Chapter Thirteen #2
Sam wanted to remind her that it took two to tango, but she’d come to that conclusion on her own soon enough.
“How old are your children?” Sam asked her.
“Aidan is nineteen. Grace is eighteen, Michaela is fifteen, and my baby, Alexis, is eleven.” She gave Sam a look full of despair. “What am I supposed to do now? My husband was having an affair with a woman who was murdered? And you’re here because you thought I killed her?”
“We had to rule you out.”
“I didn’t kill her. I had no idea I had cause to want her dead. I’ve been heartbroken over what happened to her, and now I find out she’d been sleeping with my husband. For how long? Did he say?”
“A year.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” She got up and rushed for the bathroom that was around the corner from the kitchen. The sounds of retching soon filled the air.
“Today, I truly hate this job,” Sam said.
“Right there with you.”
Sam’s phone chimed with a text from her reporter friend Darren Tabor from the Washington Star. Got a text from Roni. She’s away until after the holidays. She said she’d check in with you and to please hold the job for her if you can.
Sam texted him right back. I’ll hit her up and let her know the job is hers whenever she’s available. Glad to hear she’s ok.
Define ok, though, you know?
Yeah, for sure. I feel for her.
Me, too, but I think the job is giving her something to look forward to, so thanks for that.
Excited to have her on the team. If you’re in the area and would like to come by the WH for a gathering on Christmas Eve, I’ll leave your name at the gate.
Shut up. Don’t mess with me that way.
I mean it! You’re invited as a FRIEND. Off the record.
I need a minute to process this.
Sam had to remind herself that it would be inappropriate to laugh out loud amid Josie Ouellette’s disaster. Let me know if you’re bringing a date. Got to clear her with the SS. And BTW it’s formal.
You’re serious.
Yes, Darren, but you’re making me rethink the invite…
I accept! See you then. If not before. And if there’s anything to tell me about the woman in the van, you know where to find me.
Go away.
We’re FRIENDS now. You can’t talk to me like that.
That’s how I talk to my friends. Go. Away. I’m working.
“Sheesh,” Sam said, handing her phone to Freddie so he could read the exchange.
“Aw, you made his day, his week, his year, his life.”
“I suspect I’ll live to regret inviting him.”
“No, you won’t.”
Josie returned a few minutes later, looking noticeably paler. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“It’s a terrible shock. I thought Mark and I…” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I thought we had something special, only to find out I’m just another cliché wife who had no idea what her husband was really up to.”
The door from the garage into the kitchen opened, and Mark stood in the doorway as if he wasn’t sure he still lived there.
“Get out,” Josie said, her eyes flashing with rage now.
“Please, Josie, let’s talk about this.”
“Did you sleep with Pam?”
“Let me explain.”
“Get. Out. Now.”
Mark looked to Sam and Freddie, as if they were going to somehow help him out. They weren’t. Thankfully, he turned and walked out before they had to get involved.
“What’ll I do?” Josie asked, her eyes filling again. “I haven’t worked since before Aidan was born. How will I support myself without his income?”
“Find a lawyer to help you through this,” Sam said. “That’s the best thing you can do.”
“I didn’t kill Pam,” Josie said softly. “I’m not sad about her dying anymore, but I still feel for her kids. They don’t deserve this, and neither do mine.”
Sam put her business card on the table. “If you hear of anything that may be relevant to the case, please call me.”
“You can’t actually expect me to help you, can you?”
“I expect you to share any information relevant to a homicide investigation because you can be charged if you don’t.”
“This just gets better and better,” Josie said with a bitter laugh.
“I’m sorry to have had to do this to you,” Sam said. “Our job is to figure out who killed Pam.”
“And it doesn’t matter who gets run over in the process, right?”
“Are you saying you’d rather not know?”
She shrugged. “I liked my life the way it was thirty minutes ago.”
Sam had no idea what to say to that. How could anyone not want to know their spouse was lying to them? “We’ll, ah, see ourselves out.” She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Ugh, that was horrible,” Freddie said when they were outside. “I feel so bad for her.”
“Why would she not want to know her husband was sleeping with someone else?”
“Because she needed to believe her life was exactly as she saw it. The happily married couple with the four accomplished children and a life anyone would envy. Now she’s the scorned wife with no source of income and a husband who’ll need to pay for two homes and probably can barely swing the one he already has. ”
“Wow, that’s a lot of insight into marital meltdown from a newlywed.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Probably not.”
“What next?”
“I want to see Bob Tappen again.”
“So we can spread the good news to him, too?”
“Yep.”
“I really need some food before we continue on our path of destruction.”
“Fine, but make it snappy.”
“I’d rather make it greasy.”
“I’m sure you know exactly where you want to go, so you can drive.” She tossed him the keys and got into the passenger seat.
Freddie bounced in the driver’s seat like a five-year-old who’d had too much sugar. “One of my favorite sandwich shops is up here.”
Fifteen minutes later, Freddie got back in the car, bringing the mouthwatering aromas of grilled onions, peppers and steak. Because life wasn’t fair, it was probably smothered in cheese, too.
“Here’s your salad,” he said, handing her a separate bag.
“Thanks.”
They ate in silence—or rather, he powered through an extra-large sub while she picked at a tasteless salad. In the time it took her to eat half of hers, he’d also consumed two bags of chips and three chocolate chip cookies.
The salad would’ve been halfway appetizing if she hadn’t had to watch his dumpster show while she was trying to eat it.
She put the uneaten half back in the bag and rolled it closed.
She sent a text to Captain Malone. Will you please, please, PLEASE handle the media?
We’re on a roll out here, and I don’t want to have to come back in.
Just tell them we’re working the case and expect to have more info soon. PLEASE??
Fine!
Thank you!
Yeah, yeah.
“Phew. Malone is going to do the press briefing.”
“That’s good.”
With one less thing to do, Sam relaxed a bit as Freddie pulled the car into traffic to head for the 14th Street hotel where the Tappens were staying. On the way, she called Lieutenant Haggerty from Crime Scene to ask where they were with the processing of the Tappens’ home.
“Whatever happened to her didn’t take place in the house,” Haggerty said. “No signs of struggle or blood or anything that suggests a crime.”
“Damn it. I was hoping you’d find a slam dunk.”
“We rarely get that lucky.”
“True. Thanks for trying. Send me anything you have when you can.”
“You got it. We’re cleaning up now. You can tell them they can come back around four.”
“Will do.” Sam slapped the phone closed with frustration. “I want to know what happened to her, and I want to know it right now.”
“I hear you. How can it not be related to the affair?”
“It has to be. But how? That’s the question. Josie didn’t kill her. She didn’t know about the affair. Bob gave off the blissful glow of happily married, so I’m gonna bet he didn’t know about it either. So where does that leave us?”
“Someone knew.”
“How do we find out who?”
“If I had the answer to that question, you’d be tempted to promote me.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “After Bob, I want to circle back to the friend, Paula. If Pam told anyone about the affair, it would’ve been her.”
“She said she couldn’t think of anything that would’ve gotten Pam murdered.”
“Perhaps she was trying to protect her reputation and her family’s memories of her. As much as that would piss me off, I’d understand it. People are protective of the ones they love.”
“I guess, but you were pretty clear about her keeping things from us during a homicide investigation.”
“Maybe she was hoping we’d find that out somewhere else, and she wouldn’t have to get into it.”
“That’s possible.”
At the hotel, they ran into the same bellhop they’d seen earlier.
“Different day, same request,” Sam said, handing him a five-dollar bill.
“Watch my car, please.” Then she remembered the Secret Service agents she tried not to think about while on the job and added another five-dollar bill.
“And them, too.” She used her thumb to gesture to the black SUV that had pulled in behind her.
“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Cappuano.”
Sam didn’t take the time to correct him.