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Beau shrugged. “I don’t know. Something to do with women. Probably domestic violence or something. Why?”
“You don’t know which charity your wife gave thirty thousand dollars of your money to?” Josie said.
“Claudia did what Claudia wanted, okay? I never cared about the donation, only that she didn’t talk to me first. She wanted it so that it wouldn’t be traced back to us. I don’t understand what this has to do with her murder.”
Josie changed the subject. “Did you know that Claudia was leaving the practice office to go to lunch almost daily for the last year? Sometimes for more than an hour. Sometimes so long she had to push her patients back?”
Surprise washed over Beau’s face. “No,” he said. “I didn’t know that. Who was she having lunch with?”
Noah said, “We were hoping you could tell us.”
Beau sighed. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed. “I have no idea,” he said. “You’d have to ask Trudy.”
“We did,” said Josie. “She doesn’t know who Claudia was seeing.”
“I can’t help you with that,” said Beau.
Noah said, “Claudia told Eve she thought she was being followed. Back in October. Did you know about that? Did Claudia ever say anything like that to you?”
Beau blinked slowly. “What? No, no, no. I never—she never—she thought she was being followed? She never said a word. I can’t help you there either.”
Josie said, “Then tell us about Ron Abbott.”
Beau shook his head and then squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “He’s dead.”
“We know,” said Noah. “He killed his wife and then turned the gun on himself.”
“Tragic.”
“Was he your patient?” asked Josie.
“Why are you asking me about a dead man? A dead man didn’t kill my wife, didn’t kill Eve.”
Noah said, “No, but someone who knew him, who cared for him, might have.”
Josie repeated, “Was he your patient?”
Beau studied the bourbon glass again. “Yes. For a very short time. Ron was obsessive, controlling, cruel. He was never going to benefit from counseling. I tried my best, but as predicted, he bailed after only a month.”
“Because you were having an affair with Casey Abbott?” Josie asked.
Beau chuckled. “You just think I have affairs with everyone now, don’t you? Because of Eve.”
Noah said, “Did you sleep with Casey Abbott?”
“No. I most certainly did not,” Beau answered. “But even if I had, what difference does it make? She’s dead. Her husband’s dead. Everyone’s dead! Except the killer that you two don’t seem very motivated to find.”
“The Abbott murder-suicide made the local news in Fairfield, Lenore County but WYEP didn’t pick it up. Did you have it killed?” Josie asked.
Beau hung his head. “I’m not proud of this but yes, I spoke to the WYEP news director and asked him not to run the story. He did it as a favor to me.”
The ease with which he admitted this made it sound like the most truthful thing he had told them since his wife was murdered.
He added, “Will you leave me in peace now?”
Josie found the review in her pocket and took it out, smoothing out the creases on the bar. She pushed it over to Beau. “Did Ron Abbott write this?”
Beau read over the review with glassy eyes. “I have no idea.”
