The Second Wife by Brenda Chapman Page A

need your help.”
    I blinked back the laughter tears once I saw she was serious. “Brian is the least violent man I know. I’m sure you’re wrong about this.” Not to mention crazy.
    â€œHe’s changed,” she repeated in a voice so small I had to lean forward to hear. “He’s just not the man I thought I married.”
    â€œI could say much the same,” I said, but the irony was wasted on her.
    â€œI don’t know who else to turn to,” she whispered. “I think he wants to get rid of me.”
    â€œI’m probably not the best person to ask about that,” I said. Seeing as how I dream of getting rid of you myself.
    Maybe, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have blown Marjory off as fast as I did that May afternoon. I could have listened to her fears and found out why she believed Brian was so angry. I should have gotten some details. But how was I to know that a week later Marjory’s twenty-year-old son would report her missing and Brian would become the main suspect in her disappearance?

CHAPTER TWO
    I was adding up the cost of new furniture for the chief ’s office when Cal Rodgers poked his head into my office, which was a tiny corner cubicle with a view of the parking lot. My office was at the opposite end of the hall from the police officers who worked patrol. The three detectives and the chief had closed offices down another hallway not far from me. I had a fan pointed at my face, trying to stay cool. The air conditioner had been broken all week and the building was like a pizza oven. It was the hottest July on record.
    â€œGot a minute, Gwen?” he asked.
    â€œAlways got time for you, Cal,” I said, mopping my face with a paper towel. I put down my pencil and watched him cross the floor toward me.
    Cal was close to six feet tall and growing a bit of a belly. He hadn’t shaved that morning and his beard was coming in gray. He perched his right butt cheek on the corner of my desk and asked me how I was doing. Cal had the red eyes of a drinker, but he was one of the sharper detectives on the force. I knew he wasn’t really there to ask me about my health. I decided to wait him out. The sun cut through the blinds on my office window and laid a striped pattern across his grizzled face. He looked like a convict in a holding cell. Sweat beaded his forehead.
    As predicted, Cal quickly got tired of the small talk. After a minute of silence, he looked me in the eyes and asked what he’d wanted to know all along. “So what’s the scoop on Marjory White?” He waited, chewing on a toothpick. He squinted at me through the sun’s glare.
    â€œI don’t know why everybody thinks something bad happened to her,” I grumbled. “She probably just got tired of being married and left town.”
    â€œYou could be right. But we may as well do the background. What do you know about her?” Cal was still friendly, but his voice had gotten a harder edge.
    I sighed. “Not much. Marjory worked for a temp agency when she met my husband. Her duties included typing, filing and removing her clothes.” I tried to sound amusing, but my words came out more bitter than I’d planned.
    Cal mumbled something. It sounded like he had a hairball stuck in his throat. His dark blue eyes were regretful. He coughed and said, “Would you believe your ex, Brian, capable of harming her?”
    â€œNot in this lifetime. Brian owns a shoe store for good reason. He’d rather crawl around on his hands and knees at someone’s feet than face them head-on.”
    â€œAlthough, I guess we could safely say you didn’t know him all that well since you were surprised when he up and left you,” Cal said mildly. I noticed that his eyes had darkened from regretful to observant.
    I slapped the side of my thigh. “Ha. Ha. Got me there,” I said. “But fooling around on your first wife isn’t the same as killing