The Murdered Wife

Jill was silent for several moments. Finally, she spoke up. "Bridget, you watch yourself around that man. If he was truly innocent, I can't see why he would even raise the possibility of his guilt. He might just have a quirky sense of humor, but that troubles me."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Sis. Anyway, I'll let you know what I find out tomorrow. And don't worry: I'll be careful."

"I hope I'm not keeping you away from taking care of your clients," Bridget told him the next morning as she settled down on the couch in Barry's office.

"Don't worry about that," Barry said bitterly. "After that article in the newspaper, the only calls I've had from my clients were two more who called to terminate my services. I can't believe how quickly people are ready to condemn someone." He gave a wry smile. "Anyway, if I you weren't here I wouldn't have anyone to talk with at all."

She gave him a sympathetic look and then glanced down at her notes. "Then let's get started," she said. "Why don't you begin by telling me about yourself?"

He settled back in the side chair and took a sip of his coffee. "There's not all that much to tell, really. I was born here in Richmond and have lived here all my life, except for when I went to college at UVA in Charlottesville. I majored in Finance and had planned to get my MBA after I graduated, but I got a really good offer from a major financial planning corporation and decided to give it a try. I soon discovered I had a real knack for financial planning and decided that an advanced degree wouldn't help me all that much."

"After a few years, I was doing well enough to believe I could make it on my own, so I left the firm and started my own practice. Things were going pretty well until the recession knocked the economy for a loop."

Bridget was recording their conversation and also making notes. She looked up at Barry now. "So what made you decide to strike out on your own?" she asked. "Did you always want to be your own boss?"

"Well, that was part of it," Barry agreed, "but there was another factor as well. About that time my first wife and I split up."

When Bridget raised her eyebrows in question, he continued. "She and I were high school sweethearts, and both of us went to UVA because we wanted to be together. We wound up getting married right after graduation."

"But the truth was that we developed into two different people with very different views on life. During college those differences really began to emerge. She was very artistic and ultimately graduated with a degree in Drama. She became increasingly idealistic, ready to march for any cause that came along."

"I'm much more pragmatic, more oriented toward numbers and results. I think the truth is that the only reason we got married was because we'd dated so long that it seemed like that was the next inevitable step. But it took only a couple of years for us to realize that we should never have married in the first place. The split was as amicable as something like that can be."

"What about the financial settlement?" Bridget asked. "Did you have to pay alimony?"

"No," Barry said happily, "I was lucky. She believed that alimony was a form of male subjugation. All I had to do was to pay for her to go back to college to get her MFA degree. Of course her tuition pretty well blew through everything I had saved, but that was the end of my obligation to her."

He gave a little smile. "We're still on speaking terms. I even get a card from her every year on my birthday and at Christmas."

Bridget added a few more notes to herself. "So at that point you were in your mid-twenties, divorced, employed but essentially broke."

He smiled again. "That's about it. So I took stock of myself and decided that if I ever wanted to go out on my own, that was the perfect time to make the leap -- no dependents, no obligations. So I quit, set up my own agency and started hustling. I caught a few breaks and things started going well. And then they started going really well when I met Kelly."

Bridget set up a little straighter. "How did that happen?"

He seemed almost embarrassed. "To be honest, I met her through one of those online dating services."

When she gave him a questioning look, he went on hastily. "You wouldn't believe how hard it is to meet eligible, attractive women once you're out of college. I was working 70- and 80-hour weeks; I didn't have time to hang out at bars or go to clubs. So I decided to give the online service a try, and that's how I found her. Although now that I think about it, she actually found me first."

"Anyway, we hit it off the first time we went out together. We just seemed to have so much in common: our values, our attitudes and interests. It seemed like everything I liked was her favorite too. Even our histories were similar: she'd just gotten out of a bad marriage in Atlanta and had moved up to Richmond to start fresh. Just like me, she preferred a smaller city, not one of the big metropolises where you can get lost so easily."

"How long did you two date before you got married?" Bridget asked.

This time Barry did blush. "We actually tied the knot only six months after we met. I know that sounds a little fast in today's world, but we both knew what we wanted and what we liked, and it just made good sense not to wait."

Barry stretched out his hands almost as if he was pleading with Bridget. "I know you've seen pictures of her so you know how gorgeous she was. But it wasn't just her looks that attracted me, it was her style, her values, her attitudes. And most of all, it was her brains that got to me. She was every bit as intelligent and pragmatic as me."

He leaned forward toward Bridget. "Let me give you an example. Apparently, she made out pretty well financially in the divorce and she wanted to protect those funds just in case things didn't work out between us. I felt the same way about my business, so we agreed to sign a prenuptial agreement covering those assets in the event of a divorce. A lot of women would feel threatened by that suggestion, but she understood immediately that I was trying to protect both of us."

He slumped back in his seat. "I'll never find another one like her."

That evening when she called her sister, Bridget was in a contemplative mood. "I know I'm supposed to maintain a level of detachment," she said, "but I can't help liking the guy. He just doesn't seem like the sort of person who would murder his wife."

Jill's voice took on a tone that sounded like a professor at a lecture. "Bridget, do you know what a 'sociopath' is?" she asked.

"Of course I do," Bridget responded sharply, "and Barry is not a sociopath. I think he's an intelligent, caring individual who's suffered a terrible loss and is now being unfairly accused. He certainly doesn't seem to be delusional in any way."

"None of that means he's not a sociopath," Jill retorted. "Listen to some of the characteristics commonly observed in sociopaths -- and I'm quoting now -- superficial charm and good intelligence, absence of signs of irrational thinking, unreliability, untruthfulness and insincerity, lack of remorse and shame, antisocial behavior. The list goes on."

"Where did you get all that stuff?" Bridget demanded.

"It comes straight out of The Mask of Sanity by Hervey Cleckley. It's considered one of the foremost clinical descriptions of psychopathic and sociopathic behavior," Jill said firmly.

"Well I'm not convinced," Bridget said fiercely. "In the first place, a lot of those traits could be used to describe lots of people who are perfectly sane. Second, the absence of signs of irrational behavior is hardly proof that he's a nut. And finally, you don't know that some of those other characteristics like untruthfulness and antisocial behavior apply to Barry!"

"Whoa, whoa, BeeGee, I'm not making accusations here. I just want you to keep on your guard with this guy. If he is a sociopath -- and I'm not saying that he is, just that he might be -- then he can be very charming and manipulative. All I'm saying is keep your eyes open and don't take any risks, okay?"

"Alright, Sis, alright," Bridget sighed, "I'll be careful. You've always watched out for me; I won't do anything stupid."

Bridget was just getting ready to leave for Barry's home the next afternoon when her cell phone rang. When she checked the display, she was surprised to see it was Jill calling again.

"I'm so glad I caught you," Jill said breathlessly. "In all our talk last night about sociopaths, I completely overlooked something else you said. Didn't you tell me that Barry and Kelly had a prenuptial agreement?"

"That's right," Bridget said, "but what's so important about that?"

"Did he tell you which one of them wanted the prenup?" Jill asked eagerly.

"I'm not sure he said," Bridget replied, "but I don't know why it matters."

"Don't you see?" Jill said. "That's the motive for the murder! Think about it. Barry's business is failing and he needs an infusion of capital. She has money from her ex-husband, but Barry can't get at it by divorcing her because she has that prenup in place. But in the case of her death, the surviving spouse inherits everything. Follow the money, Bridget, it's the oldest motive in the books!"

When Bridget said nothing, Jill spoke up impatiently. "Well, what do you think, BeeGee?"

"I never thought about the implications of their having a prenup," Bridget said quietly. "I'll definitely want to look into that." Then, speaking hurriedly, she went on, "Listen, Sis, I'm running late. I'll give you a call later and let you know what I find out."

"Just stay on your toes," Jill said just before Bridget hung up.

As she pulled out in her car to head for Barry's home, Bridget's mind was in a whirl. "Could he really be the murderer?" she wondered. "Could this all be nothing more than a case of greed?"

As she drove, she reminded herself that the two murderers in Capote's book were also mere thieves, and that didn't lessen the impact of the book in any way. But she was surprised at how disappointed she felt at the idea that Barry might turn out to be the killer. "He just doesn't seem like the type," she thought sadly.

Barry was working on a spreadsheet when Bridget finally arrived. As she came in his office, he noticed the expression on her face and knew immediately that something was wrong. "What is it, Bridget? What's happened?"

Her face had a curious expression, and she remained standing rather than taking a seat on the sofa. Finally, she took a deep breath as though steeling herself for something unpleasant and spoke. "I don't know whether you realized it or not, but yesterday you told me something that could provide a possible motive for murder."

When Barry looked at her questioningly, she plunged ahead. "You told me that you and Kelly had a prenuptial agreement that kept her premarital assets separate. As a result, the only way you could have access to her funds to bail out your business would be to inherit them in the case of her death."

Barry stared at her for a long moment, and as she carefully watched him Bridget realized she was holding her breath. Then he suddenly burst into laughter. "Is that what's troubling you? There was no problem getting extra cash. Kelly was going to make a loan from her funds to my business to tide me over. We even had a contract drawn up specifying all the terms and conditions. I'm not sure where the contract is now, but I could probably find it if it would make you feel better."

He paused and then went on more quietly. "We were going to sign the contract the same night she was murdered, but we never got the chance." He sat down heavily on the office couch, apparently remembering his last interaction with his wife.

Bridget sat down beside him, obviously relieved that there was such a simple explanation to the situation. "I'm sorry, Barry, I should have known that things weren't the way they looked. It's just that I'm trying so hard to examine all possibilities, and this whole case is so puzzling."

He looked at her understandingly. "No, don't apologize. You're trying to do your job, and that means exploring every possible avenue. I'm just flattered that you didn't want to find me guilty."

She gave him an embarrassed little smile.

He smiled back, and then stood up abruptly. "Listen, having to deal with all this stuff is making me crazy. Let's not spend any more time on this today. I don't have any appointments this afternoon, and I'm sick of being cooped up inside now that spring is here. Let's go out and enjoy the good weather and put all this police stuff aside for a while."

"That sounds good," Bridget said immediately, and allowed Barry to lead her out to his car. "Where are we going?" she asked, but all he would do was smile and tell her to be patient.

For one nervous moment, Kelly wondered if he was going to take her out west of Richmond to the farm where Kelly had died, but instead he headed toward the north side of the city. Eventually he turned on Lakeside Avenue and drove until he reached the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. She looked at him curiously. "I have to admit, his is not what I was expecting," Kelly told him. "You are an unusual man. "Every time I think I understand you, you surprise me."

After they'd entered through the gates, Barry led Bridget around to the right, exploring the different gardens along the winding circular path. They wound up spending the entire afternoon wandering through the many gardens and exhibits. When they finally made it to the Asian Valley, Barry led Bridget to a bench beside a pond overhung by Japanese maples, and the two sat there enjoying the peacefulness of the setting. "I like to come to this place when I need to think," he told her with a smile.

By the time they had returned to his car, the shadows were lengthening, and when Barry saw the time, he apologized to Bridget for keeping her out so long. She quickly dismissed his concerns. "This has been a wonderful day, Barry. It seems like I never have a chance to get away; this is the first time I've been able to forget everything else and just enjoy myself."

He hesitated a moment and then asked her if she had any commitments for the evening. When she replied that she didn't, he continued, "I don't know about you, but after all this walking, I'm starving. Would you have dinner with me?" Then, before she could answer, he added, "But with one condition: that we don't talk about crime or Kelly or anything like that."

Bridget smiled and readily agreed.

They left the botanical garden and Barry drove downtown along the James River until they came to Bookbinder's, the old restaurant built in a refurbished tobacco warehouse. The evening was warm enough that they took a table out on the patio. Barry ordered a bottle of wine, and the conversation over dinner flowed easily. At first they discussed what they had liked in the botanical garden; then Barry went on to tell Bridget about other sites and activities in Richmond that she might enjoy. Afterwards, the conversation drifted to other topics, and Barry entertained her with humorous stories about his college years and his adventures starting his own business.

By the time they finished and were walking back to the car, the temperature had dipped enough that Barry offered his suit jacket, and when she nodded gratefully, he slipped it over Bridget's shoulders. Once they got back to the car, Barry drove them across the river on 14th Street and continued until they hit 301. Then he turned back north and drove them across the Robert E. Lee Bridge so she could have a good view of the city lights.

When they finally returned to Barry's home office, he invited her in for a cup of coffee, and, still chilly from the night air, she gratefully accepted. As they sat sipping the brew, an embarrassed look came over Barry's face. When Bridget noticed his expression, she asked him what was wrong.

"You must think I'm the world's biggest egomaniac. I just realized that I spent the entire evening talking about myself," he said apologetically.

"No, no, I don't mind," she laughed. "I enjoyed learning more about you. Besides, isn't that what I'm supposed to do: interrogate the subject of my book?"

He smiled. "Well, now it's my turn to interrogate you, Ms. Callahan. I'd like to know something about your history."

She attempted to wave his interest off. "There's really not much to tell about me. I'm just one of those people who focus so heavily on my work that it doesn't leave much time in my life for anything else."

"Well, do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked.

"Just one sister -- Jill -- who lives in D.C. She's a detective on the police force."

"Really?" Barry replied. "Isn't that interesting: both of you found careers in different aspects of criminal justice. I know she's a policewoman and you're a crime writer, but your focus is still the same. Is that a coincidence?"

The smile left Bridget's face. "Well, Jill is my older sister, so it's not so odd that I'd be influenced by her."

Barry pressed on. "But there must be more to it than that. What is it that drove both of you to the pursuit of the criminal element? Was your father a policeman?"

Bridget sat there silent and motionless, almost as if she were holding her breath, and her face turned pale. Then, to Barry's astonishment, her eyes closed and huge tears began to run down her cheeks. She put her hands to her face and began to sob like a heartbroken child.

Barry was stunned, unsure of what to do. He sat there leaning forward in his chair uncertainly, and after a few moments Bridget began to speak in a halting voice through her sobs.

"I was in the seventh grade when it happened. A friend's mother gave me a ride from school, and when I got home the side door we always used was wide open. That wasn't normal, but I didn't think much about it when I went in. I yelled to Momma that I was home, but she didn't answer. I yelled again, and when there was still no answer I began to get worried."

"I walked through the living room and saw the floor lamp knocked over and the furniture out of place. Then I saw blood on the floor and I remember that I began to tremble all over. I don't know why but I tiptoed back to my parents' bedroom. When I peeked in the door, I saw her foot sticking out from the other side of the bed."

Barry's face had gone pale as he listened, but Bridget didn't notice because her eyes remained squeezed shut. It was obvious that she was remembering every detail of the horrible scene.

"When I went over to look at her, I saw that her clothes had been ripped and torn from her. I remember especially that her panties were dangling from one ankle. That was the first time I'd ever seen my mother nude."

"But what I remember most was blood everywhere. After he was done raping her, he -- whoever it was -- had shot her in the stomach."

"I screamed her name over and over again, tugging on her hand, trying to get her to stand up. Jill always got home later than me, and she must have heard me because she came running into the room. She started bawling too, but she was older and stronger than me, and she pulled me out of the bedroom and back into the living room. Then she called 9-1-1 and then held me until the police arrived."

Now Barry moved to her side and put his arm around her as she wept. "Oh, God, Bridget, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you!"

Bridget looked up at him with red, haunted eyes. "That wasn't the end of it. When Daddy came home, he got hysterical. They'd covered Momma up with a sheet, but he ripped it off of her and screamed when he saw what that monster had done to her. The police had to physically restrain him in his agony."