Chapter Eight
ALICIA
Adam tried to go without me, but I wouldn’t let him. When we got there, we were turned away by the officer guarding the door. Adam told him who he was, though, and insisted on talking to the detective in charge of the case. They made us wait for half an hour before two detectives appeared at last. The older one introduced them, but directed everything toward Adam. “This is Detective Cane and I’m Samuels,” he said. “How did you know what happened?”
“My partner called me. He said he received a call from Marjorie’s lawyer. I don’t know why he called Mac and not me. Anyways, we came right over. But, I still don’t know what happened to her. Was it an accident?”
The detective acted as if he had just noticed me then and said, “And you are?”
“My name is Alicia Winston. I am Mr. Hanson’s associate.”
The detectives exchanged a glance that said they weren’t buying the “associate” thing at eleven-thirty pm, but they didn’t push it. I had my hand on Adam’s arm. His muscles felt tense and I could tell that he was growing impatient.
“What happened to her?” he asked again.
Instead of answering his question, the detective said, “Mr. Hanson, maybe you and your ‘associate’ can come inside with us and answer a few questions.”
“Fine,” Adam agreed. He was definitely annoyed. He’s used to being the one in control. This was going to be hard on him. We followed the detectives around the caution tape and into the lobby of the building.
Once inside, the detective that had been doing the talking thus far said, “Mr. Hanson, would you follow me?”
“Ms. Winston, I’ll need you to come with me,” instructed the other detective. I looked at Adam and he gave me a slight nod before following the detective to a seat across the room. It was going to be a long night.
I followed Detective Cane across to a couch in the lobby and he gestured for me to take a seat. I looked across the room at Adam. He looked lost and even a little nervous, which was totally out of character. My heart was aching for him. I looked towards the detective and said,
“Can we please just get this over with? It’s been a long day.”
He sat down next to me. “Ms. Winston, can you tell me how well you knew Mrs. Hanson?”
I sighed; my headache had finally grown into a full-blown migraine. It was hard to think around the way it was pounding.
“I did not know her well. I had met her on several occasions, and we weren’t on the best of terms.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I have been seeing Adam for the past six months or so. He and Marjorie were separated for quite some time before he and I began seeing each other, but she was a bitter woman, and she was angry with me for whatever reason.” The detective raised an eyebrow, and made a note on the little pad he carried.
“How did Mr. Hanson get along with his wife?”
“Ex,” I corrected him. “It was an ugly divorce. Adam obviously wasn’t pleased with what was going on between them.”
“May I ask where you were earlier this evening?” the detective said as he absently scratched his head with his pen. Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Am I a suspect?” I asked.
“No, ma’am, we’re just trying to get a time line on everyone involved here.”
“I was out this evening, at dinner in a crowded restaurant. Adam was with me, so neither of us were ‘involved’ in Marjorie’s death. That will be the last question I will answer tonight and now that you have your ‘timeline,’ I’d like to get back to Adam.” The detective looked as if he were about to say something else, but changed his mind.
“Alright, ma’am, I’d like to get your information in case more questions arise later?”
I gave him my cell, home, and office numbers, and then without waiting for him to give his consent, I stood and walked over to where Adam was still talking to the other detective. As I approached, I heard Adam repeating almost verbatim, what I had told the other man.
“Ms. Winston and I were at dinner, at Romaletti’s. Are you implying that you think either of us had anything to do with this?”
“No, sir, not at all,” the detective told him. “I'm just trying to establish a timeline.”
“I think that’s enough for tonight,” I interrupted. “Perhaps you can speak to Mr. Hanson tomorrow, after he’s had some time to absorb all of this and get some rest.”
“Sure,” the detective said, although somewhat reluctantly. “Let me just ask where I might reach you.” Adam gave him his cell and office numbers as I had the other detective, and then he said,
“So, now will you answer my questions? What happened to her?”
Before the detective had time to speak, a gurney was brought out of the elevator. It carried a black body bag, and as the attendants rolled by with Marjorie’s body, Adam looked as if he were about to wretch. I shuddered. I had despised the woman, but the thought of her lifeless body being inside of that bag replaced all of my hard feelings with sadness.
After the medics had rolled the gurney outside, Adam repeated his question, “What happened to her?” This time through his clenched teeth.
“The M.E. hasn’t made a determination yet, but at this point we do know that it looks like she was strangled. Whether or not that was the cause of her death remains to be seen. We’ll have more information after the autopsy is completed.”
“And did you talk to her attorney…her boyfriend, whatever you want to call him, Hal Rogers?”
“Yes, sir. We spoke to him as soon as we arrived. He was the one who discovered the body.”
“I’m a little curious about how he got into my apartment,” Adam said.
“He told us he had a key. He said the lady was expecting him.”
Adam stood up and said, “Well, far be it from me to tell the police how to do your job, but he’d be someone I’d be looking into, if I were you.”
“Thanks for the advice,” the detective said somewhat sarcastically. “I’ll be in touch.”
As he started walking away Adam said, “Wait, can I get my things from the apartment?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible tonight sir,” the man told him. “The crime scene techs will be a while.”
“Come on,” Adam said, taking me by the hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
As we walked out through the lobby doors, we saw that in the short time we had been here, the press had arrived. Standing next to a white van, photographer at her elbow, was Rose Dugan.
We tried to hurry past as she yelled out, “Mr. Hanson, didn’t you lose most of your assets just this morning to your ex-wife?” and when Adam continued to walk on, pulling me along beside him she yelled,
“Ms. Winston, would you like to make any comment about the scuffle you were in with Mrs. Hanson this afternoon?”
I stopped and turned to look at her. I was caught off guard by her question. Who had told her about that? Just as I looked Rose’s way, the flash from the photographer’s camera went off in my face, blinding me to all else going on around us.
“Baby, come on,” Adam prompted as he tugged gently on my hand. “We’ll figure this out when we get home, let’s just get out of here.”
Adam guided me through the sea of reporters, and as the bulbs continued to flash and the voices all seemed to meld into one terribly loud roar in my pounding temples, I couldn’t help but think how surreal this all was. I had always thought, growing up, how exciting it would be to become an attorney someday. I had never thought that someday I would wish the excitement would just stop, and that my life could be just average and boring like everyone else’s.
********
On the car ride home, I let my thoughts drift back to a simpler time when I was a little girl and would spend hours in my playhouse in the backyard. My playhouse was not like other little girl’s. My father who often over-indulged me had seen to that. Mine was an actual house, only on a much smaller scale than grown-up people lived in. It had a kitchen with a real working sink, a living room, bathroom, and a bedroom. I often pouted to my father that the bedroom may as well have been left out, since Mother would never allow me to spend the night in the backyard. It wasn’t an “appropriate” thing for young ladies to do, according to the Lady Winston.
I always had an active imagination as a little girl. I could spend hours playing alone with my dolls and stuffed animals. I was the attorney and they were the bad guys or the victims or the judge. I knew even then what I wanted to do when I grew up. I wanted to defend all of the innocent people who were wrongly accused or had been forced to do things they wouldn’t have otherwise because they had been in a bad situation.
I hadn’t lost all of that idealism. I still believed that people were inherently good. I had promised myself long ago that if I ever lost that ideology, I would change careers. I truly believed that people deserved a chance to either prove their innocence or explain what kind of terrible situation they were in that had caused them to do whatever they were being accused of. Tonight, I found myself wondering what kind of situation the person who had killed Marjorie tonight had found him or herself in that would cause them to take a life.
Adam and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other on the way back to the apartment. I had been lost in my memories, and I presumed he had been, as well. I looked over at him as he parked the car. His face was drawn and sad, and all I wanted to do right then was hold him and make it all go away for a little while. When we had gotten up to the apartment, I brewed him some tea while Adam went in to build us a fire. I could hear him on his cell phone as he arranged the logs and paper. He was talking to Mac, trying to find out why Hal had called him and if Mac had any details other than what we had been given tonight. As I brought the tray with the teapot and cups into the room, I heard him saying,
“So, he called you because he knew I would ask how he got into my house and he didn’t want to have to explain.” Adam’s tone was disgusted. He listened quietly for a moment and then with a chuckle he said,
“Oh yes, I’m sure he just thought the news would be easier for me to hear coming from you. The fact is, Marjorie, as usual had given no thought to how her giving out a key to my apartment to her boyfriend would affect me, and at this point, it doesn’t matter anyways. I want you there if the police question either Alicia or me again; they were treating us like criminals tonight.” After another brief silence, he said,
“Okay, Mac, I appreciate you, thanks. I’ll touch base with you in the morning.” After he hung up he took the cup of tea I had poured for him and said, “I have to make one more call, babe. I’m not sure if anyone has told Marjorie’s parents, but I should call them.”
“Of course,” I said, shuddering to imagine how it would feel for a parent to get the news Adam was about to deliver. Adam punched in the number and then waited. After a few moments he said,
“Sam, I’m sorry if I woke you, it’s Adam.”
I could tell that Marjorie’s father was asking him how things were going. Adam looked almost green as he said, “Sam, I’m sorry, but I have some terrible news.” He took a deep breath and said, “Marjorie is gone, Sam. Someone killed her.”
Adam spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to answer Marjorie’s dad’s questions. He ended the call by again telling the man how sorry he was and saying that if he or his wife needed anything, they could call him. As he laid down the phone, he placed his head in his hands and rubbed his fingers across his face. I went to him and put one arm across his back and my head down close to his. With my other hand, I took his hand from his face and laid a palm on his cheek.
We sat there like that, not speaking for quite some time. The crackling of the fire was the only noise in the room until our quiet reprieve was broken by the sound of my phone. I looked at the number and although I didn’t recognize it I answered.
“Ms. Winston?” It was a man’s voice I didn’t recognize.
“Yes?”
“This is Matt Peterson with the Times. I’d like to talk to you about the murder of Marjorie Hanson.”
I hung up the phone, and as I released my finger from the end button, it rang again. This time, I didn’t even look at the number. I just pushed answer and yelled,
“I have no comment!” into the phone.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright." It was Jack. Once again he was "popping up." “The murder of Adam’s wife is all over the news. Are you safe, Alicia? He's not there is he?”
“Of course, he’s here. I’m fine, Jack, thank you for your concern.” At the sound of Jack’s name, Adam looked at me and narrowed his eyes.
“Alicia, the newscasters are saying he is a person of interest. If he would kill her…” I hung up. Adam was still looking at me.
“What did he say?” Jack’s words rang out in my head once again. A person of interest. I thought my life was a mess before. Shit.