Chapter 4 – Husband

With a wave of a hand Barry Browning indicated that the detectives should sit. Ash perched on the couch, but Scribbs stood.

Scribbs looked around the room and liked what she saw. A beige carpet covered the floor, set off by a modern grey microfiber three-cushion sofa and magenta leather sitting chairs, all arranged tastefully around a glass and stainless steel coffee table. Creative looking lamps accented the room along with a white brick fireplace and mantel above. A seascape hung above the mantel showing an orange sun setting into a green sea.

"Sorry," Scribbs said to their reluctant host, flexing a knee. "I get cramp if I sit too long."

As Scribbs inspected the room, Ash inspected the husband. The file read forty-seven, but he looked older, his face lined and drawn. Oh he was handsome, but he looked tired and strained; expected considering his wife was missing. Yet he seemed more upset by another police visit than by his spouses' absence.

Browning grimaced at her. "Suit yourself." He slumped down on the chair opposite Ash. "So, detectives," he sighed, "more of the same I suppose? Were we good? Was she happy? Was I happy? More mamby-pamby questions?"

Ash cast an unkind eye at him. "Yes. Were you?" She didn't like it when the victim resented her and her chosen profession.

Browning coughed. "Yes, and yes, and yes. Me, her; simpatico. Perfect. Soul mates. All that."

Scribbs looked around the room her gaze rested on a picture on the fireplace mantel. She crossed to it and picked it up. "This you two?" She held it out for inspection to Browning and to Ash.

Ash looked at a slightly younger Browning and the missing woman. The couple was dressed in cargo shorts, casual shirts, and high-topped hiking boots. Safe to say she looked both much younger and happier than she was.

Browning nodded. "That was our honeymoon in the Azores. Hiking, boating, scuba diving. Quite a trip."

"I see," Ash said. "You don't look terribly happy here," she tapped the picture.

He grunted. "Jenny wanted an elaborate trip, so that's what we had. But… well… my finances were not as rosy as they had been three months previously when we planned it. Just before the nuptials I wanted to take it down a notch – the arrangements that is – but she would have none of it. So I bowed to the inevitable and a missive destination wedding it was. When that shot was taken I was less than happy. The bubble in oil was leaking; that is I'd been watching my investments slide." He shook his head. "Plus I had a bad sunburn on my back."

"And spending money you didn't have," prodded Ash. "So you were hurting in more ways than one. Did she know – about the money?"

"Yes," he answered her. "No she didn't. I just put on a good front."

Scribbs asked, "And now?"

"Oh, fine. Good. Better," he said. "Much."

"Not your back, your investments," Scribbs poked.

Ash scowled at her colleague. "Mr. Browning I am sorry for…"

He laughed. "No, no. Fine. Funny that. The other detectives weren't quite as funny," he wrinkled his nose, "or as charming. But anyway I had no idea that Jenny might do something like this."

"What do you think she did?" Ash asked next.

Browning waved his hands in a flustered way. "Oh, this. Fly the coop. Left me."

Scribbs gave Ash a quick look then she asked, "So you think she left on her own. Why might she do that?"

He shrugged. "Why does anyone do anything? Unless?" He looked down at the floor and sighed.

Ash perked up. "Unless what?"

The man shook his head. "We'd been arguing. She'd been pushing me to start a family with her. We've been married for three years and she told me she had thought we'd be having children already." He shook his head. "Nothing happened so far. I mean we had been discussing it. Jenny was frustrated with the whole business; with me actually."

Ash cleared her throat sensing a breakthrough. "Are you saying she wanted children and you didn't?"

He laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. I do like children; wouldn't mind having our own. But," he sighed, "as you can see I am much older than her. It takes some getting used to the idea of having children at my age."

"Or any age," muttered Ash. "So let's get back to the day she was gone. The 12th?" Ash opened the folder. "I see that she went shopping, or so you thought, while you worked? How do you know that?"

"I work from home, have an office upstairs. I was reading emails and so forth. There's a new oil field I and my partners are thinking of investing in." He smiled. "The oil business used to be about wildcatting and high-risk ventures. You had to get your hands dirty. Now a smart investor can put some into a firm looking for investment. If you pick them right they do the dirty work and you reap the rewards." Browning smiled. "It's all in the numbers you see. Which company has an edge on tech or is using new equipment or has a hot lead on a patch of mud 1000 feet under the North Sea. They take most of the risk and do the real work. I can…"

"Sit on the sidelines and make money?" Scribbs finished for him.

"You make it sound tawdry!" he responded. "Of course make money." He craned his neck to look around the room. "All this is just money in another form." He grinned at the detectives. "My money; money I made."