Above my head, Diana was running from room to room calling for Steven.Since she was still calling, I assumed she hadn’t found him.
I headed up the stairs.When I reached the second floor, Diana came out of a door halfway down the hallway.“He isn’t here.”
So at least Steven hadn’t had a heart attack in bed or the shower this morning.Or God forbid, gone the way of Mrs.Grimshaw.“I don’t suppose you checked the closet?”
“Why would he be there?”
I didn’t think he was there.“In case he packed a bag,” I said.
Diana pressed her lips together in a tight line, but swung on her heel and headed for the closet.She pulled the double doors apart, and I looked in at racks of sedate suits and shirts and neatly aligned shoes along the floor.
“It doesn’t look as if anything’s missing.”There were no obvious gaps or empty hangers where something had been removed.
Diana shook her head.
“Maybe he got a phone call and had to go somewhere in a hurry.Does he have family?Other than you, I mean?”
“His mother’s still alive,” Diana said.“I should call her.Make sure everything’s all right.”
I nodded.“Probably a good idea.I’ll walk through the downstairs.Maybe he left a note or something.”
“Do people leave notes anymore?”Diana was busy scrolling through her phone, probably looking for her mother-in-law’s number.“Don’t they just text?”
Usually.Unless Steven had wanted to let Diana know where he was going, but not right away.Texts are immediate.A note left on the kitchen counter is something you don’t read until you get home.Giving whoever left it a head start.
Naturally I didn’t say any of that.I just headed down the stairs to let her talk to her mother-in-law in peace.Depending on whether the senior Mrs.Morton had heard from Steven or not, I figured it could get ugly.
There was no note downstairs.A lot of lovely furniture and lovelier knick-knacks and artwork of all sorts, but no note.There were snapshots of Diana and Steven in every room, and from what I could see, they looked happy together.Snorkeling somewhere where the water was turquoise and there were palm trees in the background.Sharing a toast at a small outdoor café in what looked like an Italian village.Sitting side by side in rocking chairs on the porch of a cabin.In a few of the pictures, there was a young man included.He resembled Steven, in height and facial features.One of them showed him in a cap and gown, with a beaming Diana and Steven on either side of him.
The kitchen was neat and clean, all white cabinets with glass fronts and marble counters.Very classic and elegant.There was a used bowl in the kitchen sink—looked like someone had had oatmeal for breakfast—so maybe Steven had eaten before he left.
Diana nodded when I pointed it out.“Cholesterol.”
Of course.David had eaten his own share of oatmeal in the year or two before he died.“There’s no note,” I said.“Had his mother heard from him?”
Diana made a face.“No.Although she intimated she’d seen it coming.We’ve been married fifteen years, and she’s been waiting through every one of them for him to realize he can do better.”
Sounded like my mother-in-law.“David’s mother never liked me, either.”After a second, I added, “I think she probably liked Sandra better.Sandra was the first wife, and the mother of the grandchildren.I was the hussy who made David leave his wife and kids.”
“Mothers never see their children clearly,” Diana said.“I’m sure she thought it was your fault when he left you for Jacquie, too.”
“I’m sure she would have.But she wasn’t around anymore when that happened.She died a few years ago.”And good riddance.
“Anyway,” Diana said, “Steven’s mother hasn’t heard from him.She said she’d let me know if she did, but I’m not sure I trust her to.”
I wouldn’t have trusted David’s mother to, either.“Where does she live?”
“Virginia,” Diana said.
“If he’s driving, he wouldn’t get there for a few hours yet.”And anyway, if nothing was wrong with the mother, there was no reason for him to go there.Especially if this had something to do with the young blonde from yesterday.A cheating husband doesn’t run away to his mother.“Any other family?Brothers?Sisters?What about his son?”
I figured the young man in the pictures had to be David’s son, but not Diana’s.Not if they’d only been married fifteen years.The young man had been ten years older than that in some of the photographs.
“David doesn’t have any children,” Diana said.“And we got married later in life.He spent a long time traveling for work—photojournalist—before he started teaching, and I was busy establishing myself as a lawyer.We were in our thirties when we got married.”
“David already had Krystal and Kenny when I entered the picture,” I said.“They were ten and twelve, or something like that.He didn’t want to start over again with the diaper changes and midnight feedings.And he was probably worried that I’d lose my figure.Or that he wouldn’t get enough sex.”
I’d been twenty-two when David and I got married.He’d been in his mid-thirties.I didn’t fool myself into thinking he’d married me for my intellect.
