Page 12 of Happy Wife

“Ardell’s a friend,” he chides. “I’ll talk to him.”

I storm after them both, agitated as hell.

It’s my fucking house.

Chapter8

“Hey, Travis.” Fritz extends a hand to the uniformed officer at the front door and invites him in with a gesture. Where only a second ago Fritz was wide-eyed and shouting, now he’s perfectly composed. “Thanks for coming over so quickly. Listen, we’ve got an issue with Will.”

“Sure.” Ardell moseys into the house, checking it out as he does. “I know Will. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Somerset.” He tips a polite nod in my direction.

His badge saysArdell. And it dawns on me that Will introduced me to him at the Christmas party at the club earlier this year. Ardell had been a witness for Will in a hit-and-run lawsuit. When he introduced us at the club, Will commented that Ardell was on the fast track to a role in public service, and Ardell’s boyish face had broken into a hopeful smile. Will and his friends are kingmakers in this city, and Ardell knows it. The most memorable thing about Ardell that night, though, came about ten minutes after I met him, when I saw him putting his hand up Tippy Schaeffer’s skirt. I had wandered outside to get a breath of fresh air after too much of whatever cranberry punch they were slinging. Fortunately, I managed to sneak back inside without them noticing me.

As he closes in on me now, he smells a little like sweat and aftershave—thanks to the polyester police uniform that’s hugginghis HGH-fueled biceps. Ardell seemed like the kind of guy who would make Este’s ears bleed waxing poetic about the wild peacocks that roam the city. He’s a Winter Park lifer, like Fritz, although his station in the pecking order is not at Fritz’s level.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” His brow creases with concern.

“Will’s gone,” Este blurts out.

Fritz and I both shoot her a glare, and Ardell’s eyebrows goup.

“Gone?” he repeats, his face etched with fresh concern.

“No.” I shake my head aggressively. “He’s just not responding to calls is all.”

“And Nora can’t find him on Find My. And he’s not physically here.” Este waves her arms around the room.

Ardell’s eyes bounce from me to Este and finally back to Fritz. “Are y’all wanting to make a missing person report, then?”

A chilly silence overtakes the room.

This is too real. It can’t be real.

In the blink of an eye, Will went from being an absent-minded workaholic to…missing?

Fritz speaks first. “Play the optics out with me.” He rubs his chin. “We file the report. The BOLO goes out over the radio. Some reporter hears over the police scanner that Will Somerset is missing. How long are we talking before this city is on its head with speculation and wild theories?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Este hisses. “This is your best friend, Fritz. Who gives a fuck about gossip and optics? Nora?”

Before I can say a word, Ardell chimes in.

“Is this a social call, Mr. Hall? Off the record?” He folds his arms across his chest, unruffled by Fritz or Este.

“We’re just trying to understand the best way to proceed. Is there a way to track him down without calling too much attention to the situation? Our firm really doesn’t need this kind of press.”

I shoot a look at Este.

Is Fritz really talking about the press? And the firm?

“When was the last time you saw or heard from him?” Ardell asks me.

“We had his birthday party on Saturday. So, maybe around onea.m.on Saturday night. Well, Sunday morning, I guess. Hisdaughter, Mia, called, begging him to go find her Taylor Swift sweatshirt, and he went down to the boat to see if it was there.”

“And did he come back up?”

“I don’t know. If he did, I didn’t hear him. I fell asleep. It was late.” Stomach churning with worry, I fold my arms across my chest. But then I remember a true crime podcast I heard once said folded arms look defensive and drop them. “Sometimes he sleeps in the guest room downstairs—if he’s working late and doesn’t want to wake me.”

I don’t mention that the guest bedroom was undisturbed when I checked it. A detail that suddenly feels so much more sinister.

---