“What’s the plan?” Frankie asked as they walked down West 6th Street.
“We need to ask her about her husband’s sudden fortune,” Evelyn said.
“Right, but we’re not just going to walk up to her and start asking questions. We need to give her a story that would make her want to tell us those things.” Frankie already knew that asking her about her husband’s fortune would likely be different questions from what the police had already asked her, which would work in their favor.
“Okay, so what story are we going to give her?”
They were standing on the front doorstep of a large brick home. It was grand, matching many of the other houses in the neighborhood in its elegance. The garden was perfectly landscaped. The steps were swept clean of any debris.
The whole street gave off the impression that people with money lived here, which was probably true. There were large shade trees overhanging both the street and the sidewalk, and a gentle breeze moved through, creating an idyllic atmosphere.
The door suddenly swung open and a woman a few years younger than Frankie stood on the other side. “Can I help you?”
“Uh…” Evelyn stammered.
“We’re grief counselors,” Frankie blurted. “Are you the widow of Mr. Charles Bennett?” He could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him as he met the woman’s.
“Yes. My name is Catherine. I’ve never heard of such a thing as a grief counselor.”
Frankie gave her a sad smile and nodded slowly. “Yes, unfortunately we’re a rather small industry. We’re here to help people, such as yourself, cope with loss. My condolences for your husband.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said softly. She was clearly still confused.
“May we come in?” Evelyn asked. “To speak with you privately? We want to help.”
“Okay. Yes, come in.” Catherine stepped aside to allow them entry.
The house was as beautiful inside as it was outside. Surprisingly, it seemed even larger on the inside. The hardwood floors were covered in strategic areas by oriental rugs that defined the spaces, along with the larger furnishings. The furniture was all hand-crafted and elegant. The walls were lined with oak panels. Even the light fixtures had amazing details to them.
“Why don’t we take a seat in the den?” Catherine led them to a front room overlooking the street. “Would you like some tea?”
Frankie and Evelyn both sat on the velvet-lined couch near the window.
“Yes, that would be nice,” he said.
“I’ll be just a moment.” Catherine disappeared. In the next room, they could hear her faintly calling for the help. “Petunia! Petunia, where are you? We have guests!”
In her absence, Evelyn leaned toward Frankie. “Grief counselors?”
“It’s a thing where I’m from.”
“I gathered that.”
Catherine came back in and took a seat in the chair across from them. “Petunia will be right in with our tea.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Frankie started.
“You can call me Catherine.” She offered a sad smile. “After all, we’re about to talk about my husband’s suicide.”
“Catherine.” He smiled at her, an attempt to further disarm her if she raised any objections to their questions. “Was there any indication that you saw that your husband was unhappy?”
“None. We were elated. Still in our first year of marriage, although we had been together for years before that.” She looked down and played with her wedding ring. “He always said that I deserved the world and he wouldn’t propose to me until he had enough money to buy me a ring and a wedding that I truly loved. And when that time finally came, he wasted no expense.”
“I didn’t realize you two were together before you got married,” Evelyn said.
Catherine nodded. “For years, actually. He was the boy in my neighborhood who caught my eye and we’ve been nearly inseparable ever since.”
“Were you happy?” Frankie asked, playing up the grief counselor role. Although, he had no idea what he was doing in that department. Luckily, Catherine didn’t know that. “Before he came into some money?”
“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “He had my heart long before money even became a consideration for us. Obviously, as we got older, we struggled. Charles never could seem to make the right deal. Every time he thought he had a sure thing, something would come along to mess it up. And he was always so sure that he would put more money than we had into these deals. For a while, we were in some hot water. Worse than I probably even knew.”
“What do you mean by hot water?” Evelyn asked.
“Charles…owed some people some money. Bad people, from what I understand. He never talked about it much. At least, not to me. However, he seemed agitated. Stressed. As more and more business deals didn’t turn out, he became more defeated in a way that had me worried.” Her eyebrows raised as she stared at the floor. “Very worried.”
“Do you think these people are the reason he decided to…?” Evelyn let her question hang.
“Oh, no. Certainly not. I confronted Charles about owing money to people. He wouldn’t tell me everything, but he said enough that I knew I was right in my assumptions. He promised me he’d turn it around. And he did! Suddenly, he was making fantastic investments and earning his money back. He paid those men back—with interest—and was still able to walk away from them with more than enough money for us.” She looked at her ring again. “The first thing he did after his debtors were paid off was propose to me with this ring.”
They were interrupted by a young black woman who wore a traditional maid outfit and carried a silver tray with a teapot, cups, and small dishes for sugar, milk, and honey.
“Oh, thank you, Petunia,” Catherine said to her as she set it on the table in the center of the room.
“Is there anything else you need, miss?”
Catherine reached for her hand and squeezed it. “No, that is enough for now. Thank you.” Sitting on the edge of her seat, Catherine poured cups for her guests. “Please, help yourself to fix it any way you like.”
“Catherine, part of our job is to help you make sense of what happened,” Frankie started after he had poured his tea. “But what I’m confused about is that after your husband came into some money and paid off his debtors, he didn’t seem to have any reason for any turmoil. Was he haunted by some other demons that weren’t related to money?”
“No…” The widow took a sip and looked down. “Well…he did have a, um…nervous energy to him. Especially closer to…the end.”
“Nervous how?” Evelyn asked.
“He wanted to make sure that he had surefire investments lined up so that we’d always be taken care of.” She frowned. “Although, the idea of ‘we’ always seemed to come second. He would say things like, ‘I want to make sure you’re taken care of’ or ‘This money needs to last your whole life.’ He seemed to know that he wouldn’t be around forever.”
“How would he know that?” Evelyn asked.
Frankie marked the irony in that statement, of an oracle questioning someone else’s potential clairvoyance.
“Maybe it wasn’t that he knew,” Catherine clarified. “But he seemed sure that his good luck in business wouldn’t last. When I asked him about it, he always said that nothing is a guarantee. That we had to plan for failure so it doesn’t kick us in the end.”
“That’s true,” Frankie said.
“But he was so smart with his money once he had it,” Catherine persisted. “Stocks, secure business deals, savings accounts, even stashes of cash throughout the house. It never seemed to be enough, though.”
“Catherine, did your husband ever mention…a woman?” Evelyn asked.
The question caused a noticeable shift in the room. Catherine stared at Evelyn with such intensity that Frankie could almost feel the rage radiating off of her.
“Excuse me?”
“Specifically a blonde woman,” the oracle went on. “Perhaps she sometimes wore a veil? Dressed in white?”
Frankie watched the interaction quietly. He didn’t want to say anything wrong that would make Catherine feel as though they were ganging up on her with assumptions and insinuations.
“Charles was not unfaithful,” Catherine said sternly.
“Of course,” Evelyn said. “That’s not what I was—”
“He was a good man. A loving husband. He clearly had something he was wrestling with, but to suggest an affair—”
“Mrs. Bennett—” Frankie tried to soothe the widow himself, but she wasn’t having it.
“I’d like you both to leave.” She rose to her feet and stepped to the doorway.
“Mrs. Bennett, we didn’t mean to offend you,” Evelyn said. “I was just asking because—”
Frankie put his hand on her shoulder to quiet her. They had heard enough. No sense in tormenting the poor woman any longer.
“We’ll let you get back to getting your affairs in order.” Frankie stood at the door and waited for Evelyn to catch up.
The oracle trailed her hand along the back of the couch they had been sitting in on her way to the door. She reached for tables and doorframes. No doubt trying to get a vision.
“Thank you for your time,” Frankie said to Catherine. “I hope that we have helped in some way.”
As the two of them finally made their way out of the house, Catherine closed the door without another word.
Down on the sidewalk, Evelyn reached for Frankie’s shirtsleeve to stop him.
“What is it?” Frankie asked.
“I had a vision in there.”
“I figured that’s what you were trying to do. What did you see?”
“The woman you saw today at the bank? She’s at Meyer’s Place and she’s about to make another deal with someone else.”