Page 9 of Skeletons in the Closet

I hit Play, and while the tape spun and caught, I found the pack of Nicorette I’d shoved in a different drawer and popped a piece into my mouth, hoping it would calm the nerves brought on by Tallus’s proximity. Visions of his nakedness made it hard to think. This was why I stuck to guys on Spark. After a drunken exchange, I never had to see them again. There was no awkwardafterto worry about. They didn’t get a chance to witness how incapacitating social affairs could be for me. We fucked. We forgot.

Tallus leaned forward and hit Stop before the interview began. He propped an elbow on the desk and rested his chin in an upturned palm. He even managed to make tired look sexy. “What is this, Guns? Can’t you just tell me?”

I blinked and scrambled for words. “I… No. My client. Her… I record job requests so I can refer back to them, and...” I growled. “Just listen.”

I hit Play again.

As Faye's voice crackled through the speaker, Tallus never took his eyes off me. The attention was too much, so I stared at the recorder instead.

“Now?” came a female voice. “So, I just talk?”

I heard myself grunt an affirmative on the recording.

Faye sniffled, her voice meek and thin. “Okay. Um… Hi. My name’s Faye. Faye Willard. Um… Well, here goes. My husband… he killed himself three weeks ago. I, um… He took a bunch of pills. And alcohol. You don’t need to offer condolences. I’m not sad. I mean, I am, but… Well, I think the asshole was cheating on me. He was up to something he didn’t want me to know about, and… well… he got weird at the end. I’m not making sense. Do you need to know what type of pills he took?”

The me on the recording grunted noncommittally.

“I’m sorry? What does that mean?”

“Sure.”

“It was hydrocodone. At least, that’s what I was told. They did an autopsy. I guess it’s standard procedure, even with a suicide. I didn’t know.” Faye could be heard blowing out her cheeks and sniffling again. “I’m all over the place. Sorry. It’s been a tough couple of weeks. I’ll start at the beginning. Um… Okay, so three months ago, this woman showed up at our house. I didn’t know her, but Noah seemed to. Noah’s my husband, by the way. I should have said that at the start.”

“Talk,” I encouraged when Faye mused for too long. The me on the recorder was showing signs of impatience, and although I couldn’t go back in time and change it, I heard my therapist giving me hell.

Tallus glanced across the desk, smirking. “You’re so expressive.”

I scowled and bit my tongue.

Faye continued. “Anyhow, this woman shows up at my house. She was… nervous but coy, you know what I mean? I got a bad vibe from the minute I opened the door. She gave me a once-over like people do when they’re sizing up competition. Women do it all the time. Anyhow, I didn’t like it. It didn’t help that she was skinny and beautiful. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Isn’t that what guys like? The whole Barbie doll look?”

I grunted a nonanswer on the recording because how the fuck would I know?

“This woman didn’t introduce herself, but she wanted to talk to Noah. In private, she said. So Noah went outside with her. God forbid he talk to a beautiful woman in front of his wife. That’s not suspicious at all.” Faye huffed, and I remembered her blotchy skin and red nose. “They stood around the side of the house so I couldn’t see them from the front door.”

Fayepffed. “Well, I’m not an idiot, and I’m not ashamed to say I went into the upstairs bathroom and watched them from the tiny window next to the shower. It’s the only window in the house with a view of that side. At first, they just talked. Noah looked serious, and the woman radiated nervous tension, but there was a vibe, you know? A familiarity between them. I knew that whore bitch was trouble.”

Tallus stabbed the Stop button, interrupting the interview.

“Okay, so, husband cheats on wife. Guilt leads to suicide. Can you save me the long-winded story hour and tell me the twist at the end? Why did she hire you?”

I stabbed the Play button and pointed at the recorder. “Listen.”

Tallus pinched the bridge of his nose as Faye’s voice filled the room.

“The woman did most of the talking, but Noah cut in and took her by the shoulders at one point, saying something. They were standing so close their faces were inches apart. I swear, I thought he was going to kiss her. It’s how it looked. I thought, if he does, I’ll toss his ass out so fast, he won’t know what hit him. I’ll pack his bags and call a lawyer. The end. But he didn’t kiss her. He hugged her, though, which was almost as bad. My alarm bells rang and clanged. I almost marched out of the house right then and gave them both a piece of my mind, but… Well, it wasn’t the end of their talk.”

Faye cleared her throat. “This woman kept going on and on, and I could see her growing more agitated by the second until she was shouting. Her voice traveled, but I couldn’t make out words. Noah looked angry too. He kept stabbing a finger against his chest, like what about me, me, me, or something to that effect. I’d seen that face on him enough times to know he was pissed off and making it all about himself. Noah wasn’t a yeller, but he said a few things to her, jabbing that finger like he meant it. He peered around the corner of the house more than once like he was afraid I might hear them or come out and see what was going on, but I was upstairs at the window. He had no clue. Whatever they discussed was heated, but after a while, they calmed again.”

Faye sniffled and let out a shaky sigh. “Do you mind if I steal a tissue, Mr. Krause?”

The me on the recording grunted, and a second later, Faye could be heard blowing her nose.

Faye was close to my age, midthirties, soft around the middle, with a round face. The day she’d visited me, she’d worn frumpy mom jeans and a baggy shirt. Her dull brown hair had been tied in a messy ponytail, and she wore no makeup. Several age lines stood out beside her eyes and mouth. Grief had worn the woman down. The more emotional she got, the more her cheeks and the tip of her nose pinked.

“Noah came inside ten minutes later, and when I asked him what the woman wanted, he told me it was nothing.” Faye huffed. “Nothing. Yeah right. Do I look like an idiot? When I asked who she was, Noah claimed she was an old friend. He wouldn’t say more and acted like it was no big deal. The more I questioned him, the angrier he got, so I dropped it.

“The same woman showed up again a week later. Noah answered the door that time. I was upstairs folding laundry. When I asked who it was, he said it was a solicitor. I knewit wasn’t. I’d seen her from the window. Same blonde Barbie doll. Twenty minutes later, Noah grabbed his car keys and left, claiming he needed to grab something from the office. Oldest bullshit lie in the book, am I right? He didn’t come back until after midnight. Office, my ass. Things changed after that. Over the following months, Noah got… agitated. Paranoid. Short-tempered. Noah was always cool and calm, but he started snapping at the dumbest things. He couldn’t sit still. Was always on edge. Always on his phone. I didn’t know if he was talking to that woman still, but I had a hunch he was. His behavior was erratic. About six or eight weeks after his nighttime escape to the office”—Faye had put air quotes around those words to emphasize her disbelief of his whereabouts—“the police showed up at our door.”

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