Twisted Knot

separation anxiety

“Jeremy is at a sleepover,” she said. “Jacob here is my attorney, and he was just leaving.”

“Attorney,” I said with a curious tone. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes,” Liz replied. “I just needed some legal advice. It’s sort of personal.” I gave her a look that begged her to tell me the words I wanted to hear, an end to the misery. I am filing for divorce… I’d never wished for anyone to get divorced before, but it seemed inevitable. Even on his best days, Stefan was a liar. I could deal with his quirks because his redeeming qualities were worthwhile as a friend, but as a husband…

            Elizabeth just looked away, averting her eyes from my searching. Jacob stood up, gathering his papers. He shook my hand and I smiled, waiting for him to leave. The door shut, and I turned the lock behind him. Elizabeth turned to the dishes, where she washed a cup and I approached her.

“Are you sure everything is fine,” I said. She nodded and smiled.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. “I am sorry you missed Jeremy. But I don’t mind seeing you.” I smiled.

“I miss our Tuesday lunches,” I said, inching closer to her slightly.

“Me too,” she said. “I think we should start them up again. I don’t see why not.”

            “I’ll tell Stefan,” I said. “That was our rule right? We’d only met with your husband’s permission.” She just smiled and glimpsed at me, secrets behind her eyes.

“You can tell him,” she said. “But I don’t need his permission.”

“What does that mean? Is there something I should know Elizabeth?”

“Probably,” she said. “But it isn’t final. Stefan and I are separating. I spend all day yesterday finding him some possible rental houses. There is nothing in this neighborhood though, and I want him close to Jeremy.”

“Separated huh,” I said. “What exactly does that mean? And if I can ask, what brought you to decide that?” She set the dish down and turned to face me.

            “What brought it on,” she said. “Other than the cheating, the drugs, the lying, and the scheming, there is still more piled on. Do you remember that detective that came here?” I nodded, recalling the strangeness of it all.

“Did they find Isabella,” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“No,” she said. ‘They think she is dead. Three women disappeared that week, two of which are dead. They were both murdered in similar styles, and the three women have only one thing in common…” I already knew where it was going.

            “They were all his mistresses,” I said, and she nodded. “So, that could be a coincidence. I mean, what are the chances someone is targeting his lovers?”