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You Don't Own Me by Mary Higgins Clark, Alafair Burke (30)

34

Laurie began by thanking the senator once again for agreeing to speak with them.

“It was my pleasure. I gained a great respect for your fiancé during the confirmation process. He was honorable and unflappable, even when some of my more partisan Senate colleagues were threatening to raise hay about his defense of a certain swindler.”

Laurie wondered if the barely veiled reference to the Carl Newman case was intended as a reminder that Longfellow had been instrumental in making certain that Alex was confirmed to the federal bench. She was determined not to let that sway her opinion.

“I understand that the police interviewed you as part of the original investigation,” she said.

The light, joking tone he had shared with his wife moments earlier was immediately replaced by a somber demeanor. She could picture him as a leader in the military. “It was surreal,” he said. “I never actually met Martin, but I used to joke with Leigh Ann that he was replacing me as her city husband while I was at the capital. Then we had just gotten back from D.C., suddenly on the verge of me getting appointed to the U.S. Senate, and she gets the phone call about his murder. It was all over the news the next day. I guarantee that if you look at the local papers from that week, two of the biggest stories were his murder and my Senate appointment. The phones in my Senate office were barely hooked up before I got a message that the NYPD wanted to speak to me and Leigh Ann. At first, I thought it might be about grant funding or something official, but then they said it was about Martin.”

“At the time, what was your understanding of the reason your name would have come up in their investigation?”

“Of course we assumed it was because of the work Leigh Ann had been doing with him for the Hayden School. A routine check of everyone in his phone records and whatnot. They met us here and then asked to speak to Leigh Ann alone, which didn’t strike me as unusual. In fact, your fiancé insisted on the same today,” he said. His smile was polite rather than warm.

Laurie nodded, indicating for him to continue.

“Then they spoke with me separately and asked if I could tell them where I was the night he was murdered. I almost started laughing, thinking they were hazing the new senator or something. But then I realized they were serious. I told them they could find photographs in the New York Times and Washington Post of me in D.C. that day. I gave them the name of the hotel where we stayed overnight and even offered to put them in touch with the Senate majority leader if they needed to confirm that I was still there for breakfast the next day. They looked quite chagrined, to be honest. Much respect for the NYPD, but it became immediately obvious they should have realized on their own that we weren’t even in the city that day. With that out of the way, I asked them why in the world they were even inquiring. That’s when they told me that Kendra believed that Martin and Leigh Ann were— Well, I can’t even say it, but surely you know the allegation.”

“And what was your reaction, Senator?”

“I was stupefied! It was . . . nonsense. And by then the news reports had made it pretty clear who the number one suspect was. Innocent until proven guilty, of course, but I’ve always felt that the strongest sign of Kendra’s guilt was her baseless attempt to try to lay the blame at my door.” There was a momentary hint of anger in his voice, but he quickly gained control over it. “I wanted to make it a hundred percent certain that the police had absolutely no doubts about my involvement. I sent them my hotel receipt, including proof of overnight parking, my E-ZPass toll records, and the articles about my visit to D.C. And I had read the insinuations in the media that Kendra might have been hoarding large cash withdrawals to pay someone to carry out the attack on her behalf. To prevent anyone from saying the same about me, I even, without being asked, gave the police my bank records.”

“That does seem like full disclosure.”

“I had nothing to hide then or now,” he said firmly. “We have this beautiful apartment thanks to my brilliant and hardworking wife, but I insist on covering my half on a politician’s salary. Trust me, there’s no room left for a hit man slush fund. I figured the quicker they could check me off their list, the more time they’d have to find the real killer.”

“I imagine you had other considerations in addition to helping the police. Despite the massive media interest in the case, it would appear that no outlet ever reported that the police interviewed you and your wife as part of the investigation.”

“Can you imagine the circus that could have been? Newest U.S. senator wrapped up in a homicide case?”

“There’s a reason you didn’t want to meet today at either my studio or your office.”

He nodded. “Of course. In fact, I’m not ashamed to admit that I even made a call to the commissioner’s office. I wanted the police to know at the very highest level that I would cooperate in every imaginable way, but I didn’t want us swept into a media frenzy just because I happened to be having my own fifteen minutes of fame. He assured me I had provided more than sufficient evidence to establish my innocence. I got the impression they had even spoken to other members of the Hayden School Alumni Board, who had confirmed that it was simply impossible to imagine Martin and Leigh Ann together. But now here we are again,” he said, smiling but holding Laurie’s gaze sternly.

She could hear his unasked question, so she gave him the closest thing she had to an answer. “We don’t air theories about alternative suspects unless we believe there’s a good-faith factual basis for doing so.”

“That’s comforting to hear, Laurie. I’ve seen every episode of your show, by the way, and I admire the work you do. But just between us? I think this time the one person under suspicion—Kendra Bell—deserves every bit of it. I hope you’re able to prove it once and for all.”

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