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Frisky lunged at them through the gate.
“Yes,” said Adrian, “but you’ll have to let us put our dog in the house.”
“Do you both need to do that?” asked Detective Heinz.
“Well, sometimes it takes both of us, but no, I can do it on my own today,” joked Adrian.
I waited until they were inside and let the men in the gate.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Mind if we sit down?” asked Detective Heinz, settling onto a wicker chair on our front porch.
“May I offer y’all some tea?” I asked, trying to distract them with some Southern hospitality.
“No thank you, Mrs. Corbis,” said Detective Stoller. “This is not a social call.”
I primly sat down, breathing as evenly as possible. I felt a tickling trickle of sweat moving down my temple along my hairline, and I couldn’t stop myself from brushing at it.
Detective Stoller sat down and then Adrian took the final place on the loveseat beside me.
Detective Heinz started right in. “Are you familiar with anyone by the name of Jeb Wilde?” he asked.
“I am,” I said immediately, afraid that Adrian would spin some elaborate tale if I didn’t take over.
“How do you know Jeb Wilde?” asked Detective Stoller.
“I hired him. To look into some questions I had about my family. Is there something wrong wi
th Jeb?”
“Well, he went missing,” said Detective Heinz, “and it seems that he was looking into an assignment for you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was doing this,” I said to Adrian. “It’s just, I thought that you would stop me.” Then I turned back to the detectives, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Jeb, but he stopped answering my calls. I think he might have skipped town. I paid him a lot of money and he’s just some guy I found on the Internet. Maybe he’s not even a real private investigator.”
“How much did you pay him?” asked Adrian.
“Honey…”
“Do your wives spend like mine does?” he asked the detectives. “She spends it faster than I can make it!”
“I hear you,” chuckled Detective Heinz.
“Well, he’s not licensed,” said Detective Stoller, “but he was working on your case. He told his ladyfriend he was going to Minneapolis and when she didn’t hear from him, she found this note where he wrote down some names. Your name was first on the list. Do you mind if I ask what you were having him try to figure out for you?”
“I had some questions about my sister and brother who were in a car accident when I was a little girl.” I began crying. “I’d rather not go into that, please.”
“Okay, sorry to have upset you, ma’am,” said Detective Heinz.
“Do any of these names mean anything to you?” asked Detective Stoller, reading my mother’s maiden name, the name of the man who turned out to be Valencia and Van’s real father, and then the name John Spade.
“Patricia is my mother,” I said, jumping on that and not letting go. “Please don’t involve her in this! She’ll be so upset. It’s taken her years to get over it. I mean, really, she still isn’t over it.”
“Please,” said Adrian, “I hate to have you upsetting my wife in the condition she’s in.”
“I am… with child,” I whispered through my tears.
“We’re sorry to upset you,” said Detective Heinz, his voice softening.
