Free Double Trouble by Deborah Cooke

straight.”
    A whisper of a smile touched his lips. “Okay, shoot.”
    “Where’d the money go?”
    The smile was banished immediately and he got that hawkish look. “What money?”
    “ All of the money. The cashed-in 401(k)’s. The windfall from refinancing the house. Your income for the past eight months. Where’d you stash it? I’m sure you stuck some on the cards to make it look good, but where’s the rest?”
    He sat forward, eyes snapping. “How the hell do you know about that?”
    I shrugged. “Maybe my sister told me.”
    “Fat chance. She never knew.” James knew instantly that he had acknowledged something, because he sat back in evident disgust with himself. He spun in his chair and clicked his tongue, choosing his next move with care as he studied me and tried to decide how much I could possibly know.
    This was interesting. “If you know about the money, then you know where it went.”
    I nodded, feigning confidence in my theory. Worst case, he’d correct me and I’d know the truth. “Numbered bank accounts. Cayman Islands. High profile lawyers. Some of these things belong together.” I snapped my fingers. “Hey, isn’t it time for your annual sojourn to the Caribbean?”
    To my astonishment, James laughed.
    I stared. I’ve never seen him laugh and this one came right from his gut. He howled. It was not at all encouraging that when he started to compose himself, he glanced at me and started again. He even wiped away a tear. I wondered whether it was my imagination that there was a tinge of desperation to what should have been a merry sound.
    Then he turned on me, dead sober. “If only it was that easy.”
    “Everything’s easy for a man in your shoes.”
    “Is that right?” He spoke with remarkable calm, a warning if ever there was one. To my surprise, he flicked the document he was reading across the desk to me.
    I blinked.
    “Read it.”
    I did. It was the paperwork for a divorce.
    His and Marcia’s divorce.
    Oooo, the plot thickens. “So what?” I flung it back on his desk but he didn’t move to touch it. “That’s hardly news.”
    “Check the date. And the instigating party.”
    I hate when men do stuff like this. When they know something you don’t and make you look like a jerk when you find out. I had a feeling that that was what was going down, but figured I might as well find out the worst.
    I looked.
    Marcia had made the petition. Good golly me. And her signature was dated eight months ago. Eight months. The ink was apparently still wet on James’ signature, neatly dated this very day.
    “That’s more than you need to know,” he said, clearly ready to brush me off like a fly. “Isn’t it time you left?”
    I don’t brush off like a fly. “No, it isn’t.” I settled in. “What took her so long?”
    “Thank you very much,” James murmured and I blushed.
    “That’s not what I meant. She just left yesterday.”
    James sighed and spun in his chair. I waited. “We’ve been living under the same roof for years,” he said finally, his voice tired. “Marcia wanted to end it. I thought it would be better for the boys if we held on for a few more years.” He shrugged. Although he spoke dispassionately, he looked like a guy who had had the rug pulled out from under him and didn’t like having fallen on his ass. I tried really hard to not feel sorry for him. “I guess Marcia didn’t agree.”
    “Maybe there’s someone else.”
    “Maybe.” James didn’t appear to care, but then, I was starting to see that he was as good at hiding his feelings as I am.
    “And the money?”
    “I think you know enough of my business.” James’ gaze turned steely as he retrieved the document, folded it precisely and placed it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
    His expression was grim and formidable, and he held my gaze as if I was the one challenging him. It was done, his marriage was over and his wife was gone, and he looked as if it was no more troubling than