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“No.”
“Are you a client? Clients aren’t supposed to come here.”
“No. This is personal.”
“Oh.” She looked me up and down. “Did he bang your wife?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because you wouldn’t be the first.”
“I thought you’re his wife.”
“I am.” She shrugged.
I raised my eyebrows.
“He has his fun and so do I. We both come back. Anyway, what do you want with him? You look very menacing.”
“I always look like this.”
“Oh.” She sighed, as if she were bored, and turned. “Colin!”
“Has he been home all day?”
She turned back to me, her head wobbling, like she was having trouble keeping it on straight. “What?”
“Has your husband been home all day?”
“Now you sound like a cop.”
“I’m not a cop.”
She groaned, like a petulant teenager who’d just been reminded of her curfew. “I don’t know. He might have gone out earlier. But maybe that was yesterday.”
“Got it.” I stepped past her into the house. “If you point me in the right direction, I’ll find him.”
“Suit yourself. He’s either in the study or out practicing his golf swing. Study is down that hall and there’s a door to the back.”
“Thanks.”
The entryway had a wide double staircase leading to a landing on the second floor. A crystal chandelier hung above, taking up too much space. It was the type of thing newly wealthy people bought because they thought it made them look rich. It just looked tacky.
My boots clicked on the marble tile. It was white with streaks of black, almost zebra striped. The walls were sea foam green, a shade that clashed with the dark cherry baseboards and trim.
Whoever had designed this place had done an absolutely horrible job.
But I wasn’t there to critique their design choices, tasteless as they were. I found the study and went in through the already open door.
It was empty. The room wasn’t as gaudy as the entry. At least the colors coordinated. The wood paneling was good quality—and expensive—and the walls were a deep forest green. Cherry furniture, leather executive chair, shelves filled with law books.
Double French doors led to a patio. The outdoor furniture looked like it was rarely used, covered with a light sheen of dust, and a set of stairs led to an upper deck.
And on the grass, a short distance away, was Colin.
He had a driving range, complete with a green and a large net to catch his golf balls. Not a bad setup, although I hated golf.
And I hated this guy more.
