Page 18 of The Accidental Detectives

Six

The white-cheeked spider monkey is a thing. Not a lie…

“The white-beaked spider monkey?”I said again, as we stood at the base of the driveway, leading to Astrid Barker’s very cute house in the burbs. “Like, seriously, Marty. Is she gonna give a shit about saving a monkey with a beak when her husband’s been wasted?”

“Cheeked! It’s white-cheeked, ninny!” Marty wrinkled her red nose at me as the wind bit at her cheeks. “Didn’t you read the article from the link I sent you? Get it right or you’re going to make fools of us. I told you everything you need to know about them on the ride over.”

“As if you need any help with that shit.”

Wanda tugged at my jacket. “We just need a way in, Nina. That’s all. Just be quiet and let us do the rest. And I do mean, be quiet.” She drove a finger into my shoulder. “Don’t you dare get mouthy. The woman is grieving and so are her children. Kid gloves are needed here, not a two-by-four.”

I scoffed at her as I scanned the home Owen and Astrid had shared. It was a little white farmhouse with black shutters and a small front porch, all decorated for Christmas.

Damn, I hated that if this had to happen at all, it happened during the holidays. What a crappy memory to have for the rest of your life. I felt like shit for Owen’s kids, and I hoped like hell their mother hadn’t been the one to take him out.

But she’d have a good motive if she was our killer. I’m not sure why they separated—if it was related to Brenda, if she found out about what was going on and thought Owen was stepping out—but jealousy and revenge were high on my list of shit to consider.

Marty squared her shoulders like she was a matador, preparing for a bullfight—which I hate, by the way—and began walking up the short fieldstone pathway to Astrid’s house. “Let’s go, and remember what Wanda said, keep your yap and your snarky comments to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” At least this time I didn’t have to dress up and wear makeup.

While I tried to get my head right about the facts on these damn monkeys, Marty and Wanda were already at the red door, pressing the doorbell.

When Astrid answered, she looked like she’d been through the wringer. Her dark hair was sticking up at odd places, her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, and her skin was ashy AF.

But was she crying because she was in deep shit for killing her husband or because she was sorry he was dead? Or both?

“Please,” she said tiredly, tucking her fuzzy bathrobe around her waist. “I don’t want whatever you’re selling. Just go away.”

As she started to close the door, Marty went into instant sympathy mode. “Are you all right, Mrs…?”

“Astrid. It’s Astrid…” Then her slim shoulders began to shake as she leaned against the doorframe, tears streaming down her face.

This was where Marty and Wanda lived, a person in distress. Instantly, they sprang into action, inching their way inside as they offered soothing words of comfort.

Wanda placed a hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let us help you, Astrid. I’m Wanda Jefferson, and this is Marty Flaherty and Nina Statleon. I make a mean cup of tea and Marty is a great listener, and Nina…she knows a lot about the white-cheeked spider monkey—which is why we’re here. But forget about that, you look like you need someone to talk to, honey.”

I don’t know how anyone can resist Wanda’s soft eyes and gentle nudging. She exudes motherhood. Her charisma’s off the charts.

Sure enough, before I knew it—before I’m sure even Astrid knew it—we were all stuffed into her small, tiled entryway. There was a basket filled with little shoes and a space to hang backpacks labeled with the kids’ names, Owen Jr. and Lacy.

A big Shepherd mix rushed toward Astrid, looking pretty protective, until I held out my hand and he came right to me. I knelt down and gave him a scruff of the ears. “Hey, buddy,” I whispered, until he relaxed against me.

Astrid looked surprised. “Bode never does that. He’s…afraid of everything and everyone.”

Marty gave her a small smile, helping her to the big ivory sectional couch stained with something purple. “All animals love Nina, which is why she’s part of our Save the White-Cheeked Spider Monkey group.” As she settled her in, she flapped a hand. “Forget why we’re here. Just sit down and Wanda will make you something warm to drink. It’s a cold one today.” She reachedfor a Christmas themed throw blanket and covered Astrid’s legs, tucking it around her gently.

“Thank you. I…think…I don’t…” She sounded like she was going to explain, but then she stopped, almost as if she was too tired to go on.

“Don’t say another word,” Wanda soothed, pressing a finger to her pale pink lips. “You’ve obviously been through a tough time. Sit and warm up and let us do the rest, okay?”

Astrid looked so small, sitting on the big couch, the look of defeat on her face very real. Running a hand through her disheveled hair, she blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, but my husband was kill…killed.” She choked the word out with a sniffle. “And I’m a wreck…”

While Wanda fished around in the kitchen, open to the living room, Marty gasped in feigned surprise, gripping Astrid’s hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

I guess there’s something to be said about the kindness of strangers, because Astrid collapsed into Marty, spilling the whole story about Owen’s murder in gulps and sobs.

As we listened to her story, one we knew part of already, I heard Owen Jr. and Lacy down the long hall, playing quietly. I looked at the framed black-and-white pictures of Astrid and Owen with their kids, decorating the wall in the entryway, and they made my throat tighten up.

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