The Perfect Marriage(49)
The dinner conversation was stilted. Owen gave his typical closemouthed account of how the first day of chemo had gone. Jessica was largely mute, undoubtedly thinking about the funeral to come, as well as the rest of her life without James.
And there Wayne was, sitting between them, wanting so desperately to solve their problems by giving of himself. And it broke his heart that neither wanted his help.
Malik was busy pounding away. He had reached out to Haley earlier that day to report on how well he’d done with the police interview. So well that he thought he should be rewarded with another throw.
She was tempted to tell him that she was too tired. Or that she shouldn’t have to reward him with sex because he’d told the police that they were having sex the other night. But the very fact that he was expecting it told her that he knew the truth. That she hadn’t actually arrived at his place at five. Which meant that if he was telling the police that she had, he was lying to protect her. And given that, the least she could do was fuck him.
Besides, it wasn’t as if having sex with Malik was digging ditches. She could get into it too.
When it was over and he had left, Haley considered her circumstances. They were, to put it mildly, less than optimal. The man she was on record threatening to murder had just been murdered, she had lied to the police about her whereabouts at the time of the crime, and now her alibi witness was demanding sex in exchange for maintaining that lie.
After Wayne left, Jessica contacted the life insurance company and asked how she could collect the proceeds of the policy on James’s life. She explained that her son was undergoing an operation, and she needed the money quickly. The claims adjuster expressed her condolences and explained that the process was fairly straightforward: fill out a form and attach the death certificate.
Jessica wondered if there’d be a delay in processing the payment because James’s death was being treated as a homicide. She knew from the movies that there was some rule against rewarding murderers with benefits of their crime, like collecting on life insurance. That meant the payment might not be issued right away.
The irony of the situation was not lost on her. The fact that she desperately needed that money only made it more likely that the police would use the existence of the policy as evidence against her, which would in turn delay her receipt of the funds.
Worse than that, the moment the police discovered James was worth more dead than alive, they’d assume she’d killed him to save her son.
Gabriel was disappointed to hear that Annie had already been put down for the night. He had come home early just to see her.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her at five a.m.,” Ella said with a laugh. “Earlier if you want to wake up for the middle-of-the-night feeding.”
“That’s okay. Besides, a quiet evening alone with my beautiful wife sounds pretty great.”
“You want a beer? You look like you could use one.”
He laughed. “No. I’m still in complete solidarity.”
“Well, partial solidarity, at least.”
When Ella became pregnant and had to swear off alcohol, as well as caffeine and sushi, Gabriel agreed to do likewise. He’d been able to keep that promise for the most part, but he’d confessed to her that he couldn’t function at work without coffee. And because he never really liked sushi anyway, her dig was on point.
“Touché. How was your day?”
“Same. Annie was perfect, but she’s not the best conversationalist. Tell me about the case.”
While Ella had been on maternity leave, her only connection to the justice world had been through Gabriel. In their pre-Annie existence, they would share their respective cop and prosecutor war stories over dinner each night. In the post-Annie world, it was a one-way street, but Ella always seemed excited to hear about Gabriel’s work.
“We seem to be looking for a skinny, short-haired woman in a haystack,” he said. “Asra contacted more than fifty galleries and auction houses, none of which had a short-haired, thin Allison on staff. Well, that isn’t entirely true. This glorified poster shop in SoHo claimed to have one, but when we hiked down there, it turned out the woman in question was actually named Alicia, and her hair wasn’t that short. She was pretty skinny, though, so one out of three. Needless to say, she had no idea who James Sommers was, so it turned out to be a dead end.”
“Maybe your mystery girl doesn’t exist,” Ella said.
“Why would Jessica Sommers make her up?”
“Maybe because her husband made her up, or at least gave her a false name and vocation.”
“Come again?”
“Maybe he was sleeping with this Allison, like you think. But he didn’t want his wife to know that, obviously. So, when she confronts him, he just makes up a name. And says, ‘Oh, she’s working with me on a deal, so it’s all legit.’ Without the real name, the wife can’t google her and cause a scene, and the fake job gives him a reason to be seen with her in public. Kinda brilliant if you ask me, in a lying-cheating-sack kind of way, of course.”
Even while on maternity leave, Ella was still a step ahead. Seeing things that he should have noticed.
“So you’re suggesting that James Sommers has a piece on the side, the ex-wife sees her or something and tells the current wife, then the wife confronts Sommers, and he says, ‘Oh, that’s my business partner, Allison.’ And Allison is a name he just made up to throw suspicion away from the actual short-haired, skinny woman he was with?”