Our Husband (a humorous romantic mystery) (12 page)

inside the pitiful young woman. "Have you had a lot of morning sickness?"

Ruby shook her head.

"You should see your obstetrician for a full prenatal checkup."

The girl nodded unconvincingly—Natalie bet she'd never seen the inside of an OB/GYN's office. She swallowed a

lecture, telling herself that Ruby and her baby were none of her business. Soon they would bury Raymond, and the three of them

would probably never see each other again.

Beatrix snorted. "Don't guess you considered birth control."

"We tried to be careful," Ruby said softly. "But we couldn't keep our hands off each other."

Natalie closed her eyes at the wistful note in her voice, giving in to a stab of jealousy. Raymond probably couldn't wait to

get to Ruby's bed every week, where the skin was tight, the boobs high, and the novelty keen.

"I'm so sorry I asked," Beatrix said.

"How come the two of you never had children?" Ruby asked Beatrix.

Natalie waited, equally interested.

"I couldn't," the woman said, her gaze trained on the window.

Her heart squeezed for Beatrix—how incredibly hard this must be for her. To find out on top of the double betrayal that

Raymond had fathered a child with someone young enough to be his own offspring. She must hate him... and them. No wonder

she was so bitter. The ill feelings Natalie held against the dour woman dissipated a few degrees.

"Oh," Ruby said softly. "What about you, Natalie?"

What about her? She was the only one of them who had no legitimate tie to Raymond—Beatrix had a valid marriage

license, and Ruby had his progeny. "I... I never wanted children."

"Why not?" Ruby asked, a little crease rumpling her beautiful brow.

Why not
? Natalie's defenses soared. "Because I would've had to give up more than a career of striptease."

"Oooh, good one," Beatrix said from the corner.

Ruby sniffed noisily, then swallowed. "I read somewhere that most women fantasize about stripping. I feel lucky because

I'm good at it and I make decent money."

"Well, I certainly never fantasized about it," Beatrix informed them.

Natalie squirmed—after splitting a bottle of particularly good wine, she'd once performed a striptease for Raymond, but

had been so mortified the next morning that she refused to even talk about it. Her cheeks flamed at the thought of him comparing

her clumsy technique to Ruby's. On the heels of that disturbing thought came the question of what Ruby would do when she

became too pregnant to perform. Was the woman's financial situation as dire as her own?

The dividing window buzzed down and the driver announced they were approaching the cemetery. Silence fell among

them as the vehicle bumped its way over an uneven asphalt road. Through the windshield, she saw their surroundings were

green and lush, the arch above the entrance gate gnarled with vines and rust. Oak Gardens.

"It's lovely," she murmured.

"Raymond and I always thought so," Beatrix offered, her mind seemingly a thousand miles away.

The hearse drove nearly to the end of the cemetery before pulling off onto a wide shoulder. A green canopy had been

erected over an open grave and a row of three folding chairs sat waiting. Natalie's insides knotted at the knowledge of what lay

ahead.

Silent and teary-eyed, they waited in the limousine until the coffin was drawn from the hearse. The limousine driver

alighted to help carry the casket, and a handful of dirty city workers who apparently had done the digging filled in as

impromptu pallbearers. They shouldered the casket to the gravesite, then the funeral director returned to the limo to retrieve the

women.

They climbed out, noiseless and, in Natalie's case, numb, then picked their way among gravestones and pitted ground to

the grave, above which sat Raymond's shiny coffin on a lift. A spray of red roses covered the curved top. His favorite.

Natalie allowed herself to be led to one of the chairs, but she couldn't tear her gaze from the gaping hole beneath the

coffin. Her husband would be lowered into that cold, deep cavern and covered over with dirt as carelessly as the roots of a

shrub.

Ruby dropped into the seat next to her, crying softly and reeking of throw-up. Beatrix sat closest to the head of the casket.

As the funeral director delivered a generic send-off, Natalie tried to imagine Raymond's face, terrified that bits of his features

were already fuzzy in her mind. Tears leaked down her chapped cheeks, burning in the brisk spring chill.

She realized the funeral director had stopped talking when the pallbearers circled the casket. As the casket was lowered

into the grave, red roses were passed to all three of them. Ruby was sobbing so loudly, she had developed the hiccups. Natalie

assumed some of the girl's weight, even though Ruby towered over her. Beatrix tossed in her rose first. Ruby went next and

very nearly threw herself in as well, but was saved by a quick jerk from Natalie. When the commotion subsided, Natalie

finally opened her own hand to let the third flower drop into the grave. It bounced off the coffin, red petals exploding, then

disappeared down the side.

The funeral director led a quick prayer, rushing to "amen," which everyone repeated, including the sweaty gravediggers.

The director shook their hands again, gently steering them away from the tent, obviously eager to return to Paducah. Natalie

kept looking back at the grave, biting deep into her lip as the first shovels of dirt were tossed on top of the coffin. She stumbled

and tried to focus on something other than the fact that the man she loved was being buried.

She straightened her shoulders, and walked toward the road. She and Ruby would be riding back together after they

dropped Beatrix at her home. Natalie massaged the bridge of her nose, longing for a dry, clean handkerchief. Considering the

stench of the interior of the vehicle, she hoped they could trade for another limo. She sighed in relief when she realized that

another long car was already sitting behind the limo, but squinted when a second, then a third car arrived.

A heavyset graying man climbed out of one of the cars. He wore a sport coat and stood in a wide-legged stance, waiting

for them. From the puzzlement on Beatrix's face, she didn't know the man. Natalie's heart lurched—was he a bill collector? An

IRS agent? Had Raymond's debt caught up to them already?

When they neared the limo, the man stepped forward and read from a small card. "Mrs. Beatrix Carmichael?"

"Yes," Beatrix replied after a split-second hesitation.

"My name is Detective Aldrich, from the Kentucky State Police."

"Whatever this concerns, Detective, it can wait," Beatrix said in a queenly voice that Natalie admired. "I just buried my

husband."

The man scratched his temple, seemingly unmoved. "Mrs. Carmichael, your husband is the reason I'm here. The medical

examiner received the autopsy results a few hours ago."

Beatrix frowned. "I didn't order an autopsy."

"Well, you got one anyway," the man said, adopting a flat smile. "The report shows that your husband died of a massive

heart attack."

"Tell me something I don't know, Detective."

"Okay. Your husband was murdered."

Natalie swayed, but caught herself, trying to make sense of the man's words. It was ludicrous. Who on earth would murder

Raymond? At the sound of streaming water, she turned and stared at the growing dark stain on Ruby's shiny red dress.

"Oh, my God," the young woman whispered. "I just peed my pants."

Chapter 10

Tony scoffed. "You're shitting me.
Three
wives?"

Wrapped in a holey chenille robe, Natalie stood at the kitchen sink with her back to her brother, holding a cup of coffee

that had grown cold. God, how she'd hoped she wouldn't have to tell Tony the sordid truth. "No, I'm not."

"Where are the other two? I mean, what do they do?"

"His real wife lives in her family mansion in northern Tennessee." She'd been in a stupor when they'd dropped Beatrix at

her home, but later Ruby said it looked like "a freaking public library." "I got the impression that she doesn't do much except

complain. The other woman he duped lives in Kentucky outside Paducah. She's... a stripper."

He grunted. "A rich bitch, a doctor, and a stripper?"

She was glad she couldn't see his face. "Raymond was nothing if not magnanimous."

"Damn, sis. No wonder you look like hell."

"I've missed you, too."

"Now I know why you didn't want me at the funeral. I just thought you were ashamed of me."

She was. But at the time she'd been thinking only of her own shame.

"Christ," he said with his mouth full. "I knew Raymond was a player, but I never dreamed he'd go and do something that

stupid."

She set her jaw at Tony's assessment—not criminal and unconscionable, just stupid. Mrs. Ratchet was right, she conceded

as she looked across the dewy back yard; Rose Marie's flower garden was growing wild. Just another in the long list of things

she'd neglected, apparently. Her husband, her finances, her brother, her garden. She turned, already regretting her decision to

allow Tony to stay for a while. "What do you mean, you knew Raymond was a player?"

Tony shrugged and licked the mixing spoon he was using to consume an enormous bowl of pasta salad. Her parents had

been hard pressed to keep enough food on hand when he was growing up—she remembered because her mother had made her

do the shopping. In hindsight, Tony had needed his strength to pull off his many heists.

He looked toward the ceiling. Tony was so handsome, with dusky skin and aquiline features. And she should be so lucky

as to have those long black eyelashes. Prison had given him hard, lean angles, but he was still a striking man.

Tony made a rueful sound with his cheek. "Raymond had the look, you know? Something in the eyes."

Her pulse spiked. As if he, the delinquent, had been savvy enough to see Raymond's flaws, but she, the physician, hadn't.

"Coming from a professional player's point of view, of course," she added, not nicely.

His shoulders sagged, and he resumed eating with somewhat less gusto. "I suppose."

She closed her eyes. How did he do that? Her brother had been a screw-up his entire life, yet was able to make her feel

bad for pointing out that she didn't trust his opinion. Was she so easily manipulated? Had Raymond been attracted to a

weakness in her that made him feel powerful? Was what she'd deemed a cheerful disposition actually him laughing at her the

duration of their counterfeit marriage?

Regardless, her brother wasn't accountable for Raymond's sins. "I shouldn't have said that," she murmured.

"It's okay, sis. What Raymond did was pretty lousy. I know you were crazy about him."

Crazy—how fitting. She turned back to the window because she didn't want him to see her choke up. She was the strong

one. If she broke down, the laws of nature would be set on end.

"Sis, you're still young, you're a doctor, you still got your face and figure. I know it sucks right now, but—"

"There's more." A spider was spinning a web in the branches of an overgrown shrub outside the window.

He scoffed. "What, does he have a bunch of kids running around or something?"

She poured the coffee down the drain of the porcelain sink. "As a matter of fact, the younger woman is pregnant."

"The stripper?"

She nodded.

"Wow, good thing you don't need Raymond's money because it sounds like you'd have to stand in line."

"As it turns out," Natalie said, thinking she really should take down the café curtains and wash them, "Raymond also had a

gambling problem I didn't know about. He depleted our accounts."

Behind her, Tony's spoon clattered against the table. "Are you saying you're broke?"

From the outrage in his voice, she surmised he had indeed been hoping for a handout. "It appears so."

"But we still have Rose Marie's house," he said, his tone elevated. "This place has to be worth a bundle."

We
—how typical. "I'll do all I can to keep Rose Marie's house."

"So you're behind on a few bills—you have your own practice, for heaven's sake."

An unfortunate bug flew into the web, and the spider made short work of the insect. "Not for long. The town will hold it

against me when word gets around that my husband was a bigamist."

"Well, technically, he was a trigamist, but have you told anyone?"