“Twisted.”
“I should have figured it out. He’s been so secretive. I told him I hated him. That I was divorcing him and never wanted to see him again.” She bit her bottom lip. “I thought he was going to hit me, but Jeremy came out to check on me and kicked him out of the building.”
Jeremy was the big, barrel-chested bass covering for Ramfis.
“You’re not safe with your husband,” Olivia said.
“I know.” Lena plucked at the chair arm. “When I met him, he was so charming. He was interested in everything I did. I’d never had anyone care about me that way.” Lena looked up. “A few months after we got married, things started to change. He wanted to know where I was every minute. Nothing I did was good enough. I wasn’t working hard enough. I gained a few pounds, and he told me I was fat. He started monitoring everything I ate. He made me feel stupid. He said he had to be tough with me because he loved me so much, and he only wanted the best for me. He said I should feel lucky to be married to a man who cared so much. But I knew it was wrong. As soon as the Aida run was over, I was going to tell him I wanted a divorce.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t go back to your apartment.”
“I called a friend. I’m going to stay with her.”
“Promise me you’ll let me know if I can help.”
“How can you say that after what happened?”
Olivia smiled at her. “We sopranos have to stick together, right?”
That made Lena start crying all over again.
*
Thad banged on the door of Lena Hodiak’s apartment, then moved to the side so only Piper could be seen through the peephole.
The door swung open. Thad shouldered Piper away—exactly what she’d warned him not to do—and stepped into the door frame. “Christopher Marsden?”
Marsden wiped the early-morning sleep from his eyes. “Who are you? Wait— Aren’t you—”
“Yeah. Thad Owens. A good friend of Olivia Shore.”
Christopher tried to slam the door, but Thad wasn’t having it. He shoved his way in before Piper could stop him and delivered a perfectly targeted undercut to Marsden’s jaw followed up with a punch to the gut that sent the vermin sprawling to the floor.
“Okay, that wasn’t helpful,” Piper said. “But completely understandable.” She shut the door, closing them inside the apartment.
Thad wanted to finish the job, but Piper pushed him away and advanced on Marsden. “I have a few questions for you, Mr. Marsden. And I think it’s only fair to inform you that my friend here has a hot temper and short patience when it comes to liars, so I suggest you stick to the truth.”
Marsden whimpered. His lip was bleeding, and he looked like he might throw up. Thad had a strong stomach, and he wouldn’t mind seeing that.
Piper put one of her small feet, clad in a black leather motorcycle boot, on Marsden’s chest. “I think we should start at the beginning, don’t you?”
It all came out. Marsden had formed a friendship with Dennis Cullen, Rachel’s husband, when their wives were appearing together in Minneapolis. From Dennis, Marsden had learned that Olivia wasn’t handling her ex-fiancé’s suicide well. Dennis, who needed to learn how to keep his fucking mouth shut, had repeated Rachel’s speculation that Olivia was traumatized with guilt after her ex-fiancé’s suicide, and that her vocal problems were worse than she was letting on. That was all Marsden needed to hear, and it didn’t take him long to come up with a plan to prey on Olivia’s guilt. The possibility of his wife being able to step into Olivia’s shoes and have her shot at the big time had been his catnip. He saw playing mind games with Olivia as low risk, with a potentially huge payoff for his wife’s career.
“Lena can’t do anything for herself!” Marsden whined, clutching his stomach. “She was happy being second rate. I have to do everything.”
“Uh-huh.” Piper toed him with her motorcycle boot, not enough to hurt him, but enough to establish female solidarity with his wife. “Let’s begin with those notes you sent.”
Marsden started singing like his wife’s canary once had. He’d come up with an idea as an experiment—seeing if he could get into Olivia’s head by sending her the anonymous letters. After a couple of chats with Big Mouth Dennis, he’d learned Olivia seemed to be getting worse, and that motivated him to step up his efforts with the photographs, bloody T-shirt, and the phone call Olivia had gotten when they were hiking. He was behind it all, right up to the moment when Piper mentioned the hotel room break-in and the New Orleans incident.
The guy practically peed his pants. “I’ve never been to New Orleans. I swear. And I didn’t break into any hotel room!” He curled into a ball, afraid Thad would go after him again.
Thad and Piper exchanged a look. Marsden was a coward and a bully—not the kind of guy with the guts to pull off a direct attack or a desert kidnapping. Olivia was still at risk.
*
Olivia slept in late the next day. Tonight was the Aida gala, her final obligation to Marchand and the last place she wanted to be after her lackluster performance. Holding her head high and pretending not to overhear any of the whispered conversations about her singing last night would be exhausting. Except . . . she’d be able to see Thad again.
She’d kill him if he brought a date.
He’d bring a date. She knew it. He wasn’t a man who’d ignore any kind of rejection without fighting back.
She needed a date, too. She mentally sorted through possible candidates but couldn’t bear the idea of spending the evening with anyone who was part of the opera world. She could ask Clint, but if she brought him, Thad would think she was trying to rub his face in their breakup when all she wanted was to throw her arms around him and tell him once more she was sorry. He deserved his retribution. She’d choke down her resentment, go alone, and make herself be extra nice to the woman he’d almost certainly bring with him. Even though it would devastate her.
She tried to focus on the positive. It would be good to see Henri again. Paisley had somehow landed her dream job as a personal assistant to one of the Real Housewives, so she wouldn’t be there, but Mariel would. Mariel’s blind ambition to best Henri had grated on Olivia from the beginning. The advertising campaign had been expensive, and if it wasn’t paying off, she’d be gloating over Henri’s remains.
Olivia had to talk to Dennis. He needed to know what his loose lips had cost her. She intended to keep this between the two of them because Rachel would be crushed if she found out the part her husband had played in what had happened.
She texted him.
Call me.
Less than a minute later, her phone rang. It was Rachel. “Now you’re sending secret messages to my husband?”
Olivia thought quickly. “Somebody with a birthday coming up shouldn’t be asking questions.”
“My birthday isn’t for two months.”
“So?”
Rachel laughed. “All right. Here he is.”
He answered quickly. “Hey, pal. What’s up?”
She couldn’t do this with Rachel standing next to him. “Call me when big ears isn’t around. We need to talk.”