by Jason Starr
I still didn’t want to believe it, though. I needed to be one hundred percent, and there was only one way I could get to one hundred percent:
A confession.
* * *
When Maria joined me in bed later, I didn’t want to have sex with her. I didn’t want to get her paranoid or suspicious either.
Lying side by side we kissed for a while, then she climbed on top, kissing me some more. I couldn’t get excited; fight or flight kicking in?
“I’m just tired,” I said. “I was up early and it was a long day.”
After a long period of silence, she said, “You think I’m sexy, don’t you?”
“Of course I think you’re sexy,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I know in these situations the worst thing you can do is take it personally, so I won’t.”
We fell asleep the way we’d slept during most of our marriage—facing opposite directions.
* * *
Although I couldn’t sleep for most of the night, I woke energized, fixated on what I had to do.
I dropped Jonah at school, then I spent the day preparing for my talk with Maria. I needed to get Jonah out of the apartment, so I called Carly, our sitter, to see if I could drop him at her parents’ apartment for a couple of hours. Carly was busy, had a test to study for, but when I told her I’d pay her an extra hundred, her schedule suddenly freed.
“Definitely,” she said. “I can watch him the whole night if you want me to.”
I told her that two hours should be fine.
Later, after school, Jonah was on his bed, playing a video game.
“Come on, get your shoes on,” I said, “you’re going to Carly’s.”
Surprised, maybe worried, he asked, “How come?”
“Because Mommy and Daddy want to spend some time alone together, that’s why.”
“But I don’t wanna go.”
“You have no choice.”
There was no way I was going to put Jonah in front of another round of drama, especially when I had no idea how my talk with Maria would go.
After I dropped him with Carly on the sixteenth floor, I returned to our apartment and waited for Maria to come home. I activated the record feature on my cell phone, and placed my phone on the dining table.
When she arrived, holding a few heavy-looking paper shopping bags from Whole Foods, she said, “Hey, can you give me some help? These are heavy.”
I took the bags from her and brought them into the kitchen.
“I probably bought too much stuff, but I want to start cooking more,” she said. Then she looked beyond me, into the living room, and asked, “Is Jonah in his room?”
“No, I brought him to Carly’s.”
“Carly’s?” She seemed confused. “Why?”
“I just thought it would be nice to have some time alone,” I said. “You know, just to talk.”
Maria seemed skeptical, like she didn’t buy this explanation and assumed I had to have some kind of hidden agenda.
“A talk, huh?” she said. “What do you want to talk about?”
Did she suspect that I suspected her? Was she going to confront me when the whole point of this was for me to have a chance to confront her?
“Nothing in particular,” I said.
“About what?” she said, as she put the milk and yogurts away in the fridge.
“We should probably sit down,” I said.
“You’re making this sound so serious,” she said. “Should I be concerned?”
“Maybe,” I said.
I waited on the couch until she put the frozen food away. Then she joined me.
“Hey, just realized, Jonah’s out of the house.” She put a hand on my thigh. “Maybe we should talk in bed. We haven’t had the apartment to ourselves since you came home from Bellevue.”
I pushed her hand away.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked.
“A lot, actually,” I said.
“Are you okay?”
“The evening Sophie Ward was killed,” I said. “Where were you?”
I hadn’t meant to blurt out this question, but I couldn’t unsay it.
“I don’t understand,” Maria said, seeming surprised, not shocked. “Why are you asking me this?”
“We just never discussed this, that’s all,” I said. “I’m just wondering where you were.”
“For what purp—?” She cut herself off, then said, “Wait, you don’t think I had something to do with it, do you?”
I didn’t answer.
“This is a joke, right?” she said. “A bad joke. You don’t actually mean this?”
“I spoke to Carly when I dropped Jonah off tonight,” I said. “She said on the night Sophie was murdered you had asked her to watch Jonah for a couple of hours.”
“I had some chores to do around the neighborhood,” Maria said. “I can’t believe you actually—”
“You were fucking Lawrence Ward, weren’t you?” I said.
Looking panicked, she said, “That’s ridiculous.”
“I saw the phone records from Verizon,” I said. “It took me a long time to figure out your password, but I knew it would be some version of you mother’s maiden name.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” she said, “trying to make up a story when everything’s been going so well.”
“I have evidence,” I said. “There are hundreds of calls to him.”
“Lawrence Ward was a client of our company. We were discussing business.”
“You really expect me to believe that he was your client, and it was just a coincidence that his wife wound up dead?”
“Well, it had nothing to do with me,” she said.
For an instant, I thought, Was it possible? Had I gotten it all wrong?
It was incredible how she could always get me to doubt reality and my own instincts.
“You have to stop digging,” she said. “Let’s just go on with our lives.”
She tried to grab my hand again.
I stood and said, “Stop with the bullshit already. I know everything. This is why you took me back, isn’t it? Forgiveness, my ass. You just wanted to make sure Lawrence didn’t tell me anything about you before he died. That’s why you wanted your lawyer with me while I was answering Barasco’s questions. What if Lawrence did tell me something? What would you have done?”
“You know what I think you should do?” Maria said. “I think you should call your psychiatrist at Bellevue and describe these symptoms. You’re acting extremely paranoid and unstable right now, Jack.”
“I also noticed some credit card charges,” I said, “on our Discover Card—well, it used to be our card anyway. I know you were on Discreet Hookups, just like I was. At first I thought you were just checking up on me, but there was another charge on the same card for one hundred and fifty nine dollars and ninety-six cents. The transaction occurred at three thirty-eight p.m. on the day Sophie Ward was killed.”
Maria’s eyes showed she was processing this. Then she said, “I have no idea where you’re going with this.”
“What did you buy at Bloomingdale’s that day?” I asked.
“Um, a blouse, I think,” she said.
“You think?”
“I mean, yes, I bought a blouse. And I’m not sure why I used that card. Maybe I used it by accident. Why? What difference does it make?”
“I think the amount is odd,” I said. “Ninety-six cents.”
“What’s odd about ninety-six cents?”
“If you’d bought one item, like a blouse, the price would’ve ended in ninety-nine. The six indicates you bought four items. There’s no sales tax in New York State on a single item of clothing under one hundred and ten dollars.”
“I think you’re being absolutely ridiculous now, Jack. Maybe you need medication.”
Now I was the one looking at her intensely.
“I mean, who the hell cares what I bought?” she said. “What does that have to
do with—”
“One fifty nine ninety-six is about the price of four ties, if the ties were thirty-nine ninety-nine each. There’s no tax on clothes at that price in New York State.”
“I’m calling Bellevue,” she said. “Right now.”
I grabbed her phone from her.
“Hey, give that back,” she said.
“You went to the townhouse that day before I got there. It’s possible to zigzag up the block and avoid any camera on the street, and that’s what you did. I don’t know exactly what happened at the house, but I imagine you confronted Sophie, killed her by smashing the vase over her head, and then wound a tie around her neck. You put the other ties in Sophie’s bag to make it look like she’d brought them, then you left the way you came. It was probably just a few minutes before I arrived. Of course you knew exactly what time I’d arrive, because you’re Fugitive Red.”
I watched her reaction. Her smirk convinced me I was right about everything.
“It started the night I went out for a walk and left my laptop open,” I continued, on a roll. “You assumed I was cheating and even though you’re a cheater yourself, you felt like I’d betrayed you—I know how your mind works. That’s when you, or maybe you and Lawrence, came up with your plan. It was the perfect way to get rid of his wife so you two could be together. As a bonus you could set me up for the murder. All you had to do was become Fugitive Red. I admit, you did a good job of sucking me in. I had no idea I was chatting with my wife those nights, but in retrospect it all makes sense. You were never in the same room with me when I was online, and who else would know how to become the perfect mirror for me? It was just like when I met you for the first time, when you were suddenly into rock music and you were my biggest fan. You’d preconditioned me for more abuse. But I don’t blame you as much as I blame myself. I’m the one who fell for it. I actually thought I was connecting with Sophie, but I once thought I was connecting with you, too. I guess that’s the whole point, right? I was the perfect sucker for your plan because you already knew exactly how to manipulate me.
“During all those chat sessions, I really thought I’d found my dream girl, kind of like when I first met you. The name Fugitive Red should’ve been a dead giveaway. If I wasn’t so caught up in the excitement of connecting with someone, of getting some relief from our shitty marriage, I might’ve picked up on these things. You knew I’d read that article on fugitive reds in the Times magazine. You wanted me to think, Wow, and we both love Van Gogh, it’s like we’re soul mates. Love fades—that was a nice touch there. You know my weak spots so well, Maria. The joke was definitely on me. All that time I was cheating on my wife, I was really cheating with my wife. You knew exactly how to sext with me, because you talked about all the things you were never into doing. Who better to become my fantasy woman than the woman who knows me better than anybody?”
Maria had stood up during my monologue. She was facing me, staring at me with her wide, empty eyes. I’d seen this look at times over the years, usually when I criticized her for something and she felt hurt. It was like a mask came off—her charm vanished, and she was suddenly showing me her true self. For years, I’d refused to believe that this was the real her, though. I wanted her to be the woman I’d fallen in love with—I wanted to believe she was the mask.
Unfortunately the mask had been a fantasy, no more real than Fugitive Red.
Maria laughed, shaking her head, then said, “You deserved it.”
Although I’d seen Maria’s mask come off before, the coldness still startled me.
“How did I deserve it?” I asked.
“You think it’s been easy being married to you?” She laughed again, though her eyes remained expressionless. Then she said, “Where would you be without me? How many years did I have to support you because of your stupid music career that was going nowhere? If it weren’t for me, you’d still be wasting your time as a washed-up musician. On top of that you checked out with your drinking—and you think I have problems? You were so self-centered you didn’t even notice me for years. And how about when you got drunk and had that fight with that club manager? I had to carry you through that, too.”
“You think you’re the big victim, huh?” I said.
“You’re damn right I’m the victim,” she said. “That’s why I had no choice but to get involved with Lawrence Ward and all those other men.”
My stomach tightened. “Other men?”
“You think Lawrence was the first? How naïve are you? I’ve had dozens of men over the years. I was even fucking two other guys when we got married. How does that make you feel?”
“Sorry for you,” I said.
“Bullshit,” she said. “I can see how hurt you are right now. I love it—it makes me feel so justified. It’s funny how you were so focused on Steve. He’s another idiot who believes I’m in love with him.”
I’d seen Maria’s mask slip off before, but I’d never seen this much darkness. I stared at her, then said, “I’ve always known you were a narcissist, but I had no idea I was married to a full-blown psycho.”
Her eyes looked dead again.
“I never said I was nice.” She let that linger for several seconds, with a proud smirk, then added, “Okay, it’s true about me and Lawrence—we had a thing going for years, and you were totally clueless. Lawrence hated his wife and I hated you—I guess in that way alone we were perfect for each other. We knew we had to find some way to be together. Me getting rid of you wasn’t the problem since you obviously would’ve welcomed a divorce. Sophie was the problem. They didn’t have a prenup and he would’ve lost at least half of his money and everything he owned to her. He’d thought about killing her, but he didn’t know how he could get away with it.
“Then, that night, I saw your laptop open to that adultery site—talk about passive-aggressive! Typical Jack Harper—you’re unhappy and you act out. If not with alcohol, with something. But I knew I’d stumbled on to the perfect way to solve all of our problems. I texted Lawrence and we came up with a plan. He could get rid of his wife and keep all his money, and I’d get rid of you. It was brilliant. All I had to do was become Fugitive Red.”
“So you admit it,” I said. “You killed Sophie Ward.”
“I just did what I had to do.”
I hoped my phone was recording all of this.
“Besides, it was all your fault,” she said. “You had the balls to post a picture that I’d taken of you on a website for cheaters. Seriously, what kind of man does that? A sick man, that’s who. And how about when I asked you if you still loved your wife and you said no? That hurt—it reminded me of how you had checked out of the marriage and deserted me.”
“So you did all of this, killed a woman and set me up for it, for what purpose?” I asked. “Just to get back at me for something I didn’t even do to you?”
“Fucking up your life was just a bonus,” Maria said. “We knew the police would find your chat logs with Fugitive Red, and it would only help that you sounded gleeful about cheating on me. We almost had to bail on the whole plan, though. It was when you wanted to talk on the phone before meeting. I could’ve tried to disguise my voice, or gotten someone at my office to pretend to be Sophie Ward, but both options seemed too risky. Luckily I was able to talk you out of the idea.”
“There’s still one thing I don’t get,” I said. “The way Sophie was dressed. She was in a negligee at the townhouse, when I found her there. If it was really you the whole time, why would the real Sophie have been dressed like that? Why would she have been at the townhouse at all?”
“She thought she was meeting her husband at the townhouse. That was part of our plan—Lawrence had convinced her that he wanted to reconcile, and he told her to wait for him—Lawrence could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be. Guess we had that in common, too.”
“What about Anthony?” I asked.
“Oh, that was totally your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Who else? If you
hadn’t gotten that guy involved, he wouldn’t be dead. Lawrence had to get rid of him before he went to the police.”
“He wasn’t a guy,” I said. “He was a great guy. He was my friend.”
“He was an addict who’d been in prison.”
“So according to you that makes killing him okay?”
“Look who’s talking—you killed Lawrence. Now he was a great guy.”
“Yeah, a great guy who’d plotted to kill his wife.”
“I don’t hear you taking any responsibility for anything,” Maria said. “But taking responsibility’s not exactly your strong suit, is it?”
“Anthony had a family.” My voice was wavering. “A family who loved him.”
Before I could react, she grabbed my phone.
“Hey,” I said.
“You think I’m an idiot?” she said. “You think I didn’t know you were recording all this? I knew something was up, as soon as you arranged for Jonah to go to the sitter’s. Maybe you think I’m that oblivious wife you ignored for years, then tried to cheat on me, so callously. You thought you were so clever, didn’t you, sneaking around behind my back, but face it, Jack, you’ve always been at least two steps behind me.”
I lunged for the phone again, but she moved back and I squeezed air.
She glanced at the phone. “Yep, just as I’d expected.”
She was near the open living room window. I knew what she was about to do, but before I could react, it was too late.
“No!” I screamed as she tossed my phone out.
From twelve stories up, the phone would almost certainly smash when it hit the ground. With her gleeful smile, it was clear that the least of Maria’s concerns was that the phone might hit someone on the head and injure, or even kill, them.
“Looks like now it’s my word against yours,” Maria said, “and who do you think the police would believe? A responsible, working mom, or an unemployed ex–mental patient?’
Her expression changed from twisted to seductive as she moved closer to me.
