“What can I do for you?” he asked.
Not expecting to find a married man, I wasn’t sure how to reply. “My name is Sloane Monroe, and I live in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. A friend of a friend said she knew you and that, if I ever found myself in Seal Beach, you’d be able to give me some advice on the best things to do in the city.”
“Sebastian’s parents used to live in Wyoming,” the woman said.
Sebastian handed his plate to his wife. “Honey, would you take this for me? And would you mind making this young woman a glass of iced tea? I’m sure she’s thirsty.”
I opened my mouth to object then snapped it closed again after seeing the intensity in his eyes when he looked at me. He wanted her out of the room. If he really was a lying, cheating, home-wrecker, I didn’t blame him for wanting the privacy.
His wife smiled. “I’m sorry. I should have offered you something when you came in. By the way, I’m Carol. It’s nice to meet you, Sloane.”
Carol turned and walked out of the room. Sebastian wiped a few breadcrumbs off his shirt and stood.
“We have an enclosed patio out back. Why don’t we go sit out there?”
He opened the sliding glass door, and we walked outside.
“Your place, it’s nice,” I said.
He didn’t mince words.
In a barely audible voice, he said, “Who sent you here?”
“What would you say if I said June?”
He lowered himself onto a plastic patio chair, dangled his hands between his knees. “June wouldn’t ever send anyone to my house. So why are you really here?”
“You two had a romantic relationship.”
“If you say so.”
At least he didn’t flat-out deny it.
“She flew here four times in the last five weeks. Does your wife know?”
“She knows I messed up, doesn’t know who with.”
“Are you saying she’s okay with it?”
He flicked a hand in the air. “It’s not important. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m here because June’s dead.”
His hands moved to the plastic armrests on the chair, clenching so hard, I thought they might snap off.
“I tried calling yesterday,” he muttered. “She didn’t answer. She always answers.”
“You didn’t know she was dead, did you?”
He shook his head. “When? What happened?”
“A few days ago. She was murdered.”
“How?”
“She was stabbed.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“I don’t know anything about it. How would I?”
“According to June, she was selling her house and moving here to be with you. So I’d say you know quite a bit.”
“Selling her … no … that can’t be right.”
“The night she was murdered, she told her kids the two of you were in a relationship and that she was moving to Seal Beach.”
“She said she was thinking of selling the house, but she didn’t … I mean, nothing had been decided yet.”
“Her son is also dead.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Which one?”
“Will.”
He hung his head, stared at the ground. “Same night? Same way?”
“Different night. Same way. Mr. Ayres, how long were you and June involved?”
“Why are you here asking questions? You’re not dressed like a cop, so obviously you aren’t one. You weren’t June’s friend either. She never mentioned you.”
I gave him a brief overview of how I came to be involved with the Bancroft family, halting mid-conversation when Carol opened the sliding-glass door and handed both of us an iced tea. Carol looked at Sebastian’s watery eyes and said, “Everything okay out here?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, hun,” he said. “Miss Monroe was just telling me about some friends of my parents who passed away this last week.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” she said.
Sebastian stood, looked at me. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Apparently, I was leaving.
On my way out, I passed a bedroom, noting a zipped carry-on bag inside the doorway of what appeared to be the master bedroom. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Actually, Sebastian just returned from Chicago,” Carol said.
No wonder local police hadn’t talked to him yet.
I turned to Sebastian. “Why were you in Chicago?”
“Business trip.”
“When did you get back?”
“This morning,” he said.
He yawned. A few seconds passed. He yawned again. He was nervous, agitated. It wasn’t hard to understand why. I exited the house. He followed close behind. Carol remained inside.
“Listen, I had feelings for June,” he said. “But her moving here wasn’t my idea. It was hers. She thought if she lived closer to me, I’d leave my wife.”
“And would you have?”
“I made it clear it wasn’t ever going to happen.”
Not clear enough, obviously.
“If I were you,” he continued, “I’d look closer to home.”
Good thing he wasn’t me, because from where I stood, he had GUILTY stamped all over his face. It was conceivable that he killed June to save his wife from dealing with one affair that wasn’t going away gracefully. It didn’t explain why Will was dead though. “You’re not telling me everything, Mr. Ayres. I’ve been doing this long enough now that I can tell when someone’s lying to me. You’re going to be questioned by the police. I suggest you consider your story.”
“I don’t know anything, Miss Monroe. I just know the tree you’re barking up is the wrong one.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I got inside my car, looked at Sebastian, and said, “We’ll talk soon.”
He frowned.
I closed the door to the rental car and answered my phone. It was Cade.
“How are things goin’ out there?” he asked.
“I’ve just finished talking to Sebastian.”
“And?”
“And you need to find out where he’s been for the last few days. I noticed a luggage bag in his bedroom doorway, and his wife said he’d just returned from Chicago.”
“His wife?”
“Yeah, I had the same reaction.”
“Did he admit to having an affair with June?”
“He did, but he said he would have never left his wife for her.”
“Why would June move there then?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
“When’s your flight back?”
“Two hours. I’m headed to Long Beach Airport now.”
“Okay, good.”
His voice was different, off somehow.
“Is everything okay? You sound preoccupied.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll fill you in when you get back. Okay?”
Not okay.
Something was definitely wrong.
“Cade, what is it? Just tell me.”
He took a long breath in. “Wren’s dead, Sloane.”
My phone slipped from my sweaty palm. I reached down, grabbed it off the floor.
“Hey,” Cade said. “You still there?”
I put the phone back on my ear. “I’m here. What happened? I thought you said there were officers outside of her door. I thought her mother was there.”
“I did, and she is.”
“Then how is Wren dead?”
“She locked herself inside her bedroom a couple hours ago, removed Will’s gun from the wall safe, and shot herself.”
CHAPTER 15
Grief had the ability to consume the soul, its temperamental hand slithering its way inside, circling our hearts, squeezing until the bloody pump ran dry. Most recovered, managing to move on in spite of the devastating setbacks.
/> Not all of us were capable though.
Not all of us knew how to let go.
Not all of us wanted to let go.
Some of us ceased to live when the one thing that was worth living for died right before our eyes.
Such was the case with Wren.
I made one final pit stop before returning home, hoping a conversation with Will’s brother Simon would clear up a few nagging questions floating around inside my head. I pulled up to his driveway, found Simon inside his garage, polishing the paint on a pristinely kept hog. His shaggy, blond hair was so light it was almost white. And he was tall, at least six foot three, and had a robust, farm boy appearance—like he worked out, but not at the gym.
“Nice Harley,” I said.
He looked me up and down, laughed. “What would you know about motorcycles?”
“My grandpa used to have a Strap Tank Single displayed in the corner of his office at home. He refused to keep it anywhere else. Drove my grandma crazy.”
He showed minimal interest. “What year?”
“Somewhere around 1910, I think.”
He stood up, wiped his greasy hands on a towel next to him. “You ever actually ridden on one before?”
I stepped forward. “Stand aside and you’ll find out.”
At last, the beginnings of a smile.
I did my best to take advantage of the moment. “I’m—”
“I know who you are, and I know why you’re here.”
“You do?”
“My sister called. Said you’d be coming by.”
I’d spoken to Patty on the phone a half hour before, when I left the airport. She agreed to meet for a few minutes the following day, but not before then. Today she couldn’t. She was back at the funeral home, making second and third arrangements.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”
I suppose I didn’t. “When you left your mother’s house the other night, you were angry.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. I just wondered why.”
He leaned back onto a stack of cardboard boxes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sure the news of her selling her house and moving came as a surprise.”
“To everyone else in my family. Not to me.”
“What did you know that your siblings didn’t?”
“It wasn’t what I knew, it was what I saw—what no one else wanted to see.”
“And what’s that?” I asked.
“My mom wasn’t the same person after my dad died. She was different. It was almost like …”
He shook his head, looked to the side, remembering.
“Like what?” I prompted.
“Like she wasn’t sad he wasn’t around anymore. She was relieved.”
“Did they have a good marriage?”
“Thought so. Then he passed and she just … changed overnight. She tried to save face when we were around, act like she was in mourning over his death, but she wasn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Beats me. I figured one day she’d lose the charade and we’d all find out what she was hiding. Have to say, I never thought it would take this long.”
“And you think Sebastian was the secret she was keeping from all of you?”
A chunky piece of his fair locks fell over his left eye. He made no attempt to slide it to the side. It was as if he liked it there, liked hiding beneath it. “Makes sense. She sat there the other night expecting us to believe she’d only known the guy for a short time, but I don’t know. I didn’t believe it.”
And instead of witnessing what he assumed to be his mother’s hypocrisy, he did the only thing he could do—he left. If he was right, if June had been lying, I didn’t blame him for making the quick exit.
“You told police that Will thought Wren was getting too close to a colleague at work. What can you tell me about him?”
“Gabe?”
I nodded.
He strapped his bike helmet on, straddled the hog, pulled in the clutch, and pushed the start button. The bike roared to life. “I can’t tell you anything. Don’t know the guy.”
“What about what your brother told you? Do you believe it’s true?”
He released the clutch, and the bike rolled forward onto the street. “I don’t know. We weren’t close.”
The bike sped down the asphalt street. I stood with my arms crossed in front of me, watching him go. Something about him reminded me of my previous self, of the days when I escaped my own life by running. He could run all he wanted. Eventually he’d have no choice. He’d have to slow down.
CHAPTER 16
Gabriel Mendez was several inches shorter than I was and had thick, black hair that looked like it never stayed put, no matter how many times it was forced into place by a brush and a can of maximum-hold hairspray. It should have been his most prominent feature, but at the moment, a dark red, bruised eye rivaled his mangy mane for first place.
He stood in the center of the doorway, dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and an unmatching T-shirt with a Tyrannosaurus rex on the front of it. The T-rex looked hungry.
“Gabriel Mendez?” I asked.
“Gabe. You’re the chief’s wife, aren’t you?”
“Girlfriend. How did you know?”
“I saw the two of you together last weekend at Lucky’s Bar.”
“Where’d you get the shiner?”
“I ran my eye into a Bancroft.”
He laughed it off. Seeing how three members of the Bancroft family were now dead, I didn’t.
“I heard you had a relationship with Wren.”
He raised a bushy brow. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”
It was late, and I was tired.
“We work together,” he continued. “Haven’t talked to her since her mother-in-law died. How is she?”
Apparently the news hadn’t blown through town yet.
“She’s dead.”
It looked like he might laugh again until he zeroed in on my face.
“You serious?”
“Very,” I said.
“What happened?”
“She shot herself this morning.”
He wiped his brow. “Oh, man. I can’t believe it. I should have gone to see her. I was trying to give her family some space, you know?”
“How close were you two?”
“I told you already. We worked together.”
“There’s a rumor going around that you two were more than just friends.”
“And everyone believes what they want to believe, no matter what I say.” He pointed to his eye. “How do you think I got this?”
“Was it true? Was something going on?”
“I’m married. Of course it isn’t true.”
As if the glue holding together a marital bond couldn’t get unstuck.
I peered over his shoulder. “Is your wife home?”
He shook his head. “She’s at her mother’s.”
“I assume since you can’t hide your black eye, she knows about the rumors.”
He nodded. I continued. “Does she believe them?”
“No. She doesn’t. She knows they’re not true.” He sighed. “You have kids?”
I didn’t understand the point of his query, but I shook my head anyway.
“A few weeks ago, we lost our baby,” he said. “We were one week away from finding out the sex, and boom, it was gone. We’d been trying for almost a year, so when my wife miscarried, she was devastated. We both were.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The first week after it happened, my wife never left the couch. She’d sit there, staring at the TV screen, crying. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t shower, wouldn’t leave the house. I had no idea how to help her.”
“So you turned to Wren?”
“I couldn’t find my dry-erase pen one day at school, so I went to see if Wren had one, and we ended up talking. I b
roke down, and it all came out.”
“What did Wren say?”
“Wren never wanted children, but from one woman to another, she still understood the pain Maritsa was feeling. She told me to go home and ask my wife if she wanted to talk about how she was feeling. Sounds simple, right? I hadn’t done it though. I thought it would be too hard. Turned out, Wren was right. Maritsa was suppressing her emotions, keeping it all in. Once I asked her to share her feelings, she opened up to me, and everything got better.”
“How did a simple offer of help get twisted into rumors of you and Wren having a fling?”
“Wren didn’t tell anyone what was going on. My wife wasn’t ready for people to know, so we kept it quiet. Wren stopped by my classroom almost every day just to see how things were going. I suppose on the outside, it looked scandalous, even though it wasn’t. I love my wife. And Wren loved her husband. I’m just sorry she was there for me, and when I had the chance to return the favor, I didn’t do it.”
“What stopped you?”
“After the rumors started, I thought it best to keep my distance for a while, let things die down. It was stupid. I was stupid.”
His sincerity was moving, and I had no reason not to believe him.
“The only thing that doesn’t make sense to me is why Will would take a swing at you. He didn’t seem like an aggressive person to me.”
Gabriel seemed puzzled. He looked at me and said, “It wasn’t Will who punched me. It was Simon.”
CHAPTER 17
I returned to Simon’s house, found him back inside his garage, tinkering with his bike, just like he had been earlier. Thinking he was rid of me, he wasn’t pleased to see me again.
“You were in love with Wren, weren’t you?” I stated.
He didn’t make eye contact. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s true, though. Isn’t it? You said you weren’t close to Will, and yet you decked a guy after hearing he was spending too much time with Wren.”
“You’re crazy,” he grunted.
Probably. I was also right.
“Was there anything between the two of you?”
Dead of Night (Sloane Monroe) Page 5