Presumption of Guilt by Archer Mayor Page A

he was doing, who he was hanging out with … Things like that. How long before he went missing did you two split up, for example?”
    â€œNot even a month,” she answered, her voice stronger.
    â€œWhere was he living?” Willy asked.
    â€œOn Oak Street. A nice place. It was an apartment, on the top floor. I visited him there.”
    â€œSounds fancy.”
    She gave him a surprised look. “Why not? We were doing pretty well.”
    Willy frowned. “I thought he was just a roofer.”
    â€œHe was. Ridgeline Roofing. But he was the owner’s right-hand man—a partner, I suppose, really. He mostly got on roofs because he liked to get his hands dirty. Like I said: restless. But it made sense, too. It saved money, having him be management and labor, combined. And BB loved it.”
    Both men looked at her until she explained, “Robert Barrett—everyone calls him BB. He later sold out to Vermont Amalgamated. Made a killing.” She waved her hand around to indicate the room. “That’s what paid for this.”
    Faced with their continued silence, she went on. “BB told me he’d put Hank’s money in a trust for me and the kids. I never knew about it, and I’m not sure to this day if I really believed it. Hank never mentioned any money. I always thought BB made it up so I wouldn’t feel like I was accepting charity.”
    â€œVery generous,” Willy said leadingly.
    â€œBB was in love with me,” she said without affectation.
    Joe felt Willy’s reaction as if it were an electrical crackle.
    â€œHe was always a gentleman about it,” she went on. “Never pressed too hard, but after Hank was gone, he made his interest clear.”
    â€œDid you accept his advances?” Joe asked delicately.
    She smiled sadly. “Oh, no. BB was a nice man. Still is. He’s not that much older than me. But Hank was my guy.”
    It was said simply, as if read from a fairy tale, and prompted Willy to comment, “That must’ve disappointed BB.”
    â€œIt did and it didn’t,” she responded. “I wasn’t the girl for him. I think he knew that, too. I was the dream he didn’t want to become real. He married three different women after I told him I wasn’t interested. None of them was even vaguely like me. I actually liked them—well, maybe not Doreen, the middle one. They were all funny and outspoken and daring. And each was like the next, so they obviously were his type, even if he couldn’t stay married to two of them. That’s what makes me think we would’ve been doomed in no time.”
    â€œWhat about other suitors?” Joe wanted to know. “You were a young woman when Hank left.”
    But again, she shook her head. “He and I had problems. Everybody does. But we were soul mates.” She pointed to the bag at Joe’s feet. “What you showed me today proves I was right all along. I never believed he just walked away, like people said.”
    â€œAnd your kids?” Willy asked. “How were they about all this?”
    â€œThey took it hard. Greg was nine and Julie seven. It was toughest on Greg, of course—the whole father–son thing was shattered, and it seemed to leave him hanging, for years. That was the most difficult part for me to forgive.”
    She sighed before continuing. “Julie? Hard to tell. What was caused by Hank leaving, what was me going to work again, and what was just old-fashioned, hormonal, teenage baggage? She may have always been fated to be my wild child. That’s sure as heck how it turned out.”
    â€œWhat kind of work did you end up doing?” Joe asked.
    â€œBackroom stuff for Dixon’s Business Supply—filling orders, monitoring inventory, arranging contracts with local schools and businesses. I was the workforce behind the door that says ‘Employees Only.’ They were good to me, mostly left me