Mired in his own pain, oblivious to hers, Hal laughed, a derisive, hollow sound. “I seriously doubt that trite phrase.” Softening the bitterness in his voice, he put his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “My wife was cheating on me.”
In her excitement, Max ruthlessly crushed all vestiges of self-pity. Motive. Just as she’d suspected, the man had known. She didn’t even worry about whether this was something she’d tell Detective Long. Right now, her only intention was to milk it for all it was worth.
Max let her eyelids fall. She sighed deeply, then shook her head. “Oh Hal, I’m so sorry.” Biting her lip, she then took a deep breath as if she’d suddenly come to a major decision. “I’ve never told anyone this before. I’ve always felt it was so...shameful.”
An avid light lit Hal’s eyes. “You don’t have to share your secrets.” But he begged her to with a press of his fingers.
“I want to, Hal.” The weepy tone, the near-tears sheen in her eyes, the earnest tremble of her lips—she deserved an Academy Award. If she didn’t puke first. “Cameron was...there’s no easy way to say it. He was a philanderer.”
God, she loved that word. Cameron, however, did not. A gust of wind ripped across the table and toppled her beer bottle. She caught it just in time.
“What the hell was that?”
“Sorry, I knocked the table with my knee.” Of course, it was bolted to the floor, and her leg was six inches from contact.
Hal Gregory actively molded her fingers with his slender, bony ones. His palm was damp. His body odor was off. The man had a nervous sweat. He was angling for something from her.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
Nah, I’m used to my dead husband knocking over my beer bottles. “Are you sure about your wife?”
Pain, then malice flickered in his gray eyes. “She acted oddly.”
“Oddly?”
“Manic. Up one minute, down the next, changing with a snap of my fingers.”
“Bouncing off the walls,” Max murmured, remembering Theresa’s description.
Dropping her hands, his fingers curled into fists, and his jaw tightened. She witnessed the same anger, maybe even despair, that had gripped him when he’d smashed Wendy’s mug. “How could she do that? I gave her everything, took care of everything, managed every aspect of her life for her, cared for her the way her father did. Even better. She didn’t have a worry in the world.”
Wendy’s father? What an odd statement for a husband to make. Perhaps that was the problem. Wendy had needed a husband; instead, she’d gotten another father. Max’s stomach muscles clenched, her chest hurt. Wendy cried inside her, and she knew she was on the right track. The things Hal wanted for his wife had never been the things Wendy wanted.
Unsure for the moment what benefits this discovery gave her, Max nudged Hal back to Wendy’s indiscretion. “It must have been horrible to find out she was having an affair.”
The dark look on his face said she didn’t know the half of it. “If I knew who it was, I could accept it and go on.” He looked away, down, then at the dance floor and finally back at Max.
It was coming, she knew. He’d ask her to spy for him. Max egged him on, all wide-eyed innocence. “How would that help you?”
His lips worked as if he searched for the right words. He was good, she’d give him that. Under different circumstances, she might have believed him.
She covered his hand on the table, told herself the touch was necessary. But...yuk. Inside, Wendy shuddered. “If there’s anything I can do...” The offer lingered.
He stared at their joined hands, his still a fist. “I believe it might have been someone she worked with. Wendy was a little introverted, and she didn’t go out much.”
“Someone at Hackett’s?” Wendy’s date book flashed across her mind. Nickie. Monday. The night Wendy died. Had Hal entered the name in ballpoint, then used Wendy’s keys to hide it in her desk after her death?
Maybe. But would he have known she called her lover Nickie?
“Perhaps if you hear anything,” Hal said. “People talk. I need to know. So I can move on.” Move on, go on, a repetitive phrasing he seemed to have practiced.
“Of course, I’ll help you. I know how you must feel.” She really didn’t want to know a thing about how this man felt. He creeped her out.
Pulling his hand away, he reached into his hip pocket, fished out his wallet. “My card. Call me. Leave a voicemail. I always check.” He slid the business card across the table. It was his work address and phone; Hal Gregory, Attorney at Law. A lawyer, she should have known. The only lawyer she’d ever respected was Cameron.
“And if there’s anything you need,” he added belatedly.
“How kind of you.” She put the card in the front pocket of her purse. “I’m taking a little trip to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.” She dragged her purse off the table and wound her way through the throng of people. Wendy had her stomach tied in knots.