Whiskey Beach Part 103

"Then would you mind if I used your bathroom? We drove down from Whiskey Beach."

"Oh, you have a home there, don't you?" she said to Eli, then gestured to Abra. "I'll show you."

It gave Eli a chance to gauge the ground. An attractive woman, he thought, an attractive house in an upscale neighborhood with well-tended gardens, a thick green lawn.

About fifteen years of marriage, he recalled, and two attractive kids.

But Suskind had tossed it all aside. For Lindsay? he wondered. Or for an obsessive treasure hunt?

A few moments later, both Eden and Abra came out again with a tray holding a pitcher and a trio of tall, square gla.s.ses.

"Thanks," Eli began. "I know this has been hard for you."

"You would know. It's terrible to realize the person you trust, the person you've built a life with, a home with, a family with, has betrayed you, has lied. That the person you love betrayed that love and made a fool of you."

She sat at the round teak table under the shade of a deep blue umbrella. Gestured them to join her.

"And Lindsay," Eden continued. "I considered her a friend. I saw her almost every day, often worked with her, had drinks with her, talked about husbands with her. And all the time she was sleeping with mine. It was like being stabbed in the heart. For you, too, I guess."

"We weren't together when I found out. It was more a kick in the gut."

"So much came out after ... It had gone on nearly a year. Months of lying to me, of coming home from her to me. It makes you feel so stupid."

She addressed the last directly to Abra, and Eli saw Abra had been right. Another woman, a sympathetic one, made it all easier.

"But you weren't," Abra said. "You trusted your husband, and your friend. That's not stupid."

"I tell myself that, but it makes you question yourself, what do you lack, what don't you have, didn't you do? Why weren't you good enough?"

Abra put a hand over hers. "It shouldn't, but I know."

"We have two kids. They're great kids, and this was devastating for them. People talk, we couldn't shield them from it. That was the worst." She sipped at her tea, fought visibly to conquer tears. "We tried. Justin and I tried to hold it together, to make it work. We went to counseling, took a trip together." She shook her head. "But we just couldn't put it back together. I tried to forgive him, and maybe I would have, but I couldn't trust him. Then it started again."

"I'm sorry." Now Abra squeezed her hand.

"Fool me once," Eden continued, blinking her eyes clear. "Late nights at the office, business trips. Only this time, he wasn't dealing with someone ready to be stupid or trusting. I'd check on him, and I knew he wasn't where he said he'd be. I don't know who she is, or if there's more than one. I don't care. I just don't care anymore. I have my life, my kids-and finally a little pride. And I'm not ashamed to say when I divorce him, I'm going to gut him like a fish."

She let out a breath, a half laugh. "I'm still pretty mad, obviously. I took him back, after what he'd done, and he threw it in my face. So."

"I didn't have time to make that choice." Eli waited until Eden looked back up and over at him. "I didn't have much time to be mad. Someone killed Lindsay the same day I found out what she'd done, what she'd been doing even when I thought we were trying to make our marriage work."

Sympathy covered Eden's face as she nodded. "I can't imagine what that's like. When I was at my lowest, when the news seemed to be round-the-clock about her death, the investigation, I tried to imagine what it would be like if Justin had been the one murdered."

She pressed her fingers to her lips. "That's terrible."

"I don't think so," Abra said quietly.

"But even at my lowest, I couldn't imagine it. I couldn't imagine how I'd feel in your place, Eli." She paused a moment, sipped her tea. "You want me to tell you I lied to protect him. That he wasn't with me that night. I wish I could. G.o.d, I wish I could." She closed her eyes. "I shouldn't think that way about him. We made two beautiful children together. But right now I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. The truth is, Justin came home that night, about five-thirty, no more than a few minutes after that. It all seemed so normal. He even kept his phone out, as he'd started to do the last several months. He said he was expecting an important e-mail from work, and might have to grab his overnight bag and head out. But it wouldn't be for a couple hours anyway, if that."

Eden shook her head. "I realized later, of course, he was waiting for a message from Lindsay, that they'd made plans to go away for a day or two. But that night, I thought it was just the usual. The kids were both at school-a rehearsal for a play they were both in, and pizza after. It was nice, just the two of us, and the rain. I made dinner-chicken fajitas, and he made margaritas. We just had an easy evening, nothing special. Just enjoying ourselves as a couple before the kids came home, and the noise came back.

"We were doing just that when the phone rang. It was Carlie from the gallery. She'd seen a bulletin on TV. She told me Lindsay was dead, that they said it might be foul play."

A calico cat padded up the steps, leaped into her lap. Eden stroked it as she finished. "I should've known then, right then. He was so shaken. He went white. But I was so shocked, too. And I was thinking about Lindsay, so I never thought ... I never would have believed they'd been involved. When the police came, when they told me, I didn't believe it. Then ... I couldn't not believe it. I'm sorry, Eli, I'm so very sorry I can't help you."

"I appreciate you talking to me. It can't be easy."

"I'm putting it behind me. All of it, though it takes some doing. You should do the same."

When they were back in the car, Abra rubbed a hand over his. "I'm sorry, too."

"Now we know." And still something troubled him.

CHAPTER Twenty-six

KIRBY DUNCAN'S OFFICE TOOK UP A SQUARE OF MISERLY s.p.a.ce in a scarred brick building that had bypa.s.sed any attempt at urban revitalization. It b.u.mped against the cracked sidewalk with its first-floor display windows touting psychic readings on one side, an adult toy shop on the other.

"Almost one-stop shopping," Abra considered. "You can go to Madam Carlotta and find out if you're going to get lucky enough to consider dropping a few bucks in The Red Room."

"If you have to ask a psychic, you're probably not going to get lucky."

"I read tarot," she reminded him. "It's an ancient and interesting form of seeking knowledge and self-awareness."

"It's cards." He opened the center door and stepped into a skinny lobby and steps leading up.

"I'm definitely doing a reading for you. Your mind's too closed off to possibilities, especially for a writer."

"As a lawyer, I defended an alleged psychic a few years back for bilking clients out of a considerable amount of money."

"People who bilk other people don't have a real gift or calling. Did you win?"

"Yeah, only because her clients were wide open to possibilities, and deeply stupid."

She gave him a light elbow jab, but she laughed.

On the second level, frosted gla.s.s doors advertised BAXTER TREMAINE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, something called QUIKEE LOANS, another outfit called ALLIED ANSWERING SERVICE, and KIRBY DUNCAN, PRIVATE INVESTIGATION.

Police tape crossed over Duncan's frosted gla.s.s.

"I'd hoped we could go in, look around."

"Open murder case." Eli shrugged. "They want to keep the scene of the break-in secure. Wolfe would be part of this. He doesn't let go easily."