Page 111 of Happy Wife

We walk into the living room, and I pick a beautifully tufted bench to perch on across from the couch, where Autumn sits down. Then, I realize that I don’t really have a plan of what to do here.

“What’s going on?” Autumn asks, a slight edge of worry in her voice.

Time to ad-lib.

“I was surprised to see you at the office earlier. I didn’t remember there being anything on the social calendar coming before…” How do I even shorthand the last few weeks? “You know what I mean.”

“I was changing out the flowers. Fritz did ask me to look over an invite list for the trial attorney dinner that’s coming up.”

Right. Life goes on for the living.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be too forward, but I know you and Fritz are…Well, it’s none of my business, but I know that you’re…close.”

Autumn blanches. I have to be careful. I’m a sentence away from being thrown out of her apartment.

“I really don’t care, Autumn. I’m sure you heard, but people—mostly Ardell and some cable news demon—think I had something to do with Will’s murder. I can’t let Will’s killer get away in all this noise, and I’ve got to find out who really did this. And—” I pull the grainy picture from my purse—“I found this when I was cleaning some things out of Will’s office.”

She stares down at it like I’ve pulled a weapon out of my bag.

“Nora, that picture was from a while ago. That’s over. It was short-lived and a massive error in judgment on my part. Please,pleasedon’t tell anyone.”

There’s honest desperation in her voice, and it makes me a little sad.

“Will hired a private investigator to look into Fritz,” I say. “I suspect that is who took that picture—”

“Nora, you don’t think I had anything to do with Will—”

“No, but I think Fritz did. And I need to know if you know anything.”

Autumn’s clutching her hands so hard that her knuckles havegone from red to white. I know she knows something—will she tell me?

“Please—”

Autumn stands up and walks around the back of the couch, putting distance between us. If she could run, I think she might. Not because she’s guilty, though. It looks like she’s having a panic attack.

“Autumn, I’m sorry. I am not trying to upset you, but if you know anything that might help with this whole thing, I would really appreciate it. I got dragged into the police station the other day, and Ardell searched my house.”

“God, Nora. I’m sorry—”

I sit patiently and don’t press. If she’s going to tell me, she has to get there on her own. Whatever she knows, it’s enough to put her in this state. She comes back around the couch and sits in the chair closest to me, then leans in.

“The night of the party…,” she says in a low whisper. “The night of the party, I heard Will and Fritz fighting.”

“About the Martinez case?”

“What? No. Remember that guy, the night before the party…? The guy that ran into Carol’s fence?”

Dean Morrison.

“Apparently, there was some kind of chase going on. Fritz was trying to catch up to the guy in the Buick, but Fritz chased him right into Carol’s yard. So at the birthday party, Fritz was on Will, demanding answers about why Will had him followed, and Will just kept asking Fritz ‘where all the fucking money went.’ It got pretty heated, so I left before they realized I was listening in.”

My God.

Autumn knew all of this and told no one. Even as Will was missing and when they found out he’d been killed. Even as she was bringing me grief gift baskets. In a flash, I see red. I feel such a deep sense of betrayal that I want to scream. I want to flip her perfectly arranged coffee table display. I know—Iknow—that getting mad at her won’t accomplish anything, but I still want to slap her.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? After what happened to Will? Why didn’t you—”

“Because I only overheard a few things—”

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