by Brenda Novak
Alexa smiled her gratitude and Sophia managed to smile in return, but when she glanced around, she realized that more people were watching her than the preacher. Would the funeral never end?
Fortunately, Reverend Flores seemed to sense the unrest. He finally finished the service. Then the organ music swelled, and Sophia stood, eager to get out of the church and away from the expensive floral sprays his parents had insisted on ordering—since no one else was likely to send flowers. There was the graveside service still to go, but even fewer people would join her at the cemetery, and her time there would be limited to a short prayer. Soon she’d be able to go home, where she could find refuge from the prying eyes....
“I’m so sorry, Sophia. I’m sure that what you’re going through is just...awful.” Gail DeMarco-O’Neal approached her first, with her movie-star husband, and gave Sophia a tight hug. It was a testament to how glum everyone was feeling that they weren’t making a big deal of Simon’s being in attendance. But, of course, they’d seen him around town on a number of occasions.
“Thank you.” She swallowed hard, hoping to stave off the tears that burned behind her eyes now that someone had shown her some kindness. “It’s nice of you to come. Truly.” In recent years, she’d tried to join Gail’s circle of friends, had loved having coffee with them. She would’ve kept going if not for Ted. Although she longed for his forgiveness, he’d made it clear that he couldn’t or wouldn’t forget the past.
“Is there anything we can do to make things easier?” Gail murmured.
Sophia had a feeling she’d need a good attorney and she had no idea how she’d pay for one. Even filing bankruptcy, which was inevitable, cost a couple thousand dollars. But that was none of Gail’s concern. Although Gail and Simon were rich, Sophia had no right to ask for a loan or anything else. She and Gail had connected briefly one night before Gail got married. It wasn’t as if they’d been friends for life. They hadn’t been friends at all—until then. “No, but thank you.”
“You’ll call if something comes up?” Gail prompted.
What else could go wrong? She’d already lost everything. “Of course,” she lied.
“Good. I’m afraid we can’t stay for the graveside service. Simon has commitments in L.A. And we left the children at home. But I wanted to see you in person, if only for a few minutes.”
“I appreciate it. I really do. I know you don’t like to leave your babies.”
“Ty is hardly a baby. He’s almost eight! But he had school and the other two are more of a handful—definitely hard to manage on quick trips. Anyway, you’re worth it.” Gail handed her a sympathy card before moving on so that Simon and Levi, Callie’s husband, could offer their condolences. Eve Harmon was with them, too, which was nice of her, given that Sophia was fairly certain her sympathies leaned more toward Ted than her.
They each spoke to her, but it was Callie who turned back. “I’m here for you, you know. I don’t have the millions you need but...if you’d ever like to talk, you’ve got my number, right?”
“I do. Thanks so much.” After accepting another hug, Sophia held her head high and let them go. Since they’d been the friendliest people at the funeral, she wanted to cling to them, to beg them to save her from the despair that threatened to consume her. Maybe she would have, if she felt she deserved their help, but she knew they had almost as many complaints against her as Ted did.
Although Agent Freeman didn’t speak to her, he stood close enough to make her aware of him. When she’d been in Brazil and heard his deep, resonant voice over the phone, she’d assumed he would be young and maybe even attractive—not that it mattered—but that didn’t turn out to be the case. Close to fifty, he had gray hair and sharp features, which contributed to a rather severe look. And his attitude reminded her of Javier, the police inspector from Les Misérables.
But that might just be her fear talking. Arms folded and lips pursed, he eyed the procession with obvious skepticism. The way he glared at the casket left little doubt as to how he felt about Skip. He’d spent two years pursuing the evidence he needed to punish a criminal, only to be denied the pleasure of seeing justice done. She figured that was why he wanted to believe she had some culpability in the fraud. Then he’d be able to prosecute at least one of the “bad guys.”
In addition to Gail, Simon, Callie, Levi, Eve, Gail’s brother, Joe, and the FBI, some of Skip’s former schoolteachers had come to pay their respects. Apparently, he hadn’t hit them up to invest. Or they hadn’t had the money. Or maybe they just remembered him from a far more innocent time. His assistant, Kelly Petruzzi, had driven over from San Francisco, along with a handful of coworkers. Besides those with a connection to the business, there was the gardener who’d cared for their yard the past five years, Marta, who came in once a month to do the deep housecleaning (Skip prized his privacy too much to have anyone come more often), and the man who washed their cars. Sophia thought it was a sad state of affairs that a large proportion of the people in attendance were employees probably hoping to save their jobs by showing some support.
The rest of the funeral party comprised Skip’s immediate and extended family, and they seemed eager to pretend she wasn’t there. They looked past her, focused strictly on Alexa as if Sophia wasn’t standing by her daughter’s side. Or they spoke quietly among themselves, trying to console Dale and Sharon, acting as though Sophia wasn’t entitled to their sympathy.
“I’m not willing to believe Skip did what they say. He wasn’t the type.”
This came from the cousin who’d pulled out a chair for her once, spurring Skip to hit her so hard she’d had to have emergency dental surgery.
“The FBI’s got to be wrong,” an uncle agreed. “They’re after his money or...something. We got a damn liberal for president. Maybe it’s a new way of stealing from the rich to give to the poor.”
“Then why did he go on the run?” his aunt asked.
“Because he knew they were setting him up,” his brother said. “He knew they were after him.”
“But if he was innocent, why wouldn’t he have come to us for help?” This was the aunt again. “Or hired a good attorney? Instead, he put $100,000 in a waterproof pack and tried to swim to Brazil.”
Finally, someone less blinded by love and loyalty.
“Or so they say,” the cousin responded, once again infusing some doubt.
They had no idea that the real Skip bore no resemblance to the image he portrayed. And Sophia knew they wouldn’t believe her, even if she tried to tell them.
“We’d better head over for the graveside service.” Dale said this but as he looked up, he caught Sophia’s eye and glanced away as if the mourners who’d be driving over together didn’t include her. “Let’s go.”
Since the family had only been able to come up with four pallbearers, including Skip’s father, they’d decided to have the mortuary provide this service so that wouldn’t be obvious. But as anxious as Sophia was to be done with this day, she waved them off and lingered with Alexa after everyone had left. She thought that her daughter might need some private time to pay her last respects.
“Would it help to have a few minutes to...to say goodbye to your father?” she asked.
More tears spilled over Alexa’s eyelashes, but she shook her head. “No. Daddy’s not here. I don’t even know who that man in the casket is.”
“I’m sorry.” Sophia hugged her again. No one knew him. Except maybe her. But she didn’t add that.
Sharon poked her head into the church. “Alexa, would you like to ride over with Grandma and Grandpa?”
Lexi seemed hesitant, but Sophia gave her a nudge. “It’s okay. You go. I’ll join you in a minute.”
With a sniff and a nod, her daughter hurried out, leaving Sophia alone with her husband’s body.
“How could you?” she whispered when Alexa was gone. He’d always told her how vain and selfish she was. She’d allowed him to defeat her with that because she’d known in her heart it was true. She�
�d caused a lot of heartache in her teens. A young man had lost his life because of her immaturity and thoughtlessness. But no one could be more vain or selfish than Skip.
She was still clutching the card Gail had given her when the pallbearers came back. Needing a little more time before she could bring herself to join the others in the cemetery, she waited for them to carry the casket out to the hearse but stayed behind to open the card. She’d expected to find nothing more than a few words of consolation, but a check fell out and fluttered to the floor. No one else had given her money. She assumed everyone thought she’d already “taken” enough.
When she bent to retrieve it, she saw the amount. Five thousand dollars! She returned her attention to the card. “We all need a little help now and then,” Gail had written. “I hope this will come in handy.”
The words blurred before Sophia’s eyes as, for the first time that day, she broke down and started to cry. “Thank you,” she said.
Gail couldn’t hear her but maybe God could.
6
Agent Freeman knocked at Sophia’s door two days after the funeral. She was impressed he’d waited that long. She figured she was lucky he hadn’t followed her home the day they’d laid Skip to rest, hoping he’d get her to reveal something she might not have had she been emotionally stable.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.
A knot of anxiety formed instantly in her stomach, or maybe it had been there since Skip first disappeared. Lately, she seemed to flinch at the slightest provocation. She didn’t know when the next blow would hit or where it would come from, but almost every day held another nasty surprise, from news of the FBI probe, to the discovery of Skip’s body, to the large number of people who’d been cheated, especially here in Whiskey Creek, to the unexpected coldness of his family.
Knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to put off this interview, Sophia stepped back. “Come in.”
He didn’t react to her invitation right away. He angled his head up, as if he was taking in the size and grandeur of her home. Skip had spared no expense when he’d had the mansion built. He’d wanted to inspire jealousy and admiration, and he’d succeeded—which was coming back to bite her now that there was nothing to be admired.
“Is your daughter here?” Agent Freeman asked when he finally moved past her.
“No.” That provided Sophia with a small measure of relief. She’d been careful to say nothing disparaging about Skip; she couldn’t see how depriving Alexa of her father on a completely different level—destroying all the good memories she still had—would make anyone’s life easier. But in the past week her daughter had heard plenty. Still, there was no need for Lexi to get another earful, especially in her own home. “She’s back in school.”
“So soon?”
“Because of the trip, she was off for over a week before Skip went missing. She brought her homework and was keeping up, but she and I both thought it might be better for her to jump into her usual routine as soon as possible. Circulating in town is...hard, with the way people are feeling toward us, but there’s nothing for her to do here all day except remember her father and be sad.” She motioned to the soft leather couch Skip had purchased in Belgium and had shipped over. “Would you like to sit down?”
She perched on the edge of a nearby chair while he took the couch, which afforded her less space than she’d anticipated when he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Are you sad, Mrs. DeBussi?”
She didn’t want to be called by Skip’s last name anymore. She wasn’t about to say so quite yet, but she wasn’t a DeBussi and, in her heart, she hadn’t been one for a long time. The way his family had behaved during the past couple of weeks convinced her that she’d never had anything in common with them, never shared anything, least of all love. “I look so unaffected that you can’t tell?” she responded glibly.
He didn’t smile at the joke. “You seem...disengaged, if you want the truth.”
Because she had to be disengaged and stay disengaged or she’d never be able to tolerate the fear and uncertainty of the future. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
“I would have to agree with that.”
“Considering what my husband did, how would you expect me to feel?”
He rubbed his chin. “Betrayed, for one.”
“There is that.”
“What about brokenhearted?”
She was tempted to be honest and say she wasn’t brokenhearted in the way he meant, but decided to keep that information to herself. She preferred to be sensitive to the fact that her daughter and Skip’s family still loved him. Publicly breaking ranks with them would only leave her more isolated. She already felt like she was living on her own island. Besides, she’d rather be hated by the citizens of Whiskey Creek than pitied by them. If they knew how Skip had treated her, how unhappy she’d been since marrying him, her humiliation would be complete.
“Does this have any bearing on my guilt or innocence, Mr. Freeman?” she asked. “How sincerely I mourn the death of my husband? Don’t tell me you think I strapped that money to his back and pushed him off the side of the boat.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. She was putting up a fight and he hadn’t expected it. “I’m merely trying to get to know you better. Opinions of you here in your hometown vary...greatly.”
“You’re saying I’m not well-liked. Your sympathy for my situation overwhelms me.”
He shrugged off her sarcasm. “I’m not your friend, either. I have a job to do.”
“And that includes making this week even worse by speaking to everyone I know about me on the heels of my husband’s death?”
“You mean on the heels of your husband’s fraudulent activities. He stole over $60 million from innocent investors, Mrs. DeBussi. These interviews help me build an accurate picture.”
“How do you know it’s accurate?”
He studied her. “The secret is not to rely too much on any one opinion.”
But no one knew the whole truth. She couldn’t see how the people of Whiskey Creek would have anything of value to contribute. She was no longer the girl she used to be, and they didn’t know the woman she’d become. She’d been active in various charities and other community events, yes. But she’d been playing a role, fulfilling her duties as the wife of the richest man in town. She couldn’t let anyone get close to her, despite Skip’s absences, for fear of his jealous reaction once he got home. There’d even been a brief period when he’d hired a private investigator to keep an eye on her.
“What is it you’re really after?” She wished she didn’t have to suffer this intrusion. She felt as if she’d been violated—not physically but emotionally.
“How much did you know about Skip’s business dealings?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she replied without hesitation.
“Yet you told the Brazilian police you two were close.”
She stared at him without blinking. “There are different kinds of close.”
He cocked his head to one side. “The two of you never fought?”
She never fought back. She couldn’t, or it would make things that much worse. “Our arguments weren’t serious.”
“Even the ones where he was upset about your drinking?”
When she stiffened but didn’t attempt to explain, he continued, “Your mother-in-law told me you recently spent a month in rehab.”
Her mother-in-law? Skip’s family had acted so strange since his death. As if she was somehow to blame for what he’d done. As if she’d driven him to it. And now they were creating suspicion and undermining her credibility with the FBI? “I guess they need someone to blame besides their beloved son.”
“What Sharon said isn’t true?”
She sighed. “It is true. In case you haven’t verified it, I completed a program at a clinic in Los Angeles right before our trip.”
“Why so far from home?”
To minimize the embarrassment to the family, of course. But Agent Freeman
didn’t understand the dynamics of the DeBussis like she did. “Skip chose the facility. He always chose everything.”
He paused when she said that but didn’t follow up on it. “And have you remained sober since then?”
She remembered the long days of rehab, the hours spent in group therapy, the journaling, the reading. She’d missed Lexi terribly during those weeks, and yet she’d felt protected at New Beginnings. Skip was unlikely to bother her there for fear she wouldn’t complete her stay. “I haven’t had a drink since.”
He seemed disappointed by her answer. “Are you sure?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I spoke to a checker at Nature’s Way.”
Agent Freeman was nothing if not thorough. “And she told you that I came in the other night and bought several bottles of wine.”
“Yes.”
She’d almost broken down so many times. It was hard to walk the floors at night, worrying about what she was going to do without a drink to ease the anxiety. But every time she’d been about to uncork that first bottle, she’d thought of Lexi. “I dumped them out this morning. You can check the cupboards in the kitchen if you don’t believe me.”
He slid toward her until their knees almost touched, as if he wanted to make sure he had her full attention. “I hope that’s true. I have no respect for a liar.”
“I’m not lying,” she said. “I wanted to drink them, but...”
“But?” he echoed.
“My daughter needs me.”
“Yes, she does.”
She wiped the sweat beading on her upper lip. Skip would’ve found that so unattractive. She was supposed to be perfect at all times. “If you think I had anything to do with Skip’s business, you should talk to his employees instead of the townspeople,” she said.
“I’ve done that, too.”
“And?”
“I’ve taken notes.”
“They told you I was rarely at the offices, didn’t they? That I never gave an opinion or helped make a decision? I am exactly what I appear to be, Agent Freeman.”