Killer Heels (7 page)

“Just. One. Minute.” Yvonne was working herself up into a fit of righteous indignation. She was fond of the grander emotions and the chance to defend a friend was as irresistible to her as a lingerie sale at Saks, I’m sure. But I snaked a hand behind Helen’s back and nudged Yvonne as hard as I dared because I could see the detectives were in no mood for her theatrics. I was pretty done with them myself.

“Mrs. Reynolds?” Detective Lipscomb repeated, but his voice was gentler. Yvonne sat back a few inches, like a snake recoiling.

“I got home from work a little after eight. I ordered dinner from Costa del Sol and if they don’t time code the orders, I paid with a credit card.” Helen straightened up a little, her own brand of indignation distracting her from her sorrow. “Then I made some phone calls and spent some time online, both of which you can also check on. Unfortunately, I went to bed about eleven, so you’ll just have to trust me from there.”

Detective Lipscomb wasn’t bothered in the least by Helen’s mounting fury. I’m sure they saw this all the time—a newly minted widow looking for some way and any reason to release the searing pain growing in her. “We have to ask the questions, ma’am,” Detective Edwards explained quietly.

“Don’t lecture her,” Yvonne snapped. “The woman just lost her husband! For. God’s. Sake.”

Detective Lipscomb nodded in patient understanding and paused a moment before continuing. “Was it unusual for your husband not to be home by eleven, Mrs. Reynolds ?”

“Not unusual, but not a regular thing. Every once in a while. He goes through these bouts of insomnia and he feels it’s more productive to stay at the office and work if he has the energy, rather than pacing around here all night.” Her voice faltered toward the end, as though she’d lost faith in the story as a result of saying it out loud. She was still referring to Teddy in the present tense, but it didn’t seem like the sort of thing you correct. Helen tightened her grip on my right hand and I patted hers with my left, wishing I had cool, tiny hands like Tricia, even with the chipped polish. My hands were feeling pretty wrung out and clammy at this point and I was developing a very distracting urge to crack the knuckles in the hand Helen was squashing. And all I could think was, who was Teddy sleeping with?

“True, true!” Yvonne flung herself into the fray. “I’m a bit of a night owl myself! Teddy and I often bumped into each other. In the office. In the wee hours.” Yvonne smiled broadly, as though she’d won the third grade spelling bee. She was actually handling this better than I had feared she might on the ride over. She wasn’t trying to appropriate Helen’s grief and she deserved a gold star for that.

“Did your husband call to say he’d be late?”

Helen folded her mouth back into that thin line. “Sometimes.”

They let that hang in the air for a moment. Detective Lipscomb jotted something down and Detective Edwards just looked at Helen. He really had amazing eyes. Such a bright blue, and a direct, piercing quality without being cold or harsh. Helen looked back at him and the pressure on my hand eased up. She was relaxing as she gazed into Detective Edwards’ eyes. Almost as though he were willing her to.

I nearly jumped as I realized what he was doing. He was seducing her. Okay, maybe that’s a step too far, but he was definitely lulling her into a sense of comfort and safety. He knew he had great eyes and he was using them. He wanted her to trust him, be willing to say anything to him. Then he added the voice to the mix, gentle and rich and smooth. “But not tonight.”

Helen’s breath caught and my hand instinctively went to her shoulder. “We had an argument. I told him not to call. I told him …” A huge sob convulsed her. Yvonne retreated slightly in the face of so much genuine emotion and I drew Helen to me as best I could. The detectives leaned forward solicitously.

“Take your time,” Detective Lipscomb said.

Helen couldn’t hold it in. She straightened back up, pulling away from me. “I told him not to call. I told him I didn’t care when he came home.”

“What did you fight about?” Detective Edwards asked.

Helen laughed bitterly, even as she wiped her eyes with already sodden tissues. “About his working so late! And I said such …” She shook her head hard, trying to dislodge the memory of those last angry words. “It’s stupid now, but it seemed important then.”

Both detectives nodded. “This had been a problem for a while?” Detective Lipscomb proceeded gently. “I know my hours have bugged my wife since day one.”

“No, it’s just been the past several months. Maybe six.” Helen looked down at the rug as though it would help her do the math. “Maybe a little longer.”

“We had a big advertising slump after 9/11. Everyone did. Teddy’s been working so hard to build us back up,” Yvonne volunteered.

“Everything else has been okay?” Detective Edwards asked.

“Yes,” Helen answered defiantly.

“Do you have children?” he continued.

“No,” Helen answered, but the defiance wasn’t there, just a slight hollowness that everyone could hear and tried not to react to.

“What do you do, Mrs. Reynolds?” Detective Lipscomb asked.

“I’m human resources director at Anderson and Wood. We’re a law firm.”

“Where are your offices?”

Helen sighed. “We’re two doors down from the magazine.” She waited for the detectives to make something out of that, but Detective Lipscomb just jotted it down and Detective Edwards kept gazing at her.

“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your husband?” Detective Edwards asked.

“What happened to the robbery gone wrong?” I said, a little too loudly. But it worked. They all looked at me, Helen most importantly. I couldn’t—didn’t want to—believe she had anything to do with this so I wanted her to be careful about what she said, especially to Big Blue Eyes. Of course, Big Blue Eyes was looking at me pretty intently now, too, but I could handle it. I hoped. This was certainly not the time for me to blurt any affair-related thoughts.

“We’re looking at all the options,” Detective Lipscomb said, his tone much more friendly than when he’d told me that back in the office. He was in sincerity mode and I wasn’t going to shake him out of it. His eyes swung back to Helen, but Detective Edwards kept looking at me. He was trying to figure out what I was up to. So was I.

“Teddy doesn’t have any enemies. Everybody loves—” Helen crumpled so suddenly that I was afraid she’d fainted. “Loved …” she corrected herself before she started sobbing. Yvonne grabbed her like she was going to perform some cockeyed Heimlich and started rocking with her. Helen hadn’t let go of my hands yet, so I had no choice but to sit beside them and wait for the fury of Helen’s acceptance to pass.

After a moment, Detective Edwards eased back in. “There aren’t problems with debts or drugs or—”

“No,” Helen snapped. She worked out of Yvonne’s embrace and blew her nose loudly. “We were fine. We were happy and we were fine.” The words had a surprisingly forced crispness. Helen wasn’t telling the truth. What had gone wrong?

The detectives exchanged an unreadable look. Surely they heard the brick wall in her voice, too. Helen was done talking. She was wrapping herself in her myth of happiness and shutting the rest of us out.

Detective Lipscomb flipped his notebook closed. “Is there anyone we can call for you, someone who can come stay with you?”

“I want Molly.” Helen grabbed at me, her hands still filled with wet tissues. I tried not to recoil from the tissues or the thought of staying with her all night.

“I can stay, too,” Yvonne offered.

“Thank you, Yvonne,” Helen said. Yvonne beamed. She was probably picturing some wonderful bonding experience that would make us all better people. I was picturing a lot of weeping and wailing and feeling useless, none of which I enjoy.

Detective Edwards held his business card out to Helen. “We will need you to come down and formally identify him, but you can wait until morning if you’d like.”

Helen stopped, her hand withdrawing from the business card. “I have to see him—like that? Molly already told you it was him.”

“If there’s another family member—”

“Oh, my God. The family. His parents. Oh, my God.” Helen sagged against Yvonne as a new wave of tears overtook her.

Detective Edwards turned back to me. I held his gaze as best I could, but it was hard. Helen’s weeping was compelling and I could feel the urge to cry tickling the back of my throat. It overrode any chance of Big Blue Eyes lulling me into saying anything. He placed his business card on the glistening surface of the coffee table and stood. Detective Lipscomb slid forward in his chair. I thought he was going to reach out to comfort Helen, but then I saw he was easing himself to his feet.

“Mrs. Reynolds, call us if you think of anything or if you need anything,” he said with surprising tenderness. He put his card next to Detective Edwards’ and stood. Detective Edwards inclined his head toward the front door. Leaving Helen literally in Yvonne’s hands, I followed them.

Detective Lipscomb paused long enough to say, “Good evening, Ms. Forrester,” before he went out into the hallway. I stood just inside the doorway with Detective Edwards, still a little confused. Were they really done? What were they thinking? What happened next? Who
was
Teddy sleeping with? Who was Detective Edwards sleeping with and how serious was it?

Okay, so random thoughts sneak in at the most inopportune moments. But it had been quite a night, so I was entitled to a slight loss of control. As long as my mouth didn’t blurt at the same time my mind was wandering. That could get complicated and/or embarrassing.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was having an affair?” Detective Edwards asked quietly, not interested in Helen hearing this line of questioning.

“Because I didn’t know. I mean, I’m not sure he was. Helen’s not thinking clearly,” I finished, each statement more feeble than the one before it.

“So he wasn’t having an affair with you,” Detective Edwards persisted.

“No,” I answered, trying very hard to be mysterious. Let Detective Edwards wonder who
was
having an affair with me. And please, let him think of someone more exotic and challenging than Peter. He seemed pleased with the answer, but I wasn’t sure if he was professionally or personally pleased. Just in case he was getting more personal, I tried to be more businesslike. Couldn’t prove the girlfriends right too early in the process. This was about helping Teddy, not bedding Detective Edwards. Yet. “When will they do the autopsy?”

“Why?”

“If she has to see him, I want her to see him before that.”

“So you two are close?”

“Not at all,” I admitted. “But she’s looking for someone to help her get through this and I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“She’s lucky to have you here.” I shrugged off the compliment and tried to ignore how nice it felt. “We don’t control the autopsy schedule. But the sooner she comes down, the better, across the board.”

“I’ll have her call you first thing, see if she can get some sleep first.” I was certain Yvonne would have some sort of pharmaceuticals in her purse to make sure Helen passed out for at least a few hours, but it didn’t seem the sort of information to share with a detective.

“Anybody you need to call, let them know you won’t be coming home?”

I had the presence of mind to pause for a moment before answering. Didn’t want to seem too eager to assure him that there was no competition on the live-in level. Or was it going to seem like I had to pause and think whether I’d left some boy toy draped across the four-poster when I went out this evening? “No,” I answered and stopped there. This one-word-answer approach was very interesting. I might have to try it again.

“Okay.” He seemed content with my answer.

I pressed my luck. “Your roommate must be used to the awful hours.”

He nodded and my stomach fluttered in disappointment. “That’s the great thing about fish. They’re very understanding.”

“Fish?” I tried not to sound too happy.

“A salt water tank. A childhood passion I haven’t outgrown.”

“Fascinating.”

“Actually, it’s pretty geeky, but I enjoy it.”

I was trying to figure out how to invite myself to a fish viewing when Detective Lipscomb stepped back into the doorway. I felt like my father had flipped on the porch light while I was kissing Randy Gochenauer good night in ninth grade. Embarrassment doesn’t get easier with age.

“You booked on a later elevator, Edwards?” Detective Lipscomb growled.

Detective Edwards took a step toward his non-smiling partner. “You have my card. Call us in the morning and we’ll arrange to meet you at the morgue. Ten or eleven, maybe.”

“I will. Thank you, Detective Lipscomb.” I stuck my hand out instinctively. Detective Lipscomb shook it without comment. “Detective Edwards.” I moved my hand to him and he shook it with a gentle pressure that made me want to leave my hand in his.

“Good night.” Detective Lipscomb walked out of the doorway again, giving Detective Edwards his exit cue.

Detective Edwards released my hand slowly and started out after Detective Lipscomb. “Call me if you think of anything.”

There was an invitation I could do something with. “Count on it.” He was almost out of the doorway and I blurted one more time. “Too bad your partner’s already buying you breakfast.”

He vanished into the hallway and I wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard me or worse, if he had heard me and decided that such a stupid line wasn’t worthy of response, but a second later, he was leaning back into the doorway. “Lipscomb can wait.”

“Carnegie Deli about eight?” I suggested. “Yvonne can stay with Helen. I think I could have some ideas for you by then, people you should talk to, that sort of thing. Official business.”

Detective Edwards smiled. “Doesn’t have to be official. But I’ll be there.” And he vanished from the doorway again. I closed the door behind him and waited there until I could wipe the stupid grin off my face. That was the last thing Helen needed now.

4

“What you need,” Tricia advised, “is something businesslike, with a hint of provocative softness.”