To Love and to Perish

FIVE


I HAD TO ASK Isabelle to repeat herself three times before I clearly heard the words in between her sobs, “Jack is … having … an affair.”

Was it something in the water? An epidemic?

My response was automatic and emphatic. “He is not.”

Jack worshiped Isabelle. He bought her the finest jewels and the fanciest trips … and oh my god, had he just been making amends with gifts all these years? I reassured myself and her. “He loves you.”

“Ray loves you, too, but he spent a whole year with Catherine.”

Ouch. “We were separated for two years before he met her. The divorce papers were signed.” Signed but never filed. Still, technically Ray was not a cheater. “Have you and Jack separated?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking about it.”

I moved farther away from the auctioneer as he geared up to sell the next car, not wanting to miss a word of what Isabelle had to say. “Why? What happened?”

“You remember my cousin, the one who thought her husband was having an affair. Remember, she figured out the password to his business AOL account and found out his only business was monkey business?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Jack has a new AOL business account, and he didn’t share the password with me. And he’s acting all secretive, hanging the phone up when I come in the room. Plus we haven’t had sex in two months.”

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?” She sounded outraged.

Not really. The whole world had gone nuts. At least, all the people significant to my universe were losing it. Me, well, I’d never been sure I had it in the first place.

“Two months is not that long, Isabelle. It’s not unheard of, you know.” I didn’t care to elaborate, but I knew this for a fact.

“We used to do it every night.”

“EVERY night?” I tried to imagine that level of … well … enthusiasm. Jack and Isabelle had been married almost ten years. They each owned a thriving business. They had an active five-year-old. Good grief, they had that kind of energy? I felt like a slacker.

“Yes.”

“Well, even an Energizer battery needs recharging eventually.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, Isabelle. I simply can’t picture Jack with anyone but you. Have you asked him about all this?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he wasn’t having an affair. That he would never love anyone but me. That he was too tired, too busy at work. That things will get back to normal soon. You know, all the lies a cheater would say.”

I rolled my eyes, thankful she couldn’t see me. “Isabelle, I know your cousin believed her husband’s lies for a long time and felt like a fool afterwards, but I think Jack’s telling the truth. I don’t know anyone more in love with his wife than him.”

“Then you ask him.”

“What?”

“You ask him why he’s hiding things from me. You ask him why he doesn’t want me anymore.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You’re my best friend. You’re his friend, too. You could ask him.”

“I don’t think so.” I could, but I really didn’t want to get involved. It was between the two of them. Isabelle and Jack were reasonable adults. They would sort it out on their own in no time, without any interference from anyone else.

“Then I guess I’ll hire a private investigator.”

Or not.

_____


Cory and Danny reappeared outside the auction tent seconds after I hung up with Isabelle. Cory’s fists were clenched, his lips flat lined. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jo?”

“About what?” Danny averted his eyes as I spoke.

“About the news report. About the woman Brennan killed.”

I caught Danny peeking at me out of the corner of his eye. Apparently, he’d been paying attention to the news report on television last night in the restaurant, too. Why he’d chosen to repeat the story now at the track, I’d never know.

“Cory, I was waiting until we were alone to discuss the whole situation.” I raised my eyebrows and tipped my head toward Danny, who had turned away.

“Danny knows everything. He saw everything.”

“What do you mean, everything?”

Danny glanced at me over his shoulder. “I saw the guy lying in the street.”

“You were supposed to stay put.”

“I did. He was right in front of me.”

So much for protecting our boy from ugliness and evil. I wondered what else Danny had seen but didn’t think now was the time to ask. Instead, I tried to calm Cory.

“The news said Brennan wasn’t charged with killing anyone. It was ruled an accident.”

“But a woman died in the car crash. And he was driving the car.”

“The report did say that. But that’s all.”

“They said he was drunk.”

“Two guys probably looking for their fifteen minutes of fame said ‘everyone’ at the reunion was drinking. No one said they specifically saw Brennan drinking or drunk.”

“So why was it on the news?”

Good question. Why was half the stuff on the news? Or on magazine covers? Worse, why did anyone believe any of it anymore? Had we all forgotten poor Richard Jewell, wrongly accused of the Olympic Park bombing and the poster child for law enforcement and media excess? Funny how we can remember a rumor forever while the facts fade fast.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think Brennan intentionally killed anyone, yesterday or thirteen years ago. Do you?”

Now Cory wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Let’s go home.”

I let it go for now, wondering if Cory didn’t share my conviction of Brennan’s innocence. Did he know something more he wasn’t sharing?

We stopped for a second at the auctioneer’s table and learned the MG had gone for $17,500. I’d take it. They assured me the check would be in the mail as soon as the buyer’s payment cleared.

The first hour of the ride home dragged. Cory didn’t respond to my weak attempts at conversation, nor would he allow me to turn on the radio or even play a CD. Danny sat in the back seat of the truck with his iPod blasting. I watched the scenery go by, wondering what, if anything, I should have or could have done differently. Then all the silence made me feel drowsy. I closed my eyes against the sun.

An hour later, I snapped awake. Cory had pulled up alongside the patch of lawn fronting our yellow-sided, two-bedroom bungalow in Wachobe village. I let Danny run ahead with the key to the front door, not that he needed one. Lock picking was a skill his father had passed onto him, along with driving, hotwiring cars, and jimmying locks. A man had to have some skills, according to Danny’s father. Seeing a dead man lying in the street and being able to sleep soundly the night afterward could now be added to Danny’s skills. Maybe he had more in common with Ray than dark hair. I wondered what else Danny might be capable of.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t even let Cory drive away mad. “Can we talk about Brennan now?”

He nodded, his gaze focused on the windshield.

“What do you want to do? How can I help you … and Brennan?”

“He doesn’t want our help. He wouldn’t even see me.” A tear sparkled in the corner of Cory’s eye. He swiped at it angrily. “Why doesn’t he want to see me? Why doesn’t he want my help?”

“Maybe he’s trying to protect you. And Ray said the department wouldn’t let anyone see him until they finished questioning him anyway.”

“I could have gotten him a lawyer.”

“He’s got a lawyer. Catherine Thomas.”

His shoulders relaxed, showing his relief. “That’s good. She’s the best, right?”

“Right.” The best lawyer, anyway. I didn’t want to know if she was the best at anything else.

“What about the woman with James Gleason? Do they know who she was? Did she see anything?”

“The department is working to identify her. I’m sure she’ll come forward soon.”

Cory twisted to face me. “I have to know what’s going on, Jo. I can’t just sit here and wait. I can’t let Brennan go through this alone. You’re right. He needs help. He needs me.”

I realized the error in my words too late. “He asked you to stay out of it.”

“I don’t care. I can’t stay out of it. I love him.”

“I know.” I’d seen them together often enough to know this was true, but I didn’t know what the right thing was for Cory to do. He seemed pretty convinced Brennan needed his help. I could certainly give him the time off in the event Brennan asked for him. I really didn’t know what more I could do.

Cory did. “Jo, are you going to help me find out what’s going on or not?”