you.”
The guy was clearly smarter than he appeared. “He told me you two don’t really get along with Teresa.”
Monica’s jaw fell open. “He said that?” She was appalled.
“See,” Luther said. “See what he’s doing?”
I watched as tears shimmered in Monica’s eyes again, but now she was angry. She leaned into me, the spitfire in her surfacing. “He’s tried to keep us apart for the last two years. He’s so jealous of us, it’s unreal. We’re sisters, for God’s sake.”
Luther nodded. “Chalk that up to one of those strange things Monica told you about. He says things, makes up shit, does everything in his power to keep us away from Teresa.”
“He’s so controlling,” Monica agreed. “That fact alone raised a red flag when they began dating, but Teresa just wouldn’t listen.”
“The more we talked, the less she listened.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “I have a sister, too.”
“And then,” Monica said, her head tilting to the side in befuddlement, “he’ll be so sweet to her. He buys her gifts all the time, brings her flowers, makes sure her favorite sparkling water is on hand at all times. Citrus flavored.”
“In other words, he smothers her,” I said, coming back around to Monica’s original assessment.
“Exactly.” She nodded. “I think it all really bothers Teresa. She doesn’t even drink the water anymore. Hasn’t for months. But she doesn’t tell him, because I drink it.” She grinned then, her smile soft and sincere. “He gets so jealous of our time together, so we meet secretly every weekday and walk through the mountains, supposedly exercising. But really we just talk.” She chuckled to herself then. “And drink his stupid flavored water.”
“So, she doesn’t work?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” she answered as though what I’d asked was ludicrous. “He wouldn’t have it.”
“See?” Luther’s hands curled into fists. “Nuts. I promise, if he did anything to her, he’s a dead man.”
Between the insurance and the bizarre behavior, I was surprised the good doctor was still alive with a brother-in-law like Luther. And Yost knew that. He would know better than to implicate himself in any way. He would’ve known he’d never make it to trial if there was any suspicion of his guilt, so whatever he did, he did it well. He’d have to make it look like an accident, but Teresa’s car was still at the house. And a kidnapping was only as good as the ransom it demanded. With no demand, an abduction would be only slightly less suspicious than a knife in her chest and blood on his hands.
But right now, I needed both Luther and Monica off his back. If he knew they were watching, he would never revisit the crime scene. “Give me a dollar,” I said to him.
He wrinkled his brows. “Why?”
I rethought my demand. “That’s a good question. You’re loaded. Give me a twenty.”
He exhaled, then fished a twenty out of his wallet.
“Now I’m working for you.”
“You’re cheap.”
“This is a retainer,” I said, showing him the twenty he just handed me. “Add a few zeros, and you have my daily rate. You’ll get a bill. It will be large.” I had to pay for my wrestling career somehow.
“I already have a guy on Yost. He won’t leave his side, and I promise you, Yost won’t know.” I wasn’t about to tell them he was a departed teenage gangbanger. “If the doctor does anything suspicious, my guy will let me know. And I have my assistant looking into his background as we speak. If there’s anything that doesn’t fit, we’ll find it.”
“So, you were already investigating him?” Luther asked, surprised.
“I told you, I’m out to find your sister, and since spouses are almost always the main suspects in disappearances, then yes, I’m already investigating him.” I leaned in and added, “Like I would be you if you were a suspect.”
Monica asked, “Are the cops looking in the same direction you are? Does the FBI consider him a suspect?”
“Hon, the FBI considers everyone a suspect,” I said, answering her question without actually giving her any information. I had to admit, with a brother-in-law like Luther Dean, I was a little surprised the doctor would pull something like this. Maybe, for some reason, he was desperate. And again, desperate men did desperate things. Which did not bode well for Teresa Yost.
The spark of hope that ignited inside Monica humbled me. She seemed to have a lot of faith in my abilities.
“There a restroom in this place?” Luther asked at last, glancing around the bar.
“Right through there.” I pointed to the men’s room and watched as he strolled in that direction. A little because I wanted to make sure he was out of hearing range when I asked Monica my next question, but mostly because he had a nice ass.
When he pushed past the door, I turned to her. “Okay, we only have a few seconds. What are you not telling me?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“Tick-tock,” I said, glancing back at the men’s room. With any luck, Luther practiced basic hygiene, but one just never knew with guys. Offering Monica a sympathetic gaze, I said, “I can see the burden of guilt you carry.” When she blinked and lowered her head, I added, “I won’t say a word, Monica. Whatever it is. I just need to know all the angles of this case.”
Her mouth thinned into a sad line, and she said reluctantly, “Luther doesn’t know this, but I’m sick.”
I thought she might be. Her skin had a yellowish, unhealthy tint as did her nails with the exception of the white lines spanning them in horizontal rows. But I wasn’t sure why that would conjure the guilt I’d been picking up on. “I’m sorry, but—”
She shook her head. “No, Luther doesn’t know for a reason. When our mother died…” She stopped to touch a tissue to her eyes before planting her gaze back on me. “He took it very hard, Charley. She was sick for a long time, and when she passed…”
After a moment, I placed a hand over hers, encouraging her to continue.
She turned it over and laced her fingers into mine gratefully, then leaned into me and whispered, “He tried to kill himself.”
To say I was shocked would be an understatement of the highest form. My jaw dropped before I could catch it, and Monica saw.
“I know. We were all surprised. He just took her death so hard.”
I glanced once again toward the bathroom. With the coast clear, I asked, “Is he getting help?”
“Yes. Well, he was. He’s doing so much better.”
“I’m so glad. May I ask what you have?”
“You can ask all you want,” she said, a sad smile sliding across her face. “The doctors don’t know. I’ve been diagnosed with everything from chronic fatigue syndrome to Hutchinson’s disease, and nothing ever pans out. I just keep getting sicker and nobody knows why.”
Luther was headed back toward us when I asked one more question, “Monica, why would your being sick make you feel guilty about Teresa’s disappearance?”
She pressed her mouth together as guilt washed over her again. “The insurance. There was a clinic in Sweden Teresa was looking into, lots of breakthroughs. I think she took out the insurance for me, so I could go to Sweden.” As Luther neared, she leaned into me and said quickly, “He can’t know that I’m sick.”
I gave her hand a quick squeeze before we broke apart. As Luther sat back down, my dad strolled in through the front door, and I had to hustle to put my sunglasses back on.
“Hey, Dad,” I said with a big smile. “These are my clients, Monica and Luther.”
“Nice to meet you.” His voice and posture were nice enough, but his innards were not the happy camper type. They were more like a disgruntled bear who tried to eat the happy camper only to find the happy camper was a champion sprinter. He bent down to kiss my cheek. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about earlier?”
“Do elephants glow in the dark?”
“You can take off your glasses,” he said, a look of disappointment lining his weathered face. “Your uncle Bob
