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“Sunk cost fallacy,” Ella said. “Reluctance to abandon because of heavy investments.”
Leslie looked at her blankly, fishing for the simplified version.
Ella said, “Like finishing a boring movie just because you bought a ticket.”
Leslie blinked, seemed to grasp it. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“Was that related to your breakup?”
Leslie delicately scratched her temple with a single fingernail. “Look, I know my role. I’m the trophy wife. Arm candy. When David’s string of bad luck started, that’s when things started going downhill for our relationship too.”
Ella was beginning to feel a little sick. “You left him because he wasn’t rich anymore?”
“Other way around, honey. He left me. He said he wouldn’t drag me down with him.”
Ripley asked, “And you didn’t try to hold on to him? You let him go and live in a storage unit?”
“Oh I tried. I begged him not to go. But he said he was leaving for somewhere new, to start again. I had no idea where he was holed up. For all I knew, he was living it up in Thailand.”
Suspicion was Ella’s first response, but Leslie’s demeanor didn’t suggest deceit. As if reading her mind, Leslie said, “Don’t believe me? I got text messages dating back months. I can show you just how stubborn David was.”
Ella lost herself in the abstract art piece hanging above Leslie’s fireplace while she reflected on her victim’s predicament. By the sound of it, David was a man of iron will and concrete morals. A rare breed to find in the wild. His failure to provide for Leslie had instilled a sense of deserved punishment, as though he needed to face the repercussions in order to honorably correct his mistakes. She suddenly thought about those Japanese CEOs who threw themselves off buildings whenever their companies folded.
“Did David make any enemies during this whole business venture gone wrong?” Ripley asked.
Leslie applied some moisturizing cream to her hands and checked her reflection in a handheld mirror. One half of Ella wanted her to at least act upset about her husband’s death, but the other half welcomed the honesty.
“No idea. He kept all that stuff close to his chest. Besides, he wasn’t gonna get much conversation out of me when it came to business. He borrowed some money at one point, but that’s as much as I know. Don’t ask me who he borrowed it from or how much. He kept me at arm’s length about those things.”
If David had been dealing with loan sharks, they might have been forced to go nuclear when he couldn’t pay them back. Ella thought of her father, then circled back to the situation at hand. But even if David’s murder was payback, how did the first victim factor into this? She made mental notes to look into David’s financial history and see if victim number one fit into the puzzle.
Ella asked, “So, you don’t know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt David? Even people unrelated to his business ventures?”
“No one,” Leslie said abruptly. “He wasn’t a social animal by any means. He didn’t have a ton of friends. If he wasn’t living to work he wasn’t living.”
Ella stood up and passed Leslie her contact details. She doubted there was any more information to extract from the not-so-grieving woman, and it looked like she had more important things on her mind than a dead ex. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”
Leslie placed Ella’s business card to her side without even glancing at it. “I will.”
Ella’s gaze slowly swept acrossthewalls of Leslie’s home, captivatedby the two pieceshanging in place.Theartworks were encased in ornategolden frames,each one intricately crafted by hand. One showed a man reading a book outside the pearly gates, the other was an abstract interpretation of Jesus on the cross.“Nice artwork,” she said.
Leslie began leading the agents to the door, then stopped and said, “Oh, those things. Yeah, David was big into that stuff. Gave off a vibe of luxury or something. He took most of the others with him.”
Ella mulled over the remark. “You mean, he took giant pieces like this with him?”
Leslie nodded. “Yes. He was obsessed with them. Apparently these things are worth a hundred grand. God knows why. They’re just strokes of paint.”
Ella turned to her partner, whose expression evoked the same thoughts that were running through Ella’s head. Their eyes met in silent agreement.
Until now, they’d only focused on what theyhadfound in his storage unit.
They didn’t stop to consider what might be missing.
Ella hada sudden burst of insight, and sherealizedexactlywhere they had to go next.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ella and Ripleyarrived atthesceneof the first murder,a house thathad beenstrippedofits inhabitantsbutstill lingered with ghosts of tragedy. It was a modest home on an unusually busy stretch of road in this backwater town, and the mountain view from the rear blocked out most of the sun. This home belonged to Joanne Gustafson, the first casualty of this active serial killer. According to the police report, Joanne was thirty-one years old, lived alone, and was recently divorced.
