And with that, Mia and Matthew showed themselves out, Lisa Ann Cole holding open the door, her expression full of wonder.
“He was everything you could want in a husband,” Ashley Davidson said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “So kind, so loyal. And such a good daddy to his two baby girls.”
Matthew wasn’t sure if a man could be a good father and a cheating husband at the same time, but loyal was definitely not an adjective to describe Ray Davidson. The photos of Davidson and Margot had been the most intimate, the most revealing. They’d been taken in the parking lot of Good Times, a popular bar in Center City. Davidson and Margot, passionately kissing, his hands all over her ass. In another photo, you could see Davidson’s slimy tongue in Margot’s ear.
You could also see Margot’s smile.
It wasn’t the smile of an actress at work. It was the smile of a woman enjoying herself, getting off. It made Matthew sick to his stomach. Mia had said nothing of the photos of Margot with Davidson and the other victims; she’d turned away, her eyes closed.
Mia was loyal to Margot; Ray Davidson was loyal to his wife.
Or so they both thought. How easy it is to deceive people, Matthew thought, his stomach churning as Mrs. Davidson openly wept for her husband, gone since March.
“Mrs. Davidson, we’re both so sorry for your loss,” Mia said, leaning forward and clasping the woman’s hands. “And we’re so sorry for intruding. We didn’t mean to add to your grief.” Mia stood, and Matthew jumped, too.
“Oh, no,” the woman said. “Please stay. Yes, I’m still grieving for Ray. I always will. But it helps to talk about him. After the first few weeks, people stopped coming by, stopping asking me how I was doing. I guess folks don’t know what to say.”
Mia nodded and sat back down. Matthew did as well. “I know. I remember it being like that when my parents died,” Mia said. “Just when the shock started wearing off and I needed support the most, there wasn’t much to be found.”
“Yes, yes! That’s exactly how it is for me!” Mrs. Davidson said.
“Why don’t you tell us about your marriage, Mrs. Davidson,” Mia said. “Sounds like you and Ray were very happy.”
The woman smiled. “Oh, yes. So happy. Ray was on the road a lot—he was a salesman—but when he was home, he was so devoted to his family.”
Matthew’s stomach turned over. “I wish my own family life was as wonderful as yours,” he said. “There was an awful lot of fighting in my house growing up. My parents were always at each other’s throats.”
“That’s terrible,” the widow said, shaking her head. “Ray and I barely argued. Friends thought I was too lenient with him, but I wanted him to be happy.”
“Lenient?” Mia prompted. “About what?”
Mrs. Davidson shifted in her chair. “Oh, well, about his going out on Saturday nights. He and some of his friends from the bowling league would drive down to Center City and go to some sports bars on Saturday nights after their games.”
“And that didn’t bother you?” Matthew asked. “That he was taking time away from his family?”
The woman’s expression fell a bit. “Well, I suppose it did, since he was away from home so often as it was. But he always spent Sundays with me and the girls.”
Mia smiled warmly. “How long were you married?”
“Seventeen years,” the widow said. “We got married when we were only both nineteen.”
“That’s a beautiful ring,” Mia said. “Your wedding ring?”
Matthew could have kissed her. She was leading the conversation perfectly.
“Yes,” the woman said, holding it up for Mia to see. “Ray had it made special for me. He bought us his and hers rings, and we vowed we’d never take them off when we got married.”
“And I’ll bet neither of you did, right?” Matthew asked.
The widow’s eyes filled with tears. “You know what? When the police found Ray in the parking lot of that bar, he’d been robbed clean. But his wedding ring wasn’t taken. And it’s twenty-four-karat gold with a diamond on it.”
Matthew glanced at Mia.
“I think he must have pleaded with his killer to take everything but to leave the ring for me,” the widow said. “I can see Ray doing that. His wallet, his watch, gold cuff links—all taken. But the ring was on his finger like it always was. That did give me some comfort.”
Because you killed him? Matthew wondered. Because you knew he was cheating, got your proof, murdered him, and made sure he met his maker with his wedding ring on?
“How are your girls doing?” Mia asked.
“They get a little stronger each day,” the woman said. “They miss him terribly, though.”
“So the police haven’t been able to come up with any leads?” Matthew asked. “Nothing?”
The woman shook her head. “They think he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ray dressed so well, he liked very expensive clothes, so the police figured he looked like a good target for a robbery victim. One gun shot, and my husband was gone.”
Mia shook her head. “I am so sorry.”
Matthew stood up. “We really have taken up too much of your time, Mrs. Davidson. Thank you so much for speaking with us.”
The widow nodded. “I doubt they’ll ever catch Ray’s killer. I do hope you have better luck.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said. “Catching my brother’s killer is the most important thing in the world to me, but it’s looking like his death will go unsolved.”
“Mrs. Davidson, did you do any investigating on your own?” Mia asked. “Try to find clues?”
“Oh, goodness no,” the woman said. “I left that to the police. I had two girls to see to. And I wouldn’t have known the first place to start.”
Theresa Healy was not as forthcoming as Lisa Ann Cole or Ashley Davidson.
“I said, what the hell are you coming around bothering me for?” the woman snapped from behind her screen door.
Mia shot a glance at Matthew, who stood next to her on the step to the two-family house. “We’re so sorry to intrude, Mrs. Healy, but—”
The widow frowned. “That’s not my name. I never went by Healy.”
“Ms... ?” Matthew prompted.
“It’s none of your goddamned business what my name is,” the woman growled. “Look, I don’t see what your brother’s death has to do with my husband’s.”
“We don’t know either,” Mia said, hoping the woman didn’t slam the door in their faces. “We just figured that if we looked into other unsolved homicides in the area, maybe we’d find some sort of pattern. Something that would help us find out who killed Matthew’s brother.”
“I’m not interested in your brother,” the woman said. “And I’m not interested in finding out who killed Carl, either.”
Mia tried to keep her mouth from dropping open. “May I ask why?”
“He pissed off a lot of people,” Theresa said. “He gambled, played poker, bet on horses. He owed people money. I don’t need to be looking over my shoulder, wondering if whoever killed him is going to come after me to get paid.”
“Are you worried about that?” Matthew asked.
“I rent this stinkbox,” the woman said. “And I get paid minimum wage at the diner I waitress at. There’s forty-six dollars in my checking account right now. Anyone comes after me is going to be very disappointed.”
“So your husband didn’t leave you with an insurance policy?” Mia asked.
The woman laughed. “That cheapskate? He drank his insurance premiums, and he spent everything else on gambling. He even lost his wedding ring in a poker game. He tried to steal mine to gamble with, but I caught the bastard and beat the crap out of him.”
Matthew and Mia glanced at each other. “So he didn’t have a wedding ring?”
“Not his original one,” she answered. “But he always wore a cheap one. Said if anyone ever bothered him, he could plead for his life by talking about his pregnant wife and kids at home.”
>
Mia paled. “You were pregnant at the time of his death?”
The woman laughed. “It was just a story he made up, thinking the loan sharks and bookies would go easier on him if they thought he had a pregnant wife at home. Whoever killed him didn’t even bother to take that pathetic charm-machine wedding ring. The cops gave it back to me. I tossed it in the river with his ashes. Whatever.”
Whatever, Matthew thought. He wanted to reach inside the screen door and shake the woman until she got a mind and a heart.
“Mrs.—Theresa,” Mia began, “the news report of your husband’s death noted he was robbed of his wallet in an alleyway in Center City. Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s what they said. Robbery. They found Carl in the alley of his favorite drinking hole. I figure whoever offed him was pissed that he was spending his money on booze and not paying up. And that he didn’t have any money on him or a bank account worth nothing.”
“But isn’t it odd,” Matthew began, “that the killer would steal his wallet and leave his gold wedding ring?”
“I don’t think it’s odd,” Theresa said. “The killer was most likely a bookie wanting his money. Any bookie knows a five-dollar fake gold ring when he sees one. They took his wallet most likely so that the police couldn’t identify Carl and link him back to his enemies.”
“So how was he identified?” Mia asked, not totally sure she wanted to know.
“Tattoo on his left butt cheek from some drunken party years ago. Had his first initial and last name.”
“And—” Matthew began.
“Look, I have to get to work,” Theresa interrupted and closed the door.
Mia and Matthew stared at each other. They both shook their heads in unison.
“My brain is mush,” Mia said.
Matthew let out a deep breath. “Mine, too. Let’s get the hell out of here. Man, if I vowed never to get married before, I make the vow three times over now.”
Mia glanced at him. “Matthew, just because—”
Matthew turned and headed down the steps. “No, Mia. Just because is all there is.”
Was he kidding with this stuff? “When I was upset about Norman’s actions, just because didn’t hold water. But it does when it affects you?”
“This is different,” Matthew said through gritted teeth.
Mia followed him down the path to his car. “Why, because it’s you?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s exactly why.”
“Fine,” she said.
“Fine,” he echoed.
She rolled her eyes at him, and he rolled them right back at her.
“I’ll tell you what,” he began. “How about I make us a decent dinner and we sit down and wade through what we learned today. I need a couple of hours to unwind and process; then I’ll hit the supermarket. How does that sound?”
“Great,” Mia said as she slid into the passenger seat of Matthew’s car.
Just great.
She leaned back against the plush upholstery and closed her eyes. But the faces of the three widows started juxtaposing themselves on top of one another, tears from one, pride from another, bitterness from the third. She wondered what they’d get from Laurie Gray.
If Matthew ever let them interview her, that was.
Interesting. For a man who didn’t think too highly of marriage, he sure seemed to respect the sanctity of Laurie’s Gray’s marriage—even if it was a lie.
There was so much to Matthew Gray. So much that scared her, so much that intrigued her.
Forget it. She just heard him say that he’d never marry. Mia wondered if she even wanted to get involved with a man who wouldn’t make a commitment.
I’m already involved, a small voice whispered inside her head. Way over my head.
By the time Matthew unlocked the door to his apartment and kicked off his shoes, it was almost six o’clock in the evening. Mia had gone to her sister’s apartment to unpack her bag and check the machine for calls from Margot. She was due to arrive at Matthew’s at six-thirty for dinner.
Which Matthew was preparing at the moment. Nothing special, just a couple of steaks and baked potatoes and some asparagus. His groceries bought and halfway down the block from the supermarket, he’d gone back for salad fixings. He’d done the same for a bottle of wine.
He was putting a little too much thought into this dinner.
But after the morning Mia had had and the afternoon they’d both had, she could use a relaxing home-cooked meal—and so could he, even if he was making it himself.
As Matthew pricked the potatoes and slid them in the oven, he thought about Lisa Ann Cole, Ashley Davidson, and Theresa Healy. One who was desperate to know her husband loved her, one who was devastated over his loss, one who couldn’t give two figs.
But tears didn’t necessarily mean innocence, just as Mrs. Cole’s and Theresa’s harsh words for their husbands didn’t mean guilt. All three women had been unable to provide much more information than what had been in the news reports and obituaries—except for the very interesting bits about the wedding rings.
Each man had been found wearing a wedding ring, despite the fact that two of the men had been robbed of everything else in their possessions.
Matthew pondered that as he cooked. If the police had wondered why two victims of homicide and robbery were spared their wedding rings, Theresa Healy’s explanation would certainly solve one of them.
Matthew shook his head. Maybe there was no link. Maybe the wedding ring angle meant absolutely nothing. Lisa Ann Cole’s husband never wore his ring, yet there it was on his finger when he’d been found. And Davidson and Healy, both robbed of their wallets, watches, and anything else in their possession, were found with their wedding rings on their fingers.
What the hell? What did it mean?
The doorbell rang, and Matthew was almost grateful for the reprieve from his thoughts. He was so tired of asking questions that had no answers.
Mia looked absolutely beautiful. She wore billowy, silky black pants, a matching tank top that buttoned up the back, and low-heeled strappy sandals.
He could barely take his eyes off her. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember any of the widows’ names, let alone why he thought wedding rings had anything to do with the case.
She smelled faintly of perfume. And green apples. And soap.
Say something, you idiot, he chided himself. “Wine?” he asked, grabbing the bottle from the counter.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d love some.”
Matthew uncorked and poured two glasses. He handed her one and lifted his own glass to her. “A toast?”
Mia tilted her head and waited. He had no idea what he was going to say.
“To ... working together,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t mind forgetting about the case for just a little while. I tried to relax earlier, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the widows.”
“Me, too,” Mia said. “Well, then, to working together,” she repeated with a smile, “and to relaxing for just a half hour or so.”
“I’ll drink to that,” he said, and they clinked.
Mia sniffed the air. “Something smells delicious,” she said. “Umm, is that steak? And baked potatoes?”
“And asparagus,” he added.
The delight on her face made his trips back to the supermarket worth every second.
“My ex-husband never cooked a meal in his life,” she said with a laugh. “He wouldn’t even pour a bowl of cereal on his own.”
Matthew couldn’t remember having heard Mia’s laugh before. It was really a beautiful sound. He was glad she was relaxing enough to do so—and that she could talk about her marriage in a lighthearted way. He’d gotten the sense that she’d suffered a great deal.
“Well, it was either learn how to cook some basics or spend a fortune on take-out and delivery,” Matthew said. “Plus, it’s nice to cook for someone else.”
She glanced at him and then shot her gaze to the floor. Ah, the shyness had returned
. Matthew smiled inwardly.
“Have a seat, and no, you cannot do anything to help but grace the table with your presence and beauty,” he said.
Her lovely face broke into a smile, and she sat down and unfolded the napkin on her lap. In moments, Matthew had served their meal and had taken a seat beside her.
“Thank you, Matthew,” she said, those pale brown doe eyes sparkling. “Everything looks absolutely delicious.”
“Yes, it does,” he said, unable to stop looking at her.
“Ummm ... ,” she murmured appreciatively with her first bite of steak. “This is so good!”
Matthew smiled, and they clinked their wineglasses again, then dug in. They kept the conversation light, about Baywater and Center City and the surrounding towns they’d visited today. Nothing too personal that might make him lose his appetite.
When they finished their meal, Matthew moved their wine bottle and glasses into the living room and set up a bowl of fresh fruit and some lemon sorbet on the coffee table.
“I’m impressed, Mr. Gray,” Mia said. “Sorbet and everything.”
Matthew sat down next to Mia on the sofa. “Something told me you would like it.”
“I do,” she said with a smile. “And lemon is my favorite flavor.”
Matthew felt a bit too good about all this. He wondered if he had a goofy smile on his face.
“So I’ve been thinking about something all day,” Mia said, sipping her wine. “Davidson and Healy were both robbed, yet not of their wedding rings. Why?”
“Yes, I’ve been wondering about that, too, for the past hour,” Matthew said, running a hand through his hair. “Especially because Davidson’s was real gold and encrusted with a diamond.”
“I can understand why the killer left Healy with his, I guess,” Mia said.
Matthew nodded. “And then James Cole never wore his ring, yet he was found dead with his ring on his finger.”
Mia spooned a bite of sorbet. “My brain is turning to mush again.”
“Let’s go over it again,” Matthew said, leaning forward. “Yesterday, we’d realized that the only thing that links these four guys is the fact that they were all married and that they all were photographed in compromising positions in bars with Margot,” Matthew said, popping a piece of strawberry into his mouth. “Now we find out that one who shouldn’t have had his wedding ring on his finger was wearing it and that two who were robbed were not robbed of their rings. The wedding rings are of paramount importance, but I can’t see the why.”
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