I colored, but didn’t answer.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I talked to my wife after she died.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know you had lost your wife.”
“About four years ago now. But at first, I used to talk to her all the time. I learned to be careful-almost got a stress leave imposed on me when my lieutenant overheard me one day.”
“Did your wife ever answer you?”
He looked out the window, and for moment, I didn’t think he was going to reply. When he spoke, his voice was so low I had to strain to hear it. “In her own way, yes, she did,” he said.
He laughed then, suddenly self-conscious. “You probably think the department sent you out with a nutcase.”
“No, not at all. Until recently, if you had told me you talked to the dead, I might have questioned your sanity. But not now, Detective Russo.”
“If you’re generous enough to loan me this coat, I suppose you might be willing to call me John,” he said.
“Okay, John. Anyway, I doubt anything you could tell me about conversing with your wife would surprise me. These last few days…” I stopped, needing to steady myself.
“Do you want me to drive?” he asked.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Chance was nodding.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it,” I said, and pulled off the freeway. “I’m a little shaky.”
“I understand,” he said. “You’ve held up really well so far, all things considered.”
I stopped the car and turned to look at him. “No, I haven’t. I just try not to make a public production out of it. It would seem to-I don’t know, cheapen his memory.”
He didn’t say anything, just traded places with me, and we got back on the freeway. I positioned myself on the seat so that I could look at Chance without being too obvious. “Do you know Mrs. Devereaux?” Russo asked.
“I met her for the first time at David’s funeral,” I said, looking back at Chance, who wore an angry expression.
“At least the two of you will both benefit nicely from Emery amp; Walden’s employee life insurance program.”
“We would have, but not now. I haven’t had a chance to get the details, but David told me that Mr. Emery was changing to a less expensive insurance, one that wouldn’t pay as much. But we’ve been in fairly good financial shape anyway, with no children and two incomes.”
“The insurance hasn’t changed yet,” he said.
“What?”
He glanced over at me. “It doesn’t change until the end of the month.”
“I didn’t know.”
“The interesting thing is, the current insurance not only pays higher than the new one, it also covers death for any reason.”
“You mean, including suicide?”
“Including suicide.”
Chance was clenching his fists.
“It wasn’t suicide,” I said, and both Chance and John Russo looked at me at once.
“What’s your interest in Devereaux?”
“I told you. David was concerned about him. He knew Chance Devereaux didn’t ignore the complaints about the tank. Devereaux felt bad about what happened, but he didn’t blame himself. He was a practicing Catholic. He wouldn’t have committed suicide.”
“How do you know about his being Catholic?”
I looked away. “David and I are Catholics. You know that from being at the funeral today if you didn’t know it before. David must have mentioned that Devereaux was Catholic, too.”
He was silent for a while, and I thought he might not believe me. I was right. But I didn’t know how right until he spoke up again.
“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he said. “I kept hoping you’d just tell me. I’m a cop, Dr. Blackburn. I’ve seen all kinds of things. It wouldn’t have surprised me.”
I didn’t understand his harsh tone, nor did I believe for a moment that the police were accustomed to having people say they had received information from ghosts. Not sane people. I gave him directions to the turnoff for the cabin, then asked, “Just exactly what did you mean by that last remark?”
He sighed. “I meant that a woman answering your description was seen keeping a regular weekly appointment with Mr. Devereaux. We got a tip from a clerk at the St. George Hotel. Said you registered as Mr. amp; Mrs. Devereaux, but he had been in the business long enough to know hanky-panky when he saw it. You were having an affair with Chance Devereaux, weren’t you?”
I couldn’t help but look back at Chance. He was shaking his head, pointing to his ring finger again, then at me. “Mr. Devereaux and I were each married,” I said.
Chance shook his head while I heard John Russo say, “To other people, yes. But you wouldn’t be the first married people on earth to look for greener pastures. Every Wednesday. What broke it off, Dr. Blackburn?”
His words, combined with Chance’s gestures, brought it home to me. “Oh my God. My husband and your wife.”
“Leave my wife out of this!” John Russo said angrily.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” I said, a numbness coming over me. I gave a questioning look at Chance, who nodded, then pointed at me and made the signs for ‘See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil’. His flippancy angered me, but I understood what he meant. I had avoided learning the details of David’s infidelity, shut myself off from it. Now both Chance and I might pay for it.
I looked back at Russo. I took a deep breath. “That wasn’t me and it wasn’t Chance Devereaux, either. That was Louise Devereaux and my husband. Six months ago, David told me he was having an affair. He told me he met the woman every Wednesday night at the St. George Hotel. I taught a class that night. You can check that with the college. I never knew who it was. But Chance Devereaux and my husband look something alike, and Louise Devereaux and I both have blond hair and blue eyes. They must have used her name. I imagine if you look a little further, you’ll find that, like me, Chance Devereaux had some standing appointment on Wednesday nights, some business or other engagement that allowed his wife to meet my husband without causing Mr. Devereaux to be suspicious.”
Chance nodded in painful agreement, and made his ‘sorry’ gesture again, as if feeling guilty for his earlier routine. The discovery of the details of the affair was too much for me. It was as if I were back in time, once again experiencing that moment when David admitted to the affair. The hurt and anger and humiliation started all over again, and now the police were privy to the whole awful business. I started crying again, wishing to God I could have kept my composure.
“I’m sorry,” John said.
“That doesn’t help a damn bit,” I answered, and kept crying.
By then we had reached the cabin. Although it hadn’t snowed since Thursday, there was still plenty of it on the ground and the roof of the cabin. The snow was dirty by then. What must have been a pristine blanket two days before was now sullied and rumpled. The snowplows had been by, building up large drifts along the way. We parked on the roadside; the entrance to the drive was blocked by the snowdrift. Any other weekend, David would have cleared the drive while I went to work putting away groceries and building a fire…who’ll clear the driveway, now, David? I guessed it would be me.
Russo held off getting out of the car. He reached over and took my hand. “I truly am sorry, Anna. I feel like an ass. I should have checked it out. I only got the information from the clerk today, and not ten minutes later, you were calling, asking about Devereaux. I jumped to a conclusion, and I had no right to do that. I did a lousy job of asking you about it anyway. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to scratch my eyes out.”
I couldn’t answer.
“Please forgive me.”
“It seems like men have been asking me to do that a lot lately,” I said.
He let go of my hand and waited.
I managed to pull myself together, somehow. “I’m sorry, John. I’m having a perfectly horrible day and I can’t
