“Look, miss, give me his name and I’ll check him for priors. Let’s see if we can back up what you’re saying,” the officer said.
I gave her Derek’s name. She got in the cruiser, where I saw her typing information into a screen on the dashboard. A few minutes later, she came back.
“Yup, checks out,” she said. “Derek Cassidy, did five years for opioid distribution, released six months ago, currently on probation out of Manchester, New Hampshire. Steve, is this the guy who jumped you?”
She held out her phone, displaying Derek’s mug shot.
“That’s him.”
“I say we let her go, and you and me search the grounds for this jerk,” the officer said.
The guard’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at it.
“I’ve got another situation I need to take care of,” he said. “Anyways, I looked for him already. He’s in the wind.”
“He’s on probation and he assaulted you. I’ll look for the guy myself if you’re too busy.”
“Uniformed police in the house is not gonna make my employer happy, Beth.”
“It’s not about making Mrs. Levitt happy. It’s about keeping the streets safe.”
“How about this? You search the surrounding area. Forward me that mug shot. I’ll give it to my team, and we’ll look for him on the grounds.”
“Okay.”
They exchanged information. The security guard pointed at me.
“You, off the premises.”
“Fine, I will. Give me my phone.”
He handed it back to me and walked off. The officer was holding my driver’s license. She took a photo of it.
“I’ll put your name in the report,” she said, “so you have a record that he was following you and assaulted the guard who tried to stop him. You can use that to request a restraining order. Hoping you won’t need one, though. If I get him tonight, he’ll be charged with assault for jumping Steve, and go right back to jail.”
“You can do that? How long would he go away for?”
“A new assault charge, while on probation? A year, at least.”
“That would be a huge relief. Thank you, Officer. I’m really grateful.”
“You have a ride home?”
“I’ll call an Uber.”
She nodded. “Give me a ring tomorrow to request a copy of the police report. It’s Officer Rossi, Southampton PD.”
“Will do.”
“Stay safe.”
She got in the cruiser and drove off. I waited until she was out of sight, then checked to make sure nobody was watching. Near the gatehouse, a couple of valets in white jackets waited for guests to come request their cars. They paid no attention to me. I was free to leave. Or not. I could go look for Connor, or I could address a more pressing concern—the black Suburban with tinted windows that I’d seen parked in the Windswept motor court just moments ago. It must still be there, since I hadn’t seen it drive past me and out the gate. It had a tag on the windshield, like it had been valet parked. If that was true, then it belonged to someone who was legitimately present at Windswept tonight—a guest at the party, or perhaps one of Nina’s employees. It might not be the same Suburban that had run me off the road. But it might, and I needed to know. The way to tell would be to examine it for possible damage to the passenger-side door caused by sideswiping another car.
I retraced my steps, down the driveway, across the lawn to the motor court. Windswept was crazy big, its motor court as large as a mini-mall parking lot. I threaded my way among the rows of vehicles, searching for the Suburban. Just as I saw it ahead of me, I heard footsteps behind, and dropped to the ground, terrified that it was Derek coming to find me. I waited, heart pounding. A car door opened. An engine started. And I pulled myself up, looking through the windows of the vehicle that had sheltered me to see one of the valets drive off in a guest’s BMW.
Before I got interrupted again, I hurried to the black Chevy Suburban that I’d seen before, approaching it from the rear. It had deeply tinted windows, and now I saw that it also had a New York license plate. I took a photo of the plate with my phone, then flicked on the flashlight, kneeling down to examine the passenger-side door.
And there it was. A visible scratch, and a swath of paint in the same faded blue as my Toyota.
This was the same car, parked at Nina’s house. Nina Levitt had tried to have me murdered. That security guard had my name. What if Nina found out I was here? I wouldn’t be safe until I told Connor what she’d done, and that I was pregnant. He’d make her stop. He’d have to.
A streak of light soared toward the clouds, followed by a loud boom. The sky lit up with bursts of blue and red and gold, diffused by the haze of the atmosphere. I ran toward the beach, where I’d last seen Connor. But when I got there, it was no longer empty. The party had moved there, and hundreds of people now milled about, watching the fireworks. The ocean was rough from the storm, and massive waves pounded the sand. I walked up and down, searching for him in the crowd to no avail.
As the fireworks display reached its crescendo, the air filled with thunderous bangs and the smell of sulfur. Only after it ended, and the guests began to drift away, did I finally see Connor. He stood about a hundred feet away in the thinning crowd, but he wasn’t alone. He was with the guard who’d stopped me earlier, and with Nina. The three of them conferred, silhouetted against a smoky, red sky—Connor, his wife, and the man they’d hired to keep out the people who didn’t belong. The trespassers. Like me.
This whole trip had been a waste. There was no chance of speaking to Connor alone. The truth was, if he loved me as he claimed, he would have gotten in touch before now. He hadn’t. Time to recognize this situation for what it was and admit defeat. Time to go home.
20
NINA
Two hours later
The confrontation had gone badly.
Nina sat alone at her desk, trying to write down everything she remembered. But her mind was foggy. She struggled to form words, to make her fingers obey her command. What had happened? Where was Kovacs? He was supposed to escort them out, but he’d disappeared at the critical moment. Called away. Breach of security. Something about a man from earlier tonight—vagrant, burglar, criminal. Urgent. He had to leave. Leave her alone with them. Was she remembering right? Did Kovacs do his job? Was Connor gone? She couldn’t be sure. She was safe in here. Or was she? What about her? That woman. She couldn’t even say her name. She’d write it, instead. Write it, underline it, point them in the right direction.
She threw down the pen. She was wasting precious time. She needed to call someone. A doctor. The police. She looked for her phone. Her vision had doubled. The phone was missing. Or maybe it was here, and she just couldn’t see it. She felt around the desk, then got to her feet, holding on to the back of the chair. Feverish, breathing heavily.
Something was very wrong.
She got lost in time.
Things had started to go bad down on the beach, when they found Connor watching the fireworks display. He looked up and saw her, smiling like things were normal. Kovacs was acting strangely. Lies. Everyone was lying. Hank had lied about the shipping company. Hank must know. He knew everything. The fireworks disappeared into the clouds. A waste of money. A thick, noxious fog settled over the beach. The smell of smoke. Her eyes teared until she couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Felt ill. That was when she first suspected that she’d been drugged. In the confusion of the night, she’d paid little attention to what she ate or drank. So long as it came from a waiter, or from the tables laid out for the guests, she’d assumed it was fine.
Stupid. She was so stupid.
She should have called a doctor right then, when she first suspected. But no, she had a plan and she would stick to it. She pushed the thought from her mind. Nina called them to her office. Connor. Kovacs. Her. Served the papers. Kicked him out. Banished. It was over. She’d won won won won.
Sounds echoed in her mind. They’d laughed.
Or cried? She couldn’t remember.
She bent over and threw up in the wastebasket.
She needed help.
She unlocked the door and stumbled down the stairs. Falling, getting up. She couldn’t feel her extremities.
Who could she trust in this house?
“Gloria? Dennis?”
Her voice came out so weak that it didn’t travel. They wouldn’t hear. The room was spinning.
She was in the ballroom but didn’t remember getting there. It was empty, the tables bare, the caterers gone. How much time had passed since Kovacs left? Why hadn’t he come back? She doubled over, the pain in her stomach so bad that she moaned, holding her side. Dragged herself to the terrace. The tent was empty, the bandstand abandoned. Was this real? A dream? She fought her way through flapping canvas. Outside the tent, the winds had picked up. There were lights on in the pool house. Shapes moving. Someone was down there. They would help her.
Could she make it?
Down the path. Was someone behind her?
The light rain woke her up, like Dorothy in the snow. The aqua swimming pool glowed from within. It was luminous—so beautiful that she walked toward it, mesmerized. Heard footsteps behind her. Turned. Hands. Pushing. Falling. She was under the water. She struggled toward the light. Time slowed. Her limbs were heavy as lead. Her lungs burned. Finally, her head broke the surface, and she sucked in one sweet mouthful of air, before the hand pushed her under for good.
21
TABITHA
July 5, 6:00 P.M.
I wasn’t doing right by this baby.
I’d driven through the night last night to get home from the Hamptons, terrified of seeing Derek in my rearview mirror, then slept for a couple of fitful hours before going to work. I couldn’t afford to miss another shift. I needed the money. Last night, I’d finally admitted to myself that Connor had no intention of leaving his wife. I’d probably never see him again, which meant supporting the baby on my own. And the terror that induced made me push myself harder than I should. Lifting heavy trays. Running myself ragged and sneaking off to throw up in the bathroom. Liz, my manager, was a good person and a good friend. If I told her what was going on, she’d want to help. The problem was, I could imagine what she’d say upon finding out that I was pregnant. That I couldn’t support this child alone, and I needed to sue Connor for paternity and child support.
I wasn’t ready to face that harsh truth yet. I still loved him. I still hoped.
Halfway through the shift, Liz came and found me on the floor. I’d been avoiding her all night, worried that she was going to take me aside and demand to know what was wrong. Then I’d have to tell her, because I hated to lie.
It wasn’t what I was expecting.
“You’ve got a call in the office. Derek’s probation officer,” she said.
I hadn’t told Liz about Derek following me to New York. I hadn’t even told her that I went there. I’d called in sick. Why had I done that? Now I had to worry about getting caught in that lie.
“Why is he calling me?” I asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“I’ll be quick,” I said.
In her office, as I reached for the phone, I was overwhelmed by dread. At the time I left Windswept last night, Derek was at large, and the police officer had gone off in search of him. I was afraid to find out what had happened since.
“Hello? This is Tabitha.”
“Ms. Girard? Mike Mandel from the Probation Department. I just got off the phone with an Officer Rossi of the Southampton PD. She told me that you reported your ex-husband, Derek Cassidy, had traveled to Southampton last night because he was stalking you?”
“Uh. Yes.”
“It seems he was arrested down there, for attempted burglary and assault. The officer wanted you to know.”
“Wow. Thank you. That’s a relief. The police were called last night, but Derek got away. I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since. So, they found him?”
“Oh, they found him, all right. He was arrested and charged. Because he was on probation, he won’t get bail. He’ll probably go away for a year or two, at least.”
“I’m very glad to hear that. He’s been coming around my work, actually. It was pretty scary.”
“I had no idea. I wish you’d contacted us. I could’ve intervened.”
“I called the police. The guy acted like there was nothing he could do.”
“Well, that’s wrong. Anyway, you don’t need to worry now.”
“Thank you. I’m very glad to hear that.”
“Hey, if you don’t mind, can I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Sure, I guess so. About what?”
“It’s just, I’m trying to understand what happened. The situation is strange to me.”
“In what way?”
“Like, why would Derek—who’s no angel, now, I know, but he stays in his lane—”
“Stays in his lane?”
“You know, he’s a two-bit pusher. Local. Not a heavy hitter. Why would he try to crash this high-society party down in New York, where, as far as I know, he’s never been in his life before? Can you enlighten me?”
I had the distinct feeling that this guy was suspicious of me. I wasn’t guilty of anything, but that had never protected me from being implicated in Derek’s crimes. I should say as little as possible and get off the phone.
“As I told the officer, Derek followed me there, and that’s all I know,” I said.
“I take it you’re acquainted with the people whose house it was?”
Why was he being so nosy? I refused to drop Connor’s name. What if it got back to him somehow? The last thing I needed was Connor finding out that the convicted drug dealer who’d been arrested for trespassing and beating up the security guard at Windswept was my ex-husband. That would be impossible to explain.
“I was trying to get away from Derek, and I ran into the first house I saw. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Mandel, I’m at work, and my boss is calling me.”
“It’s just weird, because, you know, the woman died.”
That got my attention.
“What woman?”
“The hostess of the party. Nina Levitt.”
“Nina Levitt died? That can’t be right.”
My heart started hammering.
“It was on the news. She drowned. Her body was found early this morning in the swimming pool at her home. Look, I’m not saying they think Derek had anything to do with her death—”
“Derek? Oh my God.”
The room was spinning.
“No, I’m not saying that. From what I understand, they’re treating this as an accident, at least until an autopsy can establish cause of death. But you have to admit, it’s a crazy coincidence. Normally, I’d think murder is outside Derek’s wheelhouse. But then I come back to, what the hell was he doing there in the first place? I was hoping you could shed some light.”
“I can’t, sorry. Now I have to go.”
I slammed the phone down and collapsed in the chair. I felt so faint that I had to put my head between my knees. Liz walked in. Seeing me, she ran to my side.
“Tabitha. Jesus, are you okay?”
“Derek got arrested.”
“For what?”
“Assault. Down in New York.”
“That’s a good thing, right? He’ll go back to jail.”
I was hyperventilating.
“You’re scaring me,” Liz said. “Hold on. I’ll get a paper bag.”
Liz ran out, returning a minute later with a paper bag. She held it up and had me breathe in and out until I stabilized.
“I feel better,” I said, after a few minutes. “Thank you. I always thought that was an old wives’ tale.”
“It works. Take it from this old wife. You’re white as a sheet, though. Go home.”
“I can’t. I’ve missed too much work.”
“Someone can cover for you.”
“It’s not that,
Liz. I need the money.”
She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Fine. But when your shift’s done, you’re gonna come back here and tell me what’s really going on with you.”
“Deal.”
I went back to work with my mind reeling. Mandel was right. Derek was just a small-time drug dealer. A fuckup, a lowlife, and—as far as I knew—no killer. But he was an opportunist and desperate for cash. Maybe he tried to rob her, and something went wrong. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I got. Derek had no connection to Nina, except through me, and my affair with her husband. If he was involved in her death, it was certain to come back on me.
I got so worked up about the possibility of being implicated in Nina’s murder that I couldn’t think of anything else. At the end of my shift, I sat on the bench outside Liz’s office, waiting for her to close out the till. It was the first moment I’d had to myself all night. And it hit me.
Nina was dead. Connor was free.
I knew that was a selfish thing to think about, but I couldn’t help it. He and I could finally be together. I had to get in touch with him, right away. I walked out of the restaurant, my hands shaking as I dialed my phone. He picked up on the first ring.
“You heard?” He spoke quietly.
“Yes. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“Hang up. I’ll call you from a different number.”
I sat in my car, waiting. Liz came out and tapped on the glass. I lowered my window.
“I thought we were going to talk,” she said.
“I’m not feeling up to it. Tomorrow, okay?”
My phone rang.
“I have to take this.”
“Tabitha—”
“Sorry, Liz.”
I put the window up. She looked annoyed.
“Hello?”
“Tabby,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Things are so screwed up here. It’s really good to hear your voice.”
Liz was watching. I turned away, hunching over my phone.
“You didn’t call,” I said in a low tone.
“I couldn’t. Tabitha, Nina’s dead.”
The Wife Who Knew Too Much Page 13