Murder 101 (22 page)

BOOK: Murder 101

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If you wanted to remarry in the Church, an annulment was mandatory. Since divorcing Ray, I didn’t think I would ever remarry, much less in the Church, so an annulment was a nonissue. Especially since I thought they were a load of crap.

I repeated what he had said, and asked, “So, why didn’t you just give her one?”

He looked at me. “I think they’re a load of crap.”

I almost liked him again, but I stopped myself.

“We have two beautiful daughters. Our marriage . . . well, it just didn’t work out.” He leaned back and stuck his hand inside his sling to scratch his arm. “I wasn’t going to pay some priest two grand to wipe the slate clean. There’s a lot of writing on that slate. Some of it is even good.” He closed his eyes. “I also never thought it would be an issue. I work eighty hours a week and spend another thirty with my kids. Sometimes I sleep. I didn’t think having a nonexistent, yet legal, marriage would be a problem. I guess I was wrong, huh?” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I never thought I’d meet anyone worth compromising for.”

I softened slightly but I had hardened myself so much in the past few weeks that I was incapable of a complete thaw. “She’s still in love with you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Then why would she introduce herself to me as your wife?” I asked.

“Because she is,” he said quietly.

He should have kept his mouth shut, but I guess he finally felt like he had to tell the truth. She was his wife. He was married. I started crying again. “Can I have the handkerchief back, please?” I asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the soggy piece of linen. He handed it to me across my desk. I blew my nose again.

“I really don’t want it back this time,” he said, smiling, but I could see that his eyes were moist.

I crumpled it up in my hands and held it there.

He looked down at his shoes. “I’m going to sign those papers.”

I looked back at him. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was probably good news. The way things were going, I was having a tough time separating the good from the bad.

“Do you think Father Kevin would help me with the annulment?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Hard to say. If I were you, I’d stay away from Father Kevin for a while. He’s pretty mad at you.”

“Go out with me tonight so we can talk about this,” he said. “Or let me come over.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

I stared back at him.

“So, that’s it?” He looked at me for confirmation.

I crossed my arms on my desk and put my head down on them. After a few minutes, I looked up. “I’m sorry. I just can’t get past the fact that you lied,” I said, my voice hoarse from crying.

He got up and came around to my side of the desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. When you asked me the question that night in the restaurant, I really didn’t think it would ever be an issue. I guess I was wrong.” He put his hand on my cheek. “Will you forgive me?”

I stayed in my chair. I took his hand from my cheek. “I don’t know. I can’t see you again until you’re divorced or annulled or whatever you need to be to not have a wife. I know that.” I stood up and took his left hand in mine. “Good-bye, Crawford.”

“Wait,” he said, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “This will all be over in a few months. How do we stay together until then?” he whispered, leaning toward my face.

I extricated myself from him. “We don’t. You’re married.”

A knock at the door put more space between us. I called, “Come in,” and the door opened. It was Kevin. He eyed Crawford warily. “Detective,” he said, nodding.

Crawford cast his eyes down. “Father McManus.”

Kevin gave him the priest version of the evil eye. “You look good. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Kevin looked at me, taking in the red nose, the bloodshot eyes, and runny makeup. “I saw your car. You’re in early.”

“Trying to get some work done,” I explained.

“Call me when you’re done. I need help with my homily for today’s Mass. I thought I’d talk about ‘new beginnings.’ I’ll be in the chapel,” he said, and closed the door.

I stared at the closed door, and Crawford stared at me. “So, that’s it?” he asked, his tone surprised and full of hurt. “After everything we’ve been through? That’s it?”

I nodded. “That’s it.” I wanted to add “for now,” but didn’t. “Can I give you a tip, Crawford?”

“Put a ten on Almost Divorced in the fifth at Belmont?” he asked, trying to get a smile out of me. It almost worked, but not quite.

I stared back at him impassively. “The next time a woman asks you if you’re married, say ‘yes.’”

“There won’t be a next time.” He put his free hand to his head and rubbed his forehead.

I wasn’t sure if I had the fortitude to remain on this moral high ground I had constructed. When he put his hand on the doorknob, the finality of everything hit me. I stood. “Crawford, listen. Give me a couple of weeks. Gas up the cruiser and drop by when you’re feeling better.”

“It’s not a cruiser,” he shot back. He pulled me close with his good arm and kissed me.

I pulled away.

“I’ll be back,” he said, and turned to leave. He gave me one last glance and left my office, closing the door behind him.

I waited until I saw him go up the back stairs and then whispered to no one but myself, “And I’ll be here.”

Epilogue

It was three days later that I found the envelope that had been on the windshield of my car. It was shoved deep into an unused pocket of my pocketbook, wrinkled, but still intact. I pulled it out and opened it, reading the brief message aloud: