Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [28]
“That was about a month after Will’s adoption was final, on June 15. The article ran about two weeks after that.” Ellen paused, puzzled. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear. I paid my final bill, and the office didn’t send me a letter that she was dead. I didn’t even see an obit.”
“I didn’t run one. I kept it quiet, for the kids’ sake. The funeral was just family. The neighbors know from the gossip mill, but I never told them.” Musko gestured down the hall. “I still haven’t told the boys how she really died, just that she got sick.”
“Didn’t they ask questions?” Ellen asked, surprised. She was thinking of Will, the question machine.
“Yes, but I just said she was sick and we didn’t know it, then she died.”
Ellen kept her own counsel. She’d made it a policy always to be honest with Will. She even felt bad lying to him about Santa Claus, but no child should have to live in a world without magic.
“I know, it was probably wrong, but what do you say—hey, guys, Mommy went to work today and put a gun in her mouth?”
Suddenly Ellen wished she could leave. The conversation was turning creepy, and she’d liked Musko better in the garage.
“Didn’t mean to spring that on you.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “ ‘How did she do it?’ That’s the thing everybody wants to know. Gas, gun, pills? The cops told me it was unusual for a woman to use a gun. I told them, ‘But this woman is a lawyer.’ ”
Ellen stiffened. “I’m sure it’s hard to deal with.”
“You’re damn right it is. They say suicide is selfish, and for once, they’re right.” Musko jerked a thumb behind him. “I got three kids who pray for her every night. What kind of mother abandons her kids like that? They were babies then. Rory was two.”
“We can never really understand why people do the things they do.” Ellen was trying to say something comforting but knew she sounded like a Hallmark card, or Yoda.
“Oh, I know why she did it. She did it because I caught her having an affair.”
“Really?” Ellen said, shocked.
“He called her at the house one night, and I picked up. Then she went out and didn’t get back until after midnight. She said she was at the gym, but it was the same night they had an electrical fire.” Musko snorted. “She was getting her workout from her boyfriend.”
Ellen didn’t like the cruel twist to Musko’s lips. She rose to go, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.
“I confronted her, and she admitted it. She had to, I knew there was something going on. She’d been acting funny, moody. Anyway, she said she would stop seeing him, but I told her I wanted a divorce, that I’d fight her over the kids, too.” Musko stopped abruptly, as if he’d just heard himself. “The next morning was, you know, when she did it.” He leaned over, resting his head on his elbow, and began rubbing his eyes. “I quit therapy, but I better get back in, huh?”
“I’m sure it would help.”
“So they say.” Musko looked at her, then rose slowly. “You found the papers you needed?”
“Well, they’re in the box somewhere but I didn’t get a chance to go through and see which papers are mine.”
“Then take the whole box. Take all three, for all I care. Take them with you.”
“What if there’s things in there you want?”
Musko waved her off. “I don’t need anything in those boxes. I should get rid of the ones in the garage, too. I should just burn the damn things.”
Ellen realized then why the dead files were still in the garage. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend the money on a storage space. It was that he wanted to keep them and he wanted to burn them, both at once.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll send you back what’s not mine.” She put a lid on the third box, shutting its secrets inside.
At least until she got home.
Chapter Twenty-three
The night was starless and black, and the windows dark mirrors that reflected Ellen at her dining-room table, sifting through the contents of the third box, sitting next to a glass of emergency merlot. Oreo Figaro sat in his spot at the far end of the table, watching with a disapproving eye.
She set aside bills and legal pads, then pulled out the papers that should