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“Mark has rented the apartment for the last five months,” Luke clarified. “He’s been paying for it.”
“How has he been paying for it?” Anne massaged her forehead with one hand. “I mean, I understand he’s using money—our money—but we have bills! We have—” Anne stopped herself. She scooted Harry closer, smoothed the thin tufts of hair back as he pounded a fist against her shoulder. “Forget it. Was there anything else?”
Luke looked truly sorry as he glanced down at those dreaded pages on his desk. He seemed to hate what he had to say next.
“If you’d like to continue a different time—”
“Do you know who she is?” Anne asked.
“The young woman occupying the apartment recently turned eighteen, recently graduated.”
“Graduated…” Anne blinked. “High school?”
He nodded.
She blinked again, then let out a derisive snort.
“Her name is Harmony Feliz.”
Anne took the news with as stoic of an expression as she could muster. When Luke looked at her as if wondering if he should continue, Anne nodded.
“She was raised by her mother and father in Silver Lake. Attended public grade school, high school, and recently graduated.”
“Did you find out how she met my husband?”
“Not yet. I could look into it, but I’ve…” The private investigator studied the back of his hands. “There wasn’t much left of Eliza’s retainer.”
“The money is gone,” Anne puzzled out. “I have a little bit more in my savings, but I’m afraid I don’t know your hourly rate or how much you’d need in order to keep digging on this woman.”
“May I make a recommendation, Mrs. Wilkes?”
Anne tilted her chin upward. “I suppose.”
“This is not my place, and I understand that I am overstepping my bounds in saying so, but it wouldn’t be right for me to accept your money without cautioning you first.” He paused for a breath. “You seem like a nice woman. Obviously, you have a family to care for, and I feel for your situation. But I don’t believe there’s much more I can do for you. The only person who can provide the answers you’re seeking is your husband.”
Anne sat rigid in her seat, waiting a long beat. “Thank you, then. I suppose that’ll be all. Am I supposed to tip you? I don’t understand how this industry works.”
Luke rose, his eyes dimmed with sadness. “We’re all settled, Mrs. Wilkes. Would you like to take the files with you?”
“No,” Anne said. “I’ve heard enough.”
TRANSCRIPT
Prosecution: As a professional publicist, would you say you can put a spin on just about anything?
Eliza Tate: That’s pretty much a requirement in the industry.
Prosecution: Yet you say that you were not responsible for any part of the murder that took place on the evening of February 13?
Eliza Tate: Correct. Which I’ve stated several times.
Prosecution: It’s interesting, then, that the police found your fingerprints on the murder weapon. How would you spin that story?
TWELVE
Six Months Before
August 2018
