“About what?”
“About your husband. Where is he? What do you think of the fraud charges filed against him? Is he willing to be interviewed so he can tell his side of the story?”
I looked the young man up and down, sweeping my eyes up from his muddy sneakers to the Panthers ball cap on his head, taking note of his pleated khakis and his overly large windbreaker and the stenographer’s pad in his hand. His other hand held a poised Bic.
“Young man,” I said, drawing myself up sharply, “I don’t know how long you’ve been in this line of work, but you have accosted the wrong person. I am not Mrs. Stroud, but I am a friend of hers and you may quote me on that.”
I couldn’t believe it. He immediately started scribbling on his pad. “And your name and address? I’ll need your age, too.”
“You’ll need a lot more than that before I’m through.” I slid into the car and slammed the door. The idea, wanting to know my age. What is it with people who think they can ask the most personal questions and expect an answer?
I cranked the car and backed out, hoping but not especially caring if he was out of the way.
“Sam!” I called as I came through the back door at home. “Where is he, Lillian?”
She turned from the sink, water dripping from her hands. “At his house, I reckon. That’s where he go every morning of the week.”
“Oh, well, I was hoping he’d be back by now.”
Other than his strange omission earlier that morning, Sam was usually fairly regular in his routine. Every weekday he went to the office at his house to work on a legal history of the county, something that kept him occupied and out from underfoot. He said he’d been doing paperwork all his working life, and retirement just meant more of it.
“What’s the matter with you anyway?” Lillian said, looking closely at me. “You all out of breath.”
“I’m all right. At least I think I am.” Just as I started across the kitchen, I changed my mind and collapsed onto a chair by the table. “Oh, Lillian, the newspaper is already after Helen. They’re going to smear her all across the front page. I know they will.”
“Why they do that?” Lillian asked, frowning at the thought. “She don’t take nobody’s money. What she say, anyway?”
“Nobody answered the door, and everything was closed up. Oh, Lillian, what if she took off with Richard?” I slumped over the table, then with a renewed spurt of anxiety, said, “A newspaper reporter jumped out of the bushes and wanted to interview me. At first, he thought I was Helen, then he wanted my name and address. And my age!”
Lillian smiled. “What you tell him?”
“That it was none of his business,” I said. “Or words to that effect.” I leaned my head on my hand. “Oh, Lillian, this is so upsetting. I don’t know whether to be mad at Richard for stealing or worried about him for being falsely accused. And I don’t know if Helen has aided and abetted him or if she’s as crushed by this as we are.”
“If I was you,” Lillian counseled, “I wouldn’t judge neither one of ’em, ’less I be judged likewise. You ought to wait ’fore you do anything till you know who done what. But, I tell you one thing, Miz Stroud ought to be gettin’ herself a good lawyer.” Lillian punctuated that statement with a firm nod of her head. “Though I try not to ever need one.”
“Maybe that’s what Sam meant when he offered to help. I know he’d give her good advice. Except he’s retired, and may not be able to. But if they’re coming after her, she does need a good lawyer.”
“Maybe she talk to Miss Binkie.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Binkie doesn’t do criminal law, and Helen may need one who does. Richard certainly will.”
I started to moan again, but the sound of the front doorbell stopped me. “Maybe that’s Helen now.” I rose from the chair to answer it, then said, “But probably not. If she wouldn’t answer her own door, why would she be at mine?”
Hurrying through the living room, I hoped my visitor would be Helen or at least someone with news of her. As soon as I opened the door, though, it was LuAnne Conover who breezed past me and headed for my Victorian sofa.
“Julia, I am so mad I could spit,” she declared, her mouth so tight she could barely get the words out. My closest friend for many years plopped down and glared at me as if I were the object of her anger.
“I expect a lot of people’re upset,” I said, as I sat down beside her, glad to have someone to talk with. “I am, too, but we don’t know that anything really wrong has happened. Sam says there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
She glanced up at me through narrowed eyes. “Perfectly reasonable…? How can you say that?”
“Well, he could be sick, or just needing to get away for a while. This could all be the fault of his office help. You know, the mice will play when the cat’s away.”
She jerked upright and stared at me as if I were crazy. “He doesn’t have office help! Why would he?”
“Well, I don’t know, LuAnne, I just assumed. Anyway, I guess you invested with him…”
“Of course I invested in him. What do you think I’ve been doing for forty-one years!”
“Uh, LuAnne, are we talking about the Strouds?”
“Helen?” A shocked look passed over her face. “You think it’s Helen?”
“Well, no. Actually, I think it’s Richard.”
Shock turned to horror as she gaped at me. “Richard? No, oh, no.” She suddenly leaned over and put her head between her knees. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Let’s get you to the bathroom,” I said, standing and trying to pull her up.
She resisted me, and finally straightened up. “Quit pulling on me, Julia, I’m all right. But my nerves are shot. Just look.” She held out a trembling hand for me to see, then used it to push back her hair. “This is where faith comes in, Julia, when you need strength to bear up. But it’s such a shock to even consider…what you said.”
“What did I say?”
She waved her hand and turned away. “He said he wanted to get away for a while and think about things. Why would he want to do that? He’s never needed to think about things before.”
I sat down again. “You’ve been in touch with him? Has Helen? Is she with him?”
LuAnne sprang to her feet. “It is Helen, isn’t it? How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me, Julia?”
“Tell you what? All I know is what was in the paper.”
I thought LuAnne was going to keel over. “The paper? It was in the newspaper? How did the state of my marriage become a news item? Who told them?”
“Your marriage? I thought you were talking about Richard and Helen.”
“I didn’t start off talking about them,” she screeched, shaking her finger at me, “but if you know something, you owe it to me to tell me. I can’t believe it’s Helen. I thought she was a friend, a close friend, but if she’s done this…Oh, that sly, deceitful woman! Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, while all along they’ve been sneaking around behind my back.”
“Wait a minute, LuAnne, I’m lost here. I don’t know a thing about Helen. All I know is that Richard has apparently defrauded his clients and skipped town. That’s what was in the paper. Not a word about Helen or you or your marriage. Now, start at the beginning and tell me what’s wrong.”
She balled up her fists and stood before me, trembling with the effort to control herself. “You’re sure it’s not Helen? Or Richard? Because if it is, believe you me, I am going to take steps.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not either one. Now, what’s going on with your marriage?”
LuAnne sat back down, then she leaned her head against the sofa back and gazed at the ceiling. “I think Leonard’s lost his mind. I truly question his sanity. He’s moved out, Julia, can you believe that? So he can have some space, of all things. What does he need with space, I ask you? I’m the one who needs space, but you don’t see me moving out and breaking up a perfectly good marriage.” Color bloomed on her face and her eyes took on a fiery glint. “He says there’s nobody else, but I’ll tell you this, there has to be. Leonard can’t cook, he can’t do laundry and he can’t pick up after himself. He can’t even find the remote when he’s the one who punches it all the time. What’s he going to do in all this space he wants?”
If I’d been shocked at Richard Stroud’s alleged misdeeds, it was nothing compared to what I felt at hearing of Leonard Conover’s sudden about-face. The man was a nonentity in our circle of friends. He had few social skills and little interest in anybody or anything. He simply existed, following meekly on the heels of his wife’s bright chatter and avid concern about everything in town. And now, suddenly, he needed space? Room to find himself?
What would he find when he looked?
I couldn’t help but lower my voice, in awe if nothing else. “You really think there’s another woman?”
LuAnne’s eyes narrowed. “There’s always another woman, Julia. Especially for a man like him—you just don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing. When I find out who she is, I’m going to pull out every hair on her head.”