The Case of the Killer Divorce (8 page)

Chapter 26

I gasped
in disbelief--Becca and Joe were sleeping together! I couldn't get over it.

"Talk about your love/hate
relationship," I said.

"There's no figurin' out people," Duke said, "I stopped trying a long time ago. But one thing
's true, when there's sex or money on the line, all bets are off."

I parked at my office
, but stayed in the car. My mind was racing.

"
Do we know why Charlie went over there, because he told me he hadn't seen Joe," I asked.

"Yeah, the guard said he brought a bunch of kid stuff
over and gave it to Joe in the lobby. He didn't go up to Joe's apartment."

"
That must've been stuff for the Friday visit with the kids, but he still lied about it. And, from what you're saying, it seems like Becca had lots of opportunities to stash an aspirin bottle full of Ambien at Joe's place."

"Yup."

"But then why was she so upset when Nick asked about the aspirin bottle?"

"Gu
ilty conscience? I'm just guessing."

I confessed
to Duke that I didn't know what to do next. Becca was my client and I had an ethical obligation not to act against her best interests. But, with the way I felt about her now, my only choice was to withdraw from the case and cut all ties. I'd say we had some irreconcilable differences, for sure

"Well," Duke said, "I hope you don't mind if I stay on the case. I was hired to find evidence that
might clear Becca, and I'm not through looking. I haven't earned my money yet, is what I'm saying."

"Of course you should stay on. And I'm sure Susan Doyle will still agree to represent Becca, if and when charges are filed.
Jeez, if she only represented innocent people, she'd have to close her doors. You know, Duke, Susan could be a great source of business for you. She specifically asked for you on this case."

"She did?
Well, hallelujah for that!"

"A word of advice?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Don't hit on her
, and don't let her know you conduct all your business from a bar," I joked.

"Gotcha!" He laughed. "And thanks for the business. I knew one day you'd introduce me to al
l the hot lady lawyers in town."

"Bye, Duke.
And good luck with Becca."

"I think I
'm going to need it," he said.

I felt
awful about Becca, and not because she may have killed her husband, but because I'd been duped. I'd worked so hard for her, and the whole time she'd been lying to me. I really hated to think that Nick was right, that I take things too personally, and that my sense of compassion is a hindrance. To be honest, I didn't know what to think anymore.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a fog, at my desk, drafting pleadings, writing letters and returning phone calls. I even ate at my desk, ordering food in rather than going out again. I was relieved to see that I had a mediation scheduled for the next day. Playing mediator was actually enjoyable
since it amounted to creative problem solving with no preparation required. It was very satisfying to help couples resolve their differences in a civilized way. And not by murdering each other. 

Chapter 27

Friday morning flew by; I was so engrossed in the mediation process. These sessions are confidential, so I can't tell you the specifics, but I can tell you that all major issues were resolved in the first half hour. And then it took another five hours to resolve the nitty-gritty stuff. As they say, the devil is in the details.

There's always one thing
that jams the process up right at the very end, and it's something that seems stupid to the rest of us. One time it was a DVD collection, another time it was a microwave, this time it was a harp. I've come to realize that it's not the object that matters, it's what it represents. It's a symbol--of the last concession they will ever make, the last fight they will ever have, the last connection between them. By walking away from that trivial object, they have to face the end of their marriage and all the hopes and dreams they once had together. It's tough.

Now,
I know it's not manual labor, but mediation can be pretty exhausting. Although I love it, I couldn't do it every day. That's why I spent the rest of the afternoon goofing off, surfing the internet and shooting the breeze with my office mates. I decided to research horseback riding so I could get a leg up (ha ha) on my big date with Kip, which was less than twenty-four hours away. What I was looking for was tips on how to do it, what I found was this:

The most common injury is falling from the horse, followed by being kicked, trampled, and bitten. About 3 out of 4 injuries are due to falling, broadly defined. A broad definition of falling often includes being crushed and being thrown from the horse, but when reported separately each of these mechanisms may be more common than being kicked.

Thanks Wikipedia!

I know
I said I wanted to leave my comfort zone, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind. I thought it was understood that I'm never going to jump out of a perfectly good plane; I'm never going to dive into the ocean with a canister of oxygen on my back just to see the pretty fishes; and I'm never going on a safari where I can be eaten by wild animals.

I was starting to freak myself out,
but then, I got a grip. After all, I wasn't going to a rodeo; I was going to a county park. If it were a dangerous activity, they wouldn't have horseback riding there. (Think of the liability issues!) And I knew Kip would keep me safe. He was the lifeguard who'd saved the most kids from drowning at Castaway Island, so, keeping an uncoordinated friend from falling off a horse would be easy for him. I'm glad I have a rational side, because if the wimpy, scaredy-cat side ever took over, I'd spend the rest of my life hiding under the covers. Seriously.

I had an appointment
at five for a pedicure (so my toes would look pretty right before the horse trampled them), and I was getting ready to leave when Grace called.

"Hey Gracie, what's new?"

"Jamie, I just got off the phone with my friend at the Consulate, and you're not going to believe this. Your father has a pending visa application to come to the U.S.! It's been pending for over two years, but still, he has one."

"
That's incredible! But, how is that possible? I thought only a U.S. citizen could petition on behalf of their relatives. Someone would've had to apply on his behalf…right?"

"Someone did, Jamie."

"Who was it?"

"His wife."

Chapter 28

I sat there, holding the phone
. I didn't know what to say. I'd been so worried about my father's reaction to learning he had a daughter that I hadn't considered he might already have a family, one that was complete without me.

"
Jamie, honey? Are you there?" Grace asked.

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I was thin
king."

"Well, it's a big surprise, but
it's still good news, right?"

"Definitely,
" I said. "It's excellent news."

"There's more. Your dad's wife lives in
Miami. Her name is Ana Maria Suarez, I have her number. You could call her."

"Um, I'm not sure if that's a wise idea. I'd hate to break up my dad's marriage before I even got to talk to him."

"Good point. Why don't you think about it and, in the meantime, I'll send you her contact information. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks so much, Grace!"

"Anything for you.
Hey, if you're not busy next Saturday morning, do you want to volunteer with me at a food bank?"

"Sure, of course," I said. Grace was such a do-gooder.

"Great! We'll figure out the details next week. Have fun with Kip tomorrow, I want a full report, you hear?"

I laughed. "I'll call you from the emergency room."

"Such an optimist," Grace said.

"Just a realist."

After we hung up, I sat at my desk, lost in reverie. Everything had gotten so complicated lately, and nothing was what it seemed. I'd thought Becca was a victim, and now it looked like she was the bad guy. I'd thought my father had abandoned me, and it turned out he didn't even know I existed. I'd thought I could reach out to him if I found him, and now I had to consider his wife's feelings. I'd thought he might need my help, but now it seemed like he had everything under control. Maybe I should just stop
thinking so much. Maybe I was just tired from my mediation. Maybe a nice, relaxing pedicure was just what I needed.

It turned out that it was.

***

I
t was Saturday morning and I was trying to decide what one wears to go horseback riding. After perusing the limited selections my closet had to offer, I opted for a short-sleeved shirt, jeans and sneakers. I was way too wired and excited to eat, so I drank some coffee and pocketed a granola bar for later. It was only 11:30 and we weren't meeting at the park until one, so I had some time to kill. Suddenly I remembered that Joe's funeral had been that morning, which made me think about their little girls. Poor things!

My cell started ringing
, which snapped me out of it. Why was Duke calling? We'd just spoken the day before.

"Have I got a story for you!" h
e said, as soon as I picked up.

"Hello to you, too."

"Man, Jamie, that was a hell of a funeral!"

"
You went to Joe's funeral?
Why would you do that?" I was flabbergasted.

"I'm an investigator, aren't I? All of Joe's and Becca's friends and family were in one place--can you think of a better way for me to get some answers?"

"I guess that makes sense in a weird way. Crashing funerals seems a little over the top to me, but, hey, that's why I'm not an investigator."

"
So, listen to this, I'm chatting with Joe's friends before the service--they think I'm his cousin from Louisiana--and they tell me some interesting things…"

"Go on."

"They say the reason Becca and Joe split up was that Joe was sick of her pill popping. She really loves her mother's little helpers--Xanax, Valium, Ambien, you name it. Whatever she could con her doctor into giving her."

"That would explain her tendency to turn into a zombie, but why is it important?"

"I'll tell you why, young lady. Because even after she told Joe she'd quit the pills, she kept taking them, and she didn't want him to know."

"So?"

"So, she would hide them like a squirrel in winter. I think I know one of her hiding place was…see if you can guess."

"No!! An aspirin bottle!"

"Bingo!"

"
So, when Joe got home Thursday night after drinking too much, he took two Ambien thinking they were aspirin, and never woke up."

"Oh-my-God!
But we still don't know how the bottle got there."

"
No, we don't."

"Wow! I
'm blown away by that. What else did his friends say?" I asked.

"Well, they said boyfriend Charlie ha
d an alcoholic mother and that he always had to pick up the pieces after her."

"That explains a lot. He's co-dependent--that's why he takes care of Becca and never complains
."

"Yup. Now, ask me what happened next." Duke said,
suddenly serious.

"What happened next?"

"Becca went nuts--screaming and crying and carrying on, not making any sense, and then she collapsed and someone called 911. When the paramedics got there, she went nuts again. They had to sedate her to get her into the ambulance. I heard they were gonna Baker Act her, whatever that is."

"
That's an involuntary psych evaluation where they can hold you for up to 72 hours. What do you think's going on with her--is it guilt, or is it grief?"

"There's no tellin
'.  Could also be mental problems or drug abuse. Or all of the above."

"
What a mess! So, where are her kids now?" I asked.

"They went home with Joe's parents.
I already called Susan Doyle and told her what happened. She asked me to keep digging around, try to find out how the aspirin bottle ended up at Joe's house." 

"
Makes sense. I wish I could be there when Nick hears his prime suspect is in the psych ward! I'm a sick person, aren't I? Don't answer that. Anyway, Duke, you're certainly earning your money, keep up the good work."

"Thanks, Darlin'. I appreciate it.
So, what are you doing on this beautiful day?"

"Believe it or not, I'm going horseback riding. I have a date."