Fran breathed out a sigh of exasperation. “I just finished my yoga class. I’m headed home to take a shower. I can give you my address, and maybe about ten minutes of my time. I have a busy schedule today. Just give me enough time to take a shower.”

  Fran gave Cortnie her address, which was out in the Toro Park area. By the time Cortnie and I got in the car and headed out that way, there would be plenty of time for Fran to take a shower.

  Before Cortnie got off the phone, I pulled my phone out and walked over to the table. I tapped Jeb Bexley’s phone number into my cell phone, and sent him a text message. I still need a list of all of the names and phone numbers of people Mary knew.

  Almost immediately I received a response. I’m working on that now. I’ll text when I have a list ready.

  Jeb was on the ball. This made me wonder: was he that good of a husband, or was he that desperate to get his wife back? Did that sound really callous? I’d been in this business so long, that I’d stop seeing the good in people. Part of the reason I was considering selling.

  In the private detective business, like I’d mentioned before, you met and dealt with the worst of the worst, almost like police officers. It was hard not to become jaded, and think that everything coming out of someone’s mouth was a lie. When you’ve been lied to more than you’ve been told the truth, you tend to think everyone is lying.

  Wasn’t it possible that Mary just wanted to get away for a day or so? The realistic side of my brain took over. Who just walks out the door without saying a word, taking nothing with them? A battered wife who’s desperate to get away? Or someone who hadn’t intended to leave for more than a few hours, but just hadn’t returned?

  Cortnie jolted me out of my thoughts. “You about done with that drink? Let’s go.”

  I chugged the rest of my mocha, and tossed the can in the recycling bin. “You driving?”

  Cortnie looked at me like I was out of my mind. “Did you just ask me to drive?”

  Other than Charles and Nick (who doesn’t count), I don’t like to let other people drive while I’m in the car. It’s a control thing, I suppose.

  As I left the kitchen and went to my office to pick up my handbag and gun, I call back over my shoulder, “I want to go back over my notes.”

  When I walked back into the kitchen, Cortnie looked at me with a huge grin on her face, and shrugged. “I’m not complaining about having to drive, just surprised.”

  I grab the keys to my Land Rover and tossed them to her. She immediately tossed them back.

  “I’m not driving a piece of shit. We can take my car.” She dangled her keys at the end of her index finger.

  She wasn’t wrong. My Land Rover was falling apart. I needed to find some time to go car shopping and trade that baby in.

  I followed Cortnie out the door, making sure it was locked securely behind me, since Uta wouldn’t like being surprised by visitors coming from the back part of the building. Not that Lola wouldn’t get to them first.

  I felt bad for leaving without telling Uta, so I called her from my cell phone as I got in the car. She assured me she and Lola would be fine.

  Cortnie keyed Fran’s address into the GPS and we were on our way.

  Chapter Four

  The address Fran gave us turned out to be a 1970s ranch style home, with the front yard landscaped like an English cottage. They’d done as much as they could to update the exterior of the house without completely demolishing it. Back in the day, this style of home would have been painted a dark chocolate brown and had a flat roof. It looked as though they had added a second floor, and a nicer roof. The walkway up to the front door contained stone and moss, flanked by a variety of bush-type flowers. This time of year it was hard to tell what type of flowers they were, since there were no blooms.

  “Quaint, isn’t it?” Cortnie asked as we walked up the path.

  “High maintenance,” I said.

  Cortnie chuckled. “That, too.”

  Fran opened the door before we could knock. Just as the door opened, I noticed a surveillance camera sticking out of one of the hanging baskets.

  Fran looked at Cortnie. “Cortnie Garcia?” She said as if she couldn’t believe this was the correct person.

  Cortnie nodded. “Yes, I’m Cortnie Garcia from the Gotcha Detective Agency. This is my boss, Mimi Capurro.”

  I smiled and said, “Hello, Fran. Thank you for taking time to speak with us.”

  Fran stood at the door, not opening it a fraction wider than needed, looking back and forth between the two of us, as if trying to decide if we were dangerous or not. At least that was the look on her face.

  “I have my private detective credentials, if you’d like to see them.”

  Fran shook her head. “No, no, please come in.” She opened the door wide.

  The inside of the house was as far from 1970s decor as could be. The walls and hand scraped flooring were a pale cream color. A slip-covered couch and love seat would have blended in with the hardwood floors and walls, if not for the dotted pastel throw pillows. An English tapestry footstool sat in front of an ivory club chair, and the shutter covered windows had floral print drapes held back with green silk tassels. A crystal vase with fresh cut flowers similar to those in the drapes sat on an antique pedestal end table. The entire ensemble faced a fireplace mantel adorned with twin ceramic spaniels, peach candlesticks, and a framed picture of an English looking coast.

  The antiques, mixed with the modern furniture, gave the house a cozy feel.

  “Please, have a seat. I don’t have anything to offer you besides sparkling water, or flat water. Would you care for either of those?”

  I hated accepting drinks or food from someone we were questioning, since we were taking their time, and interrupting their space. My answer regardless of whether thirsty or not, was always, “No, thank you. We’re fine.”

  Cortnie and I sat on the couch, and Fran sat on the love seat across from us. She looked to be about forty years old, and very well maintained. Her brunette hair hung wet over her shoulders in large waves. I’d bet she spent a half hour every morning straightening her hair. She had brown eyes, evenly tanned skin, and a welcoming smile.

  “You said this was something about Mary?”

  I had to hold back a chuckle when she said ‘Something About Mary.’ I couldn’t help but think about the movie.

  “Jeb stopped by my office this morning. He’s concerned that Mary is missing.”

  I think if it was it all physically possible, Fran would have frowned or scrunched her eyebrows. Instead, she cocked her head, the Botox not allowing any form of expression.

  “When was the last time you talk to Mary?” Cortnie asked.

  Fran thought for a moment, not looking at us. “I’d say yesterday morning?”

  “And how did she sound?” I asked.

  Fran shrugged. “She sounded like Mary. Happy, harassed, funny.”

  “Harassed?” I asked.

  Fran laughed. “You’d have to know Mary. It always seems as if she has so much to do, but not enough hours in the day. Mind you, Mary doesn’t work outside the home.”

  I looked at Cortnie, who said, “You and Mary are pretty close?”

  Fran nodded. “We met each other when we were pregnant with our oldest kids. Mary went on to have two more children, and I only had the one. From the time our babies were born, Mary and I have been best friends.”

  “So she tells you everything?” Cortnie asked.

  “Well, I’d like to think we share everything, but I know there’s things I don’t tell her. I’m pretty sure there’s lots of things she doesn’t tell me.” Fran crossed her arms across her chest.

  “Is there anything she might have said to you that would indicate she was leaving her husband?” The crossed arms made me think she was hiding something.

  “Oh please, she’d never leave Jeb. As much as she bitched and complained about him, and as many times as she’s threatened to do it, she’d never leave him.”

  “What makes you say that?” Suddenly I felt the need for the water she’d offered.

  Fran looked at me, then Cortnie, then back to me. “Look, if I tell you this, it can’t get back to Jeb.”

  “There’s no attorney-client privilege, but we’ll do our best not to tell Jeb, if it won’t impede the investigation.”

  Fran sighed. She waited, took a deep breath, then said, “I’d never tell you this if Mary wasn’t missing, or whatever. Mary has never been happy with status quo, and she never will be. She’ll always want more than what Jeb can give her, but she’d never leave him for fear of the unknown. Does that make sense?”

  I wasn’t sure if it made sense at all, but it sure as heck didn’t tell me anything I needed to know.

  “Not happy with status quo? What do you mean by that?” Cortnie asked.

  “You know, not enough sex, not enough money, and she wanted to go back to college.”

  I guess I didn’t know, other than the not enough sex part. With mine and Nick’s schedule, we almost had to make an appointment for sex.

  “So she complained a lot? Was she frustrated enough that she would just disappear? Start a new life on a whim?” I queried, feeling like I was grilling the poor woman.

  “It’s not like she complained, more like she planned…” Fran was not giving us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

  “Forgive me for being blunt, Fran, but just spill it. Mary is missing, Jeb is worried, and I just need to know how to find her.”

  Now Fran looked everywhere but at us. “Please, you can’t tell Jeb. It would break his heart.”

  And then I made a promise I should never have made. “I won’t tell Jeb.”

  It still took a moment before she would actually look at us, and finally started speaking. “Have you ever heard of trick rolling?”

  I had. Trick rolling is when someone pays a hooker, or just takes a girl back to their room, and the hooker/girl drugs them and takes all of their valuables, or just all of their money. No sex usually takes place, just the theft. The guy wakes up hours later and has no idea what happened to him, but he’s broke and he’s been robbed. Personally, I think the douche bags deserve it, thinking it’s okay to pay for sex. Probably cheating on their wives.

  “I have,” I said.

  “Mary came to me one day and told me she’d solved her money problems. She’d found an awesome game to play. The game turned out to be trick rolling business men who came to Carmel or Monterey and stayed at the nicer hotels. Then she became a whore of sorts. I told her what she was doing was illegal and ungodly, but she said it was fun.”

  She’d just called her best friend a whore. I had to chew on that one for a second or two. Nice friend. And it’s not like we had to really twist her arm for the information.

  Cortnie recovered from the revelation before I did. “So Mary was having an affair?”

  Fran giggled. “Not exactly. That is, until she decided she could make more money and have great sex at the same time. She decided to start seeing men on a regular basis, and filming the sex.”

  Cortnie and I sat silent, waiting for Fran to continue.

  The front door slammed and Cortnie and I turned to see a tall, muscular redheaded boy in his late teens, maybe early twenties, walk in the house. He looked at us with disdain, then headed toward the kitchen.

  Fran grimaced. “That’s my son, Rory. He must have forgotten something. He usually has football practice. He plays for Hartnell.”

  I smiled.

  “I’d invite him to meet you, but he looks like he’s in a mood.” Her voice was apologetic.

  “This is the son whom you were pregnant with when you and Mary met?”

  Fran perked up. “Yes, he is. And Rory and Clayton are best friends. How great is that?”

  Great, I said to myself. I looked at Fran and smiled as sincerely as possible.

  Cortnie said, “Do you think he’d have any idea if Clayton was worried about his mom?”

  “Please, they’re teenagers. They don’t care about anything but football, food and sex.” Fran blushed when she said sex.

  “Teens, can’t live with them, can’t ship them off to the military,” I joked.

  “Oh, yes, I can. Rory is eighteen.” She didn’t see the sarcasm in my statement.

  “And you and Mary have been close all of these years?” Cortnie got us back on track.

  “Mary is one of my dearest friends. We’ve been through a lot together.” Fran paused, then blurted, “She wanted money. She was never satisfied with the amount of money that Jeb got from the church, and was terrified she’d get caught embezzling from the offering plate again. She did some really bad things. That doesn’t make her a bad person.”

  “She stole money from the offering plate at the church?” I asked.

  Fran nodded. “On a regular basis. That’s why I stopped giving money at Saturday services. But she eventually got caught, and it was quite embarrassing for both her and Pastor Bexley.” She blushed. “I mean Jeb.”

  And the revelations just kept coming.

  “And you’re sure there’s no way Jeb knew any of this? The trick rolling and sex, I mean, not the embezzling.” I found it hard to believe he wouldn’t have at least an inkling.

  “Mary’s been doing her thing since, well, I guess it was after Abe was born. I’m pretty sure if Jeb knew, considering his place in the church, Mary would have been excommunicated.” Fran’s head nodded quickly as she spoke.

  Well, well, well, how the mighty have fallen. I felt a pang in my heart for poor Jeb.

  “How exactly did she go about doing this? I mean, did she put an ad on Craigslist?”

  Fran let out a belly laugh. “Please, Mary would never even read Craigslist, much less put an ad on it. Mary’s a snob, which is probably why we're best friends. Salinas is a small town, and Mary lives just three blocks away, so she’s close to Monterey, Pacific Grove, even Pebble Beach. She’d go out on the church meeting nights and hook up at the bar. She frequented the business hotels, looking for out of towners. She told me she had to change bars regularly, so she wouldn’t be noticed. And a few times, she had to cut her trolling short because someone from the church was at that bar.”

  Looks like Mary got around: Salinas, Monterey, Pacific Grove… I was surprised she hadn’t been found out sooner.

  “So she never worked the same guy twice, obviously.” I found it hard to believe she hadn’t been turned over to the authorities. Maybe she was in a county jail.

  Fran shrugged, her arms crossed across her chest again. “Things kind of got out of hand in the last year. She met a guy, and she really liked him. Not enough to divorce Jeb, though.” Fran sounded as if this bothered her. “She met a guy who made her laugh, and she kept seeing him. Then, he told her he was moving to Salinas. With his wife.”

  “Did she stop seeing him?” Cortnie asked.

  “Hell, no!” Fran put her hand over her mouth. “Austin Hebert is a state senator. He’s important, and she liked that. But she wanted him to leave his wife.”

  “Why? You said she’d never leave Jeb,” I said.

  “That didn’t mean she didn’t want Austin all to herself,” Fran snickered. “Then Austin and his wife, Dina started coming to New Faith Church. How awkward is that?”

  Awkward.

  Fran continued, “And that damned Mary befriended Austin’s wife. She told me that Austin flipped out on her when she invited Dina out for drinks one night.”

  Cortnie was scribbling notes as quickly as she could.

  From the sound of Fran’s tone, she didn’t much approve of Mary’s way of life.

  “And you and Mary are still good friends?” I asked.

  Fran shrugged. “Like I said, we’ve been through a lot together. I know too much about her, and she knows too much about me for us not to be friends.” At least Fran’s lips could move. She made a weird face with her mouth, then bit the tip of her tongue. “When Mary comes back, she’s going to kill me. And if Jeb finds out, he’s gonna kill her.”

  Maybe she knew something about Jeb that I didn’t see. I thought I was a pretty good judge of character, but maybe he was a violent man.

  “Is Jeb volatile? Or violent?” I had to ask.

  Fran got up from the love seat, walked over to a small porcelain box on one of the coffee tables, opened it and reached in to grab something, then popped it in her mouth. She came back and sat down before responding.

  “If you found out that the love of your life had been scamming men and having sex with strangers, would you be volatile?”

  She had a point.

  “Do you think there’s any way that Jeb could have found out?”

  “No way. Tuesday nights are sacred. That’s the night that Jeb holds the church business meeting, and tests his sermon. Unless Mary was having sex in the bathroom at whatever restaurant they were at, there’s no way Jeb would find out.” Fran suddenly sat up straight. “Holy macaroni, actually, the man she’d been seeing regularly? His wife, Dina, attends the meetings. I wonder if she caught wind? No. No way.”

  I had to wonder about a friend who knew something like this was going on and didn’t try to stop it. Mary’s game was dangerous, to say the least. But being married, with three kids, it was downright stupid. Why didn’t she just divorced poor Jeb?

  “Do you by any chance have a phone number and address for the Hebert family?” I asked.

  Fran pulled her cell phone from her pocket and gave us the information that she had.

  Cortnie added this information to her notes.

  “Do you think Dina will talk to us?”

  “I don’t see why not. Dina and Mary are still friends. At least I think they are.” Fran didn’t seem sure about this from the look on her face.

  “Thank you for your time.” Cortnie and I stood.

  Fran stood and followed us to the door. “I know this makes Mary sound like a bad person, but she isn’t. She’s a terrific mother who dotes on her children, and makes her husband feel like he’s the only man in the world. You can’t fault that. So what if she likes to live on the edge? Being married to a pastor has to be boring as hell.”

 

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