she had become used to over the years, but now it just hit her as the biggest insult under the circumstances. Circumstances that were very bad.
She had boldly paid Logan Danner’s retainer with her credit card, confident the detective would have some news for her before Scott would notice. And indeed he did. It hadn’t taken long for him to contact her to let her know that Scott had been a regular at the kayak shack on the beach for quite a long time. Any PI worth his salt knew that strangers would tell strangers anything. He reported to Justine that he had said to someone, “That guy, I think I know him. Dave Besteil?”
“Naw, that’s not his name,” said the young man putting up kayaks. “That’s Scott Somersby and he’s around here all the time. He’s tight with the owner, Cat.”
Logan texted a few pictures of passionate kisses and afternoon trips to the No-Tell-Motel. One picture was time stamped for Thursday when Scott had claimed he’d been playing ball. Instead, he was having dinner at an ocean-side lodge, after which the couple went to a room. Scott left alone while the lady stayed on, presumably for the night. He was quite late getting home—he said he’d gone out for a beer with the guys after the game. According to Logan, he had not been on that team for a couple of years. It had not yet been determined if he was still part of the bowling leagues.
The woman Scott was seeing had quite an interesting history. Divorced twice, she had a couple of bankruptcies, was currently struggling with debt, but her late-model car was paid off. Oh, and she was married to her third husband. There had also been some police calls for domestic disturbances. “It’s possible the woman is in an abusive relationship,” Logan said.
“Would that explain her fishing around for a new boyfriend?” Justine asked.
“Well, I suppose it could. But typically abused women are afraid of the abuser and don’t take those kinds of chances. There haven’t been any assault charges filed, but people lie and cover up domestic violence all the time. You need to keep in mind that Scott might have gotten himself into an explosive dynamic.”
Justine did not know exactly how long her husband had been involved with Cat. She could only assume it had been quite a while. Years, perhaps. It was possible she was just one of many.
Justine felt like a complete fool.
Logan Danner had given her as much information as she needed to move forward and said he would remain available if there was anything more she needed from him. But she could take it from here. She would need a court order to do a forensic accounting, find out if he had other bank accounts and credit cards. This was her wheelhouse. It’s what she did for a living.
* * *
It played out at their next counseling appointment. Scott opened the session as he usually did by giving Justine her report card, as if this marital crisis had only to do with her behavior.
“Justine has been great about remembering to say thank you. I think we’re making great progress,” he said, as if counseling a first grader learning to say please and thank you.
As if she should remember to thank him for warming up frozen burritos for dinner while he didn’t find it necessary to thank her for working so hard for the generous paycheck that paid for that food.
When it was her turn to speak, Justine was very calm. “Scott has been having an affair with a woman named Cat Brooks. I’m not sure how long exactly but at least a couple of years. We have some urgent decisions to make. We have two daughters at very vulnerable ages, and I won’t have them lied to.”
The counselor, a thin, bald man wearing wire-rimmed glasses, looked shocked and off balance. But it was brief. He was about to speak but Scott reacted first.
“You’re out of your mind! I’m only friends with the owner of the kayak shop because I love to kayak! And you know that!”