one wall. “I’ve been warned. Now get busy going through those files while I ransack Wendell’s desk.”
* * *
“Any idea of what we’re looking for?” Parrish pulled out the first file in the first drawer, which was labeled ARCHITECT’S RENDERINGS. It was thick, with lots of folded blueprints.
“Not really,” Riley admitted. “I guess it would be too obvious for Wendell to have a file labeled ‘Shenanigans,’ huh?”
“Or ‘Foreclosure.’ I’ll look though, just in case,” Parrish said.
Riley slowly opened the shallow top desk drawer. It contained all the things you’d expect to find: small stainless mesh baskets, with the contents neatly sorted. Paper clips in one, rubber bands in another, postage stamps, three different sizes of Post-it Notes. There was a stapler and a tape dispenser. She was about to close the drawer when something caught her eye.
She picked up the container of paper clips and stirred it around with her forefinger, then picked up the object.
Riley slipped the white-gold band onto her thumb. “Oh, God.” She choked back a sob.
“What?” Parrish dropped the file she was holding and rushed over to the desk. “What is it?”
“Wendell’s wedding ring,” Riley whispered, holding up her hand.
“Oh, Riles,” Parrish said with a sigh.
“It was tossed in with a bunch of paper clips. I almost missed it, but then I realized one of these things is not like the other.”
“Did you know he’d stopped wearing it?”
“No. The last few times I saw him, he was in and out of the house in a hurry, or we were bickering. I guess I never even noticed. How’s that for some kind of subliminal message?”
“What do you think it means?”
“Well, he’s known the marriage was over for a while now. Maybe he took it off after our last unpleasant encounter. Or maybe he quit wearing it months ago. Maybe his girlfriend objected to it.”
“I still think this was a bad idea. Maybe we should stop looking,” Parrish said. “This is too hard on you. Who knows what else we’ll find? Let the local cops sort it all out.”
“No.” Riley shook her head vigorously. “If the cops were any good, they would have searched this office already. I can’t count on them for answers. If it makes you feel any better, we’ll put everything back where we found it before we leave tonight.”
Parrish picked up the ring from the desk blotter where Riley had placed it. She held it up and read the inscription aloud. “‘AAFY.’ What’s that mean?”
“Always and forever yours. He used to write me the sweetest notes when we were dating, and he always signed like that. Always and forever yours, Wendell. I wonder if he took it off after he realized always wasn’t going to be forever.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Parrish asked, handing it back.
Riley tucked the ring into the jacket pocket. “Keep it. I’ll give it to Maggy at some point. Probably.”
* * *
“Look at this,” Riley said, holding out a file folder. “I know you were joking about a foreclosure file, but here it is.”
Parrish took the folder and examined the documents. “Wow. It’s the mortgage for Sand Dollar Lane. Which you, apparently, signed.”
“Somebody signed it, but that’s not my signature,” Riley said. “And did you notice the copies of all the foreclosure notices there, too? Whoever signed my name on that mortgage must have also signed that I’d received those notices.”
Parrish set the file aside and picked up the one she’d just put down. “This might be something.”
“What?”
“Articles of incorporation for a company called Sand Dollar Development Corp.” Parrish traced a line down the document. “You’re the chief executive officer.”
“What the hell?” Riley said. “Wonder what it means?”
“Dunno. But the business address is a post office box in Wilmington.”
“I guess that could be something important,” Riley said, going back to her search of the desk. “There’s a copy machine over there. Better make a copy.”
“A copier? That’s so old school,” Parrish chided. She whipped her smartphone from her bra and clicked off a couple of exposures.
“Hey, Riles,” Parrish said a minute later. “I found four more articles of incorporation with you listed as chief executive officer.”
She waved a batch of documents in the air. “They’ve all got different names, but their mailing address is that same Wilmington post office box. Let’s see. You’re also CEO of St. Mary’s Holdings, Fiddler’s Creek Enterprises, Oceanview Partners, and Belle Isle Landings Corp. Aren’t those the companies the FBI agent asked about?”