Faye was a different type of person. She graduated high school with a 4.0 grade average and attended a good university to study history on an athletics scholarship. Although she'd won a few heats during her studies, she hadn't been a consistently outstanding athlete. When she graduated, she was scouted for modeling. A few years of working in Paris, Milan, and Tokyo followed before she took up a master’s degree in business administration that she was eager to put to use. Sensible with money, she invested her modeling fees into a property that she still owned as well as a small number of other investments. She was ten years younger than her husband and they were introduced through a mutual acquaintance.

  I couldn't see the issue for either them. They seemed to have the right mix of brains, beauty and business acumen that complemented each other. Yet, somehow, it had fallen apart in a mere forty-three days.

  Steve Wendell initiated divorce proceedings on the grounds of fraud. In a longer statement, he asserted his wife had known how much money he made and targeted him deliberately. Hopelessly swept up in the romance, he provided generous gifts during their courtship. They were engaged after six months with a fifty thousand dollar-diamond ring and married two months later. He claimed an argument about money had revealed her true intentions. According to him, she no longer wished to work and instead, expected him to finance a lifestyle they never agreed upon. She claimed she could "get everything" since they were legally married.

  Faye also provided a counter statement saying she loved her husband, the money was inconsequential and that if he would just talk to her, he would understand the truth. She didn't want a divorce.

  Apparently, the judge was refusing to sign a divorce without hard evidence of any wrongdoing and both parties concurred the Solomon Detective Agency was the right way of finding it.

  As far as statements went, Faye really hadn't grasped the concept of defending herself. Nor, however, had she asked for anything. All she wanted to do was talk. I rested my chin in my hand as I stared at her statement. Was talking things out the action of a money grabber? Why hadn't she demanded anything?

  Finding hidden assets in a divorce was one thing, but proving someone was solely after money was a much more difficult affair. There would be no paper trail, which meant a deep dive into their finances wouldn't help. I could try to prove the wife had dire financial circumstances that she hadn't made her new husband aware of, and the money he insisted she was after would cover that. Lucas could find any hidden financial issues, which left me with the job of tracking down Faye and asking her what was going on. With both parties in agreement to hiring the agency, she had to be waiting for someone to make contact and clearly, she wanted to talk.

  Chapter Three

  Faye Wendell was staying at the Newbury Hotel. It wasn't the most expensive hotel in Montgomery but one of the top five, occupying what had once been a rundown historic home. Since its acquisition, it received a sympathetic, and costly restoration, which also included a very fancy spa in a former outbuilding. If I intended to lick my wounds anywhere, I would definitely choose here.

  I asked for Mrs. Wendell at the reception desk, giving my name and agency title and was assured she would be with me very soon. Taking up a position on one of the large leather couches in what had once been a parlor and now served as a waiting area, I observed my surroundings. Big windows overlooked a lawn that stretched down to the street where a valet waited to take the patrons' cars to a hidden parking lot. The parlor walls were covered in a delicate wallpaper of wildflowers and the woodwork was either perfectly preserved or so well restored that I couldn't tell the difference. The furniture was old and heavy and I was pretty sure I didn't want to accidentally smash any of the vases or lamps.

  "You must be Lexi Graves," said a voice from the doorway.

  I looked up, assessing the woman quickly. She was tall and willowy as befitted a formal model but instead of an extravagant outfit, she wore simple blue jeans, a pink button-down shirt and flat pumps with jeweled bows. Her hair was jaw-length, white blond and her cheekbones looked like they could cut ice. Her eyes were red and angry. She was a beautiful woman; it was a shame she looked so dejected.

  "That's right. You must be Mrs. Wendell," I said, getting to my feet and handing her a business card. It was still a novelty to hand those things out but then again, it’s funny what makes a person feel successful as a grownup. Previously, I thought I'd reached the adult threshold when I managed to save the deposit for my home rather than blowing it on fashion.

  "Faye, please. I didn't expect you quite so quickly. Have you spoken to my husband yet?" she asked while staring at the business card like it might offer her more than my name, title, and phone number.

  "No, not yet. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

  "We can go into the garden at the back. Conversational privacy isn't the top priority around here." Faye turned and I followed her through the lobby to the rear of the hotel. We stepped out into a small, paved courtyard scattered with garden furniture but she didn't stop there. Instead, she continued across to the paved path and we walked in silence for a couple of minutes until we reached a bench in the shade of a massive oak tree. Faye sat and crossed her legs at the ankle.

  "Your husband and you both chose to hire a private investigator to look into your affairs," I started. "Your lawyers both agreed to appoint my firm."

  "Correct, although I'm not sure what you can possibly prove or disprove. I told Steve that I wasn't after his money. What more can I say?" she asked. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed.

  "Did you sign a pre-nup?" I asked.

  "No, neither of us asked for one."

  "Was there a reason for that? According to the statement from your lawyers, you both have assets."

  "I can't speak for my husband but I went into this marriage assuming I would stay in it." Faye nudged the pavers with the toe of her pumps and sighed. "I didn't think there was a need for a pre-nup. It just never came up."

  "Your husband's statement says that you no longer wished to work and expected him to finance a lifestyle not agreed upon," I said, recalling the wording and hoping I got it right.

  "I read his statement. He's right, I do want to give up work but not forever. I like my job! I'm happy doing it because I'm good at what I do. I just wanted to know if he would support me with some time off. I don't know why he leapt to conclusions that weren't accurate but he went ballistic when I suggested it."

  "Are you sure you have no idea?"

  "Well, one of his close friends is getting a divorce after four years and his wife has asked for a huge alimony payout, and another friend just broke up with a girlfriend whom he said turned out to be a gold-digger. I don't know how true that is but perhaps those relationships were on his mind, but I don't know what they have to do with me!"

  "What do you think your husband meant when he claimed you said you would get everything?"

  Faye rolled her eyes. "I didn't say that. I said I already had everything I would ever need. Steve was so furious by that point, he wouldn't even listen to anything more I had to say. If he had, he would have..." She trailed off and closed her eyes for a moment.

  "Are you okay?" I leaned forward as Faye took a couple of deep breaths. "You look a little green."

  With her eyes still closed, Faye nodded. "Sorry, I haven't been feeling too well." She took a series of deep breaths and opened her eyes again. "I didn't even mean support me financially."

  "What did you mean?"

  "I meant emotionally. Look, can I talk to my husband? My lawyer says I can't but if I can talk to him, I can explain myself directly."

  "I'm only here to prove one way or the other what the angle is regarding finances."

  "You mean whether I'm a gold-digger or not."

  That was true, but it was hardly polite to be so direct about it. Plus, she looked depressed enough without me making it worse. She pushed her hair back behind her ear and I frowned. Something valuable was missing.

  "Mr. Wendell says he bought you an engagement ring. Can I ask why you aren't wearing it?"

  "I haven't sold it, if that's what you think," she said, reaching into her shirt and pulling out a delicate, silver chain. Suspended on it were two rings, one a fat diamond, the other an elegant, gold band. "My fingers are a little swollen and I was worried my rings would get too tight."

  "If you wanted to take time off, why didn't you ask for financial support?" I wondered. "Why only emotional?"

  "I don't need my husband's money. I never have. When I started modeling, my parents made sure I had a financial adviser to help me. We all heard stories about girls in the industry who earned a ton of money, burned out or got too old to get work, and left with nothing. They didn't want that for me and neither did I. I paid off my student loans, invested in my future and one of those investments eventually paid off. I own a thirty percent stake in a friend's start-up and she just floated the business on the stock exchange. I'm going to make more money than I even know what to do with. More money than I'll ever need in a lifetime."

  "That's great!"

  "Yeah. Terrific." Faye laughed. "You know, the funny thing is, if we did get divorced right now, my husband stands to get a better payout from me than I do from him. It's ironic he's the one who wants to divorce me."

  "Can you prove everything you just told me about the investment?" I asked.

  "Well, sure."

  "My email is on the business card I gave you. Please send the information to me as soon as you can. I think it will be instrumental in proving you had no intentions towards fraudulently marrying your husband. I'm going to talk to Mr. Wendell; then I'll file my report."

  "Do whatever you need to do," said Faye. She sighed again. "I just want this to end."

  "The marriage?"

  "The stupidity."

  "Just to be clear... do you want your marriage to end?" I asked.

  Faye shook her head. "No. I want my husband. I love him and I can't imagine life without him."

  I said goodbye and left her alone on the garden bench. The valet delivered my car to the curb and I drove off after plugging in the address for Steve Wendell's head office. The meeting with Faye Wendell hadn't been exactly as I expected. Like her statement, there was no great defense but she did appear to have irrefutable proof that she wasn't a gold-digger. If the evidence came through, it flipped the situation. The question was: did Steve Wendell know about his wife's new money? Did he expect a payday? Without appearing too obvious about it? By filing to divorce his wife for fraud, perhaps that wasn't the case but I couldn't be sure. If he was really all about getting money for himself and jettisoning his wife, why would he hire us? It didn't seem like the actions of a guilty man unless he thought he were smarter than us. No, if he knew Faye was wealthier than he, how had he gotten it into his head that he was being used for money? It didn't make any sense.

  Many national businesses wanted glossy offices downtown where they could be seen, but not Steve Wendell. The head offices for Wendell's Autos occupied the two floors over the auto shop business that bore his name in a small industrial complex that also housed a parts supply shop, a kitchen showroom, and a lighting store. I walked up the narrow staircase and asked the zebra-print-wearing receptionist for him. She took a long look at me and raised one very over-plucked eyebrow. "What's the nature of your business?" she asked in the strongest Jersey accent I'd ever heard.

  "It's a private personal matter. He is expecting someone from my firm to contact him," I said as I handed her my card.

  "Is he?" She didn't move for the longest moment but finally picked up her phone and jabbed the numbers with the end of her pen. "Boss, there's a Lexi Graves from the Solomon Detective Agency to see you. Okay. Sure." She dropped the handset and pointed to the corridor behind her. "He says you can go in. His office is at the end of the corridor."

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," she drawled. The phone began to ring again and she turned to answer it, forgetting me instantly.

  I skirted the desk and walked to the office, politely knocking and waiting to be called in.

  The man sitting behind the desk didn’t need to tidy up his strawberry blond hair so much as to have someone tell him three days of beard stubble was not a look that suited him. His open-necked shirt was rumpled and his eyes were bloodshot, like he'd indulged in one too many beers the night before. Either that, or he'd been crying too. Not exactly the sign of a man who was happy to be getting a divorce or gleeful at a sudden windfall.

  He stood up and held out his hand, giving mine a fast shake before he gestured to the chair on my side of the desk. "I'm Steve. Thanks for coming," he said. "I wasn't sure when to expect you."

  "I picked up the case this morning," I explained. "I wanted to come and see you as soon as I could. I understand this is a difficult time for you."

  "Let's be real. It's a crap time. My wife just shattered my life."

  "Did she?" I asked as I sat down.

  Steve Wendell rocked back in his chair and for a moment, I thought he might pop his feet on the desk. Instead he swiveled a bit, barely a few degrees from one side to the other. "She doesn't want to be married to me. She wants my money. Helluva lot of money for forty-three days 'work'," he said, adding air quotes.

  "You wrote in your statement that your wife asked you for money to finance a lifestyle. What did she say exactly?"

  "Something like she wanted to take time off to focus on other things and she would need support. She said she was worried it would be a lifestyle change and she didn't want things to get too hard."

  "That doesn't sound like a demand for money."

  Steve huffed. "It started that way for my best buddy, Al. His wife wanted to be a homemaker so she gave up work when they married. Not sure what she did to maintain their home since they had a housekeeper and she was always out spending his money. I have never known a woman to shop like that. Don't think I ever saw her wear the same thing twice and Al isn't exactly making the big bucks."

  "I understand your wife has a job she likes and has no intention of giving up."

  "Well, she can't now her meal ticket is gone. Big B's girlfriend thought she'd pull that too. She was a lawyer but turns out she was just plain crazy."

  "Big B?"

  "Sorry, a buddy of mine. He's tall, hence Big B."

  "Okay. I'm looking into both of your finances and I understand your wife is independently wealthy."

  "She's got some money. She was pretty sensible with her modeling income. She owns a house."

  "And there isn't a pre-nup?"

  "No. That was a dumb move."

  "Why's that?"

  "I thought Faye was marrying me for me. If I'd realized it was for my money, I'd have insisted on an ironclad pre-nup." Steve waved his hands around his office. "I barely graduated high school and started out as an apprentice on the shop floor. Now I own a bunch of shops with plans to franchise more nationwide as well as taking over another business that's got the locations but not the management. I've made a lot of money, and I stand to make more, and I've been smart with my assets. I own this business entirely."

  "Has she requested any alimony?" I asked.

  "No."

  "Or a payout of any kind?"

  "Well, no..."

  I paused and watched him for any signs of guilt. "Don't you think that's strange?"

  "She did ask for money when we were arguing. She mentioned something about putting a hundred grand in a trust fund but I said there was no way I was just handing over that much money. That's when the fight started."

  "A trust fund? Not her own account?" I was missing something, something I could almost turn into an idea.

  "That's right."

  "Huh. I understand Mrs. Wendell isn't staying in the family home any longer."

  "No, I told her to get out. I don't even know where she is." Steve played with a pencil, tapping it against the desk. He didn't look at me when he asked, "Is she okay?"

  "She's okay," I told him. "She's staying at a hotel. Has she requested any money since you told her to get out?"

  "No, not a penny. I figure she's waiting to hit me with a demand through her lawyers. The tension is getting to me."

  "Do you have any evidence of fraud on your wife's part?" I asked.

  "Nothing that I can put in front of a judge. My lawyers already told me that; he said, she said isn’t going anywhere. That's why we agreed on hiring you to find the evidence one way or the other."

  "What happens if I don't find any evidence?"

  Steve shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Mr. Wendell, do you want to divorce your wife?"

  He took a long moment before he tossed down the pencil and looked me directly in the eye. "No, I don't. I love my wife but I don't want to be married to someone who doesn't love me back and sees me as a meal ticket."

  I thanked him for his time and left him to whatever he'd been struggling to concentrate on when I arrived. As I drove away, I knew I needed Lucas to do some digging into the couple's financials. So far, I hadn't come up with anything that suggested there was any kind of marital fraud. Quite the opposite; they both gave every appearance of loving each other, so what went wrong?

  It was close to the time to meet Lily at the gym when I reached the office so instead of going up, I sent Lucas an email from my phone asking him to deep dive the Wendells’ finances, and try to corroborate Faye's investment story. I couldn’t wait to see what he came up with. That done, and my gym bag already in the trunk, I headed for the gym, thoughts of the couple still puzzling me.