the way I always did when conversing with cops. “Of course,” I said.
“I know you told the officer what happened, but take us through it again, will you?”
I retold my story, starting with the part about hearing moans and skipping over how I happened to be at
Buzz
in the first place. I didn’t want to lie again if I didn’t have to.
“One thing I should tell you,” I added. “I moved Mona’s body a couple of inches—away from the desk. I know you’re supposed to be careful about touching things in situations like this, but she was having a seizure and I was afraid she might knock her head against the leg of the desk. Do you know how she is, by the way?”
“We don’t have any word yet,” he said, sounding as if he wouldn’t tell me even if they did. “Did the victim say anything to you?”
“Nothing. She was shaking badly, in some kind of convulsions. I did speak to the other victim—the cleaning lady. She told me that the person must have been behind the door when she entered the office. She said she never saw who hit her.”
“Did you see anyone else on the floor tonight—at
any
point when you came up here?”
“No, it was empty—though when I was in the reception area I could hear a ton of people at the party over at
Track.
The attack must have happened just before I came in.”
“Did Ms. Hodges often work late?”
“Most nights, yes—but rarely on Tuesdays as far as I know. Monday is the night we close each issue, and that’s always a really late night. On Tuesday people try to clear out by six or so.”
“But not you?”
Oh God, here we go
again.
“Well, first of all, I’m, uh, sort of a part-timer and I don’t work on the same schedule as everyone else. I was out on business all day—you know, covering a story—and like I told the officer, I needed to pick up work from my in-box.”
As I gave the last detail I glanced down, directing his attention to the papers sticking out of my bag. I felt even more uncomfortable lying to Tate. He eyed me curiously. I couldn’t tell if he suspected some prevarication on my part or was just trying to make sense of everything in his mind.
More voices and footsteps burst into the open space. The three of us looked up in unison to see four people come trooping down the aisle along the bullpen—the crime scene unit with equipment and two other guys in sports jackets, probably other detectives. Tate caught the eye of one and cocked his head in the direction of Mona’s office. I assumed that the look he gave suggested he’d be with them as soon as he’d finished with his witness.
“Tell me, to your knowledge is there anyone here at the magazine who might be upset with Ms. Hodges?” Tate asked me, pulling my attention back to him. “Did anyone have a bone to pick with her?”
My brain seemed to freeze. God, what should I say? Robby, of course, had a big fat bone to pick with Mona, but he certainly hadn’t killed her, and I didn’t want to put him on the police radar unnecessarily. Nor did I want to do that to other people I’d heard Mona chew out. In a split second, I decided to err on the side of discretion and be vague with my answer. The police would be interviewing tons of people, including many who were far more entrenched at the magazine than I was, and they would hear soon enough about the staff’s problems with Mona, including Robby’s dismissal.
“I’ve only worked here six weeks and so I’m not really up to speed on everything that’s going on,” I said. “You should probably talk to Nash Nolan, the executive editor.”
“All right, that will be all the questions for tonight,” he said. “Our crime scene unit is here now, and I’d appreciate it if you’d show them exactly where you found the victim and explain how much you moved her.”
“Of course,” I said.
I followed Tate back to the area outside Mona’s office. A portion of it, including the section where the cleaning lady had collapsed, was now
“I know you told the officer what happened, but take us through it again, will you?”
I retold my story, starting with the part about hearing moans and skipping over how I happened to be at
Buzz
in the first place. I didn’t want to lie again if I didn’t have to.
“One thing I should tell you,” I added. “I moved Mona’s body a couple of inches—away from the desk. I know you’re supposed to be careful about touching things in situations like this, but she was having a seizure and I was afraid she might knock her head against the leg of the desk. Do you know how she is, by the way?”
“We don’t have any word yet,” he said, sounding as if he wouldn’t tell me even if they did. “Did the victim say anything to you?”
“Nothing. She was shaking badly, in some kind of convulsions. I did speak to the other victim—the cleaning lady. She told me that the person must have been behind the door when she entered the office. She said she never saw who hit her.”
“Did you see anyone else on the floor tonight—at
any
point when you came up here?”
“No, it was empty—though when I was in the reception area I could hear a ton of people at the party over at
Track.
The attack must have happened just before I came in.”
“Did Ms. Hodges often work late?”
“Most nights, yes—but rarely on Tuesdays as far as I know. Monday is the night we close each issue, and that’s always a really late night. On Tuesday people try to clear out by six or so.”
“But not you?”
Oh God, here we go
again.
“Well, first of all, I’m, uh, sort of a part-timer and I don’t work on the same schedule as everyone else. I was out on business all day—you know, covering a story—and like I told the officer, I needed to pick up work from my in-box.”
As I gave the last detail I glanced down, directing his attention to the papers sticking out of my bag. I felt even more uncomfortable lying to Tate. He eyed me curiously. I couldn’t tell if he suspected some prevarication on my part or was just trying to make sense of everything in his mind.
More voices and footsteps burst into the open space. The three of us looked up in unison to see four people come trooping down the aisle along the bullpen—the crime scene unit with equipment and two other guys in sports jackets, probably other detectives. Tate caught the eye of one and cocked his head in the direction of Mona’s office. I assumed that the look he gave suggested he’d be with them as soon as he’d finished with his witness.
“Tell me, to your knowledge is there anyone here at the magazine who might be upset with Ms. Hodges?” Tate asked me, pulling my attention back to him. “Did anyone have a bone to pick with her?”
My brain seemed to freeze. God, what should I say? Robby, of course, had a big fat bone to pick with Mona, but he certainly hadn’t killed her, and I didn’t want to put him on the police radar unnecessarily. Nor did I want to do that to other people I’d heard Mona chew out. In a split second, I decided to err on the side of discretion and be vague with my answer. The police would be interviewing tons of people, including many who were far more entrenched at the magazine than I was, and they would hear soon enough about the staff’s problems with Mona, including Robby’s dismissal.
“I’ve only worked here six weeks and so I’m not really up to speed on everything that’s going on,” I said. “You should probably talk to Nash Nolan, the executive editor.”
“All right, that will be all the questions for tonight,” he said. “Our crime scene unit is here now, and I’d appreciate it if you’d show them exactly where you found the victim and explain how much you moved her.”
“Of course,” I said.
I followed Tate back to the area outside Mona’s office. A portion of it, including the section where the cleaning lady had collapsed, was now
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