out and late night chat sessions at the coffee shop and the like. I thought it was great. It always bothered me that she didn't have a lot of girlfriends, so I let it go. I was happy for her."
"Did you ever meet any of those friends?"
"No." He shook his head. "After she was killed I expected to see her friends at the funeral, but I knew everyone there. I started getting curious about them. When I got home later the night of her funeral, I searched for Lydia on Facebook, but she wasn't listed there. She didn't even have an account." He pressed a palm into the air. "With her lying about friends that didn't exist, and Jason King's money clip and jacket being found in our bedroom, I can't come up with any other explanation than she and Jason were indeed having an affair."
"I see." Poor guy. I knew exactly how he felt. Jason had cheated on me, and his wife had cheated on him with Jason.
Could Lydia have been meeting up with Jason while Robert was out of town and lying to her hubby about meeting with her imaginary friends to cover her affair? That was most likely the scenario, but I couldn't say as much until I had solid proof.
Robert was definitely on to something. Why create fake friends unless you were hiding something you shouldn't be doing?
I felt bad for the guy, which was a rarity for little ol' me.
My gut feelings had never steered me wrong in the past, and I was pretty sure this time wasn't an exception. I didn't harbor any doubts that Robert Hatchett was innocent. So the question remained. Who killed his wife, and why?
Had Jason gone off the deep end and killed her like Detective Black suspected?
No.
I couldn't bring myself to believe that option. Jason was a lying, cheating ass but not a murderer.
I stood and pulled my purse strap over my shoulder. "Thank you for being so cooperative, Mr. Hatchett. We really do appreciate all of your help."
Kelly followed my lead and stood beside me.
Hatchett pushed out his chair and came to his feet, then extended his hand.
"I don't know who killed your wife or why,"— I grasped his hand in mine—"but I'm going to do my best to find out."
He smiled a humorless smile that came nowhere near reaching his watery blue eyes and nodded. Then he released my hand and let his fall limply to his side.
"I hope you do. If there's anything else you might need, call me directly."
He fished in his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. I slid the little white square into my purse and nodded.
"Thank you, again."
With a small wave, Kelly and I left the office.
We remained silent as we found our way back to the elevator. I hit the button for the lobby. I could tell there was something Kelly wanted to say, but we weren't alone. There was a woman, mid-to-late thirties, in the elevator with us.
We rode down to the lobby in thick silence and hustled across the main floor, then out the revolving doors. Once out on the sidewalk the heat of the afternoon sun slammed into us, and I felt the tiny bit of makeup I'd applied melting right off of my face.
We hurried across the street, slid into my little red Beetle, and I cranked up the air conditioner. The weather should be cooling off soon, and I couldn't wait for the season to change. I was an autumn kind of girl.
"You believe him, don't you?" Kelly said and tossed her handbag into the backseat.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic tie I had around my wrist. The fresh air against the back of my neck felt like heaven on earth.
"Call me crazy but yeah. I do," I answered. "There's something about him. I just couldn't bring myself to picture him as a murderer."
"I agree," Kelly said. "But let's not forget. He is an agent. He plays hardball for his clients every day. That whole teary-eyed business up there all could've very well been an act."
She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. Even still, I didn't believe that Robert killed his wife.
"I know you're right, but I don't see it. I
"Did you ever meet any of those friends?"
"No." He shook his head. "After she was killed I expected to see her friends at the funeral, but I knew everyone there. I started getting curious about them. When I got home later the night of her funeral, I searched for Lydia on Facebook, but she wasn't listed there. She didn't even have an account." He pressed a palm into the air. "With her lying about friends that didn't exist, and Jason King's money clip and jacket being found in our bedroom, I can't come up with any other explanation than she and Jason were indeed having an affair."
"I see." Poor guy. I knew exactly how he felt. Jason had cheated on me, and his wife had cheated on him with Jason.
Could Lydia have been meeting up with Jason while Robert was out of town and lying to her hubby about meeting with her imaginary friends to cover her affair? That was most likely the scenario, but I couldn't say as much until I had solid proof.
Robert was definitely on to something. Why create fake friends unless you were hiding something you shouldn't be doing?
I felt bad for the guy, which was a rarity for little ol' me.
My gut feelings had never steered me wrong in the past, and I was pretty sure this time wasn't an exception. I didn't harbor any doubts that Robert Hatchett was innocent. So the question remained. Who killed his wife, and why?
Had Jason gone off the deep end and killed her like Detective Black suspected?
No.
I couldn't bring myself to believe that option. Jason was a lying, cheating ass but not a murderer.
I stood and pulled my purse strap over my shoulder. "Thank you for being so cooperative, Mr. Hatchett. We really do appreciate all of your help."
Kelly followed my lead and stood beside me.
Hatchett pushed out his chair and came to his feet, then extended his hand.
"I don't know who killed your wife or why,"— I grasped his hand in mine—"but I'm going to do my best to find out."
He smiled a humorless smile that came nowhere near reaching his watery blue eyes and nodded. Then he released my hand and let his fall limply to his side.
"I hope you do. If there's anything else you might need, call me directly."
He fished in his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. I slid the little white square into my purse and nodded.
"Thank you, again."
With a small wave, Kelly and I left the office.
We remained silent as we found our way back to the elevator. I hit the button for the lobby. I could tell there was something Kelly wanted to say, but we weren't alone. There was a woman, mid-to-late thirties, in the elevator with us.
We rode down to the lobby in thick silence and hustled across the main floor, then out the revolving doors. Once out on the sidewalk the heat of the afternoon sun slammed into us, and I felt the tiny bit of makeup I'd applied melting right off of my face.
We hurried across the street, slid into my little red Beetle, and I cranked up the air conditioner. The weather should be cooling off soon, and I couldn't wait for the season to change. I was an autumn kind of girl.
"You believe him, don't you?" Kelly said and tossed her handbag into the backseat.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic tie I had around my wrist. The fresh air against the back of my neck felt like heaven on earth.
"Call me crazy but yeah. I do," I answered. "There's something about him. I just couldn't bring myself to picture him as a murderer."
"I agree," Kelly said. "But let's not forget. He is an agent. He plays hardball for his clients every day. That whole teary-eyed business up there all could've very well been an act."
She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. Even still, I didn't believe that Robert killed his wife.
"I know you're right, but I don't see it. I
Similar Books
