Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

There was another woman, which made Owen’s motive even stronger. According to Whitlock, the affair had been going on for several months. The woman, Nadia DeMarco, was a personal trainer. They’d met at the gym. When the police learned about her, Owen claimed their tryst was nothing more than a temporary fling.

But was it?

I was about to find out.

Sitting at a table at the county jail, I waited for Owen to be brought in. When he was ushered into the room, he took one look at me and smiled, the smug look on his face making a fast first impression.

In the looks department, he was upper to mid-range decent, though I imagined he viewed himself as a perfect ten. He was tall with short, blond hair, bright blue eyes, and teeth so perfect and bright, they didn’t seem real.

He took a seat across from me and said, “What’s up?”

“What’s up is that you have been arrested for murder.”

“Yeah … well, it’s the reason my mom hired you, right? So you can find out who did it, and I can put this whole mess behind me.”

“When’s your bail hearing?”

“Tomorrow. Can’t wait to get out of here.”

“You’re assuming bail will be granted.”

“Oh, it will be. My lawyer knows what’s up.”

His unsophisticated, childish vocabulary was grating on me.

“Have you ever been in front of a judge before?” I asked.

“Not for murder. Why?”

Not for murder.

But perhaps for something else.

Interesting.

“Here’s a little advice for tomorrow,” I said. “Check your attitude at the door.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You risk your bail being denied.”

He laughed. “I’m not worried.”

“You should be.”

“I have two things in my favor—wit and charm.”

“And yet you were still arrested,” I said, my snark on full display.

He blinked at me, his expression so obnoxious I wanted to slap it right off.

Take a breath.

Calm yourself.

He is your client.

I was used to having a certain level of sympathy for people when I took on a homicide investigation. And I did, for Claire. As far as Owen was concerned, he struck me as the kind of guy who could get pushed off a cliff, and most would think he deserved it.

“Chief Foley has it out for me,” Owen said. “No sense of humor with that guy.”

“He has a sense of humor. It’s just different than yours.”

“If you say so. You’re supposed to be representing my interests. So how about we get to it?”

If I wasn’t so motivated to get to the truth about Claire’s murder, I would have ended the conversation right there.

It wasn’t her fault she’d married a jerk.

Or was it?

“You claim you’re innocent, but right now, all roads lead back to you,” I said.

“Then let’s flip the script, catch the real killer. How do we go about it?”

“We start by you walking me through the night of your wife’s murder.”

He shrugged. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“Before you left work.”

“Let’s see … I was planning to leave on time, and then there was a problem on the jobsite.”

“What kind of problem?”

“The electrician ran into some issues, and I needed to stick around and weigh in, which I did. After he left, I did one last walkthrough of the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“When the cabinets were installed, they had several dings and scratches. I was marking them with tape so the installer could fix or replace what he needed to when he came in the next day. I tried calling Claire to let her know I was going to be late. She didn’t answer, not that I was surprised.”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t always take my calls after her mother died. It wasn’t like she was ignoring me or anything. She’d get home from work most nights, skip dinner, get in her pajamas, and open a bottle of wine. Half the time, she was asleep on the couch when I walked in.”

“When did her mother die?”

He tipped his head to the side, thinking. “About a year ago. After the accident, Claire changed. She was depressed, crying all the time. She stopped going to the gym. Must have put on twenty-five pounds or more.”

“Did the weight gain bother you?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. When you’re in a relationship with someone, and they have a great figure from the start, I don’t think it’s okay not to keep up with it. Marriage doesn’t give you a free pass to let yourself go. It’s false advertising.”

Wow.

I didn’t know what to say—almost.

“Claire was dealing with the loss of her mother,” I said. “You could have been more understanding, and it’s clear you weren’t. You were selfish, thinking of your wants and needs when you should have been thinking of hers.”

He raised a brow like he was shocked I’d spoken to him in such a way.

I found it amusing.

He was lucky I’d kept my comments PG-13.

There was a lot more I wanted to say, and I was pleased I’d managed to resist.

“Whose side are you on?” he asked. “It sure doesn’t sound like you’re on mine.”

“Again, this is about Claire, not you. I’m on her side. I was hired to find her killer, and I will.”

“You should be here for me, on my side.”

My boiling point had been reached.

I took a breath.

It didn’t help.

I took another.

Still no good.

“I came here today to figure out what happened to your wife, so I can investigate and exonerate you if you’re innocent. I find your abrasive, tough-guy attitude repugnant. I’m sure I can solve the case without your input, so … with that said, I’m leaving.”

I stood with every intention of walking out.

“Hey, now hold on a minute,” he said. “Just … hold on.”

“Why should I?”

“I’m not sure what repugnant even means, but I’m guessing it’s not good.”

“You’re correct.”

“I’ve been through a lot over the past several days, and I’m freaking out here, okay? I would appreciate your help. I mean it. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I promise. And I’ll … I’ll try my best not to offend you. Just please … sit back down.”

I remained standing for several seconds, to ensure the moment delivered the impact I wanted. Then I took a seat, looking him right in the eye as I said, “Tell me about your affair with Nadia DeMarco.”