THE DEEP END by Julie Mulhern Read Free Book Online

down.
    I took the glass from his shaking hand, refilled it and gave it back to him.
    “Thank you,” he croaked. “What was in that?”
    “It’s better if you don’t know. More coffee?”
    Roger shook his head then looked as if he regretted moving. “No, thank you.”
    “You’ll feel better in thirty minutes or so.” Then I could send him on his way. The last thing I needed was Madeline’s husband convalescing in my kitchen.
    He rolled his eyes then winced as if even that hurt.
    I called and rescheduled my appointment with Hunter, emptied the dishwasher, and wrote the grocery list. Roger still looked like death warmed over, completely incapable of making it to the front door, much less pouring himself into his car and driving away, so I retrieved yesterday’s mail from the front hall and opened it over the trashcan.
    Junk. The electric bill. More junk. Henry’s credit card statement. My fingers itched to open it. Instead, I tossed it onto the counter. I didn’t need to see his credit card bill to know my husband spent an unconscionable amount of money on his hobby.
    Roger lifted his head. Slowly. As if his skull and the piddling brain inside weighed a hundred pounds. His mouth worked but no words came out.
    “More coffee?” I asked.
    He nodded and I served him a fresh mug.
    He drank, stared at the brick wall, rubbed his temples. “I never thought a woman like Madeline would look at me. Then she married me and I felt like the luckiest man in the world.”
    Or unluckiest. It’s all about perspective. From my perspective, discussing Madeline with me was a gaff exceeded only by parking on my hostas. I’d rather discuss Roger’s views on Nixon’s impeachment than talk about Madeline.
    “I loved her.” His face crumpled. It deflated as if the man inside his body had departed and the remaining husk was in the first stages of collapse.
    “I’m sorry.” Never were words more meaningless. I cringed as soon as they left my lips. This was why I should have left him rotting on my front steps. Unfettered grief. If Thou shall not air dirty laundry in public was the Walford family’s first commandment, Thou shall not make a spectacle of thyself by displaying emotion was the second. We didn’t do raw emotion or drama or storms of tears. I had no idea how to handle anguish. Still, I had to offer some comfort. I lifted my hand to pat his shoulder but couldn’t quite bring myself to touch him.
    Fortunately, he didn’t notice my hand hovering over his shoulder like a confused UFO. “She’d been acting so strangely lately.”
    Lately? In my opinion, the strange behavior dated back to when she started hopping into bed with other women’s husbands. It definitely began when she started letting my husband tie her up and flog her.
    He gulped at his coffee. Coughed. Rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Do you know who might have killed her?”
    Was he asking if I had? Perhaps he thought Henry had finally gone too far. “No idea.”
    “She had a secret. She said things were going to change. I thought maybe she meant to break things off with Henry.”
    The poor man. He should have just filed for divorce. It wasn’t like there were children to protect. Perhaps if he’d stood up for himself, Madeline would have respected him. He sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Perhaps respect was too strong a word.
    “Did she say anything to Henry?”
    His assumption that Henry and I spoke was almost funny. Aside from social obligations and the odd comment about needing to buy coffee or laundry detergent, we had nothing to say to each other. “No.”
    “I went through her things.”
    I swear Henry’s credit card statement fluttered its eyelashes. It winked. It smiled its best come-hither smile.
    I forced my gaze to Roger’s red-rimmed watery blue eyes.
    “I found this.”
    For the second time in less than a day, a man tossed a book of Club K matches onto my kitchen counter.
    “I went there last