The Question of the Unfamiliar Husband by E J Copperman

Author:E J Copperman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery book, aspbergers, aspberger's, jeff cohen, mystery fiction, autism, autistic, mystery novel, question of the missing head, mystery, question of the missing husband, e.j. copperman
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2015-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

nineteen

It took quite some time—fifty-seven minutes—to sort out the story. Apparently Hazel Montrose had not been accurate nor honest in her accounting of Oliver Lewis’s wives. Besides herself and Cynthia Maholm, there had been three more women who had married, and divorced, the dead man.

“We all got to know each other,” Amy Stanhope said after a series of rebukes from Jennifer LeBlanc that she was divulging privileged information. Ms. Stanhope had countered with the idea that since Mr. Lewis was dead, there was no harm in revealing the small subclass of women belonging to the exclusive club they had named WOOL. “Jenny started it. She tried to reach out to Rachel—that’s Rachel Vandross, Ollie’s second wife—to try to warn her about him. But Rachel had already married Ollie, and then there was Hazel, and then there was me, and then there was Cindy … well, you know how that went. We all got together. But you had to be divorced from Ollie to join WOOL, and Cindy was still married to him, so she couldn’t come and hang with us.” She stopped and considered. “I guess now she can. Does a widow count, Jenny?”

Jennifer LeBlanc, with an air of resignation, waved her hands in a gesture of futility. “What the hell. Maybe Cindy offed the bastard and did us all a favor. Sure, she can come and have a glass of wine.”

Mike had spent the past three minutes intermittently blinking in what must have been astonishment. He looked at me, then at Ms. LeBlanc, then at Ms. Stanhope, and then at me again. “There were five of you? You all married the same guy and you all divorced him?”

“Not Cindy,” Ms. Stanhope reminded him.

Ms. LeBlanc ignored Mike’s confusion and went on. “That’s the kind of guy Ollie is—was,” she said. “You actually needed a support group after he was done with you. He’d make you feel like the center of the universe, and then he’d leave you by the side of the road without so much as a toothbrush.”

The information was coming at me quickly. “Why would he not allow you a toothbrush?” I asked.

“I didn’t mean it literally.” But I continued to muse over the concept of a figurative toothbrush for a few moments.

When I could focus again, Ms. Stanhope was saying, “It wasn’t a regular thing. Like, there weren’t WOOL meetings or anything. We just kept in touch and we’d get together for a drink or coffee or something. Not all of us at the same time ever, I don’t think. Whoever happened to be around and need some cheering up or whatever, you know?”

“When was the last time you saw Oliver Lewis?” I asked.

It was significant that the two women looked at each other before answering. I wondered if it were necessary for them to coordinate the response, to set their story. But I did not suggest that as it would undoubtedly lead to a confrontation about the possibility of a false answer, and that would not be a productive strategy.

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