1 3 7 – ZOË (25 page)

“Getting prepped for that upcoming exhibition without Nancy’s help must be tough,” he commented.
 

His mar
tini arrived and he took a sip.  I couldn’t help but think of my mother whenever I saw this particular cocktail.

“It’s added quite a lot to my workload
, that’s for sure,” I replied.

We ordered two burgers and spoke of the gallery.  Michael was familiar with many of the artists we represented
and offered his predictions on which pieces would sell first.  He was cheerier than usual, and it appeared to be forced.  He seemed apprehensive.  I couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was hiding something. 

“Are you okay, Michael?” I asked.

He looked genuinely surprised.  “I’m fine, Zoë.”  My eyes narrowed at him and he continued, “Why would you ask me that?”

“Well, you just seem…nervous.”

“Nervous?” he guffawed and then laughed.  “What would I be nervous about?”

I shook my head dismissively.  “Nothing; must be my imagination.”

“You’re tired, overworked,” Michael said.  “I’m the one who should be worried about
you
.”

I feigned a
smile.  “You’re right.  Sorry.”

After we
finished our meal, he walked me back to the gallery.  We went towards the back door where my car was parked.  “Are you coming home now?” he asked.

“
No.  I’m afraid I still need to work for about another hour,” I replied as I unlocked the back door.

He gave me a peck on the lips.  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

I locked myself inside the gallery and went into my office to enter some data into the computer.  Michael called me barely a half hour later.

“Our house has been broken into,” he said anxiously. 

“What?” I demanded, surprised.

He was breathing heavily and looked distressed. 
“It must have happened while we were having dinner at the pub.  I just called the police.”

“I’m leaving the gallery
right now,” I said as I stood up from my desk.

I saved my work, shut everything down and left the gallery.  How could someone have broken into our house?  We had the latest in security systems and an enclosed
, impenetrable wall around the entire property.  Our home was practically a fortress.  I arrived to see our front yard lit up by the flickering red and blue lights of police cruisers.  As I got out of my car, I noticed that the front door appeared to have been forced open.  The wood around the door frame was splintered.

“What’s going on?” I asked
of Michael, who stood just outside the doorway.

“I told you…s
omeone broke in,” he replied distractedly.

“Mr. Adams, you said you were home a couple of hours ago?” a policeman asked.

“Yes, I called my wife and met her at a downtown pub.  She’s standing right here if you need any verification,” Michael said pointedly.  “I came home to
this
.”

I
approached the door and a policeman barred my way, explaining that the house was being scanned for prints.  We wouldn’t be allowed inside until their work was finished.  I watched as two policemen walked through the house with an ultra sensitive device that picked up any foreign DNA samples like hair, fingernails, semen or blood.  The device could also detect foreign fingerprints.  It was the latest in crime-fighting technology.

“Are you cold, p
rincess?  Do you want my jacket?” Michael asked, placing an arm around me.

“No, I’m fine.  Did you say
the house was untouched when you arrived earlier?”

“Yes, everything was fine
before I left for the pub.”

“So this just happened,” I said
.

“Yes.”

I frowned.  “What about the alarm?”

Michael shrugged
and looked uneasy.  “I have no idea how anyone could bypass that.”

Twenty minutes later an officer told us we
could go inside.  Strangely, the only room that was disturbed by the intruder was Michael’s office.  A tablet was broken and some new model pen-drive keys were missing.  Files had been tampered with on his computer.

“God damn it,” Michael curse
d under his breath.

“I assume this is your home office, Mr. Adams,” an officer asked.

“It is,” Michael replied with a concerned frown.

The officer was taking notes on a small electronic tablet.  “Can
you think of any reason why this happened?”

“I
don’t know.”

I gave my husband a sidelong glance.  I knew he wasn’t being honest.

“Where do you keep your jewelry, Mrs. Adams?” the officer asked.

“In my bedroom,” I
replied.

The officer cocked his head to the side.  “The rooms upstairs have
already been swept for prints and DNA samples.  They appear to be untouched, but we need to check if anything is missing.  Would you mind doing that for us, Mrs. Adams?”

“Not at all.”

“Take your time and make sure nothing of value has been taken,” the officer added.

I called Lance from my
wrist-phone the minute I was alone upstairs.  “Lance, someone broke into the house while Michael and I were having dinner,” I whispered.

“Where is Michael now?” he asked.

“Downstairs filling out a police report.”

“Did the intruder take anything?”

“The only room disturbed was Michael’s office.  Do you think it has anything to do with his meeting with Majed and the vandalized lab in Brazil?”

“Maybe.  Someone must be looking for something.”

“I hear Michael on the stairs- I’ll call you later.”

Lance’s image vanished from the tiny screen just as Michael entered the bedroom.
  “Anything missing up here?” he asked.

“
I don’t think so.”

Michael o
pened the silver case where I kept my expensive jewelry and fished through the contents.  “Every piece is accounted for,” he said.

The officer who followed Michael upstairs
stood by the doorway, waiting.  “That’s good,” he said, recording the information into the tablet.  “At least he didn’t get away with your valuables, Mrs. Adams.”

I nodded and followed my husband and the officer
downstairs. 

After the police left, Michael said
tiredly, “I am going to look through my office again to assess the damage.  Maybe you should go to bed and get some rest.”  He paused and added fiercely, “I swear I’m going to find the bastard who did this.”

I was about to turn around and walk away when I remembered that I should be playing ‘dumb.’  With a look of concern on my face, I said,
“I hope you do, dear.”  I then added sweetly, “Can I get you anything?  Fix you a drink, maybe some tea?” 

“No, princess,” he said, looking in the direction of his
office. 

I turned to go. 
“Goodnight, Michael.”

“Where’s my kiss?”
he asked, his head swinging around sharply.

Oops…an oversight on my part. 
I walked up to my husband and dutifully kissed him on the mouth.

“Sleep well
,” he said, going into his office and locking the door behind him.

I heard
him cursing as he opened drawers.  I went to bed and couldn’t stop tossing and turning.  When sleep finally came it was the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

***

When I awoke the next morning, I noticed that Michael’s side of the bed was smooth.  I wasn’t surprised since he often slept in his office or in the guest bedroom.  In fact, he rarely shared my bed these days.  When I crept downstairs and called out his name, however, there was no response.  I noticed his car was gone and wasted no time going into his office with the intention of searching through it.  When I walked into the room, I noticed that Maria was standing behind Michael’s desk.

“What are you doing in my husband’s office?” I demanded angrily.

“Cleaning,” she replied too quickly. 

When my eyes went to the feather duster on the edge of the
desk, she didn’t even have the courtesy to blush at the obvious lie.  “Where is he?”

“Mr. Adams left very early this mornin
g,” she said, coming to stand on the opposite side of the desk in order to retrieve her feather duster.

“You saw him?”

Maria nodded.  “He slept in his office last night.”

I glanced at the long sofa. 
“I see.”

“Would you like to have breakfast outside?  It’s a beautiful day,” she asked innocently.

“Yes, please.”

Maria smiled and
left the room.  As she did so, I couldn’t help but notice the exaggerated sway of her hips.  No wonder Michael drooled after her like a dog in heat.

My wrist-phone went of
f.  It was Lance.  “Are you alone?”

I closed the office door.  “Yes, Michael is gone
for the day.”

“We need to talk.  I’m on my way.”

Before I could say another word, the screen went blank.  After several minutes of searching, I stopped.  I had found nothing even remotely incriminating.  Whatever the intruder was looking for last night was gone.  The question was:
who
was looking for
what
?  I walked outside and sat down to my toast, fruit and coffee.

M
aria came outside with Lance in tow.  “Mrs. Adams, Mr. Adams is here to see you.”

I
motioned for Lance to come forward.  “Maria, please bring out an extra place setting so he can join me for breakfast.”

“Yes, Mrs. Ada
ms.”

“Good mo
rning,” he said, kissing me on the cheek.

I
felt suddenly self-conscious and blushed as I took in his crisp, fashionable clothing.  His hair was slicked back and he looked gorgeous.  He also smelled delicious; fresh and masculine.  I, on the other hand, hadn’t showered yet and my long hair was loose and disheveled.  Also, I was still wearing what I had slept in- a comfortable white tank top and grey yoga pants. 

“Sorry fo
r my appearance,” I said.

“Nonsense.  I think you look
sexy,” he said with a wink. 

Maria came out and placed extra porcelain and cutlery on the table.

“Thank you.  Please close the sliding door behind you,” I said to Maria.

When we were alone again, Lance said,
“You will never guess where your husband is at this very moment.”

I poured steaming coffee from the French press into his cup. 
“Where?”

“New York.”

“New York?” I repeated in disbelief.  “He left without so much as a goodbye; he didn’t even leave a note!” 

“
He took a six o’clock flight to JFK.”

“How do you know this?”

“Brady called me this morning. Michael’s name popped up on his computer- they can track anyone on any flight.”

“You mean he took a commercial flight?”

He nodded.  “Weird, huh?  The break-in last night in your home and the break-in at the lab in Rio are believed to have been done by the same person.”

“What are they l
ooking for?”

“That’s what we’
re trying to find out.”

I
stared off into space for a moment. “Who the hell am I married to?”

Lance said nothing
in response. 

My
wrist-phone went off.  “It’s Michael,” I said.

Lance put his finger to his lips to indicate that his presence at the house should n
ot be revealed.  I carefully positioned the screen so that only my face would be visible. Michael’s face appeared.  His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked absolutely miserable. 

“Good morning, princess. 
I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but after last night I felt you deserved to sleep in late,” he said.

“Maria said you left early
, but she didn’t say where.”

“I’m in
New York,” he said.

“What are yo
u doing there?”

His mouth tried to form a smile. 
“Emergency business…nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Does it have anything to do with last night
’s break-in?” I boldly prompted, ignoring the emphatic shaking of Lance’s head and his disapproving stare.

“Oh,
no…this has to do with a real estate deal, that’s all.  I should be back before dinner.  I just didn’t want you to worry.  I’ll see you later, princess.  I love you.”