Page 6 of Very Special Forces

"Unlesssomething terrible happens, don't bring up your worries for now.Just be a good friend and remain observant. If there is somethingwrong, you don't want to alienate her when she might need you. Andif there really isn't anything wrong, insisting that there is couldend the friendship," I added. There was no telling how a personmight react, plus, there was always the possibility that nothingwas really wrong, or that there was something wrong which wasentirely unrelated to the relationship. Jas's hunch might have beencorrect but aimed in the wrong direction.

"I'm notgoing to mention that I was here."

"I thinkthat would be wise."

Jasstuck out her hand and I shook it before escorting her to theelevator. "Thanks again," she said as the doors slid open. "You cancall me anytime if you need more information, or if you make adecision. I really hope you can help me find out if Julia is okay,one way or the other."

I noddedand smiled as she stepped inside and the doors closed behind her.When I was sure she'd gone, I made my way back to the PI's sharedoffice and dropped into my desk chair, spreading the paperwork infront of me. I gave the first pages a cursory glance. Jas hadwritten down all her contact details, as well as those of Julia andJulia's fiancé including their home addresses and places of work.The next page had a list of reasons why she wanted to engage theagency's services but there was nothing glaringly upsetting. To herknowledge, there hadn't been any police involvement, her friend hadnever complained of any poor treatment by the fiancé, and Jashadn't witnessed anything appalling. All I had was a strangefeeling that something wasn't right.

I knewwhat Solomon would say about it. That there was no indication ofanything wrong at all. Unless I could come up with something tocorroborate Jas's ill ease, it was unlikely we would take thiscase.

"Whatthe hell," I said, reaching for my laptop. "My actual case can waitfor another ten minutes."

Usingthe information Jas gave me, I plugged Julia Atwater's name intothe search engine. She was a social media junkie. Facebook,Twitter, Instagram, a music sharing account. I scrolled througheach for a minute. Facebook hadn't been updated in a while unlessshe locked down her privacy settings, but there was a nice profileshot of Julia and a man. They had their arms around each other andwere beaming at the camera. I clicked on the comments and read aslew of "gorgeous couple!" and "relationship goals!" and othercompliments. Twitter hadn't been updated in a month and Instagramwas a nice selection of baking and outdoors shots of places Juliavisited. Most of the latter photos were captioned with "Bryce and Iat the farmer's market" or "Bryce and I out to dinner" or "surpriseflowers from lovely Bryce." Julia looked happy in the selfies. Theonly thing different I noted was less of her friends appeared inthe photos of the last couple of months. They were replaced by morewith Bryce but maybe that was because they were in their happy lovebubble.

I alsonoted Julia's appearance had changed slightly in the past fewmonths. Gone was the tumbling, wavy hair to be outdone by a chic,collarbone-length cut. Her clothes had smartened too. The colorpalette remained mostly the same but her clothes were a little morefitted and a couple of very nice purses were noticeable in thebackground shots. Again, there was nothing wrong with that. Lots ofwomen indulged in updating their wardrobes when they found apartner they wanted to impress. It could even be as simple as hertastes had matured or she wanted to impress a boss atwork.

Withoutclosing the pages, I searched for Bryce Maynard. He had anInstagram that was unpopulated although there was a small profileshot of him, artfully shot. Facebook was more revealing. Anothersolo shot of him served as a profile photo and there was a bannerphoto of a group of friends all wearing shorts and holding beersnext to a pool. He provided the occasional update and there were acouple of photos that he and Julia were tagged in. A slew ofcomments praised how happy they looked and what a great couple theywere. Somebody commented that Julia was "a serious upgrade!" Iwondered what the commenter meant by that.

Igrabbed a slip of paper and made a note of my findings, then closedthe file. There was nothing that raised my suspicions during thiscursory glance into their lives but I needed a little time to thinkabout the next step. A hunch was still a hunch and Jas knew bothparties far better than I did. Of course there was still thataccusation of jealousy. I hadn't gotten the impression Jas wasjealous of her friend but a few minutes of plundering her lifewouldn't hurt.

Ireturned to Julia's page and tapped Jas's name into the friend'slist, ensuring I could find her quickly. Her profile was lockeddown but there was a nice ream of comments on her profile photoincluding one from Julia, dated just two months ago. It was as niceand friendly as any exchange Lily and I might have. It wasn't atrue indicator of no jealousy though. Jealousy could often bedressed up as friendship. All the same, I still didn't get thatimpression from Jas.

I closedthe browser pages on my laptop and pushed the new case file to oneside. Solomon had given me a case I was actually being paid to doand that had to be my focus. I would think about Jas's caselater.

Themarriage between Steve and Faye Wendell lasted just forty-threedays. Not exactly shocking, but hardly something to boast about.The husband was a wealthy man and several clippings were includedabout how he'd made his money. Apparently, he wasn't much of anacademic but rather gifted in mechanics. After barely graduatinghigh school, he'd gone to work at a local auto shop and, withinfive years, he owned it. He acquired two other auto shops inMontgomery in the next two years and then several more in thestate. Now, at age forty-two, he owned one hundred and seventeenWendell's Auto shops nationwide, all proudly bearing his name. I'dheard of him. His auto shop serviced my VW and made me a loyalcustomer. I never felt like his staff talked down to me, eventhough my knowledge of cars was minimal, and not once did I everfeel ripped off.

Faye wasa different type of person. She graduated high school with a 4.0grade average and attended a good university to study history on anathletics scholarship. Although she'd won a few heats during herstudies, she hadn't been a consistently outstanding athlete. Whenshe graduated, she was scouted for modeling. A few years of workingin Paris, Milan, and Tokyo followed before she took up a master’sdegree in business administration that she was eager to put to use.Sensible with money, she invested her modeling fees into a propertythat she still owned as well as a small number of otherinvestments. She was ten years younger than her husband and theywere introduced through a mutual acquaintance.

Icouldn't see the issue for either them. They seemed to have theright mix of brains, beauty and business acumen that complementedeach other. Yet, somehow, it had fallen apart in a mere forty-threedays.

SteveWendell initiated divorce proceedings on the grounds of fraud. In alonger statement, he asserted his wife had known how much money hemade and targeted him deliberately. Hopelessly swept up in theromance, he provided generous gifts during their courtship. Theywere engaged after six months with a fifty thousand dollar-diamondring and married two months later. He claimed an argument aboutmoney had revealed her true intentions. According to him, she nolonger wished to work and instead, expected him to finance alifestyle they never agreed upon. She claimed she could "geteverything" since they were legally married.

Fayealso provided a counter statement saying she loved her husband, themoney was inconsequential and that if he would just talk to her, hewould understand the truth. She didn't want a divorce.

Apparently, the judge was refusing to sign a divorce withouthard evidence of any wrongdoing and both parties concurred theSolomon Detective Agency was the right way of findingit.

As faras statements went, Faye really hadn't grasped the concept ofdefending herself. Nor, however, had she asked for anything. Allshe wanted to do was talk. I rested my chin in my hand as I staredat her statement. Was talking things out the action of a moneygrabber? Why hadn't she demanded anything?

Findinghidden assets in a divorce was one thing, but proving someone wassolely after money was a much more difficult affair. There would beno paper trail, which meant a deep dive into their financeswouldn't help. I could try to prove the wife had dire financialcircumstances that she hadn't made her new husband aware of, andthe money he insisted she was after would cover that. Lucas couldfind any hidden financial issues, which left me with the job oftracking down Faye and asking her what was going on. With bothparties in agreement to hiring the agency, she had to be waitingfor someone to make contact and clearly, she wanted totalk.

ChapterThree

FayeWendell was staying at the Newbury Hotel. It wasn't the mostexpensive hotel in Montgomery but one of the top five, occupyingwhat had once been a rundown historic home. Since its acquisition,it received a sympathetic, and costly restoration, which alsoincluded a very fancy spa in a former outbuilding. If I intended tolick my wounds anywhere, I would definitely choose here.

I askedfor Mrs. Wendell at the reception desk, giving my name and agencytitle and was assured she would be with me very soon. Taking up aposition on one of the large leather couches in what had once beena parlor and now served as a waiting area, I observed mysurroundings. Big windows overlooked a lawn that stretched down tothe street where a valet waited to take the patrons' cars to ahidden parking lot. The parlor walls were covered in a delicatewallpaper of wildflowers and the woodwork was either perfectlypreserved or so well restored that I couldn't tell the difference.The furniture was old and heavy and I was pretty sure I didn't wantto accidentally smash any of the vases or lamps.

"Youmust be Lexi Graves," said a voice from the doorway.

I lookedup, assessing the woman quickly. She was tall and willowy asbefitted a formal model but instead of an extravagant outfit, shewore simple blue jeans, a pink button-down shirt and flat pumpswith jeweled bows. Her hair was jaw-length, white blond and hercheekbones looked like they could cut ice. Her eyes were red andangry. She was a beautiful woman; it was a shame she looked sodejected.

"That'sright. You must be Mrs. Wendell," I said, getting to my feet andhanding her a business card. It was still a novelty to hand thosethings out but then again, it’s funny what makes a person feelsuccessful as a grownup. Previously, I thought I'd reached theadult threshold when I managed to save the deposit for my homerather than blowing it on fashion.

"Faye,please. I didn't expect you quite so quickly. Have you spoken to myhusband yet?" she asked while staring at the business card like itmight offer her more than my name, title, and phonenumber.

"No, notyet. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"We cango into the garden at the back. Conversational privacy isn't thetop priority around here." Faye turned and I followed her throughthe lobby to the rear of the hotel. We stepped out into a small,paved courtyard scattered with garden furniture but she didn't stopthere. Instead, she continued across to the paved path and wewalked in silence for a couple of minutes until we reached a benchin the shade of a massive oak tree. Faye sat and crossed her legsat the ankle.

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