Chapter 1
PROLOGUE
Two months of a blissful union, an ephemeral dream,
Later months of lies and heartbreaks borne to an extreme.
Divorce papers filed, what an exciting choice!
Just twelve hours later, and life ceases to be
The police at my door, bring me to my knees,
One prime suspect: me
Lots of questions and threats, an upsetting noise
But miles away lies a murderer in guise.
Will justice be served, or will I demise?
****
PHOEBE
S*x is delicious, but when you do it with the wrong person, it's bitter, boring, and comes with regrets.
I scribbled these words on the first page of my diary after rounding up at work.
Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted me. "Hi, how may I help you?" I asked, standing up to receive two strangers who filed into my office with gloomy faces.
"Ms Spencer, greetings from us. We are currently conducting an investigation and would appreciate any information you can share about your late husband, Sir Richard Spencer."
I laughed awkwardly. "I don't understand. I'm sorry, who might you be?"
They stole confused glances. "I'm Detective Sharon and here with me is Detective Peter."
"My husband," I paused, "we're processing our divorce," I clarified with a smile, "traveled to meet with a client in Texas."
The female detective fidgeted with her purse and took out her phone. "Have a look. Your husband was murdered in cold blood last night. He was not in Texas but here in Los Angeles."
I froze, shocked by the gruesome sight of the mutilated man. His head was partially severed, so that it hung downward, his eyes were gouged out, and his genitals smashed to a pulp.
My world spun. Was that Richard?
"What—what happened to him?" I stammered, holding my palm over my chest to hold down bile that attempted to rise to my throat.
It seemed he had been attacked on his way back from a night party. "What's your name, ma'am?
"Phoebe," I replied, "and I had no idea he wasn't in Texas. He told me he had an important assignment in Texas before he left the house."
Last night, I'd left for my boyfriend's house moments after my husband left with his luggage. Claimed he was working. I didn't care anymore, so I'd found myself someone who would replace him.
Holloway was his name.
"Fine. We'd like to take you to the police station for further questions," said Detective Sharon.
As his wife, I knew I had to cooperate, despite feeling uncomfortable about getting involved.
I grabbed a few items from my table and followed the cops into the van. I was a little scared as my thoughts drifted to Richard and me when we took our wedding vows. We started off quite well until we moved to Los Angeles.
That was when I began to witness hell of a marriage.
It all began with late nights, taking secret calls, and excessive drinking. It was a message I found on his phone that completely shattered my trust. *Why is your useless second wife finding it difficult to produce a suitable match for our son's marrow transplant?*
Before I found this message, I never knew that Richard was already a father at the time I met him. My ex had broken up with me, and I was trying to cool off with alcohol at the bar when he approached me. He promised me heaven on earth. He swore with his life that I was the one for him, and he wasn't going to hurt me.
Naive, I fell in. We hired Sarah, my friend, as our wedding planner. Two months into the marriage were blissful.
Three days before Richard's birthday, I went to the hospital due to a slight headache, but the doctor congratulated me.
"You are one month pregnant, Ms Phoebe."
That was good news after all, and I danced around the hospital in excitement. I planned on surprising my husband with the news on his birthday.
Sarah helped me arrange the surprise; I wish she hadn't. It didn't go well at all.
Richard got me a really beautiful red gown before his birthday. I had everything set and made assorted pastries because I'm a baker as well as a government employee.
While I ascended the stairs, I heard unfamiliar voices. Since I didn't want to announce my intentions already, I dashed into the toilet to hide.
But then, the voices got clearer: My husband and Laura, his secretary. They also got into the toilet, so it was possible to hear them perfectly.
"What are you doing? This is your house, and your wife might find out about us," Laura said, seemingly in a struggle with my husband.
Richard laughed hysterically, "My wife will do nothing even if she finds me humping you," Laura laughed.
"She's such a very foolish woman. Who remains married to a man who doesn't value her?" She paused to think. "A man who's got a handsome son?" She finished with laughter.
I wanted to jump out and grab his collar, slit his throat and wait for the cops to pick me up. But I stiffen, allowing myself to sob in silence.
"I'm trying to get my hands on Phoebe's family's company. As long as we remain married, I have access to the company's account. When I have been able to drain the account and have someone eliminate her uncle, we can elope. Before we do, I'll serve her with divorce papers."
"Good plan there. After all the incessant lovemaking at the office, who knows? I might even be pregnant," Laura said gracefully.
"That would have been great news, but well, having a quickie before the start of my birthday wouldn't hurt. Would it?"
Laura's response was a sensual, "No.."
In no time, I could hear Richard pulling off her clothes and, soon after, she began to moan. "Ye...ah! Right there... Fuck! .... Rich.. aaa... Arrrrh. Mmm..."
I stood there quietly, listening as my husband rammed another woman, under our roof.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" The female detective asked, probably noticing my slouched posture.
I nodded, "I'll be fine." I repeated my response, still nodding.
I sat quietly between the two officers as the van sped along the road.
However, we arrived at the police station. The detective took me into a small, dark office.
"Phoebe, have a seat, please."
She turned on a recorder, and having read to me the core of the Miranda rights, she raised an eyebrow.
"How long have you two been married?"
"Four months. This month was supposed to be our fifth."
The detective wrote something on the paper and looked up instantly.
"Phoebe, we figured you were the last person to speak with Richard on the phone. After carefully studying his call records, he spent a significantly shorter period as compared to previous times. What was it that you discussed with him?" Detective Sharon inquired, shooting a stare at me as if propelling me to admit to Richard's murder.
"I simply told him that I wanted a divorce."
Both officers share a glance briefly.
"A divorce, suddenly?" I nodded, and she scribbled something on the paper again. "What made you say that to him a few hours before he was killed?"
"What? Do you think I'm the killer?"
"I'd suggest you don't respond to our questions with a question, Phoebe," she said, bringing to my attention a boldly written note on the wall that has similar information.
"Hmph! I didn't know he would be dead hours after," I continued. "And besides, he consented to the divorce without hesitation." I lied and still maintained a serious countenance.
"Why is that? Were you both not on good terms?"
I nodded, "He was a chronic cheater," I started, seeing the moment as an opportunity to air out the frustrations that were associated with my marriage. "I had borne his mess for too long until I couldn't keep up with it."
Detective Sharon shrugged, avoiding detective Peter's gaze. "Aw... that's a lot."
I nodded, my eyes flashing from her to detective Peter. "A week ago, his sex tapes were sent to my phone."
"Sex tapes?"
I nodded. "Sent by whom?"
"I have no idea who sent those videos."
"I'd suggest you cooperate with us unless you don't care about his death,"
Care about his death? I really did care about Richard until he started cheating on me with different women. "No one I know," I replied, but the female investigator didn't seem to believe me.
"Phoebe, are you sure?" I nodded.
"Was your husband owing you some money? If yes, how much was it?"
Detective Peter stood by my side, he continued hitting the baton on his palm as if ready to hit me if I refused to do as I was asked.
"Richard owed nothing to me, he was only overseeing our family business in my brother's absence."
"When was the last time you received money from your late husband?"
"I have my own money. His money was for his several mistresses and not me."
"I asked you a question. You haven't answered my question yet."
"Richard might have sent me money, but that was about four months ago to plan his mother's birthday. Since then, there has been nothing."
"Well, the evidence we received here is that Richard's bank account was totally emptied the night he was murdered. We've also noted that all the money transferred was linked to the account belonging to one Phoebe Richard Spencer. Care to explain?"
I sighed, feeling a lump form in my throat.
