Page 91 of Owned By a Billionaire

The detective looked at me. “The report here shows that she was murdered.”

I flinched. “How?”

My lawyer tapped my arm and shook his head slightly.

For sanity’s sake, however, I needed to know.

“Strangulation, it would seem, going on the coroner’s report.” He looked at me with a slight smile, the warmest he’d been so far. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

Strangulation?

Finally, I asked, “Oh, they can deduce that from skeletal remains?”

“They can deduce lots of things these days.”

Again, he eyeballed me, and as I tried to remain outwardly neutral, thoughts and emotions tumbled and collided inside me.

Then came relief.

Knowing I hadn’t killed Alice was like unlacing a suffocating corset I’d been wearing all my life. I could breathe again. I hadn’t noticed until that moment, but I had never really breathed properly. It had always been short, sharp breaths or long, held ones, but never even regular breathing.

The detective closed his notebook. “That’s all for now.”

Chapter 29

Mark

Elisewasalmostunrecognizable.She’d had lots of work done on her face, but instead of reversing the ravages of time, the surgery had given her an unshifting visage that made it difficult to look into her aging eyes. The smoother the skin, the older the eyes looked.

Freakish was the best way to describe her. I sensed she was taking potent drugs, given her almost lifeless state. Although sad, her borderline catatonia meant that we could have a mostly civil conversation.

“So, you faked your disappearance to get away from me?” she slurred.

Wearing a tight smile, I nodded. Sunshine streamed through her floor-to-ceiling window, and outside, the blue harbor glistened.

“Then why are you here?” She struggled off the couch and picked up her languid cat from where it was sunning itself.

I removed my jacket. Accustomed to the cool London air, I’d overdressed. Most of the men there went around in knee-length shorts, T-shirts, and baseball caps, interchangeable and indistinguishable in their casual uniforms. That easy, sporting attitude was now as alien to me as golf might be to a poet.

“You still look good,” Elise said with a hint of resentment.

I searched her countenance for the pretty, free-spirited dancer I’d fallen for thirty-odd years back and instead found a complete stranger.

“Thanks.” I stroked the cat, who’d jumped off the couch and returned to the sunny window.

“And why now, after all these years?”

“I want a divorce. I plan to marry again.”

My phone sounded, and when I saw it was Caroline, I gave Elise an apologetic smile. “Can you excuse me a moment?’

“Knock yourself out.” She lit a cigarette.

I headed outside onto the Manly balcony. In the distance, I saw ships, boats, yachts, paddle-surfers, and swimmers. It was more active in the water than out, despite the endless stream of joggers. Life was in full swing. Nothing sleepy about that city.

I answered her call. “Hello.”

“Oh, Mark.” She sighed.

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