“Me? Why? I never met Nina. I don’t know anything about this.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Was he remembering me with Derek at Windswept that night? I held my breath, waiting for him to accuse me.
“I expect they just want to talk to someone in authority. I can speak to them for you if you like,” he said.
I breathed out. Since seeing the photo caption accusing me of returning to the scene of the crime, I was no longer confident that I could explain away my presence here the night she died. It would be best if it never came out.
“Yes, thank you. If you could just say … I don’t know. What should you say?”
“There are two choices. We could call a lawyer in to review the warrant. But the detectives who are working this case are professionals. I doubt a lawyer would find it worth challenging in court. The other option is for me to let them into the pool complex, so we appear cooperative and like we have nothing to hide. I stay with them during the search just to make sure they don’t go beyond the scope of the warrant.”
“That sounds like the right approach. But I think you should call my husband and get his approval. I’m worried that he’ll be upset by this.”
“Probably. I’m sure he’d prefer the investigation to remain closed.”
I searched his face, wondering what that meant. But I was afraid to ask.
“You’ll call him?” I said.
“Will do. I’ll report back, ma’am,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Mrs. Ford, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn,” Juliet said when he’d left.
“What is it?”
“I know the detectives. They interviewed me after Mrs. Levitt died. I’m just saying, they’re pretty low-key, reasonable people. Are you sure you want to send Steve to deal with them, rather than speaking to them yourself?”
I’d forgotten that Juliet was the one who’d told the police about Nina’s cancer diagnosis. But she didn’t have skin in the game when she talked to them. My own experience of speaking with the police was a traumatic one. When they opened the secret compartment in Derek’s truck and pulled out bags full of pills, I was shocked. I’d never been in trouble in my life. I wanted to cooperate, to prove that I was an honest, law-abiding citizen. I remembered how they separated us by the side of the road, then put us in different cruisers and took us to separate rooms back at the station. They just had a few questions, they said, then set about pressuring me to give information on Derek. Maybe I would have, but I had none. I was innocent, and I said so. They refused to believe me. At the end of the interview, they put me in handcuffs and took me to the holding cell. What little information I gave was used against me. Later, my lawyer said I’d been a fool. The next time you find yourself in a tight spot, he said, don’t trust the cops. Keep your mouth shut and call your attorney.
“Do you have reason to think Mr. Kovacs won’t represent our interests properly?” I asked.
“I never said that.”
“Then why would I talk to them? I know nothing about Nina’s death.”
“Okay. That’s your call, ma’am.”
“I mean, what could I possibly say?”
“Of course.”
“Seriously, Juliet. I don’t get why you’re telling me to talk to them.”
“You’re right. That doesn’t make sense. I’ll let you rest,” she said, and walked from the room.
My phone rang. Grabbing it from the bedside table, I saw Connor’s number flashing on the screen. He’d blamed me for the paparazzi. Was he going to blame me for the search warrant, too? I hit Decline and tossed the phone on the bed. Let him wait for me to call back, like I waited for him. After a pause, the ringing started again. I ignored it.
A couple of minutes later, the phone dinged with a text.
Tabitha, it read—a name he never called me—I just heard the police are there with a search warrant. Pack a bag right now. Dennis will take you to the airport. There’s a plane waiting to bring you to Dubai. I want Juliet to go with you. We can’t risk having you interviewed or letting the media anywhere near you. Connor.
The undercurrent of blame in his text made my blood boil. He’d left me at the mercy of the paparazzi and the police, then acted like it was my fault when things went south. Now he was ordering me to flee the country, with Juliet as my babysitter, so I didn’t screw things up worse. I should just say no. Better yet, I should go talk to the police right now and tell them I honestly didn’t know whether Nina killed herself, or if Connor had anything to do with it. That would show him.
I might be furious. But acting out of spite like that would be a huge mistake. I was out of my league here. I’d say the wrong thing. The cops would trick me again. The press was already accusing me of Nina’s murder. Next thing I knew, I’d be in jail. Or Connor would. And as much I hated him right now, I loved him. And didn’t believe he’d commit murder.
The time had come to ask him. I needed to ask him to his face.
I found my passport and started packing.
28
Stepping onto the plane was like entering a different world—a world in which nothing could touch me. The police investigation, Nina’s death, the bad press, even my husband’s guilt or innocence—all the bogeymen faded away. I was a one-percenter flying first class on an exotic journey. The flight attendants lavished attention on me, bringing pillows and chocolates and drinks. My seat compartment was the size of a small bedroom, with its own fully stocked minibar that popped up from a lacquered console, and a giant television that showed a map of the route. I loved reading the names of the places we’d be flying over. Paris and Madrid, Athens and Tangiers. The world had been closed to me before, but with Connor, any destination was possible.
I’d arranged to meet Juliet in the bar for a drink as soon as the seat-belt sign went off. My OB had said that one alcoholic beverage per week was permitted in the second trimester. Though I still wasn’t sure I wanted a drink, Juliet insisted the bar was not to be missed, and she was right. I walked in with eyes like saucers. White leather banquettes lined the sides of the cabin, which was glamorously lit with blue neon and full of beautiful, well-dressed people. A uniformed bartender stood behind a marble-topped, circular bar. There were trays of appetizers for the taking—mini quiches, caviar on crackers, cocktail shrimp. A calligraphy menu of artisanal cocktails. Fine wines and champagnes and brandies. As I took it all in, Juliet walked up behind me.
“Can you believe this?” she said, a wide grin on her face.
The tension I’d felt building between us at Windswept evaporated in the rarefied air. She ordered Veuve Clicquot Brut Rosé, and when I saw the bartender pour it, I realized it was a pink champagne. I smiled and said I’d have one, too. We sat on a banquette and clinked glasses. The champagne bubbles tickled my nose, and my first taste of alcohol after so many months loosened my tongue. I’d been so lonely. I found myself telling Juliet about my life. My rootless childhood, my mother’s death, the grandparents who saved me. Somehow, I got on to talking about Connor. How glorious he’d been that summer at the lake. How I’d never stopped loving him. What a miracle it was when he walked into the restaurant after all those years. I was lost in time, visualizing him in my mind’s eye, when I noticed Juliet’s horrified expression.
I’d been indiscreet.
“But nothing happened then, of course. We only reconnected later, after Nina died,” I added, in a hurry.
“You have to be more careful,” she whispered, glancing around meaningfully. “We don’t know who these people are. They could be reporters.”
“I’m sorry.”
She got up for another drink, and this time, I noticed, it was straight scotch. That careless confession put a damper on our rapport. It was her job to keep me in line, but how could she, when I was so careless? Maybe this mess was my fault after all. Maybe I didn’t belong here, on this flight, in this life. Conversation grew stilted, so I finished my champagne and excused myself, returning to my seat.
In the morning, when we reunited on the Jetway, she was back to her pleasant, efficient self, seeing to the luggage, finding our driver. The hotel was famous, an architectural marvel designed to look like a ship in full sail, perched on the edge of the Arabian Sea. The lobby was a kaleidoscope of color, gold leaf and leopard print, exotic flowers, exotic people. Juliet went to check into her room. I was assigned a personal butler to take me to the suite that Connor already occupied. We got off the elevator, and my jaw dropped. The upper floors were designed around a soaring atrium like nothing I’d ever seen—honeycombed white balconies rising to an elaborate blue-and-gold ceiling. I had to stop and take pictures. The suite was two stories with a curving staircase and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the sea. The view went on forever, with sailboats and yachts and tanker ships passing in the distance. There were fresh flowers everywhere, and an elaborate fruit basket set on the gilded bar. The butler gave me his card and said he could arrange shopping or spa appointments if I liked, and that in the meantime he’d send the maid to unpack my things. I almost told him not to, that she’d be disappointed.
The butler left, and I was alone. The windows were thick, the room silent except for the subtle purr of air-conditioning. It was cold in the room, and my legs were shaking. I hadn’t slept much on the plane. I hadn’t slept well for the weeks I’d been at Windswept, really. I sat down on the velvet sofa to regroup, and suddenly found myself sobbing. This life was magnificent. But it felt dangerous. And it wasn’t mine.
Someone knocked on the door, and I dried my eyes. It was the maid, come to unpack my suitcases. Juliet called to say that Connor was in meetings for the rest of the day. We could go to the pool. There was a section reserved for guests, where we could be comfortable that the press wouldn’t find us. Trying on my old bikini, I saw that my stomach had popped. I couldn’t go out in public wearing this without flaunting a bump for the world to see.
Turns out I forgot my bathing suit, so I’ll take a rain check, I texted Juliet.
She told me to go to the boutique in the lobby and charge whatever I needed to the room. I emerged with a black one-piece, a flowing white chiffon cover-up, a wide-brimmed straw hat with beaded trim around the crown, and crystal-embellished sandals. The total was twelve hundred dollars, and all I had to do was sign my name. I spent the afternoon drinking exotic fruit juices at an infinity-edge pool, surrounded by swaying palms, looking out at an aqua sea, trying to appreciate the luxury of this life. But that was hard to do when it might be taken away at any moment. I couldn’t help thinking—if Connor divorced me. If he got arrested. If I got arrested. They’d never let me in the door of a place like this again.
He finally texted around six that evening.
I’m in the room. Where are you?
By the pool with Juliet.
I’ll come down, he wrote.
No, we need to talk. I’ll come up.
I turned to Juliet and told her I had to go.
“Was that— Did Mr. Ford just text you?” she asked. Her own phone was in her hands.
“Yes. I’m going to meet him in the room.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks for keeping me company. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
She nodded. I had the sense she was upset about something. But with her hand over her eyes, shielding against the sun, I couldn’t read her expression.
* * *
Connor opened the door and tried to pull me into his arms. I resisted.
“Wait, I thought you were mad at me,” I said.
His hazel eyes were troubled.
“I’m sorry if I was harsh on the phone, but I was losing my mind. Steve had just told me the cops were at the door. It was like my nightmare coming true. The lawsuit set the tabloids after us, then the tabloids brought down the police. It’s a death spiral.”
“Why are you so worried if there’s no truth to it?”
He took a step back, his face stricken. “Why are you asking me that? You think I killed her, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to believe that. But there are some facts that I can’t square. Like, you wanted to leave Nina and be with me. But you didn’t want to give up the lifestyle. That’s only human nature. I understand why, now more than ever.”
I gestured at the wall of glass, the endless view of swimming pool and sea.
“But you have to admit, it was awfully convenient that Nina died when she did,” I said.
“It was convenient for both of us. Why shouldn’t I suspect you, then?”
“Go ahead, ask me. I’ll swear on our baby’s life. I didn’t kill her.”
“Neither did I.”
“What’s under the car cover in the garage at Windswept?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a large vehicle hidden under a locked car cover. I think it’s the Suburban that tried to run me off the road.”
For a split second, something flickered behind his eyes, but then it was gone.
“I have no idea,” he said. “I haven’t been in that garage in months.”
“If it’s there, then it was probably Nina who had me followed, who tried to have me killed. Right?”
He shrugged. “Sure, but this is all speculation.”
“And if she was doing that, then she knew about us. And she would have confronted you. She would’ve divorced you and left you with nothing.”
“We’re back to me being a murderer again.”
He held my gaze, a mournful expression in his eyes.
“I don’t know how to convince you, Tabby, except to put my heart and soul into promising you that I didn’t do it. Yes, I wanted to be with you, more than anything. Even with that motive, I’m not capable of ending someone’s life. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell her I was leaving. You could say I’m a coward. But I’m not a killer. I need to know you believe that, in your heart.”
He rested his hand on my chest.
“I have the feeling there are some rough days ahead. I need to know we’re in this together.”
I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. I wanted so badly to believe him.
“I can’t stand it when we argue. I hate it even more when you doubt me. All I want is for things to feel right between us again.”
“That’s what I want, too,” I said.
He kissed me, then led me up the curving staircase. The dressing room off the bedroom was paneled in fine-grained wood, with benches for the suitcases, built-in closets, and a wall of mirrors. He turned me around to face my image and stood behind me, running his hands slowly over my body as our eyes met in the glass. Kissing my neck, he slipped the cover-up from my shoulders. It pooled at my feet. I kicked it away. The bathing suit was from a French brand, a black one-piece with a plunging halter neckline, sexy and obscenely expensive. He untied the neck, taking my breasts in his hands. They were fuller than they’d ever been.
“So perfect and ripe,” he said, then worked the bathing suit down over my hips.
I stood naked, flesh goose-pimpled, nipples hard in the chill of the air-conditioning, looking at us in the mirror. It was a miracle that I was with him. I watched him strip off his clothes. My eyes lingered on his perfect body, and I wavered for a moment. He’d been unfaithful to Nina. Could I trust him to be faithful to me? Then he embraced me from behind and I thought, Worry about that later. This life might not last. Enjoy it.
He led me to the bed, lowering me down onto it with such gentleness, opening my legs with his hands. He got down on his knees.
I noticed the mirror over the bed, and my body tensed.
“Relax, baby. It’s okay. Let me take care of you.”
Looking at us in the overhead mirror, on this lavish bed in this amazing suite, I didn’t feel like myself. This life was too unreal, like some perfect dream. I couldn’t believe Connor was here with me—the man I’d wanted so badly for so long, now with more money than God. If something’s too good to be true, then is it true? Or is it just lies? I h
ad to close my eyes and force the dark thoughts from my mind to enjoy the sex.
When we were done, he held me, and I sighed like the weight of the world was on me.
“What is it?” he said.
“I wish time would just stop. I wish we could stay here forever.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he said. “Especially if things go south back home. If we wanted to, it’s possible we could make that happen. Levitt Global has an office here. I could transfer. We could get a penthouse in a high-rise, with a fabulous view. The UAE doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S. I checked. What do you say we never go back?”
I forced a laugh, but I was chilled to the bone.
“That’s a joke, right?”
He’d looked in my eyes and sworn he wasn’t guilty, and I’d believed him. Basically. But why would an innocent person research an extradition treaty?
“Yes, it’s a joke,” he said.
Connor smiled at me, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. I was in over my head. No question about that. For the first time it occurred to me that he was, too.
29
That night, we went to dinner at the hotel restaurant. The maître d’ fawned over Connor and called me Madame Ford. The wall of the restaurant was a floor-to-ceiling aquarium. Schools of brightly colored fish darted around playfully right beside our table as we ate. We’d gotten to the dessert course, and I was eating my first-ever soufflé—hazelnut, light as air—when Steve Kovacs called.
As Connor listened, I saw his expression change. By the time he hung up, he was ashen.
“What is it?” I asked, holding my breath.
He glanced around before answering, making sure nobody was close enough to overhear.
“Nina’s doctor was arrested.”
I stifled a gasp. “For her murder?”
“Hah, I wish. For drugs. He got swept up in some sting operation, accused of trading opioid prescriptions for sex and cash. And to quote Kovacs, he’s singing for his supper.”
The Wife Who Knew Too Much Page 19