“I had to see you. I had to know what you thought about my marrying Candice. She lied to me, Lacey. What am I going to do?” It was then he noticed the sling on her arm. “Oh Jesus, what happened to you? You didn’t tell your father that you’d gotten hurt. Who did this? That man you were with?”
“Come into the house and we’ll talk.”
She placed a snifter of brandy into his hand five minutes later. “There, that will make you feel better.”
He drank slowly, looking around her living room. “This is nice. Finally, you’ve decorated the way you should.”
“Thank you. Now, what do you want to tell me about that I don’t already know?”
She sat opposite him on a pale yellow silk love seat. While she’d been in Boston, her designer had had soft recessed lights installed. It made the room very warm and cozy. Intimate. She didn’t like that at all. She pressed herself against the sofa back.
“First tell me how you got hurt.”
“It’s just a small wound. I’ll take the sling off in another couple of days. It’s really no big deal, Douglas, don’t worry. Now tell me about Candice.”
“I’m going to divorce her.”
“You’ve been married less than a week. What are you talking about?”
“She crossed the line, Lacey. She overheard us talking on the phone, I told you that. Well, the minute I hung up she started in on me, accused me of sleeping with you, yelled that I’d slept with both you and Belinda at the same time, that you were a slut and she’d get you. I can’t take the chance that she’ll hurt you, Lacey.”
“Douglas, calm down. She was angry. I don’t blame her. You were newly married and saying things to me that shouldn’t have ever been said. I would have yelled too. Forget it. Didn’t you discuss everything with her?”
“What was there to say? She lied to me. Your dad thinks I should divorce her. So does your mom.”
“My mother and father have nothing to do with you now. It’s your life, Douglas. Do what you want to do, not what someone else wants.”
“So wise, Lacey. You were always so gentle and wise. I remember sitting on the sofa in your father’s house listening to you play those Chopin preludes. Your playing moved me, made me feel more than what I was.”
“It’s kind of you to say that, Douglas. Would you like some more brandy?”
At his nod, she returned to the kitchen. She heard him moving about the living room. Then she didn’t hear his footsteps. She frowned, walking slowly out of the kitchen. He wasn’t in the living room. He wasn’t in the bathroom. She stood in her bedroom doorway watching him look at the framed photos on her dresser. There were three of them, two of Belinda by herself, and one with both of them smiling at the camera.
“You were seventeen when I took that picture of you and Belinda at Fisherman’s Wharf. Do you remember that day? It was one of the few perfectly clear sunny days and you guys took me to Pier Thirty-nine. We bought walnut fudge and ate some horrible fast food. I believe it was Mexican.”
She remembered, vaguely. His details astounded her.
“I remember everything. You were so beautiful, Lacey, so full of fun, so innocent.”
“So was Belinda, only she was always far prettier than I. She could have been a supermodel, you know that. She was very close to making it when she met you. She gave it all up because you wanted her to be there only for you. Come into the living room, Douglas.”
When they were seated again, she said, “I can’t help you with your wife. However, I do think you and Candice should discuss things thoroughly.”
“She bores me.”
Lacey sighed. She was exhausted. She wanted him to leave, just leave and go back to San Francisco. It was odd, but since they’d caught Marlin Jones, she’d felt herself withdrawing from Douglas. It was as if Belinda’s murder had somehow bound them together, but not anymore. “You know one thing still disturbs me,” she said slowly, lightly stroking her fingertips over the yellow silk arm of the sofa. “I suppose Dad told you that Marlin Jones denied killing Belinda.”