t Kat’s intention,” Mr. Wyeth offered.
“Of course it wasn’t. I know that.” I struggled to regain my composure. “But the fact is that there was at least one other person, possibly more, who might have had access to their house. Howard might even have let his girlfriend in that night. It seemed like a pretty important piece of information for the police to have.”
“To protect yourself.”
“Of course I want to protect myself.”
“And therein lies our problem.”
I crossed my arms in front of me. “Mr. Wyeth, I appreciate you’re worried about Kat. I’m worried about her, too. And I’ll do whatever I can to help—”
“I don’t want you to help her,” he cut in. “I want you to stay away from her. Kat wants you to stay away from her. Is that clear enough?”
Thomas Wyeth and I stared at each other for a few long beats.
I was suddenly reminded of a favorite toy I had as a child, an old-fashioned kaleidoscope. It looked like a spyglass. At least, that was what I’d liked to pretend it was. I’d look through it and see a colorful pattern made up of tiny glass pieces. But all I had to do was rotate it—click, click, click—and the first pattern would disappear, to be replaced by a different pattern made out of the same pieces. The affable man, beloved father to my best friend was gone, replaced by a formidable, ruthless man.
“Fine,” I finally said. “I won’t contact Kat if she doesn’t want me to. But I’d like to hear that from her directly.”
Mr. Wyeth’s expression darkened. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“We’ve tried to deal with you pleasantly,” Mr. Wyeth growled. “Donnelly made you a very generous offer.”
“He tried to bribe me into not cooperating with a police investigation! What exactly was I supposed to have found pleasant about that?”
“In my experience, there are two main ways to achieve a goal,” he said. “One involves a carrot. The other involves a stick. Which would you prefer?”
Mr. Wyeth took a step toward me so that he was suddenly standing far too close. I was very aware that we were alone, apart from the freakishly large fish staring up at us from their watery prison.
“Are you threatening me?”
Mr. Wyeth’s smile was chilling. “Take my recommendation however you’d like.”
Before I could respond, we were interrupted.
“Is there a problem here?”
We both turned and saw Detective Demer walking toward us. Relief flooded through me.
“Not at all, Detective,” Mr. Wyeth said, his tone suddenly back to its usual conviviality.
Demer looked at me, his dark eyes concerned. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Campbell?”
I nodded. “Yes, it’s fine. Mr. Wyeth was just showing me the koi pond.”
“It’s an incredible sight,” Mr. Wyeth said. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to rejoin my family. This has been a difficult day for all of us.”
He nodded at the detective and then smiled at me. His pleasant mask was back in place, but I could see something cold and hard behind his eyes.
Detective Demer and I watched Thomas Wyeth walk away. The detective gave a slight shake of his head before turning back to me.
“They are an interesting family,” he remarked. “What’s that old saying about the rich being different from you and me?”
“I used to think that wasn’t true,” I said. “Or at least, I thought it wasn’t universally true. I assumed good and bad people come from all walks of life, and it’s not useful to make generalizations.”
“You don’t believe that anymore?”
I considered this. “I don’t know. That’s the problem with my line of work. People are more complicated than logic allows. They certainly aren’t reliably consistent.”
“It’s not too late for you to cooperate with our investigation,” the detective said.
I glanced up at Demer, who was looking as rumpled as ever. I couldn’t read his expression. I’d had the sense since our first meeting that he wanted to help me. Or, more accurately, that he wanted to cause the least amount of disruption to my life possible. I think he believed I might be someone with information about a possible crime, but not a criminal myself. Still, it would be naive to believe that he was on my side, especially since Thomas Wyeth had just told me that someone had leaked the contents of my interview with the police.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied. Then I turned away and walked out of the garden.
21
The day after Howard’s funeral, I did an internet search for Marcia Grable, Kat’s former yoga teacher/stalker. She was still in the area, now running her own studio called Lotus Yoga.
Kat had told me Marcia was mentally unhinged. And yet the yoga teacher was the only other person I knew of who had been excommunicated by Kat. I sat staring at my computer, tapping my fingers on the table, trying to decide what to do. Go over there and meet her or drop it altogether? But I needed answers, and Kat had made it clear—or at least, her father had—that she wasn’t going to speak to me.
I couldn’t leave it alone. I stood, grabbed my handbag and headed out the door.
* * *
I arrived at Lotus Yoga just as a class was ending. Dozens of sweaty women streamed out of the studio, each clutching a rolled-up yoga mat. Once the crowd had thinned, then disappeared, I headed inside.
The yoga studio was clean and open and smelled like oranges and mint. In the front there was a small shop that sold yoga mats, blocks, straps and fifty-five-dollar sweatshirts emblazoned with the Lotus Yoga logo. In the back, past the shop area, there was a large space with hardwood floors and mirrored walls. I looked around, but there didn’t seem to be anyone on duty.
“Hello?” I said. My voice sounded small and tentative in the open space.
“I’ll be right out,” came the perky response. A moment later, the owner of the voice appeared from a back room I hadn’t noticed.
“Hello,” she said, smiling warmly. “I’m Marcia. How can I help you?”
Marcia Grable didn’t look like a crazy stalker. Then again, I wasn’t sure what a crazy stalker was supposed to look like. Marcia was absolutely gorgeous—tall and very lean with long blond hair, caramel tanned skin and excellent posture.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m...” And then I stopped. Somewhat unlike me, I hadn’t planned on what I was going to say. Did you r
eally stalk my best friend? You look far too chilled out to be a stalker. It didn’t seem like a great conversation starter.
The woman waited, smiling patiently.
“Alice,” I finished lamely.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alice. Are you interested in signing up for a series of yoga classes?”
“Yes,” I said and then immediately felt guilty for the lie. “Well, actually no. That’s not why I’m here.”
Marcia looked at me curiously.
“I’m not sure how to say this in a non-weird way. But do you by any chance remember Kat Grant?”
The Zen disappeared from Marcia’s face, replaced by a wary, watchful expression.
“What do you want?” she asked. Then she shook her head and said, “Actually, never mind. I don’t care what you want. I’d just like you to leave.”
I held up my hands, fingers spread. “No, really. I’m not here to bother you.”
“It’s too late for that.” Marcia picked up a cordless phone. “Do I need to call the police?”
Until recently my only interactions with the police involved the occasional parking ticket. Now the mere mention of the police made me deeply uneasy.
“I’m sorry I startled you. I’m not here to upset you,” I quickly added.
“Then why are you here?”
I hesitated. Marcia lifted the phone again, her finger hovering near the talk button.
“I’m just looking for some information.”
Marcia crossed her arms, still holding on to the phone. “What kind of information?”
“I know Kat,” I said. “She’s my friend. Or she was my friend. I don’t know if she still is or what to think. It’s just her sister-in-law mentioned your name to me once, when she was warning me about getting too close to Kat... Something’s happened, and... Anyway, I thought you might be able to help me. I’m so sorry if my coming here is an imposition.”
To my surprise, Marcia smiled. She also set the phone down on the counter near her cash register.
“Do you want to go get a chai tea?” she asked.
* * *
We headed to a nearby Starbucks, where Marcia ordered her chai tea. I opted for a latte.
Marcia looked around. “Let’s sit over there.” She nodded to a corner of the coffee shop.
I was glad she had picked a table that was somewhat private. Jupiter was a small town in many ways. I had already recognized a mother from Seaview Country Day sitting across the coffee shop, immersed in a conversation with a friend. I also suspected that a few of the women wearing tank tops and cropped yoga pants had come here straight from Marcia’s last class. I doubted she was any more eager to have our conversation overheard than I was. Actually, the very fact that the coffee shop was so crowded, with raised voices bouncing off the tiled floors and walls, worked in our favor. An eavesdropper would have to work hard to overhear what we said.
Marcia popped the plastic top off her tea and poured in two packets of sugar. I must have looked surprised—I would have pegged her for one of those healthy types who viewed sugar as a form of poison—because she looked vaguely guilty.
“I have a sweet tooth,” she explained, stirring her tea with a wooden stick. “So, Kat Grant. I haven’t seen her in years, and suddenly her name keeps popping up everywhere.”
“It does?” I asked, wondering if the police had spoken to Marcia, too. It was possible. Kat might have given Marcia’s name to the police. That would make sense if Marcia had really stalked her. But I didn’t want to bring up the police investigation and risk spooking her.
“You didn’t hear that Kat’s husband died? It was on the front page of the paper last week,” Marcia said. She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you said you were good friends with her.”
“Oh, no, I did know that. I went to his funeral yesterday,” I told her.
“I’m not exactly sure what you want from me,” Marcia said.
“I was hoping you’d tell me your version of what happened between you and Kat.”
“And why should I do that?”
I drew in a deep breath. “Because I’m starting to wonder how well I know the person I thought was my best friend.”
Marcia laughed without humor and took a sip of her tea. It apparently wasn’t sweet enough, because she tore open another packet of sugar and added it to her cup.
“My guess is that you don’t know her nearly as well as you think you do,” she said. “But if you’re looking for answers about what makes Kat tick, I’m not sure I can help you.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
“I met Kat years ago, when I was working as an instructor at Bliss Body Yoga,” Marcia said. “Kat would come in two or three times a week. She made a point of telling me I was her favorite teacher, which was, of course, incredibly flattering, since I was a fairly new instructor at that time.” She stopped and thought about this. “Actually, I think that’s part of Kat’s appeal, right there. It isn’t just that she flatters you. People throw around compliments all the time. ‘I like your hair’ or ‘Your dog is so cute.’ But Kat’s different. It’s like she can almost instantly figure out what’s most important to the way you see yourself, then she compliments you on that.”
I thought uneasily about the many times Kat had praised my intelligence. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, Alice. You have the most extraordinary mind.
“It may sound silly, but at that time, I had a lot of anxiety about teaching yoga,” Marcia continued. “I’d get incredibly nervous before every class, to the point that I’d hide in the bathroom, trying not to throw up. I was always worried my clients would be thinking the whole time that I didn’t know what I was doing or that I wasn’t as good as other yoga teachers they’d taken classes with.”
“It doesn’t sound silly at all. I used to teach. It’s hard standing up and speaking in front of people, being the authority,” I agreed.
“Especially when you’re starting out.” Marcia nodded. “And I don’t know what you taught...” She paused.
“I was a college professor,” I said. “I taught in the math department.”
“Oh. Wow.” Marcia blinked a few times, then returned to stirring her tea. “Well, that’s different. You probably had a degree and credentials. I mean, you go through training and certification to teach yoga, of course, but even so, I felt like a fraud at first. So when Kat told me how great my classes were, it made me feel terrific. Like I was doing what I was meant to do.” She looked up at me. “It was pretty powerful.”
“And, of course, you started feeling happier and better about yourself when you were around Kat,” I said slowly. This was starting to sound alarmingly familiar.
“Exactly. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Marcia said, raising a hand, “your friends should make you happy when you’re around them. That’s the point of having friends. But with Kat...it’s different. When she does it, it’s to manipulate you, because she wants something from you.” She stopped and shook her head. “Even after all this time, I’m still not entirely sure what it was she wanted from me. Or maybe it’s just that I still can’t believe what she wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
Marcia breathed in deeply. “Okay, but I’m warning you—this is going to sound a little crazy.”
I actually hoped it would sound crazy. That Marcia’s friendship with Kat wouldn’t remind me—more than it already had—of my friendship with her. But I smiled and said, “I’m sure it won’t.”
“Kat wanted me to have an affair with her brother,” Marcia said.
I was wrong. It sounded completely bonkers. A small part of me was disappointed that I wouldn’t find answers to my many questions here, but mostly I was relieved. Kat was right. Marcia was disturbed.
Just then, one of the baristas dropped something behind the coffee bar that clattered loudly to t
he floor. Everyone looked up, startled by the noise. The barista flushed with embarrassment, while her coworkers began to tease her for her clumsiness. I used the brief interlude to think of an excuse to extricate myself from this conversation and leave Marcia to her overly sweet tea. Nothing came to mind.
“I knew you’d think it sounds nuts,” Marcia continued. She laughed without humor.
“I didn’t say that,” I said carefully.
“Okay, look, you wanted to know,” Marcia said. “And that’s what she wanted. She couldn’t stand her brother’s wife.”
“Ashley.”
“Right, Ashley. Awful Ashley. That’s what Kat called her. She used to joke that Ashley lived on a diet of wine and bitterness,” Marcia recalled.
She suddenly had my attention again. This was exactly how Kat had described Ashley to me.
“She was convinced that Ashley had trapped her brother... I can’t remember his name,” Marcia said.
“Josh,” I supplied.
“Right, Josh. How could I forget?” Marcia said, shaking her head. “I think I’ve been trying to repress the whole thing. Anyway, Kat wanted to break up their marriage.”
“What?” This was starting to sound contrived. “Why would she want to do that? And even if she wanted to, how would she manage it?”
“The why is easy. She hated Ashley and she wanted her out of the family.”
I didn’t doubt that Kat disliked Ashley—she had admitted that to me herself. But I had a hard time imagining her plotting to break up the marriage. Marcia read the skepticism on my face.
“I thought it was crazy, too,” Marcia said. “I told Kat that she shouldn’t get involved. Besides, Josh and Ashley have, what, two or three kids together? And this was almost ten years ago, so they were still pretty young at that point. Kat didn’t seem to care that her plan would have meant those kids, her nieces and nephews, would have their family broken up.”
I hadn’t intended to interrupt her—especially now that she was talking freely—but I couldn’t help myself. “Wait...” I splayed my hands in front of me, nearly knocking over my latte. I pushed it to the side. “She had a plan? An actual plan to get them to divorce?”
