She blew smoke out. “Okay, shoot.”
He told her about the man Perlman had mentioned who had come here from up north.
“She said they dated for a bit, and when it ended, Julia was…troubled? Do you know anything about that?”
Kline nodded. “She told me about him. His name is Dennis Langley. They went to law school together. He moved down here while she was still married. He followed her around like a lovesick little puppy dog. After the divorce, he finally made his move. They went out. They had some good times. They might have had sex. Julia never shared that. And then, it was over.”
“What happened?”
“Julia didn’t want to continue it. She thought he was too controlling.”
“That’s what Maya Perlman said, although she didn’t know his name. Why do you think she didn’t tell Maya?”
“I bet Maya knows Langley, too, both being lawyers. And maybe Julia didn’t want it getting around that she was dating the guy. Julia told me to keep it to myself, which I did. Until now.”
“Where is Langley located?”
“He practices law here in town.”
“What sort of law?”
“Criminal. He’s good from what I heard. You think he might have killed Julia?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy who got dumped did something like that, would it?”
“What the hell is wrong with men anyway?”
“We’re too used to getting our own way. And way too much testosterone. And then there’s the lack of brains.”
She raised her glass. “I vote for the last one.”
“What can you tell me about Langley?”
“He’s Julia’s age, tall, handsome, outgoing, charming.”
“Sounds like quite a catch.”
“Yeah, but from what I heard, so was Ted Bundy.”
“When was the last time you saw him around here?”
“I’ve never seen him around here. But I know who he is, and I have seen him around town. It’s been about six months since they broke up.”
“And she broke up with him? That’s what Cummins said?”
“Yes. Seems silly to talk about breaking up with people when you’re in your forties and fifties. The same as having a ‘boyfriend’ at my age. But then I don’t, do I?”
“Do you want a boyfriend?”
“Depends on the time of day you ask me. Or how many drinks I’ve had.”
Decker smiled.
She smiled back and said, “I know we don’t know each other very well. But I’m a quick reader of people and I wasn’t sure you had a smile in you.”
“Sometimes I surprise myself.”
“I don’t see a wedding band. Are you divorced? Or never married?”
Decker’s smile faded. “Neither. I lost my wife a while back.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry. And I made your smile go away. Just the sort of stupid thing I do.”
He shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s not stupid. It was a perfectly legit question.”
“I’m sure you miss her very much.”
“I do.”
“Do you have kids? Do you take care of each other? That can help. I know that from personal experience.”
“I had a daughter. But I lost her, too.”
“Omigod. Was it an accident? With the two of them?”
“It wasn’t an accident. Someone…killed them.”
Decker had no idea why he was telling her this, but for some reason it just felt right. Or necessary. Or something.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry.” She reached out and gripped his hand. “But let me just say this. You were all together for a time. And that is something you can always hold on to. I…I told you my kids were grown and off living their lives. That wasn’t entirely accurate. Three of them are. But I lost my oldest to cancer when she was barely six years old. I cried for maybe the next ten years. And then I stopped crying.”
“Why?”
“Because I started remembering her when she was alive and healthy over sick and dying. I occasionally lapse.” She held up her drink. “Like with this. But for the most part it’s worked out okay.”
“And you don’t feel guilty for—”
“—for still being alive? Of course I do. But you can either get past that, or you can kill yourself.” She eyed him keenly. “I would not recommend the latter. I mean, I really wouldn’t.”
“You sound like you speak from experience on that, too.”