3 Bean There, Done That Page 7

  ‘Large skim latte,’ I said. ‘Sarah?’

  ‘Same,’ Sarah said.

  I looked at her. ‘You drink black coffee. The older the better.’

  ‘That’s when I smoked,’ Sarah said, climbing on to a stool. ‘Now I can taste things.’

  ‘Want a shot of caramel in it?’ Amy asked.

  Sarah hesitated.

  ‘We have sugar-free,’ I told her and she nodded.

  I was starting to understand the whole exercise thing. Sarah had quit smoking, which could make you pick up weight in and of itself. Plus, she was enjoying the taste of food, so she was tempted to eat more. Sarah wasn’t just exercising to get healthy. She was exercising not to get fat. I was feeling ever so much better.

  Amy poured two espresso shots in a latte mug and added a shot of sugar-free caramel. Meanwhile, she was steaming skim milk up to 180 degrees in a stainless steel frothing pitcher.

  Holding back the froth with a spoon, she poured the hot milk into the latte and then topped it with a dollop of froth. A perfect caramel latte.

  Meanwhile, Caron had recovered from the shock of Sarah’s outfit. ‘Can I see you in back, Maggy?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, exchanging worried looks with Amy.

  Our back office is tiny, the desk sharing space with a refrigerator that held all our dairy products. I settled my butt on the edge of the desk.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ I was studying her carefully. ‘You look different.’

  ‘I got a haircut at the new place. Dennis of Denmark,’ Caron said. ‘But this is why I wanted to talk to you.’

  She handed me a glossy, oversized sheet of paper. A poster. The headline read: Have you seen this woman?

  Below it was a picture of Rachel, probably taken at some party. The missing woman was laughing and carefree in white shorts and a turquoise halter. Ted had been in the photo, too, but in the cropping of the shot, all that remained of him was his left eye, half a nose and mouth on one side of Rachel, and a disembodied hand on the other side.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ I asked. The flyers were probably responsible for the media showing up so quickly at Ted and Rachel’s house. Whoever was behind them must have called the press as well as getting the posters printed and distributed. Fast work, considering it was only two in the afternoon.

  ‘Eve Slattery stopped by with it,’ Caron said.

  That would explain it. Eve Whitaker Slattery was Rachel’s mother, born into the Whitaker family of Whitaker Foundry fame. Eve’s great-grandfather had been the first to realize that Milwaukee was losing its wheat trade to Minneapolis. He shifted to the iron and steel business. There had been gold in them thar’ iron ore deposits – figuratively, if not literally, and the Whitakers remained one of Milwaukee’s ‘First Families’ to this day. If Eve Whitaker Slattery wanted something, it happened. And it happened quick.

  ‘Eve Slattery? I didn’t know she lives in Brookhills.’

  ‘She doesn’t anymore. They’re out in lake country now. I knew her through Christ Christian, though, and we’ve stayed in touch.’

  She gave me the eye. The one that insinuated that I didn’t know as much about our business as I should. ‘You do know that we cater Whitaker’s breakfast meetings, right?’

  The eye always knew. ‘Of course,’ I said, not quite lying. I did have a vague recollection of delivering gallons of coffee and dozens of doughnuts to a conference room at the Whitaker building just down Civic Drive.

  Caron didn’t bother drilling me. On the subject of coffee catering, at least. ‘You don’t seem surprised by the poster. Did you know that Ted’s . . .’ She hesitated. ‘ . . . wife is missing?’

  Caron was uncomfortable calling Rachel ‘Ted’s wife’, because she’d spent most of her adult years calling me Ted’s wife.

  When I met Caron, she was already married to Bernie, who is an attorney. (Yes. Bernie the attorney. Somebody wasn’t thinking when he chose a career.)

  Bernie and Ted had been best friends at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Even though I’d gone there, too, I’d never met either one – probably not a surprise with forty thousand students running around campus. Five years and sixty miles later, Caron had invited me to dinner with her and Bernie and there, sitting on the couch, was Ted. The rest was history. Ancient history.

  ‘Maggy?’

  Ted wasn’t the only one who got impatient when my train of thought jumped tracks.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said automatically. ‘Yes, I knew about Rachel. Ted said she didn’t come home last night.’

  ‘You talked to Ted?’

  ‘He called this morning.’

  ‘Why in the world would he call you?’

  I opened my mouth to answer, intending to justify Ted’s calling me by using the same reasons that Ted had given me. Thing was, I knew they’d sound lame to Caron. And she’d probably be right.

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, honestly. He said he didn’t know who else to call.’

  ‘That’s lame.’

  See?

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, sliding off the corner of the desk and sinking into the chair next to it. ‘But it’s Ted.’

  ‘He can be so needy sometimes,’ Caron said solemnly.

  ‘I guess.’ Which might explain why he ‘needed’ a brand-new shiny wife. Then he’d gone and misplaced her.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t worried about her. ‘I don’t know what to think,’ I said. I wasn’t sure how much to tell Caron.

  I could hear Amy and Sarah, my usual confidante, chatting out in the store. It sounded like Amy was trying to convince Sarah to become vegan and Sarah, who’d never met a processed meat product she didn’t like, was sounding interested.

  ‘Have you been to Fresh Foods?’ Amy asked. ‘They have great organic produce.’

  ‘Yup. In fact, I need to stop there on my way home and get some tofu. Tell Maggy and Caron I said bye, OK?’

  The chimes on the door rang and, presumably, Sarah left.

  First my cynical friend had gone Brookhills Barbie. Then she’d gone green. And now she’d just . . . gone.

  Oh, well, if you can’t be with the one you confide in, confide in the one you’re with.

  I turned to Caron. ‘Here’s what’s going on.’

  I laid it all out for her and she listened carefully, one arm propped against the refrigerator. I realized as I talked that I really needed her perspective. Caron had known Ted longer than even I had. She had witnessed all those years of wedded bliss we supposedly had.

  ‘What do you think?’ I asked when I was all done. ‘Was Rachel right? Do you think Ted was fooling around with other women before Rachel? Or during Rachel?’

  Caron shook her head, her newly razor-cut hair whirling and then settling obediently back into place. ‘I don’t know, Maggy. You were living with him and you had no clue. How could I?’

  ‘Because Ted and Bernie were friends. Sometimes friends . . . notice things.’ I was hesitating because as we spoke, Caron’s face had turned pink. Either it was a reaction to her new hair dye or there was something she wasn’t telling me. ‘I’ve known you for too many years, Caron. Give.’

  She stood up straight, her face pained. ‘It’s just that sometimes Ted would call Bernie when it seemed like he should be in meetings or classes or whatever. There were places he mentioned – restaurants, clubs – and this was before he met Rachel.’

  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. ‘So you knew?’ I managed.

  Caron held up her hands. ‘Not knew, Maggy. Never. I’m not even sure that I really even suspected. It’s just that in retrospect, it seems . . .’

  ‘Clear,’ I supplied. I wasn’t feeling sick, so much as I was feeling stupid and humiliated. Stupid that I hadn’t seen. And humiliated that others had.

  ‘No, not clear. Possible.’ There were tears in Caron’s eyes as she came to hug me. ‘I’m sorry, Maggy. I wish I had known for sure. I wish I could have warned you.’

  I’m n
ot sure I hugged her back, though I should have. It wasn’t her fault Ted had cheated on me. Or that I was blind. ‘It’s Ted,’ she said as the bell out front tinkled.

  ‘I know.’ I swiped at my nose, which inexplicably had begun to run. ‘You didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. Ted did it. It’s Ted, not us.’

  Just saying it, I felt stronger.

  ‘No.’ Caron pointed at the two-way mirror installed above the desk to give us a view of the store. ‘I mean, it’s Ted. He just walked in.’

  Perfect.

  I grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and blew my nose. Then I stomped out into the store, with Caron on my heels.

  Ted was handing Amy a poster, apparently unaware that his mother-in-law had already beaten him to it. ‘So if you could just put this up,’ he was saying.

  I took it out of his hand. ‘We’ll plaster the place with them, you lying son of a bitch.’

  Caron gasped. Amy’s eyes widened, but she just stepped back and crossed her arms.

  I shook the poster at Ted. ‘You were married to me and you screwed her. OK. Maybe those things happen. You could have actually fallen in love with her.’ I didn’t mean to sneer, but I think I did a little.

  Ted was looking at me like I’d taken leave of my senses. ‘I’m sorry, Maggy, but I did―’

  ‘But she wasn’t the first, was she?’

  ‘Believe me, Maggy―’

  ‘Believe you?’ I grabbed a tape dispenser from the counter next to the cash register. ‘I did believe you, Ted. I believed you when you promised to love, honor and cherish me. I believed you when you said that Eric and I were the best things that ever happened to you.’

  Ted was backing up, holding his hands in the air like I had a gun.

  ‘I even believed it when you said you loved me.’ My voice broke just a little bit there at the end, but I covered by turning on my heel to go to the window, taking the tape with me. I slapped the poster up front and center. Then I turned. ‘Just what’s your record, Ted? How many of us were you sleeping with at any one time? Three? Four?’

  ‘I’d like to know the answer to that one myself.’

  What with the roaring in my ears, I apparently hadn’t heard Pavlik come in.

  ‘Sheriff,’ Amy said appreciatively. A little too appreciatively for my money, but maybe I was just seeing ‘other women’ everywhere.

  Ted’s mouth had dropped open while I was berating him. Now he slapped it shut and opened it again. ‘What in the world is everyone talking about? I just came here to ask you to help us find Rachel and I walked into –’ he pointed vaguely at me, like he didn’t know what to call me – ‘this.’

  I guessed ‘this’ was as good as anything.

  Pavlik looked at me coolly. ‘I see you’re telling him that his wife knew he was cheating on her.’

  I guess that answered the question of what Stephen would tell Pavlik. Everything, from the sounds of it.

  Ted was looking back and forth between Pavlik and me. ‘Rachel knew what?’ Ted asked.

  ‘Not in so many words,’ I told Pavlik, ‘but―’

  Pavlik waved me down. ‘Do you suppose you might have clued me in before you told a potential suspect?’

  ‘Potential suspect?’ Ted repeated.

  At close to six feet tall, Pavlik is a good deal taller than me, but I did my best to get in his face. To my credit, I lowered my voice. ‘I did not tell him,’ I whispered. ‘You just told him.’

  Pavlik’s eyes got even darker. I could understand why. I hate doing something stupid, too. Not that it would get me off the hook. ‘Are you telling me you weren’t about to say something?’ he asked.

  Fair question. I looked away. ‘Not purposely. But I was angry.’

  ‘Join the club,’ Pavlik said tersely, his mouth barely moving. ‘Let’s talk now. Privately.’

  He turned to Ted. ‘Sit.’ He pointed at a chair. Ted sat.

  I followed Pavlik into the office. When I stepped in far enough for the door to be able to swing, he closed the door. Neither of us sat down. I was standing by the refrigerator. Pavlik by the desk.

  He went first. ‘God damn it, Maggy. Why didn’t you tell me you were with Rachel Slattery yesterday afternoon? You were one of the last people who saw her alive.’

  ‘Are you saying that I’m a suspect?’

  ‘No, but only because according to Stephen Slattery, you were together when his sister left.’

  ‘True. She left at a little after three to go meet an inspector at the Hamilton. Did she keep the appointment?’

  Pavlik didn’t answer that. Instead, he pulled a notebook and pen out of his coat pocket. ‘What time did you leave?’

  ‘Stephen might know exactly what time, because he had a meeting. I think it was about ten after three, though.’

  Pavlik nodded, so my recollection must have tallied with what Stephen had told him.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rachel stopping by,’ I said. ‘You―’

  ‘Wait.’ Pavlik held up his hand. ‘She came to see you? Where?’

  ‘My place,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Your place? Where you and I were just a few hours ago? Why didn’t you mention it?’

  ‘To be fair,’ I said, ‘we were a little busy. Besides, a visit from your ex-husband’s wife isn’t exactly pillow talk.’

  ‘And this morning when I got the call?’ Pavlik wasn’t going to be put off.

  ‘You left so fast that I didn’t get a chance.’

  ‘And you don’t have a phone? Or you misplaced my number?’ He’d down-shifted from ‘angry’ to ‘sarcastic’. Or maybe it was ‘sardonic’. Shades of gray, those two.

  Since his questions seemed rhetorical, I didn’t answer.

  Pavlik just glared at me. Then he sat down in the desk chair, flipping his notepad open on the desk in front of him. ‘What time?’

  ‘What time did she stop by? A little after noon.’ I was glad to have something concrete to offer. ‘She asked me for my calendars, which I assume Stephen told you about.’

  Pavlik nodded and made a note.

  ‘I wouldn’t give them to her outright, but I told her I would go to see Stephen with her. We met at the Slattery Arms at two thirty.’

  Pavlik tapped his pen on the pad. ‘Did Mrs Thorsen say when she planned to confront her husband with what she knew?’

  Calling Rachel ‘Mrs Thorsen’ seemed designed to hurt me. It worked.

  I swallowed. ‘Rachel said she wasn’t going to talk to Ted until she had proof. She wanted Stephen to go over the keys and the calendars before her appointment with an attorney on Monday. She wouldn’t have said anything until then.’

  Pavlik stood up. ‘Unless she lost her temper and let it slip.’

  ‘I know I should have called you, but . . .’

  ‘But what?’ Pavlik slid the notebook and pen back in his breast pocket.

  I weighed sticking with the ‘gosh, I didn’t have a chance’ excuse, versus telling him the deep-down truth. The truth won out. ‘I honestly didn’t know what I should say. All I had was Rachel’s wild accusations and I wanted to―’

  As I spoke, I reached up to pick a thread off Pavlik’s lapel.

  He grabbed my wrist tight and held it. ‘Listen to me, Maggy. It’s not up to you to decide what I should or shouldn’t know. You don’t have to protect people from me.’

  I pulled my wrist away and rubbed it. ‘Really? Because you’re so cool and calm you won’t go off half-cocked?’

  Pavlik shook his head and took a step toward the door. Given the size of the room, that was pretty much all that was necessary. With his hand on the knob, he turned. ‘If you can’t trust me even in this, even to do my job, how could you trust me in a relationship?’

  I opened my mouth to answer, but all the crap I’d been through with Ted came roaring back. Maybe Pavlik was right.

  For the second time today, I was too slow to answer a man I cared about.

  The sheriff smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. I
t wasn’t a sad smile either. In fact, I wasn’t sure it was a smile at all. ‘Goodbye, Maggy.’

  He closed the door softly behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  I stayed in the office for a while.

  It was quite a long while.

  I heard the voices of Ted and Pavlik. The tinkling of the door chimes, just once, and then no more male voices, leading me to believe they’d left together.

  Had Pavlik arrested Ted? Or taken him in for questioning?

  Frankly my dear, I didn’t give a damn. I was too busy licking my wounds and feeling not just a little sorry for myself. I’d told the truth and damned if it hadn’t set me free, just like they say.

  How come when I tried to do the right thing for everyone, I didn’t please anyone, including myself. Especially myself. God, I was a mess.

  And I was a lonely mess.

  Eric away at school. Ted gone, maybe for twenty to life. Pavlik. I didn’t want to think about Pavlik. Even Sarah, my practical, level-headed, obnoxious friend. She’d run off and joined the Barbies. Next thing I knew, she’d be throwing Botox and collagen parties.

  I shuddered as there was a knock at the door. ‘Are you all right?’ Caron called.

  I stood up and opened it. ‘I forgot about you,’ I said.

  She got a puzzled look on her face. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Never mind.’ I hugged her. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. For whatever I did.’ She handed me a towel. ‘Do you want a latte? Everyone’s gone and I told Amy I could close alone.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, dabbing at my face.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what happened between you and the sheriff?’ Caron asked as she steamed the milk. Whole milk, instead of skim. I was pampering myself.

  I grimaced. ‘I’m not quite sure myself, but I don’t think it was good.’

  ‘No?’ As she poured the milk into the mug, she looked up at me, thereby throwing off her aim and sending the milk streaming on to the stainless steel counter.

  ‘No.’ I used my crying towel to wipe up the spilled milk. ‘He said “goodbye”.’