The Guilty Husband

by Stephanie DeCarolis

  My first thought is Darren. He’s coveted my position as CEO for years now. But how badly did he want me out of the corner office? It dawns on me for the first time that he may have known about my affair with Layla. We thought we were being discrete, but in hindsight maybe it was obvious. I know Eric saw us arguing at that happy hour event, maybe he put the pieces together: the late nights, the long lunches, the impromptu ‘meetings’ that never found their way to my schedule. He could have told someone about his suspicions and the rumor spread through the KitzTech office like the roots of a poisonous tree.

  And then again, there’s Jeff. I cannot shake the feeling that he has feelings for Nicole. And it seems too coincidental that World View suddenly started receiving anonymous tip offs just after I confessed the affair to Jeff. Plus, I still think that may have been him lurking around Nicole’s studio in the woods the other day. But even if we’ve grown apart over the years, Jeff was once my best friend. How far would he go to orchestrate the end of my marriage?

  Maybe I’m being paranoid. But is it paranoia if someone really is out to get you?

  I step out of the shower and towel off the rivulets of warm water. I dress in a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, and as I run my fingers through my damp hair I can’t seem to keep Layla’s mother’s voice out of my head: ‘If you’re involved with Layla, you better be careful.’

  I need to find out what Layla was involved in; what trouble may have followed her to my doorstep. It may be the key to everything, to saving what’s left of my life.

  Chapter 35

  Allison

  DAY 9

  The wheels of Lanner’s car hug the winding roads of Loch Harbor. The town itself is built atop a bluff beside a sandy white coastline. The area is densely wooded but as we meander down the tranquil roads, I can see snippets of the sparkling blue ocean below, calm under a clear azure sky. Sailboats bob atop the still, glassy water of the Long Island Sound, and from here they look like a child’s toys. I roll down my window and I let the fresh air swirl around me. It smells of dampened pine, tinged with the salt of the sea.

  As the ocean wind rushes through my hair, I find myself wondering if Vince Taylor owns a boat. I could picture him lounging on the bow of a yacht, hands folded behind his head, barefoot and carefree. Or maybe he’s more of a sailboat kind of guy. He might glide through the Harbor beneath a billowing sail, a living Polo advertisement in white pants and a navy blue knit sweater. He certainly looks the part with his perfect smile, square jawline, and that ridiculous sea-swept hairstyle that seems to be his signature look. I hate that I secretly find him attractive. But then again, who wouldn’t? He’s double-take handsome. Even if he did murder his mistress …

  Although I still have my doubts about Thomas Barnett’s alibi for the night of Layla’s death, every path we take in this investigation seems to lead back to Vince Taylor. After the most recent World View article accusing Vince of sexual harassment, we need to speak with him again. The newest diary page was handed over by Kate Owens, but once again the only prints on it were Layla’s. I’m hoping that by showing up at Vince’s house we can catch him off guard. Even if we do have to wait for his attorney, he won’t be as well-rehearsed as he would be if we asked him to come down to the station on his own terms.

  Besides, I need to prove to Chief McFadden that I’m fully investigating the new allegations printed in World View. He needs to see that I’m on top of this investigation. It’s been over a week since Layla was killed and I still don’t have any solid evidence. The clock is ticking before the Chief has had enough and takes this case out of my hands.

  ‘You seeing these houses?’ Lanner asks, astonishment in his voice.

  ‘I’m not sure you can even call these houses.’

  ‘Manors then? Estates? Whatever they are, they’re damn impressive.’

  He’s right. It seems as though every home we pass is more grand than the last. They’re not flashy, boastful, the way some of the newer mini mansions are that have been popping up on the outskirts of New York City. These homes are stately, dignified. Their ivied walls and towering pillars a testament to their distinguished history.

  ‘I think this is it,’ Lanner says. He rolls to a stop in front of a wrought-iron gate which stands guard between two stone pillars. The remainder of the property appears to be surrounded by a stone wall.

  We climb out of the car and I watch as Lanner presses the buzzer on the intercom box next to the gate.

  ‘I don’t think it’s working,’ he explains. ‘Doesn’t seem to be connecting.’

  ‘Maybe they unplugged it. Probably sick of reporters banging down their door.’

  The intercom suddenly crackles to life, making me jump. We’re basically out in the wilderness out there. I’m a city girl. This is far too much nature for my taste. For all I know, there could be bears wandering around.

  ‘Is someone there?’ a soft voice asks through the static of the intercom system.

  That must be his wife.

  ‘Yes, we’re Detectives Lanner and Barnes with the NYPD,’ Lanner replies, leaning into the speaker. ‘We’re here to speak with Vince Taylor.’

  The intercom goes silent. I wonder whether maybe she’s disconnected it again.

  ‘Please come up to the house,’ the woman continues after a pause.

  The great iron gates slide open before us. Lanner and I take one look at the long drive leading towards the house and get back into the car. It’s far too hot to traverse the distance on foot today.

  Lanner drives up to the house and parks in front of the large wooden doors that stand at the entrance to the house. We unclip our seat belts and find ourselves too stunned to move for a moment. The house before us is incredible. Beyond the fact that it’s massive, it is architecturally mesmerizing with its great sloping roofs, numerous balconies, and arched windows. The entire structure looks to have been built from natural stone, making it appear to be at one with the untamed beauty surrounding it. The elderly oak trees, mature pines, and brilliant array of wildflowers seem to show a polite reverence to the astounding house they share their land with.

  The door creaks open and a petite woman stands in the enormous entrance. The first thing I notice is her long white-blonde hair that hangs loose over her shoulders. She is slim and graceful, fine-boned and fair-skinned. She is breathtakingly beautiful, an otherworldly creature with eyes like glacial ice. I recognize her from the World View photos; this is Vince Taylor’s wife.

  Nicole Taylor could not be more Layla’s opposite. Is that what Vince saw in Layla? Did he stray to the dark and unfamiliar curves of her body? Did he covet the one thing he doesn’t have tucked away in his fairytale woodland mansion?

  ‘Come in, Detectives,’ Nicole says as she steps aside to allow us to enter into the palatial entryway. My entire apartment could easily fit in the Taylors’ foyer. Polished stone floors shine underfoot and a resplendent crystal chandelier dangles from the vaulted ceiling above, the fine crystals glistening like falling snow.

  Nicole leads us into a sitting room where white gossamer curtains seem to float from the high ceilings and the morning sun casts a hazy glow. She invites us to sit on a tufted suede sofa which is set before a shiny glass coffee table and two matching accent chairs. A stone fireplace, its grate cold and dormant, sits in the corner, a black and white photo of a young Vince and Nicole on their wedding day on the mantle above.

  Nicole perches on the edge of one of the chairs. ‘I didn’t want to explain over the intercom earlier, but Vince isn’t here.’

  ‘When do you expect him back?’ Lanner asks.

  Nicole shifts in her seat. ‘I, um, I don’t know exactly. He’s … not living here at the moment.’ I can see tears rising in her eyes.

  ‘I can imagine this is a difficult time for you,’ I say gently. Vince may not be here, but there’s no harm in seeing what his now estranged wife may have to say about him. You never know what’s going to be useful in an investigation.

&
nbsp; ‘It is.’ She nods. ‘Those things they’re saying about Vince in the papers. It’s just awful. Not that I think he would ever … do those things … hurt that girl. But it’s been very difficult to see nonetheless.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re going through all of this,’ I reply.

  ‘Thank you.’ Nicole swipes a stray tear from under her eye.

  ‘Was that how you learned about Vince’s … infidelity? In the papers?’

  Nicole nods again. ‘Unfortunately it was.’

  ‘Wow,’ Lanner adds. ‘Real nice guy.’

  I shoot him a look. We can’t push her too hard. If she sees us as the enemy she could easily ask us to leave.

  ‘He is, you know. You may not believe that, but I married a good man. He’s made some mistakes, but if you knew him the way that I do, you’d see.’

  I walk over to the mantle, Nicole watching me curiously as I cross the room. I study the framed wedding photo more closely now.

  ‘May I?’ I ask.

  ‘Sure,’ Nicole says.

  I gently lift the frame from its resting place. ‘This is a beautiful photo, you two look so happy.’

  ‘We were.’ Nicole smiles, a look of nostalgia on her face.

  Now that she’s started talking about her relationship with Vince, I want to keep the momentum going. I want to understand what their marriage was like, whether Vince would have killed his mistress to protect it.

  ‘It was such a beautiful day. We were married on the beach. A small reception with just our close family and friends but that was all we needed.’

  I smile warmly.

  ‘Things were so different then. Before all of … this.’ Nicole gestures at the grand home around her. It’s filled with a quiet, tasteful opulence, all the trappings of a charmed life. ‘Not that I’m complaining. I love our home, our lives. I know how fortunate we are. It’s just that things seemed so much simpler before. When Vince and I were first dating.’

  ‘What was he like then?’

  ‘Oh, he was wonderful. He didn’t have much back then, but he always made sure I knew how much he adored me. It was little things, you know? Bringing me bouquets of wildflowers to the art gallery I worked at, booking little weekend getaways here and there. We’d go wine tasting, or to see Broadway shows. I’m not sure theater was Vince’s thing really, but he knew I loved it. He once surprised me with tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera because I’d mentioned that I’d never seen the show. He’d made reservations at a delightful Italian restaurant, and booked us a stay at the Heatherly Hotel. I knew it was probably beyond our means, but it meant so much to me that he’d gone to such lengths to do something so special for me.’

  Nicole seems calm, almost happy, as if talking about the golden days of her relationship with Vince has awakened something that was long dormant inside of her, and has momentarily whisked her away from her current troubles.

  ‘You two must spend a lot of time in Manhattan now, what with you having an apartment there,’ I say.

  ‘Funny, you’d think that would be true, but we really don’t. Not unless it’s for some sort of obligatory event. Now that we could afford to go to the theater every night, we never do. But I suppose it wouldn’t be as meaningful anymore anyway.’

  ‘Your apartment is right across from Central Park, right?’ Lanner asks. ‘I’m sure it’s amazing.’

  ‘It really is lovely. But it’s really more of Vince’s thing. I never really thought it was necessary that we have a second home. Vince wanted it for nights he had to work late, and I do stay there at times too, when we have to attend certain events, but I was more than fine staying at the Heatherly on occasion. It’s just the two of us, you know, children just weren’t in the cards for us, and so owning the apartment seemed like far more than we needed.’

  ‘Is that where Vince is staying now?’ Lanner risks.

  Nicole’s shoulders tense. Her eyes snap up to meet mine, as if she’s only just remembered who she’s talking to, why we’re here. The time for nostalgia has ended.

  ‘Oh, I … should I be talking to you about Vince? I didn’t even think, I … I guess I got carried away … maybe I should call Jeff, Vince’s lawyer …’

  ‘There’s no need,’ I assure her. ‘We came to talk to Vince, but since he’s not here, that’s quite alright. We can get going.’

  ‘Alright, I’m … right, okay, I’ll show you out.’

  Nicole stands up quickly. I may have gotten her talking about her husband, but now the spell has been broken. I know we won’t get anything further from her today.

  Nicole escorts us to the front door and pulls it closed behind us.

  ‘Well that was a waste of time,’ Lanner grumbles as we climb back into the car. ‘Drove all the way out here to find out what a wonderful guy Vince used to be before he started banging his employees.’

  ‘True, but at least we know where he’s staying now. I’d bet anything he’s at that apartment based on the way Nicole reacted when you questioned her about it.’

  I essentially fall through my apartment door when I finally get home. The traffic on the way back from Loch Harbor was brutal and we wasted most of the day scowling at the bumpers of the cars in front of us. Well, I did. Lanner seemed happy as a clam singing along to the radio. I don’t think he knows he’s an awful singer. I’ve told him many times, but unfortunately he doesn’t seem to have believed me.

  ‘Hey, babe, long day?’ Josh says as I drop my things on the kitchen table. I may not have all the wealth and fame that the Taylors have, but I do have Josh to come home to. In this moment, I could not be more grateful for that.

  ‘Very long.’

  ‘Come over here.’ Josh waves me over to the couch where I sit down next to him. He begins to rub my shoulders and I can feel the tension of the day draining away beneath his strong fingers.

  ‘You’re amazing, do you know that?’ I ask.

  ‘I do, but I’m glad to hear that you know it too.’ I can hear the smile in his voice. I don’t tell him how much I appreciate him nearly enough.

  ‘Wanna tell me about your day?’ he questions.

  ‘The Chief is expecting results on this murder investigation and I spent most of the day sitting in traffic after interviewing a suspect’s wife who didn’t tell me anything of any use.’

  ‘That sounds awful.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me about your day instead?’

  Josh begins to tell me about his day at Lift. He’s running a fitness challenge and it’s gaining traction. Some minor celebrities have even agreed to help him promote it. He’s been putting this together for weeks and I’m glad to hear that it’s going so well.

  ‘Wait!’ Josh exclaims. ‘You have Friend Connect now! You can join the page and see how it’s all coming together.’

  ‘I wouldn’t even know how to do that …’

  ‘I’ll do it for you.’ Josh holds out his palm and I hand him my phone. He taps at the screen before handing it back to me.

  ‘There. You’re now part of the virtual Lift family,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘Happy to be here,’ I reply as I snuggle into the crook of his arm. Josh clicks on the television and we settle into a comfortable silence.

  Josh wakes me some time later. The television now turned off and the apartment pitch black.

  ‘We must have fallen asleep,’ he whispers gently. ‘We should get to bed.’

  I groan and pull his arm back around me, but he’s right, we should sleep in an actual bed.

  I make myself get up to brush my teeth and dress for bed. Josh falls into our bed and he’s asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. I, on the other hand, am now wide awake.

  I pick up my phone looking for something that might distract me until I can fall asleep. I might as well see what this Friend Connect thing is all about. As soon as I login, I see my newest connection: Lift.

  I click on the page and begin to check it out. There are screenshots of people’s daily running routes (do other peopl
e really care about those?), posts about calories burned, and photos posted by the members, taken in Josh’s gym. I continue to scroll mindlessly before I see a photo of a familiar face: Officer Matt Kinnon, arm outstretched holding the phone in front of him, ear buds dangling around his neck, and smiling broadly. And standing behind him, looking straight into the camera, is Layla Bosch.

  Chapter 36

  Allison

  DAY 10

  That can’t be Layla, can it? Maybe I’m just sleep deprived and seeing things that aren’t there. I click the photo to enlarge it and zoom in on her face. No, this is definitely a photo of Layla Bosch. I check the date on the photo. It was taken three weeks ago. About two weeks before she died. And so for three weeks, Josh failed to mention that my murder victim was a member of his gym. Surely he’s seen her photos in the papers, her face has been everywhere. Why wouldn’t he mention it to me? He basically lives at that gym, and let’s face it, Layla is hard to miss. Unless … there’s a reason Josh didn’t want me to know he knew her.

  I’ve been lied to in the past, but I thought Josh was different. I’m not going to be played for a fool. I shake him awake.

  ‘What? What’s going on?’ he asks, startled and looking around frantically.

  ‘This.’ I shove the phone towards him, Layla’s photo still on the screen.

  Josh squints as his eyes struggle to adjust to the beam of light and information I’ve just blared in his face. ‘You woke me up to show me a photo of Kinnon on the Lift page? I told you when he joined up.’

  ‘No, not Kinnon. The woman behind him.’

  ‘Okay … I’m not sure what you’re trying to show me.’

  ‘Do you know who she is?’

  ‘Not a clue.’