Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Good,” Wenders shouted. “Clear as mud. Who, for the love of Mike, is this drowned man?”
“Danita's husband,” I said. “Reginald Callicoat III.”
“What are you…” Wenders was so beside himself there were almost two of him. One was plenty. “The whole world knows her husband died in a plane crash. The worst crash ever, fer cripes sake!”
“They do,” I agreed. “And it was. But he wasn't aboard.”
I stepped unsteadily away from the women, still shaken by my last vision, got my bearings and addressed the group. “The Callicoats were not getting along. By then the new chauffeur had settled in. Rudy wasn't just taking care of the limousine, he'd gone off-road and was doing the driving in Danita's bedroom as well. Reginald may have caught on to that fact. Or he may simply have gr
