Chapter 26
I get into my car to make the long hike out to Westchester early the next morning.
My ribs are still sore and my stomach queasy from the homemade kombucha that caused me to retch two more times before I finally fell asleep, but I push past the discomfort.
I can’t delay if I want to have enough time to make the drive back to the island in time to pick up Teddy.
Despite what Jeremy claimed at the mediation session, I am always on time to get my son.
I’ve always thought of Westchester as a high-income area, even more so than our own neighborhood, but Veronica’s address seems to be in a particularly posh neighborhood.
Somehow the pieces of this puzzle aren’t fitting together.
Veronica herself does not look wealthy, her car had a big crack in it, and she’s got a street drug charge in her background, and yet the address is taking me to a rather impressive McMansion with a long sprawling driveway to get to the front of the house.
I’m just thankful there isn’t a gate keeping me out, because it would be a shame to have come all this way and not even be able to make it past the gate.
I park at the end of the driveway of the estate. As I climb out of my car, I can’t help but think that Veronica would actually look quite at home here as the trophy wife of some rich businessman. Whoever owns this house is far wealthier than my husband is.
I did look up the house on the internet prior to driving here.
The deed was in the name of a man called Maxim Simington.
I looked him up, and he was indeed the CEO of a large corporation.
I also discovered that he is married with two children.
So I still haven’t figured out the connection to Veronica.
When I get to the heavy wooden front door, there is an option between an ornate wooden knocker and a doorbell. I hesitate for a few seconds, trying to figure out which one I should use. Finally, I ring the doorbell. And then for good measure, I use the knocker as well.
I stand there for a full minute, wondering if I should have worn something fancier than my white sweater and gray yoga pants paired with my ballet flats.
I wanted to be comfortable for the four hours of driving I would have to do today, but I feel a little underdressed to be knocking on the door of this house.
Eventually, the door swings open, and it’s a relief that the middle-aged woman behind it is dressed even more casually than I am, in jeans and a T-shirt. She looks like the weight of the door is at the upper limit of what she can manage and flashes me a harried expression.
“No solicitors,” she says and starts to close the door in my face.
“Wait!” I cry. “I’m not a solicitor.”
The woman manages to stop the door on its trajectory to slam shut again. She looks me up and down, her lips in a straight line. “What do you want?”
“I…” I thought about it on the way over, and I don’t want to make up some wild story. Best to be honest about what I’m looking for. “I’m trying to find Veronica Chesson.”
By the look on the woman’s face, she isn’t a bigger fan of Veronica than I am. “She doesn’t live here anymore.” Then she adds, “Good riddance.”
And she crosses herself.
“Do you know where she moved to?”
“No. And I don’t care.” Again, she starts to close the door. But then curiosity gets the better of her. “What do you want with her anyway?”
“She…” Again, I make a calculated judgment and decide to tell her the truth—she looks like she’s dying to trash Veronica to the right person. “She’s sleeping with my husband.”
The woman’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Oh!”
“And…and he’s going to leave me for her.”
“Well,” she huffs, “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Why not?”
“She tried to pull that same crap here.” I now realize that the woman is holding a dishrag in her right hand. “The two of us both work here. Well, she worked here—not anymore. It was a live-in position, cleaning, doing errands, and helping with the kids.”
“Okay…”
“They decided to give her a chance,” she says, “even though she was a drug addict. Rehabilitated, supposedly. Really, I think Maxim—that’s Mr. Simington—just thought she was attractive. Which she is, as you know, I’m sure.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “So…what happened?”
She lets out a snort. “What do you think happens when you invite a girl like that into your house? She went after her boss—hard. Tried her damnedest to get him into bed.”
“She didn’t?”
“Well, Mrs. Simington finally caught on and tossed her out. Good riddance, like I said.”
Good for Mrs. Simington. Not so good for me.
“Veronica Chesson is looking for a wealthy man,” she says. “She wants somebody to bankroll her so she doesn’t have to work another day of her life. Keep her pretty lily-white hands nice and soft.” She squeezes the rag in her hand. “Is your husband wealthy?”
“He… Yes.”
“Then it looks like she found what she wanted.” The woman wrinkles her nose. “I knew she would. But I’m sorry for you. I’m sure you don’t deserve all this. Your husband will probably end up with the short end of the stick as well, knowing her. Maybe worse.”
It’s just what I feared. Veronica was searching for a rich guy, and she found one in my husband. She doesn’t love him. All she cares about is his net worth.
“Is…is there anything I can do?” I ask the woman. I know my voice sounds desperate, but I don’t even care.
“You can be very careful.” The woman gives me a look that makes me shiver.
“She has a sordid past, like I said. She was an addict—I heard the Simingtons discussing it. And I’m not talking about something cute like cocaine.
She shot heroin—did you know that? And she was still doing it! I saw the track marks on her arms.”
I don’t think cocaine is particularly cute, but I do think that shooting drugs into your bloodstream seems a little worse. Does Jeremy know about this? It’s hard to imagine he would introduce a woman to his child who has a history like that.
“What do you mean by ‘be careful’?” I ask her.
The woman looks me up and down, as if debating how much to share. I do my best to look as pathetic as I possibly can. It’s not hard.
“I don’t have any proof of this, of course,” she begins, “but when Mr. Simington didn’t immediately cave to Veronica’s charms, she took a different tack.” She pauses meaningfully. “She tried to get rid of his wife.”
My jaw falls open. “What?”
“Rhona Simington took a bad tumble down the stairs.” Her eyes are wide and serious. “I had seen Veronica cleaning at the top of the stairwell not too long before that, and I feel sure she set Mrs. Simington up for that fall.”
I clasp a hand over my mouth. Even after the way Veronica threatened me, I thought there was a reasonable chance she was all talk. Now I think about that knife I found in my kitchen sink and wonder…
“And I worried about those children of theirs too,” she adds with a flourish.
“She was sweet to their faces, but I could tell from the way she looked at them that she despised them both. If she ever really won over Maxim Simington, I suspect she would have found a way to get rid of them. Either send them off to boarding school or…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to.
I already hated Veronica for stealing my husband and was worried she brainwashed him, but this is the first time since I found her car parked at our house that I am truly scared for my little boy. If Veronica touches even one tiny hair on his head, I’ll make sure she regrets the day she was born.
Unless she gets rid of me first.
The woman is staring at me, so I manage to squeak out, “Thank you. I…I appreciate the information.”
The woman gives me one final nod. “Good luck.” And then, just as she is closing the door, she adds, “You’re going to need it!”