Page 4 of What the Wife Knew

I eyed him back.

Elias was a lawyer, which meant he wasn’t necessarily a narcissist or a psychopath but probably. Unclear at the moment which way he’d tip.

He definitely fell into the attorney category ofshould be ashamed of his outrageous hourly rate but wasn’t. All pressed in his dark blue suit. Attractive and chiseled enough to win over a jury. Not too attractive or chiseled to piss them off or cheer for him to lose. Brown hair, graying at the temples. Dark eyes, like a shark lurking in shallow water. Always watching, assessing, judging.

Various online searches touted his self-made-man status. A guy who went from dockworker’s son to big-time partner in abig-time New York City law firm. In his early fifties and divorced in awe’re still best friendssort of way where he dragged the ex, Jessica or Jenny or something with aJsound, to all of his social events.

That last part suggested he might have something to hide, and I’d dug around to find out. Good to have leverage and all that, but unlike many in his social class who could best be summed up asnew money and very questionable,Elias seemed to be exactly as presented. A successful, very smart attorney.

Call me skeptical.

In past meetings, formal and informal, he’d spoken with an economy of words and glanced at his phone every few seconds. He’d been in the house for more than ten minutes and had yet to pull his cell out of his suit jacket. That could mean anything.

“There are a few papers I need you to sign.” He plunked down a stack on the kitchen counter in front of him.

“Uh-huh.” Not signing those.

He smiled as if he knew the direction of my thoughts. “Technically, I’m your attorney now.”

“Not technically or otherwise.”

“This is a statement signed by Richmond.” He pulled out a sheet from the top of the pile, as if he’d expected my screw-you response and prepared for it, then laid the document in front of me. “He was quite clear that if anything happened to him I was to step in, secure your rights, and represent your interests in his estate. He said I was to make sure you were happy.”

That didn’t sound like Richmond. “Why?”

Elias laughed. “Honestly? I have no idea. Even though what Richmond told me was confidential due to attorney-client privilege, he refused to tell me why the two of you married so quickly,or at all, and why it was so important to him that you got whatever you wanted even after his death.”

There it was. The backhanded question I had no intention of answering. But kudos to the counselor for trying to pry open that bolted door.

“A love match?” Not sure how I got that vomit-inducing phrase out. Especially when the real answer was that Richmond wanted to preserve his unearned hero status after death and believed our Faustian bargain would ensure his legacy. Well, he miscalculated because I always intended to ruin him—dead or alive—and keep the money.

“You slept in separate bedrooms.” Elias hesitated after dropping that insight. “You never said a decent word to or about each other, and that includes on your wedding day a short time ago.”

“A hundred and eleven days.” But it felt longer because every day of being the second Mrs. Dougherty dragged on like the countdown in a long prison sentence.

“I think you had something on him. Something very bad.”

“That sounds like blackmail.” And it was, which made me the blackmailed-him-into-marriage type. A crown I wore with pride.

Elias shrugged. “That’s between the two of you... or was. My only concern now is to ensure your rights to the house and the assets, even if that means battling Kathryn and the kids.”

“Ah, yes. Them.” A few of my many outstanding problems. “But isn’t it a conflict for you to represent Richmond then represent me?”

“He signed a waiver.”

This felt like a trap. “I’m not sure what there is to handle since Richmond and Kathryn had a divorce agreement.”

“True, but the divorce, his remarriage to you, and his death all happened within a very short time. Some might question the timing.”

The whole damn town questioned it. “Someshould mind their own business.”

“You are my priority.”

That sounded wrong. “So I’m stuck paying your outrageous hourly fee now?”

Elias downed the rest of his latte. “Yes, but you’re welcome to obtain your own counsel. If you do, I will work with that person to protect your interests.”

And that sounded too easy. “What are you doing right now?”

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