The Trophy Wife Exchange Read online

  She caught herself looking at her home afresh, through the eyes of someone who’d never been there before. The tan stucco, so similar to all the other houses on the block, the tile roofs, most landscapes done in rock, cactus and other native plants that could withstand the brutal summer heat. Walking inside was where differences became apparent. Without a male in her household, she’d opted for soft peach and pink colors, scented candles and pastel artwork. Her furniture tended toward the European—Queen Anne chairs and tables, cushioned sofa, television hidden inside an elaborate armoire. Her love of books was evidenced by the wall of shelves, and she treated herself weekly to fresh flowers both in the living room and at the kitchen breakfast bar, as well as in her bedroom.

  “This is lovely,” Mary said, gazing around the entry and living room. “It’s been awhile since …”

  Sandy filled the awkward pause by bustling toward the kitchen. “I have a lot of salad greens right now, so I thought that would make a nice dinner—if it sounds good to you?”

  Mary nodded, standing beside the breakfast bar and running her hands over the gleaming white granite top.

  “Have a seat. How about a glass of wine? There’s a nice pinot grigio chilling in the fridge or I have some reds …”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  Mary accepted the cold glass of white wine, and Sandy sipped from her own as she pulled a variety of lettuces, celery, cucumber and sliced almonds from the fridge. A ginger-sesame dressing, a few mandarin oranges and crispy chow-mein noodles would complete the dish. She worked quickly, filling the silence with busyness rather than the dozen questions she really wanted to ask.

  “We had no children, Clint and I,” Mary said. “I suppose it was by choice. Our business kept us so occupied there wouldn’t have been time to give kids the attention they need. What about you? Any kids?”

  “No.” Sandy had learned over the years it was the simplest answer.

  “And now my parents are gone. I have a sister in Texas, but we have absolutely nothing in common, haven’t spoken in years.” Mary paused. “You’re wondering if there isn’t someone in the family I could have turned to. It’s what most people assume—that you’ll turn to your family when things get rough, right? So, no. There’s no one.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sandy slid a pile of cucumber slices on top of the lettuce she’d placed in the salad bowl.

  “All our friends were really Clint’s. Business acquaintances that he turned against me with lies. It’s amazing how you find yourself not able to name a single person you know outside your husband’s circle.” She toyed with the stem of her wine glass. “Former neighbors … I never knew them well. Besides, I’m sure gossip is all over the neighborhood how the house at 2418 was foreclosed, and everyone has to be wondering what went wrong. That, or scared their own positions are every bit as shaky.”

  Sandy nodded. The huge rush of mortgage foreclosures had happened a few years ago in the Phoenix area, but she knew people were still feeling the effects. She added dressing and tossed the salad, then dished up two equal plates of it. Setting one in front of Mary, she circled the bar and took a seat beside her.

  “It must have been hard, watching so many aspects of your life change so quickly.”

  Mary nodded. She forked up a large bite of her salad and chewed, her gaze focused somewhere in the middle of the kitchen. Sandy decided to let her guest set the conversational pace.

  “I know you were shocked when you saw me yesterday,” Mary finally said when she’d eaten more than half her salad. “I know how different I look. Cheap fast food isn’t the way to stay in shape, and a gym membership is pretty much out of the question anymore. Geez, I haven’t even had a few bucks to spend on a home hair color kit, much less a place to—”

  “Mary, I don’t want to get too personal but could you at least tell me where you’re living? I’m worried about you.”

  Mary set her fork down. A long sigh escaped her. “Well, up to the beginning of summer I stayed in my car. Moved it around, kept out of sight. But when it got hot, the car had to go. It brought me enough cash to afford a motel I found with weekly rates. And a bus pass works okay.”

  “But now? Yesterday you said something about having no place to go.”

  The doorbell rang and Mary’s frightened-deer eyes came back.

  Chapter 4

  Sandy hurried toward the door, but not before she caught the word shelter.

  “Sandy, sorry, I’m a touch early,” Penelope said, breezing in. “So hard to judge the time it takes to drive anywhere in this city, especially during rush hour.”

  “You’re fine,” Sandy assured her. “Mary and I are just finishing our salads. Have you eaten?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve become one of those septuagenarians who eats only once or twice a day, and only when I feel like it. Until this weather cools, I’ve hardly an appetite for anything.”

  “Come in then, and let me pour you a glass of wine. Or there’s tea.”

  They walked into the kitchen and Sandy saw the way Mary practically shrank in stature when she saw the elegant, platinum-haired Penelope who retained her very proper British accent despite having lived in America her entire adult life. Luckily, Pen had a way of putting most any person at ease.

  “Mary, I am so happy to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. “Sandy has, of course, told us you’ve always been one of her favorite clients at the bank.”

  Mary actually blushed a little as she shook Pen’s hand.

  “I absolutely mean it, my dear. You won’t find a better friend than Sandy Werner. Months ago, she stepped up to help me. I must say, she has a group of the most loyal and generous friends one would want to meet.”

  Pen accepted the wine glass Sandy held out. When the doorbell rang again, Pen offered to answer, giving Sandy and Mary a chance to finish their salads. Voices came from the front hall and by the time they drifted toward the kitchen Sandy had the plates cleared and an assortment of cookies set out.

  Pen ushered in Amber Zeckis, the group’s youngest member, the computer-whiz girl who’d dropped out of college because she was smarter than most of the professors. The caramel-skinned pixie whose corkscrew curls defied taming.

  “Wine?” Sandy offered, holding up bottles of both red and white.

  Amber pointed to the merlot and tucked her iPad under her arm, her dark eyes sparkling as she accepted a glass.

  “I wonder if it’s pleasant enough to sit outside,” Sandy mused, glancing at her shady deck surrounded by wispy-branched acacia trees.

  “It’s nice out,” Amber said. “Maybe eighty-five? And the sun will be down in a minute.”

  “Gracie should be along any time, so let’s go ahead,” Pen suggested.

  They chose cushioned chairs around the glass-topped outdoor table. A small cactus garden grew in a talavera bowl in the center, one of Sandy’s few concessions to the native Arizona flora. Elsewhere in her yard, she favored leafy trees, hibiscus and other flowering shrubs, and kept a small patch of lawn—Bermuda grass during the hot summers—which her landscape service man would seed with a less heat-tolerant winter grass in another month or so.

  “Since we’ve agreed to assist Mary,” Sandy said, “I want her to tell the story, give as much information as she can so we’ll have an idea what to do. But it’s best if we wait for Gracie, I think. Meanwhile, maybe a quick introduction from each of us? Let Mary know what skills we each bring to the group.”

  A hesitant glance passed between Pen and Amber.

  “Okay, then, I’ll start,” Sandy said. “You already know me from the bank, and basically the knowledge I contributed to our last little caper related to money. I can read financial reports, profit and loss statements, balance sheets and things like that. If we can get our hands on some of the data from your ex-husband’s business, maybe I can figure out how much money is at stake and get some clues about where it went.”

  She turned to Amber, who picked up the narrative.

  “Well,
I love computers and digging around to find information,” she said with a dimpled smile. “Basically, if someone is trying to keep a secret but they’ve posted any clues online, I’ll find them.”

  “The girl scares me sometimes,” Sandy said with a laugh. “She certainly has gotten into some banking information that I, as a banker, should be horrified about. As her cohort in solving crime … well, I’m happy to have her on our team.”

  They both looked toward Pen.

  “Frankly, I don’t know what I contribute. I went to Sandy when I needed her and she very generously stepped up. I booked some flights for travel, I suppose.”

  “And you know everyone who’s anyone here in the valley. Most likely in the whole country,” Sandy said. “She’s a bestselling novelist, Mary, and seems to have entry to social events everywhere. I might remind—we found important information last time at one of those, plus, there are her contacts in other countries … And Pen’s gentleman friend is retired prosecutor Benton Case, and I have to admit we’ve mined a bit of legal strategy from his trove of knowledge.”

  Pen tilted her head, small acknowledgement that Sandy’s statements were true.

  Mary smiled at Pen with more confidence now. “And this other lady, the one who’s coming later?”

  “Ah, that would be Grace Nelson. Gracie is a wife and mother—super organized. She keeps schedules and always knows who’s doing what,” Amber said.

  “Except that it isn’t at all like her to be late.”

  As if in answer to Sandy’s concern, the front doorbell chimed.

  “See?” Sandy said, jumping up. “Ask and you shall receive.”

  Gracie bustled through the house, like a perpetual motion device that ran until suddenly it couldn’t sustain itself. She collapsed into the empty chair beside Amber. Strands of her long, dark hair strayed from the clip at the top of her head and a sweaty sheen glistened across her forehead. She accepted both a tall glass of water and one of the wine glasses from Sandy.

  “So sorry, gang. It’s always something with my family. This afternoon, it’s an unannounced extra practice for next week’s ballet recital. I had to drop my daughter off; Scott will pick her up and take the kids for pizza after. I swear, they only keep me around as their social secretary.”

  “And here I was, just now bragging about what a great organizer you are,” Sandy said with a laugh.

  Gracie rolled her eyes as she drank from her water glass.

  Sandy straightened slightly in her chair. “Well. Enough about the rest of us. We’ve agreed to try to help Mary, so it’s time we gather facts. Mary, I know this is weird for you, and maybe somewhat uncomfortable, telling a group of people what’s happened. But you are among friends.”

  Amber reached over and gave Mary’s shoulder a pat for emphasis.

  “What can you tell us—about your ex, about his business, his actions, how he handled money—whatever we need to know to unravel this mystery?”

  Mary downed the remains of her wine and took a deep breath. “Well. I pretty much told you yesterday, Sandy. He met a younger, prettier woman.” Her voice became thick.

  “Don’t they all?” Pen popped up, already on her second glass of wine. “At some point, every man meets a younger, prettier woman. It doesn’t give him the right to dump the woman who contributed to his success and leave her stranded while he trots off with the new trophy wife. It doesn’t make him young and virile—it makes him a bastard.”

  There was a moment of silence. Pen had once been married, and now Sandy wondered … But the tension evaporated instantly when Mary broke out laughing.

  “Yes! That’s the thing I never could make myself say. I kept thinking I wanted him back, that I wanted our lives to go back to the way they were when we worked side by side. But you know what? I’m done with that. He had no right to leave me penniless—this is now about the money!”

  “Hear, hear!” Pen called out.

  Mary sent the older woman a look of such gratitude Sandy could tell a strong friendship had just formed.

  Gracie had finished her water, switched to the wine, and now pulled an organizer notebook from her roomy handbag. “Okay, let’s get started with details. Mary, we need names, addresses, contacts—everything you can remember.”

  Chapter 5

  Details emerged in bursts, the first one in a rather startling manner.

  “It’s Kaycie Marlow,” Mary announced.

  “What! The blondie-chick weather babe from Channel 3? That’s his trophy?” Amber’s mouth actually hung open. “The girl can’t even read the teleprompter without moving her eyes back and forth. Meteorologist? What a joke—she probably can’t even spell the word.”

  Mary gave a gentle smile. “Surely she’s not quite that dumb.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to say your ex would—”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’d like to think I have some qualities which surpass her perfect little face and cascades of golden hair.” Mary picked at a cuticle. “But you can see why it’s a little intimidating to compare myself to her.”

  Sandy put up one hand. “Mary, we’re not even going there. No bit-by-bit comparisons. The truth is you supported your husband and helped build his business to a level of financial success. There is no justification for the way he and Kaycie Marlow treated you.”

  The others jumped in to agree.

  “Okay, let’s take down those names and addresses. Anything and anyone you can think of who might help us figure out where the money went.” Gracie held her pen poised to make notes.

  “Well, to start with, there’s the bookkeeper who took over my position at the office when I had to leave,” Mary began. “Two of the business accounts normally had better than six-figure balances, but I realize I can’t get a judge to listen on my word alone. I need proof. I’d already thought of simply going to the office one night, letting myself in and finding the financial statements, but my key didn’t work anymore. He’d actually changed the locks.”

  Gracie and Amber exchanged a secretive little smile. Sandy didn’t want to ask what that was about.

  “I guess finding the new locks was the point where I realized he wasn’t welcoming me back into the business.” Mary seemed wistful for a moment. She took a deep breath. “We could check out a couple of his buddies from Stardust Resort where he plays golf—he might have confided something to one of them.”

  Gracie wrote notes in her book; Amber was tapping away on her iPad.

  “What about neighbors, social friends?” Pen asked.

  “I don’t know … he seems to have turned most of them against me with his story of how I abandoned him.”

  “Yes, but those are the ones he would have bragged to, giving his own justification for why he would move money out of your reach. Think about it.”

  “His home,” Pen said. “Most men want their secrets nearby, so he’ll have a safe or a desk or some place at home where he’s locked away account numbers and such. Where is he living now?”

  “I actually don’t know. I assumed he’d moved in with her when they got married. I mean, if money was running low … and she makes a good salary …”

  Amber stared at the screen on her tablet and said something, which Sandy had to ask her to repeat. “Vandergrift Towers. That’s their address.”

  “Seriously?” Gracie peered toward the lighted screen. “Holy crap! It’s one of the most expensive condo complexes in the state.”

  Pen gave Mary a firm stare. “Money was not running low—get that through your head right now. What he told you—it’s all poppycock.”

  Mary looked as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass, downing half of it in one gulp. The others exchanged glances and Sandy quietly moved the bottle to the other end of the table. They needed their friend coherent tonight, although no one could argue with the emotions raging through her.

  Amber made eye contact again. “Okay, there’s a personal bank account at Scottsdale Bank, altho
ugh the balance in it at the moment probably wouldn’t cover two months’ rent at the Vandergrift condo … Oh, but look—here’s an account in Barbados with more than a hundred thousand dollars in it.” She gave a devilish smile and turned the tablet toward Mary, whose face hardened when she saw the screen.

  “All right, girls,” she said. “This is war.”

  Sandy stood. “This is an area I’m very uncomfortable with. As an officer with a major bank I really cannot be privy to this sort of knowledge and shouldn’t even be acquainted with anyone with the hacking skills to learn such things. So, let’s just say that I went into the house to make us a snack. Say that was ten minutes ago and I never heard any of this last bit. And let’s say that when I come back out with a tray of cheeses and crackers, the topic will have turned to things less specific about Mr. Holbrook.” She picked up one empty wine bottle and gave a wink as she left the table.

  “Are there more accounts?” Pen asked, once Sandy was out of earshot.

  Amber nodded. “Several.”

  “I think it’s best if we leave direct knowledge of them to a very small circle—let’s say only Amber and Mary—while the rest of us concentrate on other things. I’ll be happy to see what I might learn from the golfing friends. Benton is a member of the same club, among others, so I’ll have a way to ask around and perhaps make acquaintance.”

  “How about if Amber and I check out the offices of Holbrook Plumbing, see if there’s a way into the records,” said Gracie. “I mean, you never know when someone may forget to lock a door or a secretary may leave some vital piece of paper out in plain sight …”

  Mary spoke up: “I can surely walk into my old office during the day—say I just wanted to visit everyone.”

  Sandy came outside just then with a bowl of salsa and a bag of tortilla chips. “Sorry, I was out of cheese. And this was quicker.” She set the items down. “Mary, I heard your idea about visiting the office and I’m going to suggest against doing it. We already know Clint is able to move money around and he’s certainly not above doing it again to hurt you. A visit would come as a surprise to him right now, since you say you’ve had no contact in almost a year. I think you need to stay out of his sight completely, so as not to alert him that we’re suspicious.”