“Oh, Rachel! I’m so glad you’re here. Come in,” Ariel exclaimed, clearly thrilled to see her.
The two women embraced, and then Rachel followed her into the large, spacious living room. The home had tall, beamed ceilings with tropical fans up high and beautiful hardwood flooring all around. The kitchen and dining room were open to the living room, and across the way, out the large patio windows, Rachel saw a sparkling built-in pool and hot tub surrounded by a flowering garden.
“Your house is gorgeous!” Rachel said, glancing around. The kitchen had white cabinets with black granite countertops. Off the dining room was another space through French glass doors that looked like an office.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Ariel said, leading her to the kitchen counter and offering her a seat. “We’ve lived here for ten years and just love it.” She worried her lip with her teeth. “Well, I live here alone now, but Randall and I bought this right after we were married. It’s only a short drive to the marina where he kept his yacht.”
Rachel nodded, not sure how to respond. She didn’t know whether or not they’d had an amicable divorce. Assuming Ariel thought he was out to kill her, it couldn’t have been too friendly.
“Can I offer you a drink? Soda? Iced tea? I just made a fresh pitcher of sweet tea.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Rachel said. She watched as Ariel dropped ice into tall crystal glasses and then poured the tea from a slender pitcher. Everything in the kitchen was just as beautiful and pristine as the rest of the house—just as Ariel was. Ariel was nearly a decade younger than Rachel at age 34 and was the same height. She was a natural blonde with a head of thick hair cut into a swingy bob, and her skin was nearly translucent. Her ice-blue eyes shone bright, and she was as slender as a fashion model. Ariel moved like a lithe dancer and dressed artfully—the only word Rachel could think of to describe Ariel’s style. While she wore skinny jeans, a flowery blouse, and tall espadrilles, it was the carefully applied makeup and many rings, bracelets, and necklaces she wore that gave Rachel the artsy impression.
Ariel’s many bracelets jangled now as she set the sweet tea in front of Rachel on the counter. “Let’s sit in the living room. It’s much more comfortable,” Ariel said, and Rachel followed her there with her drink in hand.
Once seated on the patterned cushions of the heavy wooden furniture, Rachel asked, “Why don’t we start at the beginning? Why do you think your husband faked his death?”
A long sigh escaped Ariel’s pouty red lips. She reached for one of her necklaces and toyed with the golden sun charm. “About two years ago, my book sales began to soar, which I thought was wonderful after only five years of self-publishing. Suddenly, we had more money than we’d ever dreamed possible, and for some unknown reason, that bothered Randall. He’d always thought of my writing as a fun hobby—never as a way to actually earn a livable income. He was an investment broker and had always earned a good income. I think my having money scared him a little.”
Rachel frowned. “Why? Was he jealous?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so. More like he felt less like a man if he didn’t earn all the money in the relationship.” Ariel sighed dramatically. “I don’t understand it. It was soon after that he began going to bars and having affairs with young women, and I was just beside myself. It made no sense to me. We’d been so happy together, and he just snapped one day and changed completely.”
“That’s awful,” Rachel said, reaching across the space and placing a comforting hand on Ariel’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Is that what led to the divorce?”
Ariel nodded, her topaz earrings bobbing with her head. “I had worked too hard to give up my writing career just to save his male ego. And I could never live with a man who cheated. So, I kicked him out, changed the locks, and put up a camera system around the house. He was furious but finally accepted that we were through.”
“Relationships are hard,” Rachel said sympathetically. “I’m sorry it came to that. How did he behave after the divorce? Was he angry or vengeful?”
Ariel took a sip of her drink and then placed it carefully on the glass-topped coffee table. “He tried to get back together, then gave up. Randall moved onto his yacht, and from what I heard from other friends, began throwing parties and hanging out at the bar at the marina with a different girl each night.” Ariel’s eyes filled with tears. “It hurt. I loved him so much. We married when we both were twenty-four and were so in love. We did everything together—Caribbean vacations, boating for weeks at a time—everything. It never made sense why he suddenly changed.”
Rachel picked up a box of tissues from the end table and set them next to Ariel, who quickly wiped her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara.
“Randall was such a handsome man. I can’t blame women for flocking to him,” Ariel said. “And he’s smart—really smart. He always bragged he was smarter than me, and that never bothered me because I believed it was true. But as my career escalated and I was managing advertising and marketing, I think he saw that I was no dummy, and that bothered him. I guess he just wanted a woman who hung on his every word as if it were gospel.”
Rachel had known men like that through the years. Ones that based their masculinity on being more intelligent than their wives. She had been thankful her husband had been proud of the work she did. Carter had been a good man and father. Even after four years, she still missed him.
“But then he died in the boating accident,” Rachel said to urge Ariel forward. “How did that happen?”
She shook her head. “No one knows why his boat blew up. It could have been a defect in the engine, or it could have been a gas leak. After digging into his work life, one investigator even thought a client who’d lost money on investments may have rigged the boat to catch fire. Can you believe that? It’s like something from a cheesy novel.”
“But they proved he actually died in the explosion?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, they did. I had some of his personal effects that they were able to get a DNA match from. There wasn’t much of him to find.” Tears filled her eyes again. “It was so gruesome. But they did identify him.” Ariel began wringing her hands. “That’s what makes this all so insane. How could he be dead but still be showing up, stalking me? I see him everywhere!”
“Where have you seen Randall?” Rachel asked calmly, trying to soothe Ariel’s strained nerves.
Ariel glanced nervously out the patio windows, then leaned in closer to Rachel. “Everywhere,” she whispered. “In the grocery store. At the beach. Last night, I saw him in the backyard, standing by the pool. He was just staring at me through the window.” She shivered. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Rachel felt a chill run up her spine, just thinking about what Ariel had thought she’d seen. It had to be unnerving to see her dead husband, even if it was her imagination. “What do you think he wants?” she asked Ariel.
Ariel stared at her and frowned. “Don’t you understand? He’s come back for the money. He wants the two-million dollars and will do anything in his power to get it.”
About the Author
Deanna Lynn Sletten loves a good murder mystery. As a child, she was fascinated by her great-uncle’s job as a forensic scientist for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. Her first chapter books were Nancy Drew Mysteries and she could never say no to an Agatha Christie novel. It’s also not surprising that she loves watching true-crime stories on television. So, it was only a matter of time that Deanna would try her hand at writing a murder mystery.
Deanna has been writing novels since 2011 and is always up for a challenge. She writes women’s fiction, romance, historical fiction, and now murder mysteries. She lives in northern Minnesota with her husband and has two grown children. Her favorite thing to do is walk the wooded trails around her home with her new little Aussie puppy. Learn more at deannalsletten.com
>
The Truth About Rachel Page 18