Present Day
If Detective Demer was surprised by my statement regarding Howard’s infidelity, he didn’t show it. His face remained expressionless other than a slight flicker in the depths of his dark brown eyes, which I might have imagined. Sergeant Oliver’s response, on the other hand, was more predictable. She slammed one open hand down on the table, uttered an expletive and then fixed me with a hard stare that I suspected she practiced in front of a mirror.
“Do you think this is some sort of a game? It’s not. It’s a murder investigation, and it’s time you started cooperating,” Oliver snapped.
I stared back at her, impassive. It occurred to me that someone this volatile was probably not cut out for police work. It was a job that required logic and problem-solving skills but also a certain level of detachment. Indulging in this level of vitriol toward someone you were investigating seemed like it would only backfire.
“I am cooperating,” I said.
“A few minutes ago, you told us that Katherine and Howard Grant had a happy marriage. Now you’re claiming that he was having an affair.”
Oliver leaned across the table, her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Were you lying then or are you lying now?”
This struck me as a particularly moronic question. As though lying once, twice or multiple times somehow insulated you from lying again.
“It wasn’t a lie,” I said. “I do think that, for the most part, Kat and Howard’s marriage worked for them.”
“Except for the fact that he was sleeping with someone else,” Oliver retorted.
“Relationships aren’t that simple.” I shrugged. “Of course Kat was hurt by Howard’s infidelity. But it wasn’t the end of their marriage.”
Oliver was about to respond, but Demer lifted a hand in her direction without taking his eyes off me. The sergeant pressed her lips together into a thin line, her nostrils flaring.
“Who was Howard Grant having an affair with?”
For a moment I considered not telling him. Despite her solid alibi, the police clearly considered Kat a suspect in Howard’s death. But perhaps giving them an alternate suspect—or a bunch of alternate suspects, since it wouldn’t surprise me if Howard had brought more than one woman home when Kat was out of town—would help Kat. At the very least, the police would have another line of inquiry to follow.
“Her name is Alana Dupree,” I supplied. “She’s a bartender at a restaurant in CityPlace. Or at least, she used to be. I don’t know if she still works there or not.”
Demer jotted down a few notes on the lined pad in front of him.
“How long had the affair been going on?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” Then, catching Oliver’s look of disbelief, I said, “Really, I don’t know when it started. Kat found out about it over a year and a half ago. I know she confronted Howard and he promised to end it. But...” I stopped and shrugged again.
“You don’t think he did end it,” Demer said.
“I saw them together recently,” I admitted. “I was driving home from a committee meeting at my children’s school. They pulled up next to me at a stoplight.”
“Grant was with—” Demer checked his notes “—Alana Dupree?”
“It was definitely Howard. He drives—” I began and then stopped. “I mean, he drove a red Mercedes convertible, which I recognized at once. It’s very noticeable. The girl with him looked like Alana—Kat pointed her out to me once—but I suppose I couldn’t definitively say it was her.”
“Did they see you?”
“No.” I remembered looking over, registering that it was Howard and then watching as he turned to the blonde sitting next to him and began kissing her. Howard clearly hadn’t mastered the art of discretion, which was rather surprising for a serial adulterer. I’d have thought he’d have been more skilled at it by then.
“When was this?” Demer asked.
“Just last week. It was the last time I saw Howard.”
“Did you tell Katherine Grant about what you’d seen?”
I shook my head. “No. Kat had already left for London. It’s not the kind of thing you text someone. And then...well, the only time I’ve spoken to her since was when she called to tell me that Howard had died. As you can imagine, I didn’t think that was the best time to bring it up, either.”
Demer nodded, looking only faintly disappointed. It would have fit the narrative he seemed to be favoring if Kat had recently learned Howard was still cheating on her.
“Do you have an alibi for Monday night?” Sergeant Oliver asked.
Monday, I realized, was the day Howard had died. I felt another frisson of unease.
“An alibi?” I repeated. “Do I need one?”
“It’s standard procedure,” Demer assured me. “We’re asking everyone who had access to the house or who was a frequent visitor. Friends, family, yard and housekeeping services.”
“I was at the beach,” I said. “Alone.”
“At night?” he asked, looking surprised for the first time that morning. “In the dark?”
“It wasn’t that dark. There was a full moon...” I thought back again to the witness who claimed to have seen Howard pushed off the balcony. The moon had glowed low in the sky that night. It had been both beautiful and eerie.
“Do you often go out for late-night walks? That doesn’t seem like a very safe habit,” Demer commented.
“No, not often,” I said. “But my husband and I had an argument that night. I didn’t want the fight to escalate, especially since our children were home. It upsets them when we fight. So I left. I drove to the beach and walked until I calmed down. Then I went back home.”
“What were you arguing about?” This from Oliver.
I pressed my lips together in a tight smile before responding. “That’s private.”
“This is a homicide investigation,” Oliver retorted.
“Which my marital dispute has nothing to do with,” I countered.
“Why don’t you let us decide what is and is not relevant to our investigation?” Oliver pointed a finger at me as she spoke. It was a gesture I had never liked. I liked it even less coming from her.
The door to the conference room swung open. All three of us looked up to see a slim man with snow-white hair slicked neatly back off his face. He was very dapper, wearing a sharp navy blue suit over a starched white shirt, with a light blue tie knotted perfectly at his neck.
“It looks like I’m interrupting something,” he said cheerfully.
Demer raised a hand. “Sir, if you could return to the lobby, I’m sure someone will be there to help you momentarily.”
“No, I’m here to interrupt. John Donnelly,” he said, holding out his hand to the detective.
“Alex Demer.” The detective shook his hand. “And this is Sofia Oliver.”
Sergeant Oliver did not shake John Donnelly’s hand, but this seemed only to amuse him. He grinned at her, then looked over at me.
“And by the process of elimination, I take it you’re Alice Campbell?” he quipped.
“I am.”
“Excellent.” Donnelly nodded toward the door. “Let’s go, Alice Campbell.”
“Hold on, one minute,” Sergeant Oliver sputtered. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I didn’t say? My apologies. I’m Mrs. Campbell’s attorney, and she’s leaving with me.”
“Mrs. Campbell is here of her own free will. She’s cooperating with our investigation.” Demer spoke in his calm, deep voice. I wondered if anything ever rattled him.
“And now she’ll be leaving of her own free will,” Donnelly said. “This interview is over. Mrs. Campbell?”
I stood, glad for my white knight, whoever he was. I’d had enough. Enough of the questions, enough of Oliver’s rudeness, enough of how suffocating the small, bland room had become. Mr. Donnelly held the door open for me and I headed toward it. But before I made my escape, Detective Demer spoke.
“Loyalty is an admirable trait. You just have to make sure it’s not misplaced.”
The detective was right, of course, but it didn’t persuade me to stay. I didn’t know what was going on with Kat, although I intended to find out as soon as possible. But if there was one thing I was sure of, it was this—over the past three years, Kat had more than earned my loyalty.
I turned and walked out the door.