by Robin Cain
“Happy honeymoon to me,” she said. She didn’t know if he hadn’t heard her or just chosen not to respond. Doesn’t matter, she thought; he’s gone now.
Sadie closed her eyes again, just wanting to be still awhile longer. It felt so good to just do nothing. With no pressing appointments that day, she knew that if anything did come up it could easily be handled from Frank’s house. She was anxious to get unpacked and get situated. Frank had hardly spoken when he had gotten back from the office last night, so she still didn’t know what had become of the Citra situation from the day before. She could only hope some conversation had taken place to nip the whole thing in the bud.
Lying in bed with those thoughts, she drifted off into another deep sleep, only to be awakened a couple hours later by the startling peal of her cell phone. The display’s caller ID indicated a private number. She fumbled with opening it.
“Hello?”
“Can I speak to Sadie Roderick please? This is Monica Bird from Entertainment Daily in Hollywood, California.”
“This is she.”
“Good evening, Ms. Roderick. I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I’m working on a deadline. We are doing a story on Billy Harwood and wanted to get your input.”
Alarms went off in Sadie’s brain. “Input?”
“We know you dated Mr. Harwood. That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes.” Sadie couldn’t deny what she supposed was public knowledge.
“Ms. Roderick, I’m calling to get your comments on the news of Billy Harwood’s death.”
“W-what? What did you just say?” Sadie was certain this was some kind of sick joke someone was playing. “Who did you say you were?”
“My name is Monica Bird. I’m with Entertainment Daily. Do you have any comments on Mr. Harwood’s death?” The reporter’s insistent questions brought Sadie’s emotions to the surface.
“He’s dead?” Sadie asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Roderick. I would have thought you knew. Yes, he was found dead early this morning.”
“But I just saw him. Just Monday. That can’t be right. I’m sure you’ve made some kind of mistake.” The thought of it made Sadie weak in the knees.
“I wish I was wrong. It’s truly a tragedy,” she paused to read from her notes. “Are you, uh, I mean were you still dating Mr. Harwood?” The reporter didn’t appear to be stopping with the questions anytime soon and Sadie’s head was spinning.
“No, I wasn’t. But I’m sorry. This is none of your business. I have to go,” Sadie said and slammed the phone shut. Her hands were shaking.
She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.
Billy dead? How could that be?
She had just seen him two days before. The reporter hadn’t said how he had died. Sadie jumped out of bed and walked over to the television. She surfed through nearly two hundred cable stations before a story confirmed Billy Harwood, television and screen actor, had been found dead of what appeared to be a drug overdose in his home in Hollywood.
Sadie’s common sense told her there was something terribly wrong. Billy didn’t do drugs. In fact, she knew he was adamantly opposed to drugs. And Billy was way too much of an egomaniac to commit suicide. No, not the Billy Harwood she knew. There was something definitely wrong with this story, but putting herself in the middle could only prove to be a bad thing. She just wanted to forget the whole thing. She clicked off the television and went to lie back down in bed.
The reporter’s phone call nagged at her senses. She hoped Monica Bird would determine her story couldn’t be fleshed out. The last thing Sadie needed right now was to have her name linked with Billy Harwood. No longer caught up in the Hollywood headlights of another’s fame and fortune, she was now Sadie Roderick Campelletti—wealthy real estate agent married to a software tycoon about to be living the good life. She’d never allow herself to be abused like an animal again. Those days were over.
Thirty minutes later Sadie was still lying in the same place, her mind replaying the events of the morning. When the insistent ringing of the doorbell finally prompted her to move, she slid out from under the covers and hurried to the front door. Peeking out the window, she found Citra standing on the other side. Sadie cursed for the second time that day and reluctantly opened the door.
“Well, already moved in, I see?” Citra said, throwing down her invisible gauntlet, ready to do battle.
“Oh, hi Citra.” Sadie was ill-prepared to trade barbs. Hair askew, dressed in unmatched pajamas and certain her unmade-up face looked like a train wreck, Sadie’s present appearance was one hundred eighty degrees from the pulled-together, sweetly smelling, manicured and well-dressed female standing in front of her. She wanted to crawl into a hole.
“I thought maybe Frank would still be here and I needed to talk to him about something.”
“He’s already gone,” Sadie told her while unconsciously trying to smooth her messy hair.
“Short honeymoon?” A malicious smirk annunciated Citra’s words.
Sadie had to pull back on the reins of her own tongue.
“Citra, I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she said, stepping back to close the door.
“Yes, do that,” Citra replied and then quickly added, “In fact, tell him his new business partner was here, will you?”
Sadie hesitated in the half-closed door and studied the gloating smirk on Citra’s face, assuming it had to be some kind of joke.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, didn’t Frank tell you? Oops, my bad...” Citra put her hand to her mouth in a mock effort to stop the already-spoken words. “We’re going to be partners in business. I would have thought he’d have shared that with his new wife.” There was a toxic underscore to the word “wife.”
Sadie was speechless. This was all news to her, but she didn’t want this wench to know she had the upper hand.
“Oh,” she replied, trying to convey recognition of an idea she didn’t even know existed a moment ago. “I thought he had scratched that idea. I forgot. Oh yes, congratulations.” Like a foreign substance in her mouth, the words were jarring and unfamiliar. “I’ll let him know you were here.”
Unable to keep up the façade of courtesy, Sadie closed the door in her face. She stood with her back pressed against it, making sure the predator’s talons could no longer get to her. When she heard Citra’s car drive away, she slid to the floor and sat there numb from sensory overload, wondering what in the world was becoming of her life.
First Billy and now this. She wanted to run away. With no more sanctuary in her life, she was certain what there was had all been a dream and she was now wide-awake. Just as she was about to go back into Frank’s bedroom to get dressed, there was another knock on the door.
What does she want now?
Sadie flung open the door and found two men standing there, both holding out their police identification for her inspection.
“Ms. Sadie Roderick?” the older of the two asked. With both of them dressed in black slacks and white shirts, they could have been mistaken for aging Jehovah’s Witnesses.
“Yes?” Sadie, now sensing what they were there for, was grateful for Monica Bird’s heads-up.
“You’re a hard woman to track down. I’m Detective Frisco,” the older one said and then gestured to his partner. “This is Detective Thessure. Do you have a moment for us? We’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Sure, come on in. Please excuse the way I look. I overslept,” she told them.
“Not a problem, ma’am. Thank you,” Thessure said, following Sadie into Frank’s living room.
“Not that it matters, but I’m curious. How did you find me here?”
Thessure and Frisco exchanged glances before Frisco answered, “Well, we didn’t. We came to talk to Mr. Campelletti, but the woman who was just in your driveway told us you were in here. You’re actually who we were trying to find.”
Thank you so much, Citra. �
�Well, what can I do for you?”
“Are you aware that Billy Harwood was found dead last night?” Thessure had taken a seat on Frank’s sofa and pulled out his notepad. Frisco asked the questions.
“Actually, yes, I just learned it minutes ago. I got a phone call from a reporter asking me to comment,” Sadie explained. She heard the nerves in her own voice and cleared her throat.
“Well, the cause of death hasn’t been confirmed yet, ma’am, and we are trying to track his movements the last day. This is a pretty high-profile case and we’re trying to get a jump on it. You called the police about Mr. Harwood on Monday. Is that true?” Both Thessure and Frisco stared at her, waiting for an answer.
“Ah, yes,” Sadie stuttered. “I did. Billy got kind of violent with me and threatened me.”
“And may we ask what that was about?”
“Um, Billy and I used to date. We broke up awhile ago and he showed up at my office wanting to see me again. When I refused, he got rough.” Sadie hesitated, wondering how much she should say without a lawyer present. “He pushed me, and I yelled. Then he threatened me. I got scared and called the police.”
“But you didn’t actually file a report against him?” Skepticism filled Frisco’s eyes.
“No, I didn’t want the publicity and attention that would bring.”
It was Thessure’s turn to tag-team her. “Did anyone see him or hear him threaten you?”
“No, no one was around.” Sadie found herself getting defensive. She didn’t understand what she had to do with all this.
“Well, Mr. Hardwood’s chauffeur tells us that you threatened to kill him if he ever got close to you again.”
“That’s a bold-faced lie! He was locked up in the car, not paying attention to us. Did he tell you how Billy pushed me or how he grabbed me by the throat?”
“Calm down, Ms. Roderick. We are just trying to get to the truth here,” Frisco told her. “Now, if he did all that, why may I ask didn’t you file a report?”
Sadie took a deep breath and counted to three before answering. Losing her temper wasn’t going to help anything.
“I already told you. I didn’t want to create a scene.”
“Could you tell us where you were last night between the hours of six p.m. and midnight?” Thessure asked.
“I flew back from Vegas and went home to pack some things. Then I came here to Frank’s house later in the evening.” Before either of them could ask, Sadie went on to explain. “Frank and I got married Monday night. We flew to Vegas and just got back last night.”
“Well, congratulations,” Frisco said without looking up. “Was Mr. Campelletti here with you all night?”
“No, he went to his office after we got back. I was here alone until he joined me later. I’m telling you now—I didn’t have anything to do with Billy’s death. I swear to you.” No matter how much emphasis she gave her words, Sadie still got the feeling they thought she was lying. She watched the two detectives exchange looks before Thessure stood up and closed his notebook.
“Mr. Campelletti is not home now?”
“No, he went to his office earlier this morning. MineWare. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, ma’am. We do.” Frisco straightened his tie and then extended his hand to Sadie. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” Frisco nodded to his partner and they headed for the front door. Uncertain what proper etiquette was for an accused murderer, Sadie meekly followed behind.
“Have a nice day, ma’am,” Thessure said as they walked out. Sadie was left standing in the hallway.
For the second time that morning, she leaned her back up against Frank’s front door and slowly sunk to the floor. Her nerves now completely frayed, she put her head in her hands and started to cry.
For the remainder of the day, Sadie stayed put in Frank’s house. She got dressed, unpacked and made space in his closet for her things. She puttered around, kept busy, but never picked up the phone to call him. She had thought he’d call her once the police had been over to talk to him, but he never did and she was slowly losing her mind worrying about it all. She had nearly convinced herself she was going to be thrown in jail when Frank walked back in the door at six o’clock that evening.
“Hey, I’m sorry I never called you today. It was just a zoo.” He leaned over and kissed her on the head.
“Didn’t the police come see you today?” Sadie couldn’t believe how nonchalant Frank was acting.
“Oh yeah, as a matter of fact, they did. That son of a bitch is dead. Too bad, huh? Guess his guilt got to him.” Frank shrugged his shoulders.
“Are you kidding me? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you mean? Billy Harwood is dead of an overdose. We were in Vegas. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that they think I had something to do with it,” Sadie explained, now more annoyed than ever with his attitude.
“Oh, don’t be silly. It was a suicide from what I hear. What makes you think they suspect you?” Frank said, and then added, “What are you making? It smells great.”
“Pasta. And how can you eat at a time like this?” she asked him.
“A time like what? Pasta sounds great. I’m just beat and I realized on the way home that I never even had a chance to eat lunch today. When’s it going to be ready? I’d like to change.”
“Frank, this is serious! The police were here questioning me. They acted like they think I did it!”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous. They’re just covering all bases. It’s their job. Relax. We’re fine. We were nowhere near his house. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He leaned over and kissed her head again.
Sadie turned off the heat under the pasta, drained the water and added it to the sauce simmering on the other burner. Grabbing the bottle of wine she had opened, she asked him if he’d like a glass.
“That’d be great. I’ll be right back. Oh, before I forget, I made arrangements for us to go up to Sullivan, Washington on Friday. Remember my house I told you about? Well, I’d love to take you up there to see it. Let you get the lay of the land,” Frank said over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway.
Sadie was getting nowhere with him on the police business, so she said nothing more. Pouring him a glass of wine and refilling her own, she sat down to wait. Enjoyment of their first home-cooked meal as a married couple should take priority over a dinner ruined with the mention of Billy or Citra’s name.
Once Frank finished changing and got back in the kitchen, they started their dinner. Frank spent much of the meal telling Sadie about his plans for the house in Washington. The exuberance with which he spoke was nearly contagious.
“I hired this amazing architect; the plans are all done and the bids have all come in. I just don’t want the work being done to go unsupervised. It’s too important to me and I’m not comfortable using workers I’ve never used before. I thought, with all your real estate expertise, this would be a terrific opportunity for both of us. Wait until you see this place, Sadie. It is perfect—or it will be, anyway. The plans are amazing and not all that involved. Just a few subtle changes to the skeleton of the place, some new windows to take advantage of the lake view, a few strategically placed privacy walls and, bingo, we will have the best damn place on the lake.”
Sadie’s curiosity piqued, she asked “So what did you have in mind?”
“Well,” Frank said, “I thought it would be a great time for you to go up there and get it all started. We can go up there this weekend; I can show you what’s what and you can think about if you want to take it on as your project. I’ve got so damn much going on at the office that I cannot commit my time to something of that scale right now. I just know you’d love doing it and it’s all set to go. I thought I’d pass it by you to see if it works for you.” He grinned like a schoolboy delivering a hand-made valentine.
“I’m honored that you’d consider this, but I haven’t even seen it yet.
”
He quickly interrupted, “Oh, I know, but I have faith you’re going to fall in love just like I did. Wait until you see it. I’m telling you— you’ll never want to leave.”
“Well, then I’m excited to see it.” Sadie hesitated before taking her opportunity. “What’s going on with you right now that you can’t take some time to get it going?”
“Just lots of big deals going on. Trying to get the kinks worked out on our new software project. I’m trying to get it out faster than the engineers are time-lining it and I’m afraid, if I don’t keep riding them, it’ll never get done.”
Sadie waited and never heard the answer she was waiting for. She took a breath and forged ahead. “Did Citra tell you she stopped by here this morning?”
Frank was swallowing the last of his wine when the words registered. A gulping noise escaped from his throat. “W-what?” He stuttered, clearly unable to conceal his surprise.
“Citra. She stopped by here this morning to talk to you. And she shared a bit of information with me.” Sadie paused for effect. “Something about you and her being partners now?” She sat back in her chair and took a slow sip of her wine. Her eyes never left his face.
“Sadie, it’s a long story and not one I’m really prepared to discuss with you or anyone quite yet.” His brow furrowed under the strain of Sadie’s stare.
“So, it’s true?”
“To some degree, but it’s not what you think. I offered it as a bone when she threatened to quit. With all that’s going on right now, MineWare cannot risk losing her. Just trust me on this one, would you?”
Sadie didn’t like the sound of his words—not the way he hesitated or the way he had dismissed her. MineWare wasn’t her business, but she knew—she’d seen with her own two eyes—what kind of a hold Citra had on him. This was not the stuff that successful business relationships—or marriages, for that matter—were made from.
“Frank, we’ve talked about this before. Is this something I have to worry about again with you? She seemed awfully damn full of herself when she showed up here this morning—like I was trespassing on her territory.”