She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“When did you last speak to him?”
“Five thirty last night.” Her voice was a whisper and she cleared her throat. “He was on his way to a business dinner, and I was on my way to the charity event.”
“Do you know who he was dining with?”
She shook her head. “We didn’t talk about business.”
Barry waited until Adeline was looking at him, then said, “An eyewitness saw a blonde woman who appeared to be a prostitute at the motel with your husband. Are you aware if your husband habitually used prostitutes?”
Lucy winced at the indelicacy of Barry’s question.
Adeline shook her head emphatically. “Harper? Absolutely not.”
“I’m sorry to be so blunt, Adeline,” Barry said, his voice a bit softer, “but Mr. Worthington’s body was found in a compromising position and I don’t want you to hear about it from the media. We’re working closely with the crime scene investigators and the coroner to determine exactly what happened, but it’s important that we know everything about your husband’s medical conditions. Did he have a heart condition?”
Adeline didn’t say anything. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn’t crying. She stared at first Barry, then Lucy, and then stood up. “I—I need a minute. Just two minutes. Please.”
Barry stood, so Lucy followed. “Of course, take all the time you need.”
Adeline walked briskly from the room.
Barry immediately got on his phone. Lucy felt compassion for the woman, who had to learn about her husband’s perversion from two FBI agents. It had certainly thrown her, but Adeline seemed to have a spine of steel underneath the Southern charm.
Lucy looked around the room, trying to get a better feel for Adeline Reyes-Worthington.
Her office was immaculate, her desk devoid of clutter. A dainty straight-back chair sat directly on the plush carpet. There was no mat or impressions in the carpet, suggesting that she didn’t spend much time working at this desk. No phone, no charger for the computer, and only one slender drawer in the desk. The decorative bookshelves contained a vast collection of leather-bound hardcover books and fancy knick-knacks.
Lucy had the distinct impression that Adeline didn’t work in this office, that she used it only to meet with people who came to her home. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, but the elected officials who Lucy had known when she lived in D.C. often worked from a home office.
She heard Barry wrap up his conversation. It was clear he was speaking to someone at headquarters, but she couldn’t tell who it was from his end.
Adeline walked back into the room five minutes after she’d left. Her eyes were red and her mascara looked a bit smudged. “I called Jolene. She’s in Dallas—she was supposed to have breakfast with her father, but he didn’t show. She’s been calling his cell phone and the hotel…” Her voice trailed off. “I had to tell her. I don’t want her hearing about it on the news, and she was getting a bit frantic. I hope that’s okay.”
Without waiting for them to answer, Adeline continued, “Jolene and Harper were very close.”
If someone told her over the phone that one of her parents was dead, Lucy would be extremely upset. It seemed very impersonal. It was why law enforcement, whenever possible, did death notifications in person. To make sure the person hearing the news had someone to stay with them. Adeline might have been Harper Worthington’s wife, but Jolene was his only child.
“What did you tell Jolene?” Lucy asked.
Barry gave Lucy a sharp look, but Lucy kept her eyes on Adeline.
“I—I just said that Harper was found dead of a heart attack in San Antonio. I didn’t tell her about the motel, or anything else. Oh, God, I’m going to have to tell her, aren’t I? She worships her father. This is going to break her heart.” She brushed away moisture under her eyes with the tips of her fingers.
“We didn’t say he died of a heart attack,” Lucy said.
“You asked if he had heart problems. I assumed.” Adeline sat back down. So did Barry, but Lucy stood next to the sofa and asked, “And did he have heart problems? We’ll get a copy of his medical records, but if you can give us the information now, it’ll speed up our investigation.”
“I—no, he didn’t, though he’d seen his doctor last month and had been acting a bit melancholy. I thought perhaps a midlife crisis. Harper was always so grounded, so down-to-earth, I can’t imagine…” Her voice trailed off and she looked at her manicured hands. “But that would explain the prostitute, wouldn’t it?”
Barry cleared his throat and said, “We know this is difficult for you, Mrs. Worthington.”