'Til Death Do Us Part Read Online Free Page B

they thought I was going to
take
some of her things.”
    I asked if I could see what was left, and she led me upstairs to the second floor. The bedroom was shockingly bare. Cream-colored walls, simple white Roman shades, and, except for a double bed, dresser, and desk, no furniture or decoration.
    “Pretty picked over,” I said.
    “It didn’t look much different when Robin lived here—she never got around to fixing the place up. I think she was taking a while to get used to the fact that she was now single.”
    “Why’d they split up?”
    “Brace is a Wall Street trader and a real maniac about his job. When they were married he was out practically every night with clients, and he was always getting calls from places like Japan in the middle of the night. He never had any time for Robin, and it was making her depression worse. Of course, the minute she splits, he’s all sorry and keeps calling, saying he’ll be different. She talked to him a few times about getting back together, but eventually she realized he wasn’t going to change. He finally got the message and backed off.”
    I walked over to the small desk and let my eyes roam over the top of it. Nothing seemed significant: empty file folders, envelopes, a stack of catalogs filled with kitchen supplies.
    “What did Robin’s job with Peyton entail, exactly?”
    “She was the manager of the shop and also the buyer. She ordered all the kitchenware and the gourmet food they sell. Peyton had this idea for a line of her own products, and Robin was looking into that, too.”
    “She and Peyton were pretty close?”
    “Relatively so. I mean, they met in
grade
school. But I think their relationship had more to do with how far back they went than any special thing they had in common. The work arrangement served both their purposes. Robin never felt she could handle some big office job, and running the shop was perfect for her. And Peyton has always preferred to be surrounded by a posse of people she knows. To be honest, I’d been encouraging Robin to start thinking about moving on—especially since she was feeling so much better. Peyton—well, you’ve seen her in action. She’s gotten very demanding in the last year, and working for her is no picnic.”
    “What about you? You work for her, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” she said, followed by a sniff. “But only sporadically. Peyton developed a taste for decorating when she did her house, and she likes supervising most of the big projects herself now. If something small or unappealing comes up, she’ll include me. In fact, I’m involved in a project there now—turning the silo into a gallery. Peyton couldn’t be bothered with it.”
    “Was it a problem for you—when Peyton started using you less?”
    “No. My business has really taken off—in part because of the work I did initially for Peyton.” It was said without gratitude but also unbegrudgingly, as if she had come to accept the fact that Peyton giveth and Peyton taketh away.
    I turned back to the desk and pulled open the single drawer. Inside were some art postcards, a bunch of pens in a rubber band, an emery board, and sheets of stationery. I lifted the paper to see what was underneath. There was an envelope from a photo development lab. I flicked the flap up with my thumb and slid out the stack of photos. There were about two dozen shots from Peyton’s wedding. I started to glance at them, one by one.
    “I gave a box of Robin’s photographs to her brother, but I didn’t notice these,” Ashley said. “Maybe she took them with one of those disposable cameras they had on the tables that night. You were supposed to turn those in at the end of the reception, but I guess Robin decided she wanted the pictures for herself.”
    “Yeah, except . . .”
    “Except
what
?” she asked anxiously. She sounded ready to freak at the slightest provocation.
    “I don’t think Robin took these pictures,” I said. “See, she’s
in
so many of them. And