by E. C. Diskin
She didn’t see her name. Kat’s phone pinged with a text from Tori. She was in the city for some morning appointments and suggested they meet for lunch. Kat was starving. Yes! Where/When? she wrote.
Panera. Next to your hotel. I’m heading there now. See u in 10
Kat stacked her materials and sent a quick e-mail to Martin.
Re: reviews of Chicago property in first quarter . . . Pls find reservation for voucher assigned to Shea Walker. Asap. Thx.
Tori was easy to spot—ever the model of high fashion and high heels—removing her giant sunglasses as she stepped inside the restaurant.
“So, what brought you downtown today?” Kat asked once they’d sat down with their orders.
“Just a meeting with my banker,” Tori replied. Her banker. Kat couldn’t imagine having a relationship with a banker. “Oh, and a little consult with my doctor regarding what to do about this,” Tori joked, lifting the skin along her temples.
“You’re kidding,” Kat said. “Come on, Tori. Do you see you? You don’t need that.”
“Oh, my naive friend, you say that like this is natural,” she said, swirling her hand in front of her face. “I’ve had this guy on speed dial for years.”
Kat laughed. “Really?”
“Every woman has her secrets,” she said, playfully raising one brow.
“Well, then, I guess you know what you’re doing. You look great all the time.”
“Thank you, da’ling,” Tori replied in a Zsa Zsa Gabor–style accent. “Anyway, how is work?”
“Fine. It was kind of nice to be consumed by work again—a welcome change after this last week. And you’re right, by the way—”
“About what?”
“Dee. I was crazy to suggest that she could have had something to do with Shea’s death. She came over to Lina’s last night with dinner, and we talked. She couldn’t possibly have done anything.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you say that. As much as I called you out for sounding crazy, I could barely sleep last night, thinking about our conversation. Did she tell you anything about Charlie and the whole marriage collapse?”
“’Fraid so. And I gotta say, I’ve never had a strong opinion about Charlie. But, boy, I am not a fan.” Kat shared more about Dee’s belief that Charlie had become obsessed with Shea in the months before her death.
Tori took another bite of salad and sipped her tea before chiming in. “I’d believe it. He is such a flirt. We just can’t trust beautiful men, can we?” she joked. “Why do you think I married my man?”
“Stop. Herman’s cute!”
“Of course he is. But he doesn’t stop traffic. I’d prefer that the head turns be directed my way, thank you very much. And Charlie seems entirely too aware of his looks. He’s definitely a guy that would make you feel insecure.”
Kat thought about this, about how Mack had often joked that Kat was far out of his league, and that, luckily, she lacked the self-confidence to realize she could have done better. It wasn’t true, but she loved that he thought so, and it always made her laugh.
“Jesus,” Tori continued. “What if Charlie had something to do with Shea’s death?”
Kat shook her head. “No way. To hear Dee tell it, he cried like a baby at the funeral.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” Tori said. “It was weird.”
Both women took a break from the conspiracy theory to finish their salads, but as soon as Tori took her last bite, she continued. “What if Charlie was the friend Shea referred to on Put-in-Bay?”
“But that would mean Shea was having an affair with him. I know that’s what Dee thinks, but Ryan said he and Shea were doing fine near the end.”
“But let’s just assume Dee is right. You just said Dee thinks Shea and Charlie may have been in Michigan together. Perhaps Charlie and his charm eventually got to her. Maybe she felt betrayed that Ryan wanted to do the swap in the first place. Maybe it justified the outcome.”
Kat shook her head. “No way.” She could not believe Shea would betray Dee like that.
“Let’s just play this out. If she had an affair with Charlie, he could have been the friend. He’d obviously be the last person to judge her for misbehaving with some guy while on the girls’ trip. Maybe she confided in him. Maybe she was with Charlie in the bar, they had a fight, and that’s why she told the innkeeper her friend wasn’t coming.”
“It sounds crazy. Besides, there’s no way to know. Shea’s gone. And even if you are right, it doesn’t mean anything. It certainly doesn’t mean Charlie’s a murderer, and the innkeeper told us that Shea’s friend didn’t come.”
“Unless you’re right and she let him in later.”
As she pictured Charlie walking Shea home from the bar, she thought again about Mary’s comment that the other guest had brought her inside. What if the man from the bar was the guest?
Kat suddenly felt sick to her stomach as she thought about this. Dee had said Charlie was obsessed. Kat didn’t believe Shea would have planned to go away with Charlie, but . . . “What if Charlie found out Shea was going to Put-in-Bay? If he was obsessed, he could have followed her, wanting to surprise her, maybe getting a room in the inn.” It actually sounded possible. It explained why she might have gone into the bar alone but left with the man. And it would explain why she might have opened her door after she went to bed.
Tori pulled out her phone and searched the number for the inn. The lunch rush had passed, the restaurant now quiet. “Let’s find out,” she said as she called the inn and put the phone on speaker in the middle of the table.
Both women leaned forward. Mary answered the call on the third ring. Tori started the conversation, reminding Mary of their meeting a few days earlier, asking if Mary wouldn’t mind sharing the name of the other guest who was registered when Shea was there.
“Well, I guess it’s not a secret. The police asked as well. His name was Ted. Hold on,” she said, returning to the line a few seconds later. “Here, I just wanted to pull out my book so I didn’t misspeak. That’s right, Ted Baker.”
Kat sighed, relieved. She wanted answers but certainly didn’t hope to find a murderer among her old friends.
“Can you describe what he looked like?” Tori asked. Fake name? she mouthed to Kat.
“Well, he was very good-looking, I can tell you that,” Mary offered. “And a bit of a flirt, too,” she added with a chuckle. “He made me blush; that’s for sure.”
Kat and Tori stared at each other while Mary spoke.
“I’d say he was about six foot two, dark hair, a bit of some gray in there. He looked, I don’t know, midforties or maybe fifty.”
Mary’s description easily fit Charlie. “I don’t suppose he told you where he was from?” Kat asked.
“Indianapolis, I think. Actually, I couldn’t tell you much more than that, because, like I told the police, he paid cash. Usually I copy IDs and get a credit card imprint, but he’d lost his wallet on the way to Ohio, so I really don’t know any more.”
“And you said he was the one who came in with Shea when she was a little tipsy?” Tori continued.
“That’s right.”
“And it was after he had come down for breakfast and checked out that you went to check on Shea?”
“Oh no. He didn’t come to breakfast. But I didn’t expect him. I knew he had plans to fish in the early morning, so he was up and gone before I ever woke up.”
“One more thing, Mary,” Kat said. “You said you locked up after Shea and the other guest came in, right?”
“That’s right. I like to go to bed by around nine o’clock when the place is empty. Since they were both in, I probably locked up about twenty minutes after they arrived.”
“And if Shea had let anyone else in . . . ?”
“Oh no, I think I would have heard that.”
“Okay, then, thanks for your help, Mary.”
Tori disconnected the call. “Oh my God,” she said. “Could that guest have been Charlie? Could he have appear
ed at Shea’s door after Mary left?”
“Just hold on,” Kat said. “That was a general description, and the man was from Indianapolis. Maybe it really was some guy named Ted Baker.” She took Tori’s phone and did a search for the name Ted Baker in Indianapolis. Within seconds, there were several search results. She clicked on the White Pages. “Look at this, fifteen men by that name in that city.”
Tori grabbed the phone and scrolled through the results. “Yeah, but the man paid in cash and had a story about losing his wallet. Maybe that was so he could use a fake name.”
Kat felt overwhelmed. There was no way she could let this go and get back to work. “I should talk to Ryan again. But how can I do that?”
“Just tell him what Dee told you, that she thought Shea and Charlie were together and that Charlie was obsessed. He has a right to know.”
“His wife is dead, and Charlie is one of his best friends. And Dee could be wrong.”
“Or Charlie might have killed his wife.”
CHAPTER 20
February 19
SHEA ROLLED UP THE SNOW-COVERED drive and pulled into their detached garage on Sunday. She cut the engine and sat in the darkened space. Looking at the wire shelves in front of her, the tears came quickly. The shelves were stacked with boxes of Christmas lights and holiday decorations, ski equipment, skateboards that hadn’t been touched in a decade, sand buckets filled with sidewalk chalk, a catcher’s mask, and those two folding chairs she and Ryan had used for years on the sidelines of the kids’ games. This was their life together. A family, two decades of adventure and memories, of laughs and triumphs, and they’d done it together. The shelves were a mess, just like their marriage, but the weekend had helped. After sharing everything with her sister—the swinging nonsense, the Charlie stuff, the text from Dee that caused her to run out on Friday night, Shea had realized there was no proof. She might have been jumping to conclusions when she stormed out. That was what secrets did. She took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle.
She trudged through the snow and stomped her feet as she entered the quiet house through the kitchen door. “Ryan?”
No one responded.
It looked like there had been a party. Empty beer bottles and open food containers sat on the island. She walked into the hall slowly, fearing what she’d find next. The television was on in the living room, couch pillows on the floor, along with popcorn kernels. More beer bottles and an empty bowl on the table.
She walked into the front hall and put her hand on the banister to head upstairs but stopped when she glanced toward the mess in the dining room, the mail strewn across the table, a package opened, its contents—a bunch of Victoria’s Secret lingerie—thrown around the room.
She moved closer. The mail had been opened. It was bills. Lots of them. Slowly lowering herself into a chair, she examined each statement. The kids’ colleges, the cable company, the credit cards, insurance companies, bank notices, their mortgage statement, even a maxed-out home-equity line Ryan had opened three months earlier that she knew nothing about.
She turned to stand, her worst fears confirmed, and was assaulted by one more disturbing discovery. A hole—like someone’s fist had punched a crater into the drywall. She felt like that wall.
She found Ryan asleep on their bed, facedown and naked, without even a sheet covering his body. The bedroom was a mess.
“Hey!” she yelled. He didn’t respond.
She kicked at the mattress and shoved him in the back. “Ryan! Wake up.”
He groaned and rolled over.
“What the hell is going on here?”
He opened his eyes. “Shea?”
She turned away, crossed the room, and sat in the chair in the corner while he slowly sat up.
“I thought you left,” he said. He looked around, confused, like even his nudity was unexpected.
“So, what, you have a party or something? What the hell is going on here?”
He grabbed his boxers and went to the bathroom. She could hear him turn on the sink faucet.
She followed and stood in the doorway. He was throwing water on his face.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”
“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked without even looking at her. He opened the medicine cabinet and tossed back some pain relievers.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why does it look like you had a party down there? Why are you naked?”
He ignored the question and brushed his teeth. And then it hit her like a punch in the gut. A woman. She turned back and surveyed the bed more closely. Had someone been here, in her bedroom? The sheets were twisted up, the duvet was on the floor, a towel by the bed. She looked in the closet, walked the space, checked the floor for more proof. She felt sick. Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe Ryan was doing something. Maybe it was Dee . . . maybe . . . She couldn’t stop tears from falling. She went to the side tables, looking for evidence, anything to prove the last thing she wanted to believe. All she saw was that envelope of hotel vouchers from Kat, the Christmas gift of romance they’d never even used. It sat on her bedside table, like some cosmic reminder of what was missing. She dropped onto the bed, taking the envelope in her hand. It was empty.
“Where are my vouchers?” she yelled.
Ryan said nothing. She took the empty envelope and walked back to the bathroom door, waving it in the air, aware that she sounded hysterical. “What did you do with my vouchers?”
He looked at the envelope, looked back at Shea, and said, “I didn’t do anything.” He turned back to the sink.
She walked out, refusing to let him see her cry.
She was in the hall, at the top of the steps, when he appeared, standing in the doorway.
“I know where you were, Shea,” he said. “So excuse me if I went a little nuts. I don’t think you’re in the position to act so righteous.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How was your sister’s?” His tone was laced with sarcasm.
“Fine.” He was acting like this was her fault somehow. She turned to face him. “What’s wrong with you? Who was here?”
He stopped and looked back, scanning the room, like he didn’t even know.
“Don’t you even care that Charlie has been actively pursuing me right under your nose? You don’t talk to me, you don’t tell me what the hell is happening. Ryan, I just went through all those bills in the dining room. What is going on?”
Ryan didn’t answer. He walked back into the bedroom, and she followed, ready to battle. He ignored her and started stripping the sheets off the bed.
“You were the guy who scoffed at my credit card balances when we were young, scolding me on the evils of debt. We’ve got nearly maxed-out credit cards and some maxed-out home-equity loan I knew nothing about; you lost your job months ago; you don’t tell me anything; you’re buying things we obviously can’t afford. It’s like you’re trying to ruin our life here. What the hell is going on with you?”
“Maybe too much has happened.”
“Just talk to me. I’m supposed to be your wife.”
He turned to look her in the face, finally, his eyes weary. “But you’re sleeping with my best friend.”
“I am not.”
“Don’t lie, Shea. Don’t make this worse. I know where you were this weekend.”
“I know you do, because I left you a note.”
“Bullshit!”
Now Shea was yelling, too. “I went to my sister’s. I told you that.”
He grabbed the jeans and T-shirt from the floor and got dressed.
“What is wrong with you?” she pleaded.
“I was so stupid. You left me some message about needing time and you’ll understand,” he said, tossing the balled-up sheets in the corner. “Here I was thinking I had screwed things up between us. I’m thinking, oh shit, maybe I should jump in the car and follow her and tell her I love her!”
Shea quietly walked back to the chair in the corner.
Shea took a deep breath. She’d have to tell him everything. She’d wanted to spare him. She didn’t want to ruin friendships, but it was too late for that. “Charlie has been trying to have an affair with me, Ryan. Ever since that dinner party. That stupid night. He’s texted me constantly. He even said he’d gotten Dee to agree to the idea.”
“And so you finally gave in.” He sat on the bed, looking at her now, like she was the liar.
“No.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Listen to me. I went there to beg him to leave me alone, and then I went to my sister’s to think about us.”
She told Ryan what happened when she got to Charlie’s, how she’d pleaded with him and told him that she loved Ryan and didn’t want to lose Dee’s friendship. She told him how Charlie became angry. “Ryan, there’s something else. I’d never wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.” She finally shared what happened at the Christmas party all those years ago. Another secret between them. She’d been so good at burying the truth.
He didn’t say a word for more than a minute.
His face turned angry. “Jesus Christ, Shea. All these years you let me be friends with a guy that groped my wife? How could you do that?”
Shea couldn’t hold back the tears. “I just thought he was being a creep. And it was a party. Everyone drank too much. I’d been a flirt. You know he’s a letch. We all think that. But you liked him so much, and I really loved Dee. I didn’t want to upset anyone. It was just the one time, more than a decade ago. It was in the past. At least until all that stupid kissing and swinging madness.”
Ryan fell back onto the bare mattress, his head in his hands.
Neither spoke for a minute, letting the truth soak in.
And then, as much to himself as to Shea, he said, “I thought it was over between us. I thought I’d played a dangerous game and had been punished for it.”
