Chapter 9
JD and I sat across the desk from him in his business office.
With a smile, he asked Jack, “How’s the tooth?”
“Still really sensitive,” JD said of his bad crown.
"Give it time," Stockton said. "If you give it the right environment, don't stress it, and let it heal, the odds are good that the inflammation will go down, and the gums will adapt.”
"I hope so," JD replied.
This wasn't our first visit to Stockton's office.
"What's the matter with the arm?"
"Shot in the line of duty.”
Stockton frowned and shook his head. "You boys have my admiration.” After a pause, he asked, "What can I do for you?”
"I'm sure you've heard the news by now," I said, then proceeded to tell him about the demise of Liam Prescott.
Stockton looked surprised. "Actually, that's news to me. I don't keep up with current events. I've been busy all morning with patients. I shut my phone off during the day and try to ignore distractions. The name sounds familiar. Who is he?”
Dr. Stockton's reaction seemed genuine.
"Tennis pro at the club," I said.
Recognition flashed in his eyes. "That's right. I thought the name sounded familiar. I believe my wife takes lessons from him.”
"Is it improving her game?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't gotten on the court in a long time. But I bet she can beat me. Golf is my game. What's more civilized than chasing that damn white ball down the field?”
Stockton laughed, and we gave the obligatory chuckle.
"Just as a matter of procedure, can you tell me where you were last night between 8 and 10:00 PM?"
Stockton's brow wrinkled with confusion. "Why?"
"Just routine," I said. “We are talking to all members of the club. People who may have known Liam."
"I didn't know Liam. I just paid the club bill when it came in."
I shared a look with Jack.
Stockton wasn't stupid. "Why would you think I had any involvement in his demise?"
"Like I said, we're just talking to everyone who had some kind of relation to the deceased. Your wife was a client."
"And you think I got mad at him because the lessons were subpar?"
I smiled. "That could be one possibility.”
"Look, you think I didn't know that ass-clown was banging every hot housewife at the club?” he finally admitted.
"Tell us more."
Dr. Stockton's mouth tightened. "I don't know if he was banging Elizabeth or not.
I don't really care. If it made her happy and kept her out of my hair, fine. I learned a long time ago that my wife was going to do whatever she wanted to do. This is painful to admit, but my wife stopped sleeping with me ages ago. I accepted that, and it gave me the opportunity to do whatever I wanted to do.”
"So why stay married?"
"Because decoupling our lives would be an enormous pain in the ass.
Not to mention costly, and I don't want to break up our family.
My kids are four and six, and I don't want them growing up in another home, getting parented by whatever man my wife decides to sleep with at the moment.” He paused.
"Is it the ideal scenario? No. Do I wish I had a better relationship with my wife? Yes. Would I risk my life, my career, my freedom to kill the man who is currently satisfying her? Hell no!”
It seemed like a reasonable enough answer.
"If you need to verify my whereabouts last night, I was with Elana Marx. I can give you her contact information, and you can verify that.”
"Thank you. That would be helpful.”
Dr. Stockton grabbed his phone and texted me Elana's information.
“Can you think of any husbands at the club who might not be as understanding about their wives’ needs?”
“Not that I know of. But I tend to avoid gossip.” With a pearly smile, he said, "It's been great seeing you both, but I have patients to attend to." He stood from the desk, and we shook hands. Stockton looked at Jack and said, "Take care of that tooth and that shoulder.”
Jack gave him a mock salute.
Stockton escorted us out of his office, and we walked down the hall, stepped into the waiting room, then pushed outside.
"What do you make of his story?” JD asked.
“I’ll tell you what I think after I talk to Elana,” I said.