A Good Marriage(48)

“If Zach didn’t kill Amanda,” she asked, “who did?”

Fear, a flicker underneath. A homicidal stranger? I imagined Sarah thinking. No one would want to think there was a madman on the loose in Park Slope.

“I don’t know yet who killed Amanda. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Though to be clear, it isn’t Zach’s responsibility to find the guilty party. The finger shouldn’t be pointed at him just because there aren’t better alternatives. Also, once the police decide on a suspect, they don’t keep looking. They work to build a case against that person. I used to be a prosecutor—federal white-collar crimes—there’s literally no other way to do the job. But Zach shouldn’t be penalized for that.” I let it hang there for a moment, hoping some part might sink in. “I also think it’s important to move the focus from Zach, so we can find whoever really did kill Amanda. We need to get them off the street.”

Playing on Sarah’s fear of some random killer didn’t make me feel particularly great. But I needed her to reconsider her assumptions. She’d worked with Amanda. She was one of her closest friends. There was no telling what she might know, even if she wasn’t aware that she knew it.

“I don’t mean to be such a bitch. But I’m—Amanda was the sweetest person. Not an aggressive bone in her body. I don’t understand how anybody could do that to her. It’s like beating a …” She winced. “Here, let me show you something.”

Sarah waved me to an office on the opposite side of the room with a bright orange couch and a dramatic gray-striped rug. She pointed to some frames on the wall.

“They’re essays from scholarship students,” she said, approaching one and looking closer. “We’d barely started accepting applications. But Amanda was so touched by the essays we’d received, she framed them. Every single one. I teased her that she wouldn’t be able to keep it up, and she said she’d cover all the walls if she had to. She was a really special person.”

Sarah dropped down onto Amanda’s couch. She was rigid for a moment, then her body sank. She stayed quiet for a long time.

I took a seat in one of the guest chairs. “Was Amanda having problems with anybody that you knew of?”

Sarah shook her head. “If you ask me, Zach was a shitty husband, though. On a good day, he treated Amanda like she was a couch he’d bought to complete his living-room set. On a bad day, she was only an accent piece. And no—to answer your next question—she never said anything about Zach being aggressive or even yelling or anything like that. And I saw no evidence that he was physically abusive.” Sarah’s eyes got glassy. “But deception can be its own kind of violence.”

“Zach deceived her?” I asked.

Sarah’s eyes darted away. “She didn’t say that, specifically. But he was always ‘working.’ It didn’t seem to bother Amanda.” She was quiet again for a moment. “Maybe that’s what bothered me. Also, personally, I do think Zach is arrogant. He can’t even be bothered to show up for a birthday dinner for one of Amanda’s closest friends? And I know he’s a big, huge success or whatever, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be polite. Honestly, Zach cared more about his business than he cared about anything, including Amanda.”

“Was there anything else going on in Amanda’s life that she talked about?” I asked Sarah. “With Case maybe?”

“Are you kidding?” she huffed. “Case was a delight and Amanda was a devoted mother. And I mean that, like exceptionally good.”

“What about issues with other friends or family?”

I didn’t plan to reveal that Amanda’s father had raped her as a child. If she’d kept that to herself, it should stay that way. People had a right to their secrets.

“I know that Amanda’s mother died when she was young, which was probably why she was such an attentive mother herself. She grew up poor, too. She tried to make her childhood sound idyllic or charming or something, but I got the sense it was really hard.”

“What do you mean?”

“Amanda was wonderful, but she was also a closed-off person. Guarded. Like she’d been damaged.”

“Had she been?”

Sarah looked overwhelmed with regret. “I was her best friend in Park Slope, and honestly, I have no idea. Amanda was good at making you feel like you knew her really well, even when she was keeping you at arm’s length. What did, um, what’s her name … Carolyn. What did Carolyn say?”

“Carolyn?” I asked. Amanda had mentioned a Carolyn in her journals, but that had been years ago.

“Yes, Amanda’s best best friend,” Sarah said, with clear disdain for my investigative skills. “From what’s-it-called, St. Whatever. Practically like a sister. You should definitely talk to her. She lives in Manhattan.”

“Do you know how I can reach her?” I asked.

“Nope. Ask Zach. He must know, right?” She eyed me then. She knew as well as I did that he easily might not. “He is her husband.”

“Any conflicts here at work?”

“Amanda ran from conflict of any kind. She almost had a breakdown when the foundation accountant was trying to track her down.”

“About what?”

“Nothing, I’m sure.” Sarah waved a hand. “What I mean is that Amanda hated dealing with anybody in a position of authority.”