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“Hi, I’m Emery.” I hesitate in saying my last name, realizing he will know exactly who I am once I do. “Emery Ashford,” I say, realizing that if I hire this man, he’s probably going to know a lot more about me than I could ever tell him. If he does know my name, it doesn’t show.
“Paul Pearfort. And how can I help you?”
“Well…” I reach into my purse and pull out a copy of the financial statements. “I am trying to find out what these charges are on my husband’s credit card statements. There are several of them and I’ve tried researching what MXB Ent is, but I’m not sure I know how to find out more information than what Google shows me.”
The man takes the papers from me and looks through them at the highlighted charges. His eyes dart up toward me, then back down toward the paper. He probably thinks I’m a scorned wife trying to find out if my husband is cheating.
“These are some pretty hefty charges,” he says, flipping through the papers. “Is this all of them?”
I shake my head. “They went back further, but I just chose to print out the ones from the last year.” He looks back at the papers. “Can you find out what it is just from that?” I don’t hold my breath. I’m ashamed to say it, but with a man his age, I’m concerned about his technological skill set. Maybe he’s one of those old-school PIs that brings a long lens camera and parks outside seedy motels to catch cheaters.
“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem,” he says confidently. “Is that the only piece of information you’re looking for?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I smile awkwardly. “Oh, actually, any chance you would know what kind of key this is?” I dig it out of my pocket and hold it out toward him. He takes it from me, perching his glasses on the tip of his nose as he holds the key up.
“Looks like the key to a safe,” he says before handing it back to me.
“A safe?” I feel my nose scrunch. I’m not aware of a safe in our home. I know we have several security deposit boxes at the bank but not a safe.
“Yes, most likely that’s a dial lock key. It locks the dial on a safe so that you can’t enter the code or turn the dial.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, now even more confused than before. “Thank you.”
“Next steps would be an NDA. I understand the value of complete privacy and will always keep my client’s information safe. I also have a contract along with an invoice that I do require to be prepaid before service.”
“That all sounds great. Credit card okay?” I ask, reaching for my wallet.
By the time I leave the agency and get back into my car, I have no desire to go back home to that huge empty house. I never wanted to buy the house in the first place. Even if Dane and I had four children, it was three times the amount of house we would ever use or need. But he insisted we needed something big and grand, something that told people how important we were. It wasn’t worth the argument or explaining to him how unnecessary it was so I went along with the purchase since it made him so happy.
I pull my car into a small parking lot for a local park and shut it off. I close my eyes, leaning my seat back and letting the sun envelop me. The breeze rustling through the leaves, the birds chirping, it’s the kind of peace I’ve needed during all this chaos.
Every time I close my eyes since Dane died, I see him. I see him smiling, laughing, kissing me. I see the way his face lit up when I walked in the room. But when I close my eyes this time, I see Mads. His eyes dark and lustful as he gripped my throat. The sounds he emitted when he came in my mouth. Like an animalistic growl, a low guttural groan that sounded so erotic. I’ve never seen Mads like that, so vulnerable and expressive. The way that man handled my body made it clear to me that he knew exactly what he was doing.
I jump, my eyes flying open when I realize I’m aroused. Guilt creeps in, marring Dane’s smiling face, turning into disgust. I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will somehow scrub the memories from my brain, but it does little to help. If I thought the guilt I felt for finding Mads attractive while Dane was alive was bad, this is a million times worse. But somewhere deep in my brain, there’s a devil on my shoulder telling me I deserve to feel good too. That nothing happened while he was alive so it’s not technically wrong… is it?
I don’t need to deliberate on the question long to know the answer. If I were to ask a room full of people who didn’t even know me if it’s wrong to not only fantasize about your dead husband’s best friend but also act on it, it would be a resounding yes.
“Hate fuck.” I say the words aloud that Mads used and it makes me smile. I guess that’s exactly what it was. With the way he looked at me in his office earlier, I wouldn’t have guessed that he hated me, but then again, I don’t pretend to know anything about Mads Bishop. I let my eyes flutter closed again, imagining what I would have done today if he had taken things further. I hadn’t intended on things going as far as they did when I went to his house. I went there for answers, to find out why he’s been avoiding me, but when the opportunity presented itself, it’s like I couldn’t say no.
Just like today, his eyes went from cold and distant to fiery and passionate in an instant. I wanted him to take me today. The way his fingers felt against my pulse, his touch against my inner thigh. A moan slips past my lips when I recall the way his warm breath touched my neck. But in an instant, a cold realization seeps in and my eyes fly open, my stomach sinking.
Maybe the reason Mads is trying to get rid of me, the reason he’s been avoiding me and clearly lying to me today in his office about knowing more, is because he blames me for Dane’s death. Perhaps there’s more to the story that he knows if he told me, would destroy me. Maybe that’s where his hate and disdain for me lies. He sees me as the person who took his best friend from him and destroyed him.
* * *
“Mrs. Ashford? This is Paul, Paul Pearfort.”
“Hello, Paul,” I say into my phone, my heart beating rapidly.
“Apologies if I’m catching you at a bad time but I wanted to run by you what I found out about those charges. Is now a good time for you to stop by the office?”
“Oh yeah, absolutely.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone in the room. “I’ll be right over.” I hang up and grab the keys for the Mercedes. I never put them back in the garage after taking the car out last week. I ended up loving the drive so much that I’ve gone on several others since. Tilly is busy somewhere else in the house, and I saw Andy sitting on the back porch having lunch.
I fly out of the house, driving the two miles over to Mr. Pearfort’s office in a flash.
“That was quick,” Paul says, standing up from his desk. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, pushing his sandwich and chips to the side of his desk as he reaches for some paperwork.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. I was just anxious to get over here.”
