Page 81 of Think Twice

Myron was going to remind him that it was just an arrest and it was all alleged, but that seemed like the wrong move. “You knew Greg, right?”

“Yeah, way back when.”

“Do you think he killed Cecelia?”

He gave Myron a half shrug. “The cops say they have solid evidence.”

“I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t know. I find it hard to believe. I mean, what’s his motive?”

“You have another suspect?”

Ben gave a firm nod. “Lou.”

“Lou Himble, Cecelia’s husband?”

“They were separated. Cecelia hated him. You know what he did, right?”

“Some kind of Ponzi scheme.”

“Like Madoff. Not that big. Lou isn’t that heavy a hitter. But yeah, he stole a lot of people’s money. The feds wanted Cecelia to testify against him. She agreed right away. Didn’t ask for immunity because she knew she was innocent. She just wanted to do the right thing. Then suddenly, poof, Cecelia ends up dead.” He shrugged. “So you tell me.”

“Sounds like you were in regular touch with Cecelia.”

“We were still close. You married?”

Myron shifted his feet. “Yes.”

“A long time?”

“No,” Myron said. “It’s new.”

“I bet she’s pretty.”

“She is.”

“But I hope she’s not”—Ben Staples made quote marks with his fingers—“‘a supermodel.’ That’s what they called my wife. Not a model. A supermodel. Like she was in the Avengers.” He smiled. “Anyway, don’t marry one. It’s a mess in so many ways. She walks in a room, she knows everyone’s looking at her. Judging her. Hoping her looks will be a disappointment so they can say, ‘I don’t get what the big fuss is about.’ Supermodels worry about aging all the time. Everyone hits on them. Even your closest friends.”

“Did Greg?” Myron asked.

“Probably. I don’t know. Everybody wanted to screw my wife. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that was a high too. I had what everybody else wanted. You know what I mean?”

Myron gave a small nod.

“But I was so naïve, so overconfident.”

“In what way?”

“You have a wife like that, you can’t even trust your friends. But I did. Cecelia was the ultimate notch on the belt. I loved her. I really did. But did I like the jealous stares from other guys? Who wouldn’t? I thought it didn’t matter. No way she’d give in to that. But now, after what happened to us, I was just so dumb. Now it all seems so…”

Ben Staples turned his attention to the pile of dirt on the right now. “Clay wasn’t my son, you know. Cecelia confessed that to me right away. Didn’t pretend otherwise. It was the worst day of my life. We’re married, I’m a naïve happy dope, she comes in, she sits me down, she takes my hand, she tells me she’s pregnant and it’s not mine. Just like that.”

Ben Staples swallowed, looked away. A bird started cawing. A car drove by with its windows open, blasting something with a heavy Latin beat.

“That must have been awful,” Myron said, knowing the words were inadequate, but again what else can you say? Then as gently as he could: “Did Cecelia tell you who the father was?”

“No.”