Page 41 of Investigation of a Quest

“Sure. It’s in the garage,” his wife said, leading them down the driveway to where the expensive vehicles waited for them.

“Did you ever drive your husband’s car?” Bel asked, immediately tagging the sleek sports car as Oscar’s.

“That small thing with kids? No,” the woman answered.

“Thanks.” The detectives opened the doors, and, finding the keys, Olivia started the engine.

“It has a GPS,” she said as she toggled through the menu. “But no recent trips. He either didn’t use this, or he was careful to erase the logs.”

“Probably the latter,” Bel said. “Not that it helps us.”

“At the station, you guessed he had a second phone or a burner?” Olivia asked. “You still think that?”

“I’d bet money on it.”

“And how much would you bet he kept it close to him at all times? Undercover or running a criminal empire, he’d have to have regular contact with those he worked with.”

“Sure, but do you really think he’d keep it in his car?” Bel asked, catching her partner’s train of thought.

“His wife said it herself. She never drives this. It would be the perfect place to hide a second phone. The safe is too vulnerable. If she found it there, she’d question him, but in his car, which she never drives because it can’t fit their children, whom he leaves her alone with all week. It’s such an obvious hiding spot that she probably never thought to check.”

“You have a point.” Bel scanned the leather interior. “This car is more expensive than Eamon’s. Oscar definitely wouldn’t let the kids in here either, with their dirty hands. His wife has the safe code. She’s confident he trusts her, so she wouldn’t feel the need to search his midlife crisis vehicle.” She opened the middle console and the glove compartment, not expecting to find anything. “Too obvious,” she said when she came up empty-handed. “If he is hiding a second phone in this vehicle, he wouldn’t put it where someone could accidentally come across it. Can you pop the trunk?”

Olivia obliged her, but it was unsurprisingly empty. Bel knew it wouldn’t be that easy, though, so she ran her fingers along the seams until they caught on an edge.

“Bingo!” She pried the panel open, and sure enough, a small space below the trunk lining hid the motherlode: Oscar Diggs’ second cell phone and his real wallet. “Olivia,” she called as she stared down at the photo grinning up at her. “Oscar’s murder is connected to the other two. It isn’t a copycat.”

“How do you know?” Her partner rounded the car and glanced at the open wallet in Bel’s hand. “Oscar Zoroaster,” she read the name on the driver’s license peeking out of the clear compartment. “Do you recognize him?”

“No, but you’re looking at the wrong side of the wallet.” Bel tilted it so that Olivia could see the opposite sleeve. The one that held a family photo that was absolutely not Mrs. Diggs and her children. “Oscar isn’t an undercover agent or a criminal,” Bel said. “He has two families.”

“The tongue,” Olivia said, finally catching on. “The killer took his tongue because he’s a liar.”

Two and a half hours later, the detectives parked before a beautiful suburban home in a quiet neighborhood because, while Oscar Diggs didn’t exist beyond a superficial investigation, Oscar Zoroaster had a real driver’s license and a matching address. He was a man who worked a normal, if not exorbitantly high-paying, job and owned two expensive homes, each under a different version of his last name. Since this second home was outside their jurisdiction, the detectives contacted the local police as a courtesy. They could’ve asked them to deliver the death notice to the wife in the wallet photo, but Bel and Olivia needed a piece of evidence to connect the crimes, and it wasn’t something they could ever divulge to another station. So, they loaded into Bel’s SUV and set out for the commute. Griffin looked into Zoroaster while they drove, getting in touch with his boss, who knew absolutely nothing about his personal life except that Oscar didn’t travel for work… ever; the fake website and business trips a lie to explain his weekly absences to Mrs. Diggs. Griffin also uncovered that Mrs. Zoroaster was the first and legal wife, which meant Oscar had woven an elaborate web of lies since it seemed both wives assumed they were his only spouse.

“This home is nice,” Olivia said as they traveled up the walkway after introducing themselves to the local police who’d met them at the address. “Two large homes. How much does this man make?”

“I should check if Eamon has a secret second house,” Bel half-joked, because he almost certainly had mansions all over the globe. She’d also have to learn which countries they were in so she could pick one for their next vacation.

“This poor woman,” Olivia said as the officer knocked on the door. The man knew Mrs. Zoroaster, so he agreed to accompany the Bajka detectives. “Not only is she about to learn her husband died, but he also has a secret family. How could he live with himself for lying to everyone he loved?”

“I feel bad for the kids,” Bel said as Mrs. Zoroaster answered the knock with horror painted on her features at the sight of three cops gracing her front porch.

“They have siblings they never knew about. I don’t think I’d ever recover if I found out my dad had secret children,” Olivia whispered.

“That would break me,” Bel agreed, but Mrs. Zoroaster’s gut-wrenching grief silenced their conversation as she learned her husband was dead.

“Get out of my house!” Mrs. Zoroaster launched a pillow at Bel’s face, but Bel caught the flying fluff before it made impact. “Get them out!” the woman screamed at the local officer, and, by his colorless cheeks, he was cursing himself for not calling out today.

“Get these liars out of my house!” the widow repeated, and Bel was regretting not taking Oscar into custody when she last saw him at the haunted house and smacking him upside the head. Two wives. Two sets of children. Two death notices to grieving families, and two revelations of his lies. No wonder he was missing his tongue. His double life was ruining so many lives.

“Mrs. Zoroaster.” The officer raised his hands in surrender. “I cannot imagine what you’re going through. My heart aches for you, but we confirmed what these detectives are saying. They’re telling the truth.”

“No.” The woman sank to the floor. “No, they can’t be. My husband doesn’t have another wife. He doesn’t have a second family. He wouldn’t.”

“Mrs. Zoroaster.” Bel approached the collapsed woman as if she were herding a tiger. “I understand hearing this is probably the most painful moment of your life, and it will stay with you forever. People make mistakes, but for what it’s worth, I believe Oscar loved you in his own way. We found out about you because he had your photo in his wallet. He always kept you with him.”

“What would you know about what I’m going through?” the woman snarled, her eyes flashing daggers at Bel before they fixated on her throat. At this angle, she was level with the pink scars that covered the entire right side of Bel’s neck before running down her chest to disappear below her shirt, and she stilled. Bel knew nothing about loving a man capable of marrying a second wife, but pain was her all too familiar friend. She’d lost her mother as a kid. She’d almost died more times than she could count. Eamon’s curse had left her permanently disfigured, but that visible representation of her suffering seemed to comfort the widow. She wasn’t alone in the darkness.