Far From True

Twenty-two

The door to Felicia Chalmers’s bedroom opened. A lean, six-foot-tall man, arms adorned with dragon tattoos and dressed in nothing but a pair of airplane-themed boxers, stood there, scratching his right buttock. He blinked his eyes repeatedly, bringing Felicia, and the apartment, into focus.

“The Corbin rises,” Felicia said, having just shown out the detective, the nearly empty glass of red wine still in her hand.

“I heard talking,” Corbin said.

“You didn’t hear the music, but you could hear the talking?”

“The music I’m used to,” he said. “I can sleep through Metallica. But I heard you yakking with somebody and it woke me up. Something going on?”

“Adam’s dead.”

“Uh,” Corbin said, “who’s Adam again?”

Felicia frowned. “My ex.”

That brought him fully awake. “Shit! What happened?” Felicia filled him in. “Sorry, babe. You need a hug?” He opened his arms.

“No, I do not need a hug,” she said, and went into the kitchen. She set down her wineglass and rooted around in a drawer until she found an address book.

“Whatcha looking for?”

“The number for the guy who handled my divorce. Arthur Clement, his name was. In Albany.”

Corbin’s face scrunched up. “What do you need him for? You already divorced the dude. And now he’s dead.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And he’s not the only one.”

“I’m not following.”

She found the number, used her index finger as a bookmark, turned to look at the nearly naked man standing at the entrance to the kitchen. “I’m sure you aren’t.”

“Come on, help me out here.”

“His wife died, too,” Felicia explained. “And his first wife died years ago. So maybe I’m entitled to something.”

“Didn’t you say he’s got a daughter? Like, all grown-up?”

“Lucy,” Felicia said. “Yeah. But everything shouldn’t all go to her.”

“Was the guy that loaded?”

Felicia shrugged. “Maybe not. But there’ll be something. There’s the house. He probably had investments and stuff like that. As his only surviving ex-wife, I must be entitled to something. Who knows? Maybe he mentioned me in his will.”

“Did he tell you he had?”

Felicia bit her lip. “Not exactly.”

“I think you’re pissing up a rope here, Felish,” Corbin said. “Whatever he’s got will probably go to his kid. I’m not a lawyer, but—”

“No, you’re a bartender.”

“I’m just saying, I’m not a lawyer, but that’s how it looks to me.”

“It won’t bother you if I get a more professional opinion?”

Corbin leaned into the doorframe, ran his tongue over his teeth. “You know, Felish, I’m not sure this is working out.”

She had the address book open again and was reaching for the phone.

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“I don’t think you respect me for who I am.”

She had the receiver in her hand, was entering a number. “Respect you? Of course I do. I respect you for exactly what you are. You’re — hello?” Felicia turned her back to Corbin. “I need to talk to Arthur. No, I need to speak to him right this second. This is an emergency. That’s right. This is Felicia Chalmers. You tell him there’s been a death — tell him that. Yes, I’ll hold.”

Felicia spun around, wanting to say something to Corbin, but he’d disappeared. She heard a toilet flush.

Then, “Yes? Is this Mr. Clement? You handled my divorce from Adam Chalmers? That’s right, that’s right. Well, there was a big accident here in Promise Falls last night and — yes, the drive-in. My ex and his new wife, Miriam? They were killed. Which means I’m his only surviving ex-wife. Yes, yes, there’s a daughter, but shouldn’t there be something for me? What if I could prove that I’ve been a source of moral support all this time? I have e-mails. Lots of e-mails and texts that would prove that. And there was more than that going on. We still maintained a physical relationship, wifely duties basically. That would have to mean something and—”

She listened. “Uh-huh.” Listened some more. “Uh-huh.”

Then, “Well, I don’t care if that’s your opinion off the top of your head. The opinion I’m getting from my gut is that I might be entitled to something, especially with Miriam dead. When can I come in to see you? Next week? I can pull together all my paperwork by then, yes. And I can find out what the house might be worth. Okay. Good, thank you. I’ll see you then.”

Felicia hung up the phone. When she turned around, Corbin was back, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Felicia said, “Good thing I didn’t listen to the bartender.”