“Why are we drinking?” I asked.
“Hush. I need to look up a few things,” she said as she worked with her phone.
I drove to the hotel in silence, parked the car, and turned off the engine.
After a moment, Sarah said, “Can you wait a minute or so?”
“Of course.” The car made its muted cool-down noises, and Sarah’s nails clicked on her screen.
“Okay,” she said with a grin, putting her phone away. “Now, yes, let’s have a drink. I need to talk to you.”
We found a quiet booth and placed our order. “I’m waiting for someone to get back to me,” she said, “but let me tell you what I do know. I understand the real reason his wife is divorcing him.”
“The payments to their former housekeeper, that Jamaican woman,” I said.
Sarah replied, “I think there’s more. Everyone knows he cheated once. That’ on record. It was when he started leering at me that I decided to look for more of that sort of nonsense. After all, he’s been making those payments to the Jamaican for almost fifteen years. That’s a long time for a man who has strayed once before. Besides, there seem to be company expenditures that could be similar to the support payments he’s already making privately.”
“Company expenditures?” I repeated. “Did you find anything concrete?”
“When my friend gets back to me, we’ll know if I’m right.”
“Owens really pissed you off back there, didn’t he?” I asked.
“Yes, he did. Dammit, I’m not that kind of woman. I’m certainly not dressing to seduce some slimy little man like that. Hell, I don’t even have sex!”
Her words hung in the air for a moment before she realized what she had said.
“With someone like him, I mean! I can’t believe I just said that!”
“He really offended you. Do you want to pursue it?”
“What, take legal action against him? Hopefully, it won’t be worth it when his wife’s attorney is done. Besides, Tim would never understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“He would probably think I had done something to entice the pig.”
“You haven’t,” I said.
“I’m certainly not trying to. That’s not who I am. I’m not comfortable being sexual in public. I’m not sexual, am I? Be honest, Don.”
“Do you feel sexual?” I asked.
She looked down, played with the ice in her drink for a moment, and then looked at me again. “Am I talking to Dr. Croswell now?” she grinned.
“Is it better if you do?”
“If I see it that way, then I can answer you. No, I don’t feel sexual, not usually, anyway.”
“You mean, not in public,” I said.
“Hoo, boy, honesty time. No, I mean I don’t feel sexual at all, anywhere, usually. Why am I talking about this?”
“You need some private time with your husband,” I said.
“I try that. I manage to get five minutes of affection every once in a while.”
“I see.”
“He’s actually said that he does it to please me, but he’s finished in no time, so I fake it so he can get some sleep,” she said.
“Sarah, I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay, mostly. He’s the father of my children, so obviously we’ve had some sex.”
“How long has it been, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Believe it or not, no, I don’t mind. It was when the kids were at my parents’ place for the weekend about three months ago,” she said. “I guess that’s a long time.”
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