Two Guys Detective Agency (21 page)
“And you don’t know where she is?”
“Nope. Nor do I care.”
“I lied to Sullivan,” Linda said. “I told him our mother was dead. It just seemed...I don’t know —
easier.”
“Don’t sweat it — I told Richard the same lie.” Octavia gave a harsh laugh. “Jesus, no wonder we’re so
messed up.”
Linda reached over and took the cigarette for a deep drag. She coughed a little, then took another drag
and exhaled. “No more secrets, okay?”
“Okay. At least not from each other.”
OCTAVIA’S ENTRANCE into the dinner at the Waters-Taub Country Club where she and Richard had
been members for as long as they’d been married was everything she’d hoped for.
Voices hushed.
Forks dropped.
The pianist hit a wrong note.
Perfect. And she couldn’t have looked more amazing in a pale blue short Versace dress and silver
Valentino sandals, if she did say so herself.
“Octavia, how good to see you,” Joan Berman said, stepping forward to exchange a fake air-kiss.
“Good to see you, too, Joan.”
“No one expected you to be here.”
She took two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, one for each hand. “Really? Why
ever not?”
Joan looked to Katie Lender for help.
“We just didn’t know you were back from Lexington,” Katie said with a nervous smile. “How is your
poor sister doing?”
And she meant “poor” literally. Octavia took a drink from each glass she held, fortified by the tingling
bubbles sliding down her throat. “Remarkably well considering the mess her husband left her in.” Then she
laughed. “That seems to run in the family lately.”
“Were you ever able to er...connect with Richard?” Renee Masterson asked delicately.
“No. His phone seems to be dead. Wherever he is, he apparently doesn’t have service.”
The women exchanged looks.
Octavia rolled her eyes. “Good grief, if you know something, now’s the time to tell me. That’s why I’m
here, you know.”
“Well,” Renee said, “there are rumors that Richard has gotten mixed up with some unsavory people.”
“What kind of people? Who?”
They all shrugged.
“But almost everyone in this room was...approached,” Joan said.
“Approached by whom?”
Joan glanced around, as if she was afraid they would be overheard. Indeed, a crowd had gravitated
around them, even as everyone avoided making eye contact.
“Spit it out, Joan!”
“Approached by a thug who wanted to know where Richard is.”
Octavia felt the blood drain from her face. “A stocky blond guy?”
They all three nodded.
Her mouth tightened. “Which one of you told them where to find
me
?”
Joan and Renee drank from their glasses and slid glances toward Katie.
Katie blanched.
Octavia leaned in until they were nose job to nose job. “You led him to my sister’s house? He attacked
me in front of her
kids
, you mindless twat.”
“I — I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Octavia lifted one of the champagne glasses and tossed it back. The other one, she tossed in Katie’s
face. She gasped, and so did everyone around them.
Octavia stopped a waiter and traded both empty glasses for full ones. “Where’s Patsy?” she asked Joan
and Renee. She could always count on Patsy Greenwald to tell her the truth — they had swapped stories
about their inattentive husbands in the club sauna more times than she could count.
They were still staring at Katie, who was sputtering. Both of them took a step back.
“What?” she demanded.
“Um, Patsy...seems to be missing, too,” Joan said.
“What do you mean, missing too?”
“Her husband hasn’t seen her since...”
“Since Richard disappeared,” Renee finished, then flinched.
Octavia saw red. Patsy, the woman whom everyone said could be her sister, who groaned when Octavia
shared her grievances about Richard’s lovemaking.
Octavia emptied another glass of champagne down her throat, tossed the second glass on Katie, dousing
her again for good measure, then marched up to the piano.
The pianist saw her coming and stopped playing, his eyes wide. She grabbed the microphone and faced
the crowd. “Attention, everyone. As most of you are no doubt aware, my name is Octavia Habersham. Does
anybody know where the fuck my husband is?”
The room fell silent and no one moved.
“Okay. Can anyone tell me about the people he’s messed up with?” She scanned the room. “Nobody?
Okay, well, for those of you who haven’t heard, he’s been screwing Patsy Greenwald behind my back.
Also, we’re totally broke and probably can’t afford this place anymore, so before I go, I’d like to say
something: Every married man in this room who’s tried to sleep with me, if you raise your hand right now,
I won’t call out your name.”
Someone in the back dropped a glass they were holding and it crashed against the floor.
She identified the man and waved. “Yes, Steve Royce, thanks for being honest. I’m sure you and Ailene
will have a lot to talk about on the way home. Come on, who else?” She smiled wide. “I’ve got all night,
fellas.”
She surveyed the room, her gaze stopping on every man who’d tried to get in her pants over the years
until they sheepishly raised their hand. “Don’t be shy, Joe Nikko — remember the incident at the Delaneys’
Christmas party?” The man’s face turned scarlet, but he lifted his fat hand. One by one, hands went up all
over the room, including Joan’s and Renee’s husbands’.
When she was satisfied, she nodded. “I think that about does it for me. Goodnight everyone — enjoy
your dinner.”
As she walked out, the crowd parted for her. From the looks on their faces, she’d burned a lot of
bridges. It struck her that these people had never been her friends — tennis partners, dinner partners, and
neighbors — yes. But never friends.
How quickly her life had disintegrated.
She exited the club and waved off the valet, snagging the keys to the van off the board herself. It wasn’t
hard to find the vehicle since it was the only minivan in the entire parking lot. After tearing out of there, she
swung by the house to empty the mailbox and to check if Richard had been there. Her key still worked, so
the bank hadn’t taken possession...yet.
In Richard’s office, she located a phone list for club members and looked up the number for Patsy
Greenwald’s husband Neil. He answered, but not only did he not know where his wife was, he didn’t care.
And from the sound of the female laughter in the background, it appeared he’d already moved on.
She ended the call wondering if anything in the world was real or true anymore. Everybody — she and
Richard included — seemed to be living disposable lives that could be cast off whenever a person decided
to move on, and it didn’t matter who got hurt in the process.
Of all those men from the club who’d hit on her, she’d never once been tempted to cheat on Richard.
She knew she could be difficult to live with, but she had been faithful.
Her eyes filled with fresh tears. She’d married Richard for a lot of reasons, but she’d picked him over
someone like Dunk Duncan because he’d sworn to her he would always be there for her...that he would
never leave her.
Like her mother had.
Fooled again
.
The house was just as she’d left it. If Richard had been there, she couldn’t tell. She went around the
house, putting mementos and photo albums in a box, struck by how many of those cherished items were
from her childhood and college years and how few were from her marriage.
When she left the house, she drove by Richard’s law office, but there was no activity that she could see
— and the window was still boarded up from the day she’d thrown a brick through it.
As she steered onto the interstate to head back to Lexington, the adrenaline began to ebb and tears
threatened as the reality of her situation began to sink in. Two weeks after Richard had disappeared, her
pale pink funeral manicure was at the end of its lifespan and she was no closer to finding him, or
discovering why he’d left in the first place. The simplest answer was that he and Patsy had run off together,
but that didn’t explain the thug who was looking for him.
He must be deeply in debt...maybe to a loan shark? Was he hiding out because his life was in danger?
She spotted a bent business card in the console and chewed her lip. She never thought she’d call the
man, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Octavia used one hand to punch in the number on her phone and listened to it ring two, three times.
She was considering hanging up when his voice came on the line.
“Detective Oakley Hall.”
LINDA BLINKED awake slowly, enjoying the soothing suburban sounds of trees swaying, birds
chirping, and...
Her eyes flew wide.
Whinnying?
She rolled out of bed and lifted the slat of a mini-blind to look out onto the front yard. Her jaw
dropped.
Tied to the trunk of the Bradford pear tree in her yard was a tall, sleek brown horse, happily munching
on the clover in her overgrown yard. “What the — ?”
Her bedroom door burst open. Jarrod and Maggie were jumping up and down.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
“There’s a horse in our yard!”
“So I see.”
“How did it get there?” Jarrod asked.
“I have no idea,” she murmured. But why did she have the feeling that it had something to do with
Octavia coming in last night after they’d all gone to bed?
“Can we go out and pet it?”
“Yeah, can we?”
“No, you may not. You may get dressed and go out on the stoop and wait for me. And don’t let Max
outside.”
They fled.
She pulled on jeans and a top as quickly as she could, then made a beeline for the den. Octavia was
sprawled on her back, snoring, wearing a blue satin sleep mask, black camisole and tap pants. All around
her were stuffed animals that Maggie was fond of putting in her bed.
Linda leaned over and shook her awake. “Octavia...Octavia, wake up.”
She snorted awake and sat up. “What? What’s wrong?”
Linda lifted the sleep mask. “There’s an animal tied to the tree in my front yard.”
Octavia grimaced against the light. “That’s a thoroughbred...I thought I taught you something about
horses.”
Linda tucked her tongue into her cheek. “How did it get there?”
“I brought it home with me last night.”
“From where?”
Octavia sighed, already tired of questions. “From Louisville, where I’ve had it stabled.”
“Why did you bring it here?”
“
He
was about to be repossessed.”
Linda squinted. “Horses can be repossessed?”
“I guess so. There was a notice in my mailbox.”
Linda was still trying to sort through it all. “You brought it here so the bank can’t find it to repossess
it?”
“Him. And yes.”
“You kidnapped a horse?”
“It’s my horse!”
“How on earth did you transport it?”
“Your van did a great job of pulling my horse trailer.”
Linda pursed her mouth. “O...kay.”
“Mom!” Jarrod yelled from the front door. “Are you coming out?”
“Be right there.” She gave Octavia a pointed look. “Coming?”
“If I have to.”
“You do.”
Octavia groaned, but followed her outside where a nice little crowd of neighbors had gathered to gawk
at the splendid animal grazing in their yard. Just as Octavia had said, the minivan sat in the driveway with a
horse trailer hitched to it. The horse seemed oblivious to its audience as it picked clean every clump of
clover within reach of its long graceful neck.
“Is it yours, Aunt Tavey?” Jarrod asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I pet her?”
“Me, too!” Maggie said.
“It’s a boy horse. See the — ”
Linda stopped her with her arm. “Let’s save the anatomy lesson for another time.”
Octavia frowned. “Yes, you can pet him if you’re very careful. Otherwise, he’ll trample you.”
Linda’s head came around, but Octavia arched an eyebrow. “Kidding, sis. Mercury is as gentle as a
lamb.”
The kids edged up to him, Maggie, as usual, the braver one who reached out first to touch the horse’s
neck, her pink mouth open in awe.
“What do you propose we do now?” Linda asked.
Octavia yawned, then gave a little wave. “He’ll be fine munching on grass for a couple of days. But at
some point I’ll have to buy some oats.
Linda stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“What?”
“Octavia, it can’t stay here.”
“
He
. And why not? Look what an amazing job he’s doing on the grass.”
The horse lifted its tail and deposited a huge pile of crap on the lawn.
Linda looked at Octavia. “You are so cleaning that up.” Then she spotted Nan Boyd marching their way.
“Oh, here we go.”
“Linda, what is going on here?”
“Just a temporary visitor, Nan. Nothing to worry about.”
“This is breaking all kinds of ordinances.
Look
at the flies. Not to mention the safety risk. What if it gets