A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(69)

"You did just fine, buddy. Don't worry." Art put a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you and Emily go with Jason? He's going to find a movie or something for you guys to watch."

Art and the police officers settled in the living room. As soon as the kids disappeared, he turned to Investigator Sylla. "So, what's this about?"

"Do you know where your wife is, Mr. Bishop?"

Art's heart beat an arrhythmic measure. "She may be at a friend's. I'm not sure."

"She hasn't contacted you?"

"No." The words made him seem so distant from Gwen. "I was gone, camping," he tried to explain.

"We need to find her. A friend of hers was found dead."

Art's eyes widened. "Who?" Maricela's face flashed through his mind.

"Lance Fairchild. He worked at Humboldt."

"She was working with him on a Laguna Beach house, but I don't think they were close. I'm sure there are other people from the office—"

"The cleaning lady found him in your wife's listing in Dana Point this morning."

"A man? Do you think it's the same killer?" Art asked.

"It doesn't look like it. But we'd like to talk to your wife. As I mentioned, it was her listing."

"Yes, but all the agents have access to the lockbox—"

The investigator interrupted, "Her key was the last to unlock the lockbox, and a neighbor saw her there."

"She was supposed to be doing paperwork. That's why she missed the camping trip," Art said.

Investigator Sylla's face softened. "We believe she met Lance Fairchild at the property and there was an altercation."

Art looked at the woman mutely. Was she implying Gwen and this Lance were planning to... planning to what? "Look, detective, I'm not sure what you're trying to say, but I can assure you my wife wasn't planning to hook up with some guy in her client's home. If they met there, it was for business. Maybe Lance had an interested buyer or something."

"He was found naked. In the bathtub." Sylla's voice was flat.

Art's hand balled into a fist. He wanted to hit something. "So, maybe he met somebody there after Gwen left."

"Maybe," Sylla said. "The sooner we find her, the sooner we can get her side of the story."

"I'll call her," Art said and pulled his phone from his pocket. "Let's get to the bottom of this. I'm sure—"

"We have her phone."

"You have her phone?" Art stared.

"Yes. Several of your wife's personal items were left at the scene."

"Wait. Wait." Art exploded from the couch. "You're saying you found my wife's cell at a murder scene? Did you stop to think maybe the person who killed Lance took her?"

"Anything is possible, Mr. Bishop. That's why we need to speak with Mrs. Bishop—so we can clear things up."

"No, I mean, she could be in danger," Art said, his voice rising.

"As I said, anything is possible. I hope we can count on your assistance in locating your wife."

"I don't know where she is," Art almost screamed. "What are you doing to find her?"

Tyler appeared in the living room doorway, his face creased with worry. "Is everything okay, Dad?"

Art crossed to him and hugged him hard. "Everything's fine, buddy. We're just talking."

"Where's Mom?" Tyler's voice was muffled by Art's chest.

"That's what we're trying to figure out. The police need your mom's help with a case."

"Have you, your brother, or your sister heard from your mother?" Investigator Sylla addressed the boy.

Tyler shook his head.

"Why don't you go into the den?" Art forced himself to speak calmly. "Let me talk to the officers."

They sat in silence until Tyler was out of earshot, then Sylla said, "I understand how upset you must be. I want you to know we're doing everything we can to find your wife. Help us. We need a list of names and numbers, anyone she's friendly with. Anyone she might go to if she were in trouble."

Sylla's voice was sympathetic. She sounded sorry. Sorry for Art that he was married to a two-timing murderer.

#

As soon as the police left, Art called Mike McKibben. Maybe Mike could find out something from his cronies at the station that might shed some light on what was going on. He didn't pick up, so Art left a message. Then he set up the kids with calm words, Saturday cartoons, and donuts and headed to Maricela's condo. He wanted to talk to her before the police did.

He paced the small front stoop while he waited for her to answer the door. Worry, fear, and anger swam through his gut in an acid sea. The door opened. Julissa's face brightened into a sunny smile when she saw him.

"Mr. Bishop."

"Is your mom here?" His tone was clipped. Her face fell. "Sorry, but I'm in a hurry," he said forcing more warmth into his words.

"Come on in. I'll get her." Julissa threw open the door and yelled over her shoulder. "Mom. Mr. Bishop is here."

Art moved into the small living room, but he didn't sit. He was too restless. Maricela entered holding a mug. "Can I get you some?" she asked.