Page 66 of Cakewalk

Holden sighed. He’d thought that exact thing so many times he’d lost count. Every time Gigi would tell him about something Bradley had said or done, he’d wanted to pound the guy. How could he be married to someone as amazing as her and do nothing but cut her down? He knew full well that if he’d ever witnessed such a thing, he wouldn’t have hesitated to beat the shit out of him.

“I have thought that. Lots,” he admitted. “Doesn’t change the fact that she lied. She should have told me.”

“Yeah, probably,” Caulfield acquiesced. “And the lie hurts. I’m not saying it shouldn’t. But if that knock on the door this morning had been an alive husband there on the hunt for his wife who was running from him, would your reaction be the same as it is now? Know what? I’ll answer that for you. Your reaction would have been to beat the tar out of him and protect that beautiful girl. You would have understood that she did what she did because she was scared of him showing up like that, ready to hurt or even kill her. Then you would have taken her in your arms and held her until she felt safe again!”

Fuck, he’s right, Holden thought. That is exactly what I would have done. But instead, I fucking abandoned her, right when she needed me the most.

“Shit,” Holden muttered. “You’re right.”

"I am quite often. Drives your father nuts,” his godfather boasted. Holden couldn’t help but smile and shake his head, knowing that his father was right there, probably giving Caulfield the finger in response.

“I gotta figure out how to fix this,” Holden said, more to himself than his family on the other end of the phone.

“First things first, put your pants on, and get down there and inform her that you’ve removed your head from your ass and that you’re sorry. That you love her and support her and you’re gonna help her prove she didn’t do this. Even if the bastard did have it coming.”

“I’m already wearing pants, old man,” he quipped, looking down at what he was wearing. Why his godfather would assume he wasn’t wearing pants was beyond him, but now was not the moment to question it.

“Then you’re one step ahead of the game.”

28

Gigi

The creak from the rusty hinges on the jail cell door opening startled Gigi out of her half-asleep state. She had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been resting, but it seemed like forever and no time simultaneously. Sitting up on the little bed, she rubbed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. The small cell looked just like the ones did on TV—the only major difference being that there was a real door with a barred window rather than the stereotypical floor-to-ceiling bars. A single bed was built into the wall, complete with a plastic-covered mattress and lumpy pillow. There wasn’t a built-in toilet either, since the cell wasn’t built for long-term use, so Officer Nelligan had said she would need to alert one of them if she needed to use the restroom. Just what she needed, to ask permission to pee.

Looking up over at the doorway, she found Officer Nelligan leaning against the doorjamb, a satisfied smile on his face. She hadn’t seen him smile all day, which had been rather disconcerting, since every other interaction she’d had with the man he’d always been grinning. He reminded her of so many of the guys she’d gone to college with, laid-back and affable, someone who was always fun to hang out with and never caused too much trouble. Maybe if you’d married someone more like him, you wouldn’t be sitting in this cell right now…

“Well, Miss Gigi,” he said, his slight southern accent sounding more pronounced than normal. “We got some good news for you.”

“Is that so?” she asked, disbelieving. This day had been filled with nothing but bad news piled on more bad news. She was highly doubtful that there was anything good to be had right about now.

“Detective Ball just got off the phone with someone from the Georgia State Police, who have a Miss Myra Willis in custody.”

“Who is she?”

“The woman who confessed to killing your husband,” Officer Nelligan told her, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

“The what?” Gigi exclaimed, popping up off the bed. Her sudden movements shifted the plastic mattress enough that it was mostly hanging off the far edge of the bed. There was no way she heard him correctly. The woman who confessed to killing Bradley? Oh Lord have mercy…

“Yup. Detective Ball made the detective down in Georgia run through it a couple of times just to make sure, but this lady has confessed to the whole shebang. I missed a bunch of the details, and Detective Ball wasn’t exactly in a sharing mood, but from what I heard, Miss Willis was also having some sort of um….relationship…with your husband and found out that he and Miss Hatchette had faked your death to collect the insurance money after you disappeared. They were also planning to fake his death for the same reason.”

“So, if he faked his drowning, how did he end up actually dead?” Gigi asked, trying to follow along. She knew that Lake Lanier was considered the “deadliest lake in America” since it had more deaths than any other in the country, so a drowning there would be a plausible story. But Officer Nelligan said they faked it. So was he not dead?

“Well, that’s where this gets interesting.”

Interesting? We’re long past “interesting,” Gigi thought, though she didn’t dare say it out loud.

“Turns out, Miss Willis was under the impression she was the only mistress in his life. When she found out about the plan to fake his death and that they planned to run away together, she flew into a jealous rage and poisoned them both. I didn’t catch how she then got them into the lake, but with her confession, you’re off the hook for his murder.”

Two mistresses? Gigi’s head spun as she tried to weave it all together. She sat back down on the bed, the metal platform cold even through the sweats she was still wearing. Slouching back against the wall, she drew her knees up to her chest, curling herself in a ball, and closed her eyes, trying to make it all make sense. But her thoughts were moving too fast with all this new information. Just what kind of trashy daytime talk show nonsense had been going on in my life?

How did all this get so out of control? Having her suspicions fully confirmed was one thing, but twice over? He was cheating with two other women? And didn’t these women know what kind of man he was? Or did his temper not extend to them the way it had her? Part of her knew she shouldn’t be surprised—Bradley had always been the charmer, hiding his true self from people.

Doesn’t matter now, you’re free of him, she reminded herself. Inhaling deeply, she let out a long sigh, thankful for small miracles. He was really gone, and it had nothing to do with her.

“So I’m free to go?” she asked, not bothering to look at him. She could hear the hope in the question, even though that was still the last thing she was feeling. If he said yes, where would she go? All her stuff was still back at the house, and she was certain she was persona non grata there right about now. Not that she would even have a way to get back to the house to get her stuff, anyway. The thought crossed her mind that she could call Hunnie and hope that the friendship they’d created was ready to weather something like this.

“Not quite. There is still the insurance fraud charge. They are still questioning the timeline of your death certificate, since it was dated so soon after you left. Wondering if faking your death for the money was part of your plan all along, even if you hadn’t planned on killing your husband,” he told her. Gigi shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. Did they really think her this conniving? Today just kept getting better and better. She really just needed it to end. “But you do have someone who wants to see you.”