P is for Peril Read Free Page B

climb as he aged. Possibly his problems harked back to his mother. Everything else connects to his relationship with her. Whatever the reason, once Dowan turned sixty, he began to falter. He couldn’t . . . let’s say . . . ‘perform’ without stimulus. Pornography, marital aids . . .”
    â€œWhich didn’t appeal to you.”
    â€œI thought it was revolting. I can’t even tell you the practices he wanted to pursue—unspeakable acts that I refused even to discuss with him. He finally stopped pressing.”
    â€œBecause he’d taken up with her?”
    â€œEvidently. He’s never admitted it, but I’m sure he went looking. It did cross my mind he’d go out and find someone willing to submit to his perverse requests. I certainly wouldn’t do it and I knew I’d made myself entirely clear on that point.”
    I was secretly panting for an example, but I thought it was wiser (for once) to keep my big mouth shut. Sometimes you don’t want to know what people do —or refuse to do —in private. If I had occasion to meet the doctor one day, I didn’t want to be distracted by an image of him cavorting in the nude with an organic carrot up his butt. “Did you ask for the divorce or did he?”
    â€œHe did. I was completely taken off-guard. I presumed he’d get his needs met outside the marriage and keep his family intact. I never thought he’d stoop to divorce at this late stage in his life. I should have known. Dowan’s weak. Not that any of us relish owning up to our mistakes, but Dow always abhorred even the appearance of failure.”
    â€œMeaning what?”
    â€œWell,” she said, lowering her eyes. I watched her gaze dance across the floor. “I suspect his relationship with Crystal is not the union of souls he’d like others to believe. Some months ago, he’d heard she was screwing around on him. Better to disappear than admit he’d been cuckolded.”
    â€œDid he have any idea who it was?”
    â€œNo, but he was looking into it. After he disappeared, my friend Dana finally confided that she’d known the whole time. The fellow is Crystal’s personal trainer. His name is Clint Augustine.”
    I heard a little ding-dong going off in my head. I was sure I’d heard the name before, possibly in the gym where I work out.
    â€œYou believe he left because of that?”
    â€œYes. We had a conversation—a long talk—on September 10. This was two days before he vanished. He was dreadfully unhappy.”
    â€œHe said that?”
    Her hesitation was distinct as she debated with herself. “Not in so many words, but you don’t go through forty years of marriage without learning to read between the lines.”
    â€œWhat occasioned the conversation?”
    â€œHe came over to the house.”
    â€œYou were seeing him,” I stated.
    â€œWell, yes. At his request,” she said, her tone faintly defensive. “Dow adores this place, just as he adores the house in Horton Ravine. He was always interested in my design work, even before our relationship underwent the shift. Lately, he’d been stopping by in the evenings to have a drink with me. That night, he was exhausted. His face was gray with worry, and when I asked what was wrong, he said the pressures at the office were driving him insane. And Crystal was no help. She’s extremely narcissistic, as you’ll discover when you meet her, which I assume you will.”
    â€œWere you surprised he’d confide in you after everything he’d put you through?”
    â€œWho else does he have? Anyway, he didn’t really talk about her, but I could see the tension in his eyes. He’d aged a good ten years in a matter of months.”
    â€œYou’re saying he had problems at home as well as problems at work?”
    â€œThat’s right. He didn’t talk specifics, but he mentioned in passing