like her file of personal papers.”
Kim waited. The smile vanished. On the other hand, it wasn’t replaced with a snarl.
“It was done before the prescription for Ambien was written, before Vanessa’s marriage was over. Was the note on top of the papers in the folder?”
“No,” he said cautiously.
“So in the ensuing months, she just stuck other papers in there—like her divorce decree—and maybe never saw the note.”
“Okay, then what?” he asked slowly, trying to see where I was going, but I hadn’t generated enough light for him to make it out.
“Look, if someone dies a suspicious death what happens?” I asked. “Guys like you look into it. You’ll find out what people close to the victim were doing around the time of the death. So if you want to make a murder look like a suicide, the best thing to do is to distance yourself from the place and time of death as much as possible.”
“So then what do you think happened?” Kim Detective-Sergeant asked.
It was less a request than a demand to put up or shut up.
“I’m not sure.”
He was starting to look—not quite bored, but uninterested.
I talked fast: “Tony Marx lied to me and probably to you about not seeing Vanessa on the day she died.”
Before he could interject another question, I explained: “Vanessa’s personal trainer, a guy named Connor, saw Tony driving up to her house that morning.”
His mouth opened slightly, that how-do-you-know-that? signal of an unasked question.
I kept going: “My guess is Tony had some trouble in the past and got frightened about being part of any investigation. That’s why he lied about when he last saw her.”
I waited.
Kim finally said: “It’s a matter of public record. An arrest for insurance fraud, second degree. Suspended sentence.”
“Tony seems to have genuinely loved her.”
No reaction. I wished I could say, Isn’t it odd, how often unlovable, unloving types are able to attract people who truly do love them? But Detective Kim didn’t seem the sort to welcome the Fascinating Digression.
“On the other hand, Barbara Giddings definitely didn’t love Vanessa, although she is obsessed with her. Knows the precise number of suits in her closet, which is pretty weird.”
“So you’re saying she had access?”
“I don’t know. Vanessa and Stan lived in a huge, multimillion-dollar house, which must have a sophisticated alarm system. It would be hard to break in, although I concede Barbara might have been able to con a housekeeper or someone to give her access. But have you met Barbara?”
Kim didn’t respond, so I kept going.
“She seems too dispirited to be able to pull off a maneuver that would require guts and inventiveness. My guess is she’s mostly got highly sensitive antennae that pings when it detects any snippet of information about the second Mrs. Giddings.”
“And the third Mrs. Giddings, the artist?” Kim inquired. He was listening, that was for sure. Sitting motionless: no paper clip bending, no pen chewing. But it wasn’t the kind of benevolent lack of motion that indicated Hey, I’m riveted by what you’re saying. Yet neither was it an icy silence that accompanies contempt while you make an ass of yourself. For all the vibes he gave off, I might as well have been across the desk from a life-size photo of a man in a chair. The complete neutrality of him now was beyond unnerving, so you just wanted to blurt out the rest of your story, get the meeting over, and rejoin life. Maybe for a second I wondered if this was his personality or a technique to undermine a person’s defenses, but I was too uncomfortable to think about it for long.
“Well, for Ryn …”
I was babbling much too fast.
“The clock was ticking. She was having a baby. Not that she’d be worried about it being born out of wedlock. Her concern was getting Stan to marry her. Once the baby was born, it would be a fact of life. Clearly, Stan would support it. But would he be willing to go
Kim waited. The smile vanished. On the other hand, it wasn’t replaced with a snarl.
“It was done before the prescription for Ambien was written, before Vanessa’s marriage was over. Was the note on top of the papers in the folder?”
“No,” he said cautiously.
“So in the ensuing months, she just stuck other papers in there—like her divorce decree—and maybe never saw the note.”
“Okay, then what?” he asked slowly, trying to see where I was going, but I hadn’t generated enough light for him to make it out.
“Look, if someone dies a suspicious death what happens?” I asked. “Guys like you look into it. You’ll find out what people close to the victim were doing around the time of the death. So if you want to make a murder look like a suicide, the best thing to do is to distance yourself from the place and time of death as much as possible.”
“So then what do you think happened?” Kim Detective-Sergeant asked.
It was less a request than a demand to put up or shut up.
“I’m not sure.”
He was starting to look—not quite bored, but uninterested.
I talked fast: “Tony Marx lied to me and probably to you about not seeing Vanessa on the day she died.”
Before he could interject another question, I explained: “Vanessa’s personal trainer, a guy named Connor, saw Tony driving up to her house that morning.”
His mouth opened slightly, that how-do-you-know-that? signal of an unasked question.
I kept going: “My guess is Tony had some trouble in the past and got frightened about being part of any investigation. That’s why he lied about when he last saw her.”
I waited.
Kim finally said: “It’s a matter of public record. An arrest for insurance fraud, second degree. Suspended sentence.”
“Tony seems to have genuinely loved her.”
No reaction. I wished I could say, Isn’t it odd, how often unlovable, unloving types are able to attract people who truly do love them? But Detective Kim didn’t seem the sort to welcome the Fascinating Digression.
“On the other hand, Barbara Giddings definitely didn’t love Vanessa, although she is obsessed with her. Knows the precise number of suits in her closet, which is pretty weird.”
“So you’re saying she had access?”
“I don’t know. Vanessa and Stan lived in a huge, multimillion-dollar house, which must have a sophisticated alarm system. It would be hard to break in, although I concede Barbara might have been able to con a housekeeper or someone to give her access. But have you met Barbara?”
Kim didn’t respond, so I kept going.
“She seems too dispirited to be able to pull off a maneuver that would require guts and inventiveness. My guess is she’s mostly got highly sensitive antennae that pings when it detects any snippet of information about the second Mrs. Giddings.”
“And the third Mrs. Giddings, the artist?” Kim inquired. He was listening, that was for sure. Sitting motionless: no paper clip bending, no pen chewing. But it wasn’t the kind of benevolent lack of motion that indicated Hey, I’m riveted by what you’re saying. Yet neither was it an icy silence that accompanies contempt while you make an ass of yourself. For all the vibes he gave off, I might as well have been across the desk from a life-size photo of a man in a chair. The complete neutrality of him now was beyond unnerving, so you just wanted to blurt out the rest of your story, get the meeting over, and rejoin life. Maybe for a second I wondered if this was his personality or a technique to undermine a person’s defenses, but I was too uncomfortable to think about it for long.
“Well, for Ryn …”
I was babbling much too fast.
“The clock was ticking. She was having a baby. Not that she’d be worried about it being born out of wedlock. Her concern was getting Stan to marry her. Once the baby was born, it would be a fact of life. Clearly, Stan would support it. But would he be willing to go
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