Winds of Fire

front of Johanna's desk.
“Here,” Kendall finally said, thrusting a small picture at Frankie. “This one was taken about a year ago. Like I said, he hasn't changed much. Will this do?”
“It's fine.” Frankie studied the picture before passing it to Johanna. Thatcher Longman was at least ten years younger than his wife from what she could determine looking at Kendall. He was extremely good looking in a pompous sort of way. He was well dressed in an obviously tailor-made suit, giving the appearance of someone who was used to and expected the finer things in life. He looked like a conceited bastard who expected those who crossed his path to bow down to him. Frankie hated the type. Something still didn't add up, though. Kendall Longman was in direct contrast to the man in the photo. She was dressed in clothing that appeared to have come from a thrift store. In fact, she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn last Friday. Even though she hadn't changed her clothes, she had no offensive body odor and appeared clean. Her teeth were perfect and not stained or yellowed. There wasn't even a trace of dirt under her fingernails. How could this woman be the wife of a distinguished and obviously wealthy man like Thatcher Longman? There were definitely many pieces of this puzzle that were missing. Nothing added up.
Johanna cleared her throat as she examined the picture. She handed it back to Frankie and opened the file she had already prepared with Kendall Longman's name on it. She removed the contract Kendall had signed on Friday, picked up a pen and added her signature on the appropriate line, then passed the document to Frankie for her signature.
“I need to ask you a few questions, Mrs. Longman,” Johanna said in a friendly tone.
“Please call me Kendall,” the woman replied.
Frankie signed the contract. “I'll scan a copy of the picture and contract for our files.” She walked over to the scanner, which was situated on a counter that ran the length of one wall in the office. Underneath the counter were the filing cabinets.
“Can you call me tomorrow morning with a report?” Kendall asked. “I need to know what he's doing and who he's with when he leaves his office every evening.”
Johanna's eyebrows knitted together. “Why do you suspect your husband of cheating?”
Kendall lowered her eyes. “All the signs are there.”
“Such as?”
“He comes home late from the office every night and spends most of the time holed up in his study. We rarely even have dinner together.” Her shoulders slumped. “We haven't shared the same bed in years.”
Frankie turned from the scanner and looked in surprise at Johanna. The woman had to be delusional. Frankie felt sorry for her, but it was obvious, at least to her, that the man in this picture couldn't possibly be her husband. She grabbed the picture, contract, and the copies she had scanned and headed back to the desk. She gave Kendall the picture and contract.
Kendall shook her head and drew a deep breath as she lowered her eyes. She swallowed hard and rubbed her temples. “You don't know the half of what that man has done to me. Look at the picture of him and then take a good hard look at me. He's done this to me.” Her lips trembled and a tear slid down her cheek. “He only married me for my money, but like a fool I was taken in by his charm. He's an evil deceitful human being. He froze me out of my accounts.” She raised her eyes and met theirs. “I know you don't believe that he's my husband. I don't blame you. In your situation I would find it hard to believe too.”
Frankie slipped into the chair next to Kendall's. She passed the scanned copies to Johanna. “Can you start at the beginning, Kendall?” she asked softly.
“It's complicated. I don't know where to begin.” She let out a weary sigh.
“Just start at the beginning,” Johanna said gently. “You said he married you for your money. I hope he signed a pre-nup.”
“He did. My attorney insisted on it.” She opened her purse, pulled a paper from it, and then handed it to Frankie. “I've detailed his daily schedule, but I have no idea where he goes every night after he's finished at the office. He rarely deviates from it during working hours unless there's an emergency. What he does when he leaves the office is anyone's guess.”
“Does he return home every night? I mean are there any nights that he doesn't come home at all?”
She shrugged. “As far as I know he comes home, but if he goes out later I have no clue. As I stated, we have separate bedrooms and I usually retire to my room by eleven o'clock.” She brushed a strand of fallen hair from her cheek.
As Frankie looked over the neatly typed sheet of paper, she had to admit that Kendall had done her homework. “So he never deviates from this schedule? I see that you have each day listed from eight o'clock in the morning until six o'clock in the evening. What about weekends?”
“He's usually home or at the office.” She squirmed restlessly in her chair. “I need proof that he's violated the pre-nuptial agreement before he gains control of everything I own.”
Frankie rubbed her chin. “Please clarify something for me. You keep mentioning a pre-nup, so I assume he can't gain access to any of your accounts without your permission. How then did he manage to freeze your accounts?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “He had me hospitalized.”
Frankie sat contemplating her next question. So far, none of this made any sense. Kendall Longman was obviously suffering from a mental disorder. She certainly didn't look like she had two nickels to rub together. But then, she'd given them a substantial check. Was it forged? If not, where had she gotten the money? Had she developed an unnatural fixation on Thatcher Longman and imagined that he