The Unworthy Wife

by Rachel Woods

  “You need to talk to those two residents,” said Noelle, daring to hope. “Maybe one of them saw something or someone.”

  “Maybe they saw the person who killed Eamon Taylor,” said Beanie.

  Octavia nodded. “Icarus had to fly to St. Cera on business, but he’s coming back tomorrow, and I’m going to have him talk to the residents the officer didn’t interview.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Did you forget we need to pick up the boys from my mom’s?” asked Noelle when Beanie turned the SUV right instead of left onto the main boulevard in front of the Queen Palm hotel.

  “We’re not going to pick up the boys right now,” said Beanie, passing a slower car as he sped down the road, heading farther away from the streets which led to Handweg Gardens.

  “Why not?” Noelle asked, concerned about her husband’s clenched jaw. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to talk to those residents the police didn’t interview,” said Beanie, clutching the steering wheel. “The guy in apartment three and the guy in apartment seven.”

  “We are?” Noelle took a quick breath.

  “You have Eamon Taylor’s address?”

  “I think I have it in my contacts on my phone,” Noelle said. “I had to send the interns dinner invitations and some other paperwork.”

  “You find it, and we’ll head over there.”

  “You think we should?” Noelle asked, uncertain about Beanie’s plan. “Octavia’s cousin—”

  “We don’t need to wait for her cousin,” Beanie said. “We need to find out right now if those two men know anything.”

  Warming to the idea, Noelle asked, “You think they’ll talk to us?”

  “I’m a journalist, babe,” Beanie said, giving her a quick glance and comforting smile. “I know how to ask the right questions. If either of those two guys know anything, I’m going to get them to tell us.”

  Twenty minutes later, Beanie was handing a business card to the bleary-eyed old Asian man who finally opened the door to apartment seven after they’d knocked about a hundred damn times. Discouraged by the absence of the resident in apartment three, Noelle had grown frustrated by her husband’s dogged persistence. The manager of the Sea Glass Villages, a twentyish Barbie doll with a disposition as sunny as her gleaming blonde hair, was sorry to tell them that Stanley Reese, who resided in number three, hadn’t been home since he’d gotten a job on an oil rig off the coast of Venezuela. Ted Chen, in apartment seven, was probably home, though.

  After the tenth knock, Noelle told Beanie they should forget about trying to talk to Ted Chen. The man either wasn’t home or didn’t want to be bothered. Their trip to the Sea Glass Village, a cluster of small Caribbean-Dutch apartments surrounded by a courtyard, had seemed like a good idea twenty minutes ago but Noelle was no longer in the mood to play Nancy Drew. She just wanted to pick up the boys from her mom’s place, go home, and maybe try to relax.

  She’d been about to insist that they leave when the door opened.

  “I’m Roland Bean from the Palmchat Gazette,” said Beanie. “I’m working on a story for the newspaper and wondered if I could ask you a few questions.”

  The Asian man squinted and scowled as he stared at Beanie’s card. “I don’t know nothing.”

  “Maybe you know more than you think,” said Beanie. “I want to ask about your neighbor Eamon Taylor. He lived in the studio apartment.”

  “Across the way,” said the old man, tilting his head in the direction across the small courtyard to the door with an “8” mounted above the peephole. “What do you want to know about him?”

  “Did you hear about what happened to him?” Beanie asked.

  Noelle took a step back, deciding to let Beanie do his thing, which he was better at than she’d realized. His style was interesting and impressive, conversational and yet probing. With his winning smile and compassionate demeanor, he steadily put Ted Chen at ease. Initially, the older man had been tense and suspicious, but now his shoulders and his stern expression were relaxed.

  Ted Chen shook his head. “It’s a shame. Who would do such a horrible thing? He wasn’t a bad guy.”

  “So, you knew Eamon?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Ted Chen, nodding. “He was a good neighbor. Nice guy. Didn’t make a lot of noise or have a bunch of people over or have a lot of wild parties.”

  “The day Eamon was killed,” Beanie said, “were you at home that day?”

  “What day was that?”

  Beanie told him, and then said, “The police think he was killed around noon.”

  Ted Chen said, “I was home, but I didn’t hear nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” Noelle couldn’t stop herself from asking. “You didn’t see anything unusual?”

  “Did you see anyone?” Beanie asked. “Did you notice if he had a visitor around that time?”

  “No, I didn’t,” said Ted Chen, frowning. “I didn’t see nothing then but …”

  “But what?” Beanie asked.

  Noelle took a deep breath and cautioned herself not to expect a smoking gun revelation.

  “I did see something strange the next day,” Ted Chen said. “It was that night, actually.”

  “What did you see that was strange?” Beanie asked.

  “I saw someone come out of Eamon’s apartment,” Ted Chen said. “At the time, I didn’t know what had happened to him. It was a little after midnight. It wasn’t Eamon, though.”

  “Do you know who it was?” Beanie asked. “Did you recognize the person?”

  “No, it was too dark,” Ted Chen said. “But, I could tell it was a guy. He came out of Eamon’s place carrying two suitcases. I was out with my dog. He has a weak bladder. Wakes me up all times of the night because he has to go. So, I was coming back to my apartment when I saw the guy leaving Eamon’s apartment with the suitcases. I thought maybe it was a friend or a relative. The person hurried out to the back parking lot and, well sometimes I don’t mind my own business, so I kind of followed, but I stayed out of sight.”

  “And then what?” Beanie prompted.

  “The man put the suitcases in the back seat and then drove off.”

  “Did you see what kind of car it was?” Beanie asked.

  “A red car,” said Ted Chen. “Looked like a little four-door sedan.”

  Moments later, as they drove away from the Sea Glass Village apartments, Noelle asked,“What do you think about what Ted Chen told us?”

  Beanie said, “I think he saw Eamon Taylor’s killer.”

  “How can we know that for sure?” Noelle bit her bottom lip. As soon as Ted Chen told them about the mystery guy leaving Eamon’s place with two suitcases, Noelle had jumped to the same conclusion. She didn’t want to the get her hopes up and thought it might be best to make sure their theory held up under scrutiny.

  “What else are we supposed to think, Elle?” Beanie asked. “A guy comes out of Eamon’s apartment after midnight carrying two suitcases. And then he takes those suitcases and puts them into a red car. A red four-door sedan like your red four-door sedan that was stolen from you before Eamon was killed. The only thing I can think is that Ted Chen saw Eamon’s killer carrying suitcases which contained Eamon’s hacked up dead body.”

  “But we don’t know that it was my red car,” Noelle said. “Ted Chen didn’t get a license plate number.”

  “Octavia said we need to find another suspect.”

  “She said to find a better suspect,” Noelle clarified. “A guy that Ted Chen didn’t get a good look at who took suitcases from Eamon’s apartment is not exactly a better suspect. We don’t have a name for this mystery guy. We don’t have a description.”

  “True, but still,” said Beanie, “we need to tell the police there’s more information about Eamon’s murder that they need to consider. We need to tell the cops to talk to Ted Chen.”

  Nodding, Noelle said, “He did say he was willing to tell the police what he told us.”

  “That’s what h
as to happen,” Beanie said. “The information can’t come from us. It has to come from Ted Chen.”

  “We need to tell Octavia, too,” said Noelle.

  “Give her a call,” said Beanie, steering the SUV around a curve in the road. “Tell her to meet us at the police station.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Did Octavia call with any news about whether or not the cops went to talk to Ted Chen?” Beanie asked.

  “No, not yet,” said Noelle, walking across the kitchen to the sink. “And what are you doing here? Did you tell me you were coming home for lunch today?”

  A few days had passed since she and Beanie had talked to Ted Chen. Their trip to the police department hadn’t inspired much confidence in the department’s willingness to investigate the mysterious guy Chen had seen leaving Eamon’s apartment. Officer Fields didn’t think Chen’s information warranted further investigation, but Octavia convinced him that he should interview Eamon’s neighbor and take his statement. As Octavia pointed out, Ted Chen would have been—and in fact, should have been—interviewed if he’d been home when the original officer had spoken to the other residents at the complex.

  “I’m actually not here for lunch,” said Beanie, tossing a thick file folder on the table in the breakfast nook before taking a seat.

  At the refrigerator, Noelle paused, not sure if she should make Beanie a sandwich with last night’s roasted goat. Normally, her husband didn’t come home for lunch because, normally, Noelle wouldn’t be home at one o’clock in the afternoon. Normally, at this time, she would be beyond busy filling prescriptions and doing patient consultations at the Palmchat Pharmacy. For the time being, Noelle had a new normal—being a stay-at-home mom, which she loved and was starting to get used to. She’d always valued her career and relished her role as an accomplished working mom, but the time she’d been able to spend with Ethan and Evan had been pure joy, and she savored each moment.

  But then she would remember that her “new normal” was the unintended result of the dire circumstances threatening to destroy her life. Nothing had been normal since she’d been accused of sexually harassing and then subsequently murdering Eamon Taylor. And if she was convicted of a crime she hadn’t committed, then nothing would be normal ever again.

  Closing the fridge, Noelle faced Beanie. “Why are you here? Stopped by for a little afternoon delight, Mr. Bean?”

  “Oh, babe, I wish,” said Beanie, smiling at her. “But, I may have something better than that.”

  “Better than sex?” she teased, trying to manage the slight flare of disappointment. The new normal had also wrecked havoc on their sex life. How could she think about making love when she was facing a murder charge? Still, she missed the intense intimacy with her husband and wondered if a quickie might get her mind off her problems, if only for a moment or two. Or three.

  “Come here,” Beanie said, and when she joined him at the table, he opened the file and began spreading papers across the polished wood surface.

  “What’s all this?” Noelle asked.

  “Remember the emails I got from Octavia?” Beanie asked. “The ones that you supposedly sent Eamon Taylor?”

  Noelle nodded. “Yeah, but I didn’t want to read them.”

  “Neither did I,” Beanie admitted. “But, I did.”

  “Were they awful?”

  “Worse than awful,” said Beanie. “But the point is, I think I can prove you didn’t send them. That you couldn’t have sent them.”

  Noelle’s pulse jumped. “Are you serious? How?”

  “I started looking at when the emails were sent,” Beanie started, moving the papers around until he found the copy of the email he wanted. “The emails were sent from the account doctor sexy milf at St. Killian univ dot com.”

  Rolling her eyes, Noelle said, “Doctor sexy MILF? As if I would ever refer to myself that way.”

  “Well, it’s true,” said Beanie. “You are a MILF.”

  “And you’re a DILF,” she said, stealing a quick kiss. “Now, tell me how you can prove I didn’t send those ridiculous emails.”

  “The doctor sexy MILF account was initially created on at 9:49 p.m. on this date,” said Beanie, pointing at the paper which showed when the account had been created. “Do you know where you were at 9:9 p.m. on that day?”

  “Beanie, I can’t think, okay,” Noelle said, her anxiousness increasing. “Just tell me.”

  “You were with me,” Beanie said. “At Dizzy Jenny’s.”

  “Oh my God,” said Noelle, remembering. “Date night.”

  “We weren’t at home when this account was created on the computer in our home office,” said Beanie. “How could you be at Dizzy Jenny’s with me—and our waiters and servers can tell the cops they saw us there—and at home in the office creating a fake account to send dirty emails to Eamon Taylor?”

  “I couldn’t have been at Dizzy Jenny’s and creating the fake account,” said Noelle, allowing hope to rise. “But, that means someone else was creating the fake account on our computer while we were having dinner.”

  His expression grim, Beanie said, “That’s right. So, the question is, who was at our house that night while we were at Dizzy Jenny’s?”

  Realization hit Noelle like a sucker punch. “Sarah? Oh, Beanie, no! Sarah couldn’t have created that fake account? Why would she do something like that?”

  “Why would she show the cops a pair of jeans that turned out to be stained with paint instead of blood?” Beanie asked. “Why would she say she thought Kevin Cook might have killed Eamon?”

  “You think Sarah is trying to shift suspicion to Kevin and away from herself?” Noelle shook her head. “Do you think Sarah killed Eamon and is trying to frame me?”

  “Sarah weighs eighty pounds soaking wet if that much,” said Beanie, gathering the email copies he’d spread across the table. “I don’t think she’s strong enough to have beat Eamon with a shovel. But from the conversation Sophie and I had with her, I think she’s easily led—by Kevin.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “It was clear to Sophie and me that Sarah is more in love with Kevin than he is with her,” Beanie said. “Even though she told us about the jeans and Kevin’s animosity toward Eamon, I could tell she didn’t want to. She was upset and regretful. She kept telling the cops that she didn’t want to get Kevin in trouble.”

  “Then why would she tell the cops that she suspected Kevin?”

  “Sophie says that even people with Stockholm’s Syndrome will try to escape their captors at least once,” Beanie said. “Telling the cops her suspicions might have been her attempt to break free of Kevin’s control. Sophie and I still don’t know who sent us the anonymous tip about Kevin Cook, but we both suspect Sarah. I think that Sarah knows Kevin killed Eamon, but he’s instructed her to stay quiet.”

  “You think Kevin told Sarah to create that doctor sexy MILF account?”

  “Who else could have done it?” Beanie asked. “Sarah comes to our house to babysit. She’s got unrestricted access to the computer. We’ve even told her she could use it if she forgets her laptop. Kevin probably knew that. So, in his plan to frame you for Eamon’s murder, Kevin makes Sarah create the fake email account at our house while she’s babysitting.”

  Shaking her head, Noelle stood and walked to the sink. Staring through the window into the backyard, she watched the remnants of her neglected rose bushes sway in the gentle afternoon ocean breeze.

  Trying to process what Beanie had told her, she found it difficult to believe Sarah would participate in Kevin’s scheme to frame her for Eamon Taylor’s murder. According to Beanie, Sarah was weak and easily manipulated, guided by Kevin Cook’s control and command. Noelle knew a different Sarah, a smart, caring, and friendly young woman, dedicated to her studies and the pursuit of her passions, which was to work in research for a Big Pharma firm.

  “Elle, I want you to call Sarah?”

  Noelle faced Beanie. “Why? You want me to ask her if she helped
her boyfriend set me up for murder?”

  “Look, I know you don’t want to believe that Sarah could be involved,” said Beanie. “But, you have to put your feelings aside for the sake of your freedom. Your life is at stake which means my life is at stake, and so are our boys’ lives. None of us will be able to survive you going to jail for something you didn’t do.”

  “I know that,” said Noelle returning to the table.

  Grabbing her hand, Beanie gave it the supportive squeeze that always comforted her. “Elle, if Kevin Cook killed Eamon—and I believe he did—then we have to prove it. Now, I also believe Kevin got Sarah to help him. I think she told me, Sophie and the cops her suspicions of Kevin because she had an attack of conscience and felt guilty about her part in his crimes.”

  Noelle nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I think Sarah is our best opportunity to get proof against Kevin,” said Beanie. “We have to convince her to flip on him.”

  “You think we can?”

  “I think we have to,” said Beanie. “But, as Sophie would say, we have to be sly and subtle about it. We can’t scare Sarah off. We can’t make her suspicious.”

  “So what do I say when I call?” Noelle asked.

  Beanie said, “Just ask Sarah if she remembers using our computer that night?”

  “What if she asks me why I’m asking?” Noelle asked. “She probably will.”

  “Tell her that you found some photos that you don’t recognize and you wonder if she used the computer to email those photos to someone,” Beanie said.

  “And what if she says that she did use the computer?” Noelle asked.

  “Then you ask her why,” said Beanie. “See what she says. The key is not to accuse her of anything. We just want to confirm that she used the computer that night.