Chapter Four
A knock on her door had Brenda lunging to her feet.
The pizza must have been delivered. She went to the door and opened it.
But instead of her new neighbor there was another man. Older. Fortyish. His navy suit was rumpled, and he needed a shave. A few threads of gray had found their way through his dark hair.
“Ms. Devers?”
She glanced at the briefcase he carried. “Yes.”
He removed a credentials case from a pocket in his jacket and opened it to reveal a photo ID. “I’m Special Agent Jarrod Cummings with the FBI. May I have a few moments of your time?”
Ben appeared behind him, pizza boxes in hand. He looked from the man standing between them to Brenda. “Hello. Pizza’s here.”
Cummings turned slightly, glancing at the man who had walked up behind him. The agent stepped aside and allowed Ben to pass.
Brenda wasn’t sure what to say to either man.
“I’ll just take these to the kitchen,” Ben suggested.
She nodded, relieved to have one dilemma solved. When he’d gone into the kitchen, she looked to the agent. “I’m sorry. I just arrived home from a cross-country business trip. I’m exhausted and my child is hungry. Can you leave a card, and we can do this tomorrow?”
Sounded reasonable to Brenda.
The man’s head moved slowly up and down as if he were considering her request rather than responding to it. Finally, he replied, “Sure.” He dug around in his pocket and produced a business card. “Call as early as possible,” he said. “This is a pressing matter.”
She accepted the card. “Can you tell me what it’s about?” The last thing she wanted to do was spend the night wondering.
“Your husband, Scott Devers.”
She wilted a little. What had she expected?
When the man walked away, she closed the door and sagged against it. What in the world? This was like something from one of her books. Only she hadn’t written the premise and had no clue what was coming.
Janey’s sweet little voice echoed from the kitchen. Brenda pushed away from the door and drifted in that direction. Her little girl sat on a stool at the island, munching on pizza, Ben next to her.
“Mommy, it’s good.” Janey grabbed another slice.
Brenda smiled. “Smells delicious.”
“I took the liberty,” her neighbor said as he tapped the bottle of wine Brenda had only just then noticed. Two stemmed glasses sat next to it. “I thought maybe you might want to celebrate. Mallory told me the movie deal was a go.”
Whether he knew it or not, he had chosen her favorite chardonnay. She might just hug the guy. “That would be so, so good right now.”
He opened the bottle and poured her and himself a glass.
Brenda ate, realizing that the alcohol would go straight to her head if she didn’t eat first. Janey talked and munched, talked and munched.
Mallory’s comment about their neighbor obviously hadn’t put the child off and, thankfully, she didn’t repeat it.
Half an hour later, Janey proclaimed she was stuffed, and about that same time the grandfather clock counted off seven slow, deep dongs.
The child’s eyes went wide. “It’s time for my show!”
“First,” Brenda argued, “we wash hands.” She picked Janey up and took her to the sink to wash her face and hands. “Now you can watch your show, then it’s bedtime.”
As soon as Janey was on her feet, she rushed to the sofa and grabbed the remote. She knew how to turn the TV on and the proper channel to select. Brenda didn’t allow her to watch a lot of television, only her favorites.
“You seem unsettled,” Ben said when her attention shifted back to him. “Everything okay?” He shook his head. “I understand everything is not all right with all that’s happened. But is there something new? I thought you’d be celebrating.”
She eased onto a stool, her body and soul feeling heavy.
“It has been a bizarre day.” Other than Mallory, Brenda really had no one to talk to.
There was her agent, but she resisted the urge to talk with a work colleague about her personal life, especially the not-so-good parts.
For the past six years she’d been totally absorbed in Scott’s world as far as socializing went, and that had dwindled until it was nonexistent.
On top of that, having Janey had occupied so much of her time that between writing and being a mommy, she really had no time for socializing anyway.
Mallory was always a good sounding board, but she was also biased.
She thought Scott was a scumbag and that Brenda was an angel for putting up with him. Apparently he was.
Not to mention he was apparently alive.
Anger lit in her belly. They’d had a memorial service for him. Buried the remains of some stranger in the newly purchased plot at Maple Hill Cemetery.
So yes, he was a scumbag.
“Well.” She picked up her wineglass and drank deeply, then wiped her mouth.
Why not spill her guts to this man? They didn’t know each other. He was new in the neighborhood and appeared to be a bit of a loner, like her, so it wasn’t likely he would be telling anyone. At least not anyone she knew.
“I was in LAX today, and I could have sworn I saw him. Scott, my husband,” she clarified.
“But I felt like a fool because—” she shrugged “—he’s dead.
I buried him nearly three weeks ago. Then I came home, and the detective who has been investigating the explosion showed up and told me that the man I buried was not my husband.
In other words, Scott isn’t dead. At least, if he is, he wasn’t killed by the explosion. ”
Ben frowned. “But his body was found…”
Brenda shook her head. “No. That body belonged to someone else. DNA confirmed it wasn’t Scott.” She made a face that said I think I’m losing it. “So maybe I did see him at LAX today all hugged up with a tall, leggy blonde.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips. She hadn’t meant to say that last part.
“Wow.” Ben’s eyebrows reared up. “That’s a hell of a day you’ve had.”
“How could he be alive?” She moved her head side to side and stared at the stranger eating pizza and drinking wine in her kitchen.
“I have known Scott for nearly seven years. He has been—more often than not—a bit of an arrogant…” She drew in a deep breath, then took another healthy swallow of wine.
“Anyway, his business has always been very important to him. His partner and associates more important than his family, it seemed at times. Why would he do this? I mean, I have to assume—or at least the police do—that he set up the explosion.”
Brenda laughed out loud at her own words, then her fingers went back to her lips. Oh God, she should stop talking. No laughing either.
“So, he’s a suspect now,” Ben offered.
She nodded. Shelton had said that. “Which means, I think, that he’s suspected of having arranged the explosion and faking his death—killing three people in the process.”
“Did the detective offer a motive, or do you know of any reason Scott might do such a thing?”
The question was so calm. His eyes—really sweet eyes—showed genuine concern. If her judgment could be trusted, and she didn’t have a stellar record so far.
“Shelton—the detective—said the business was in serious financial trouble.” She thought about that for a moment.
“Since it’s an investment firm, I’m assuming trouble means client money is missing.
” Which also meant that everything Scott owned outright or jointly would be on the chopping block.
Apprehension slid through her. “I need to go to an ATM.”
He looked surprised. “Can it wait until morning?”
She shook her head. “Shelton said they would probably freeze all assets and accounts.”
“I see.” He thought for a moment, then offered, “Why don’t we let Janey watch her show, and then I’ll drive you to the ATM.”
“I could walk,” she argued. “It’s just down the street.”
“Probably not a good idea since the bank is closed.”
He had a valid point. Five Points was a great neighborhood, but that bank had been robbed numerous times. It was one of those strange enigmas. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I do not mind at all.”
Brenda closed up the leftover pizza and started to clean up. She had to think about all this. It was unbelievable. And she needed to do something rather than sit here and puzzle over the insanity.
“Do you have any family you can call?” he asked as he wiped off the island with a damp paper towel.
The question startled her, but it was a fair one. He didn’t know her. He had no idea if she had family or friends or whatever.
“No. There’s no one but me and Janey.”
“What about Scott? Does he have any family you might be able to contact? Maybe they’ve heard from him.”
“No one. At least no one I know about.” Suddenly everything Scott had ever told her was in question.
“He said his parents were deceased and he had no siblings—just like me. Our only friends were his work friends, my literary agent and Mallory.” She managed a smile that was likely pretty pitiful. “How sad is that?”
“Busy people don’t always have time for all the usual social trappings.”
She paused as she put the lid back on the wine. “The man who was here when you arrived with the pizza was from the FBI.”
This new twist was very bad. Really bad. She didn’t need a law degree to see that. The FBI didn’t investigate low-level local crime… This had to be something far bigger than she dared to suspect.
Ben lifted one shoulder in a vague shrug. “Not surprising in Scott’s line of work. Embezzling, money laundering would likely warrant the involvement of the federal authorities.”
She closed her eyes a moment. Good grief, he was right. “Money laundering. I never even thought of that. So, he might be involved with criminal people or entities.”
This was really, really bad. Money laundering involved concealing the illegal and criminal origins of funds and transferring those funds around in legal accounts, foreign and/or domestic, in order to make them appear legitimate. Bad, bad business.
“If that’s the case,” her neighbor confirmed, “then yes.”
“We’re still married, but my financial assets were mine before we married. This house was mine before we married. Will any of those things be up for grabs?” This was a true nightmare. An even bigger one than she could have conceived, and that was saying something considering her line of work.
“A good attorney should be able to ensure whatever was yours before the marriage is set aside. Perhaps you’re borrowing trouble. You don’t actually know what the problem is just yet. It may be something far less worrisome for you.”
She settled back on a stool, rested her elbows on the countertop and plopped her chin in her hands. “It has to be bad. Otherwise, why fake his death?”
“You were separated, correct?”
“Yes. For a year now, but he was in no hurry to sign the divorce papers or to agree to any sort of custody terms.”
“He was buying time.”
Brenda hadn’t thought of that. Though she couldn’t imagine why he would want or need to buy time. “Maybe.”
“Since his supposed death, have you noticed anyone new or different coming around at the places you shop or frequent? In the neighborhood?”
She thought about that for a bit, then shook her head. “No. Not until the FBI agent today.” Her gaze narrowed. “Except you.” She laughed, a weary sound. “You’re new and right next door.”
He laughed as well. “I am. But you needn’t be concerned with me.”
“Do you think I could find anything on the internet? About Scott or his business?”
“You can look,” he agreed. “I’m guessing the authorities won’t have released anything significant, and if your husband was smart, he will have kept his illegal business dealings on the down-low.”
Well, of course he would.
If only she had a contact in law enforcement. She’d interviewed the community liaison officer of the local department plenty of times. But she doubted he would have access to the sort of information she would need. Another thought suddenly occurred to her, igniting a new terror in her.
She looked to her neighbor. “Do you think Janey and I are in danger? I mean, if he did this to escape trouble…how can I be sure his trouble won’t come after us?”
“You can’t. But if no one has come around before today, then chances are they believed he was dead. The real issue will be when word gets out that he’s not.”
Something else she hadn’t thought of.
“I do need an attorney,” she realized aloud. “Maybe personal security and a private investigator.” Now she actually did sound like a character from one of her novels.
“I can’t argue with you,” Ben said. “This could be something the police will resolve fairly quickly, but it could still be dangerous for anyone who was close to him.”
She knew no attorneys—at least, not criminal attorneys.
Not once, even for a second, had she ever dreamed she would need one.
And her new neighbor wasn’t from the area so she doubted he would know anyone local who could navigate this sort of situation.
But she did know people. Like the mayor.
Several high-level local government officials she had interviewed for research.
She would talk to them. Surely one or the other would have suggestions.
She tensed. “He said—Detective Shelton—that he had requested a warrant for searching my house. I guess they already searched Scott’s.” The one he didn’t own, the liar.
“Do you have reason to believe he would have hidden anything here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He was rarely even here over the past year.”
“Did he have a key?”
The question gave her pause. “He did—does. Of course. We have Janey, and sometimes he would bring her home to pick up something on his weekend. If I wasn’t here he would let himself in.”
“Then you can’t be sure he didn’t leave something that might cause difficulty for you during a search by the police.”
God, he was right. “I should search the house.”
“The sooner the better,” he suggested.
She blew out a big breath. “Thanks for the pizza and the…” She shrugged. “For being a good listener, but I have a lot to do before I call it a night, to include taking this place apart.”
“You should and you’re welcome.”
She followed him to the door. “Really, thank you, for listening.”
He flashed her a smile. “Some people just make that sort of thing easy.”