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“Miss Wade,” the severely attractive, forty-one-year-old brunette corrected. “I resumed use of my maiden name when George and I split.”
Like the previous victims, Miss Elizabeth Wade, nee Merrill, nee Wade, didn’t seem too upset at the victim’s loss. Miss Wade didn’t appear to have been grieving at all. Her eyes showed no sign of puffiness, and her hair and makeup were flawless.
After meeting at the station, the investigators decided to dig deeper into the three victims and see what might connect the three of them besides the fact that they were, apparently, not easy to get along with. Or if thatwasthe connection, then who would have interacted with all three of them?
David was looking into Gigi Demtrious while Tom looked into Gerald Conway. Faith was responsible for the latest victim, George Merrill, and so was now interviewing his ex-wife.
“Miss Wade,” Faith corrected with a professional smile.
Elizabeth returned a brief smile of her own, then poured coconut milk into a blender. “I hope you don’t think me rude,” she said, “I always enjoy my lunchtime smoothie at one-thirty. I have to be strict with my diet if I hope to maintain my figure.”
“No problem at all, ma’am,” Faith replied.
“Would you like me to make you some?” Elizabeth asked.
"No, thank you," Faith replied. "I just ate."
Elizaeth offered asuit yourselfshrug and pressed the button on the blender. The machine came to life with a loud whir, and Faith glanced around the small but well-appointed apartment. Elizabeth was a conservative decorator but a talented one. Everything was arranged tastefully and precisely. Faith wouldn't be surprised to open Miss Wade's underwear drawer and find everything arranged by style and color.
Elizabeth stopped the blender and poured a tall glass of soupy green liquid. Despite looking horrific, the drink actually smelled all right, at least from where Faith sat.
Elizabeth sat across from Faith and smiled at Turk. “What a lovely dog,” she said. “What’s his name?”
“Turk,” Faith replied.
“Well, Turk,” Elizabeth said to the dog. “You are just the most precious thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She reached for Faith, and Faith and Turk both waited patiently while she scratched under his chin and made smoochie noises at him. “I just love dogs,” she said when she sat up. “Mine’s at my sister’s today visiting my nephews.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad George never felt the same way about dogs. I would have dealt with everything else if he had a soft spot for dogs like I do.”
“Everything else?” Faith prompted.
"George was not an easy person to love," Elizabeth replied. She took a sip of her smoothie and wiped a thin line of green from her upper lip with a folded napkin she produced from somewhere underneath the table. "He was a very angry man." Faith raised an eyebrow, and Elizabeth clarified, "He wasn't violent." She chuckled. "He was too lazy to be violent. He was just angry all the time. Everything was sore, and everyone was annoying, and his boss was shitty and he hated that he had to work all the time and could I please just wash the dishes tonight and let him wash the next load?”
She stopped and seemed to remember Faith was still there. "Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly. "We split up three years ago, but sometimes the memories just kick the door back down." Her smile faded, and for the first time, Faith saw something like grief in her expression. "I guess there won't be any more of those."
“Were you on speaking terms with George?” Faith asked.
"Depends on what you mean by speaking terms," she said. "We didn't tear each other's throats out anymore, but we weren't friends. I think I talked to him once in the past six months just to get some clarification on taxes from when we were married."
Faith winced inwardly at the unfortunate analogy. “How did he seem to you when you spoke with him last?”
She shrugged. “Fine. He just gave me the info I needed and asked how I was doing. I said I was doing well, and he said that’s good to hear. We talked about my job a little while, then we hung up.”
“Did he seem depressed or wistful when you spoke to him? Possibly anxious?”
“No, he seemed fine. He wasn’t asking about me because he missed me, he was just being polite.” She tilted her head slightly. “Come to think of it, thatwasunusual. The only time I’d ever seen him polite before was when he was with a client. Could that mean something?”
It probably didn’t mean anything substantial that he was polite to Elizabeth, but the fact that he was almost never polite with anyone else tracked with the personalities of the other two victims.
She smiled at Faith. “Probably not, but I appreciate you talking with me. If there’s anything else you think of, please give me a call.”
"I will," she said with a smile, accepting Faith's extended hand. Her smile faded again, and once more, a shadow of grief crossed her face. "You know, I really did love him," she said. "If he hadn't done what he did to Sharky, I might have stayed with him."
Faith’s ears perked up. “Sharky?”
“My teacup poodle. He was the best little dog I’ve ever had.”
Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, and she opened her handbag and primly retrieved a small silk handkerchief. She dabbed the corners of her eyes and said, “After what George did, I couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. Honestly, it’s a surprise thatIcould keep my cool when talking to him.”
