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“That’s three!” Walking out of Mrs. Davies’ home and skipping angrily down the porch steps, Fletch angles for the driver’s seat of our cruiser and slips in before I can take it.
But I don’t care enough to argue, so I simply move to the passenger side and slide in as he starts the engine.
“Threemotherfuckers,” he repeats. “Three identities. All three wives in the same city, like it didn’t matter if they shared the same grocery store.”
“He had them all believing he traveled for work.” I sit back in my seat, drop my legs wide, and bring my thumbs up to press against my eyes.
The sun lowers behind the mountains and takes with it the remainder of what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend filled with rest and binge television time for Minka.
But I know my wife; even if we weren’t doing our respective duties today, she still wouldn’t let herself rest. She won’t rest until we solve this case.
Neither of us will.
“Alright, so we’ve got a real estate developer,” I line them up in my mind and count them on my fingers, “a civil engineer, and a pilot. Three jobs to easily explain away missed time when he wanted to skip to the next family.”
“How?” Fletch argues. “Why? Why would you want more than one home? More than one family? I get anxious and lose my shit if I go a single night without seeing my daughter. But hewillinglymade them with more than one woman, content to spend time with his kids on a part-time basis. What the fuck is that?”
“Maybe he liked the thrill of the secret,” I ponder. “Or maybe the appeal was elsewhere.‘I’ll become a husband and a dad, but only part-time, so I get the fun and never any of the work.’”
“How the fuck does a dude supportthreehomes?” he snarls. “That’s three mortgages, Arch! And three families! He’s got jets and leases and dogs with Mrs. Davies, kids and an office space and a business partner when he’s Roger Wilson, and as Kyle, he’s gotmorekids and another home and, according to Mrs. Andrews, construction contracts for multi-story buildings.”
“The last, we still have to run down,” I murmur. “Maybe he was never doing that job.”
“Doesn’t really matter at this point! He lived three entirely different identities, all in the same city. Kids with two of them, and a long, unsuccessful IVF history according to the third. He was more than happy to keep procreating—fuck knows, maybe he has more baby mommas floating around. But morals and honesty aside, how the fuck can heaffordto live three separate lives?”
“Maybe that’s what got him killed.” I glance out the window and watch the city pass us by as Fletch drives us toward the station.
We’ll stow the cruiser in the underground parking lot, then we’ll walk to our next destination. Either Tim’s bar, or my apartment. We’ll go wherever the girls went, because that’s what we do.
And we’ll collect Mia on the way, and make damn sure she’s a part of our lives every second we’re not actively on the clock.
“Normal, functioning members of society don’t have multiple IDs,” I reason. “It’s just not done. So first of all, we have to figure out how he got them, because that shit takes documents, powerful friends, and knowledge. Then we wanna know why. Is he a literal operative, which could explain how he could afford three lives, or was he playing pretend and flying on the power of massive secrets?”
“I have no fuckin’ clue.” Fletch pulls into the driveway that leads beneath the station, our tires squealing on the smooth concrete, and the dash lights grow instantly brighter as we move from afternoon sunlight to manmade darkness. “But we can’t ignore the possibility that one of his wives is our perp.” He spares a fast glance for me. “We’ve been looking at professionals since the start of this, but we know as well as anyone that the scorned have killed for less.”
“The wives?” I chew the inside of my lip, and frown as he pulls into an empty space and cuts the engine. “But they’re just so…”Old. Innocent. Soft. “Nice.”
He chokes out a laugh and snatches the keys before opening his car door. “Nice ladies kill too, bud. We both know it.” Slamming his door and waiting for me to climb out my side and do the same, the second I’m on my feet and our eyes meet, he raps his knuckles against the roof of the car. “Women can be crazy, bro. If Minka found out about your two other wives, we wouldn’t even find your mutilated body.”
“Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes and drop my hands in my pockets, turning from the car to walk up the ramp to the street, with Fletch on my left. “I don’t want more than one wife. As it is, keeping the one I have alive is a full-time job.”
“Fuckin’ A,” he sighs. “Tell me about it.” Stopping on the sidewalk and looking right, in the direction of my apartment, he hooks a thumb over his shoulder to point to the left. “I’m gonna get Moo and come down to Tim’s for a meal. You in?”
“Yep.” I start in the direction I’m going. “I need to pump Mayet with enough pain pills and food to get her through the night. We probably only have an hour till she’s out cold, though, and I know she’s missed Moo.”
“I’ll be quick.” He turns on his heels and glances up at the pinkening sky. “That means it’s gonna rain tomorrow, right? Pink sky means drizzle soon?”
“No idea.” I watch him over my shoulder and chuckle under my breath. “Move fast so we get Mia time. I’ll catch you at the bar.”
When he lifts his arm in part acknowledgment, part goodbye, I bring my head back around and take out my phone. I scroll past the dozen missed calls by the meddlesome Miranda London, and the text messages from my brothers, and dial the one number I want.
Minka Mayet’s name is the only one I ever want to see on my phone screen.
Bringing the device to my ear and grinning as it trills, I feel my heart pick up speed when the line connects and the familiar drone of a jukebox plays through the speaker.
“Archer?”
“You’re at Tim’s?” I assume easily. “How are you feeling, Minnnka? Sleepy?”
