4th of July

Chapter 120

I FELT THAT PECULIAR crawly feeling at my hairline that often presaged a breakthrough.

“Yes,” I said, “I read that Sandra O’Malley committed suicide. What do you know about it?”

“It was so unexpected,” Rebecca said. “No one knew . . . I didn’t know she was so depressed.”

“So why do you think she took her own life?”

Rebecca forked her Caesar salad around on her plate, finally putting the utensil down without eating a bite.

“I never found out,” she said. “Ben wasn’t talking, but if I had to guess, I’d say that he was abusing her.”

“Abusing her how?”

“Humiliating her. Treating her like she was nothing. When I heard him talk to her, I’d cringe.” She made the gesture now, pulling her shoulders up, lowering her chin.

“Did she complain about it?”

“No. Sandra wouldn’t have done that. She was so compliant, so nice. She didn’t even squawk when he started having an affair.”

The wheels inside my head were sure turning, but they weren’t getting traction yet. Rebecca pursed her lips with distaste.

“He’d been seeing this same woman for years, was still seeing her after he married Lorelei, I’m sure of it. She was calling the office up to the day he died.”

“Rebecca,” I said patiently, although I couldn’t stand the suspense for another second. “Rebecca. What was the other woman’s name?”

Rebecca leaned back in her chair as a couple of men scraped past us on the way to the bathroom. When the bathroom door closed, she leaned forward and whispered.

“Emily Harris,” she said.

I knew that name. I pictured her bright lipsticky mouth. Her pink patterned dress.

“Is she with Pacific Homes Real Estate?”

“That’s the one.”