“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” She skewered him with a stare of disbelief. She was thin to the point of being bony, her taupe size-practically-nothing skirt and sweater hanging off her thin frame. “You really expect me to believe that after twelve or so years you’re just dropping by for a chat? Give me a flippin’ break. Where the hell is my broom?” She walked to an alcove and retrieved a push broom and dustpan. “You want to talk?” she muttered as she began cleaning up the mess. “About what?”

“Jennifer.”

“Oh, God, why?” She stood suddenly and stared at Bentz as if he’d just flown in from Jupiter. “What good will it do now? That poor woman.”

Downstairs another patron wandered into the gallery. Bentz saw her through the open railing. A silver-haired woman with red reading glasses perched on the end of her tiny nose, she wore a perpetual scowl along with white capri pants and a sleeveless top, She wandered through the displays only to stop and contemplate a glass mosaic cat that might have been the ugliest piece of so-called art Bentz had ever seen.

Jesus, was she serious? A piece of crap with a price tag that probably exceeded what Bentz made in a week?

Fortuna leaned over the railing and called cheerfully, “Hello, Mrs. Fielding! I’ll be right down.” She left her broom and dustpan propped against the ladder and glanced at Bentz. “You know, I really don’t have anything to tell you.”

“I’ll wait.”

Rolling her eyes as if to say “whatever” she headed down the stairs at a quick clip. Once on the main floor, she began showing the dour Mrs. Fielding pieces of colored glass that resembled African beasts. Ugly lions and gazelles and elephants. At least, that was his interpretation. Who knew what the artist really had in mind?

Bentz took it upon himself to clean up the mess, hauled the broom and dustpan back to the little closet, and even found another lightbulb. He’d just screwed it in so that it showcased the black and red mess of a painting when Fortuna walked up the stairs.

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting on my good side just because you played janitor,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I could have done it myself.” She spied a piece of glass he’d missed and picked it up before folding her arms over her chest. “Just what the hell is it you want to know?”

“Jennifer’s state of mind before she died.”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t know.”

“You were one of her closest friends.”

“What does it matter now?”

“Someone’s been calling me, saying she’s Jennifer.”

“Oh, so what? Someone’s just having a little fun at your expense.”

He hauled out the copies of the photographs and Fortuna eyed them. “These were sent to me.”

“And? The woman looks like Jennifer, yeah. So what? Oh, God, you don’t think? I mean you wouldn’t believe? Oh, no, I mean, that’s rich.” She laughed, though there was no mirth in her tone. “You actually think Jennifer might still be alive.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then who the hell is in her grave?” She shook her head. “This is too much. Someone’s really screwing with your mind. And you know who would have loved this? Jennifer. You’re finally getting yours.”

More than you know, he thought, but didn’t say it. “I just thought you might remember something she did or said that was out of character for her in the week or so before she died.”

“Nothing that I can think of.” Fortuna sighed. Ran red-tipped fingers through her thick hair. “She did everything she normally did, well, I think. You know, the regular stuff. A haircut, I think. I was there the same day and she had gone shopping and visited her astrologer.”

He felt the muscles between his shoulders tighten. “Astrologer?”

“Oh, yeah, you remember…Phyllis Something-Or-Other.” She was staring at him. “You didn’t know?”

“That my ex-wife went to a psychic? No.”

“I said astrologer. There’s a fine line.”

He knew all about it. Olivia’s grandmother had read tarot cards during her lifetime. “Okay, Phyllis the astrologer. Who checks star signs. Moons rising and retrograde and all that stuff.”

“I think it’s a little more involved than that, but personally I never got into it too much.”

“Just Jennifer?”

“Yeah, near as I can tell she went alone, but at least once a month, sometimes twice.”

“For how long?”

“Years. Since college I think.” Fortuna nodded as she tried to remember. “Yeah, I recall her saying something to that effect.”

Bentz was thunderstruck. In all the years he’d known his first wife, all the secrets they’d shared, never had she said a word about consulting an astrologer. Not that it was a big deal, but he wondered what other secrets Jennifer had held so tight. “What did she learn from Dr. Phyllis?”

“Oh, God…I can’t remember,” she said, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, wait! I do remember Jennifer mentioning that Phyllis told her she’d only have one child and…” Her voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Well, I don’t know if the astrologer had anything to do with it, but for some reason Jennifer always thought that she’d die young.”

“What?” His heart stilled. Jennifer had never mentioned any such fear to him.

“She’d make throwaway comments. Like, ‘I know I’ll never see Kristi graduate.’ Or ‘I know I’ll never go to Europe, there’s not enough time.’ And one time…Jeez, it gives me chills just to remember it, she told me, ‘You know, I’m glad I’m never going to grow old.’” Fortuna’s voice dropped and she looked away from Bentz. “God, I hadn’t thought about that in a long, long time.” She cleared her throat. “I really can’t tell you anything else.” She headed down the stairs just as two men who looked to be in their thirties entered the gallery below.

A genial smile pasted onto her face, Fortuna went into salesperson mode. The finest Hollywood actress had nothing on her.

Resigned that Fortuna had revealed everything she could remember, Bentz followed her down the stairs and left a business card with his cell number at the register, then walked out of the gallery.

Outside, the sun was intense. Pedestrians strolled along the sidewalk, peering into shop windows. Next door, a few patrons of the restaurant sat at the outdoor tables where umbrellas shaded drinks and platters of spicy Mexican food. Two laughing kids on roller skates nearly knocked over a slim woman walking a kinky-haired dog that probably outweighed her. They whisked by without a second thought even though the dog took off after them.

Bentz lunged forward to help, but the slight woman caught herself and managed to pull her frantic dog back into the “heel” position.

Life went on.

Except for Jennifer.

Something was definitely off there.

Rick clicked on the remote lock for his car as he crossed the street. He was bothered by what he’d learned, about things he hadn’t known, things important to Jennifer. Her friends all seemed to know her much better than he had, even, perhaps, better than she’d known herself.

Did it matter?

So what if Jennifer had kept her visits to the astrologer to herself? Big deal.

Nothing he found out about her surprised him any more, but he couldn’t help but wonder as he slid into the hot interior of the Ford what other secrets he would uncover. Lost in thought, last night’s nightmare still chaffing at his subconscious, he nosed the Focus out of the parking space, then made a quick U-turn. He realized she probably kept a lot of her life tucked away, hidden from his scrutiny. Just because she’d told him the truth about Kristi’s paternity, didn’t mean she’d been honest about other facets of her life. The damning truth of the matter was that he hadn’t really known his first wife at all.