A Good Marriage(54)
called as a witness the 6th of July and was examined and testified as follows: EXAMINATION
BY MS. WALLACE:
Q: Good morning, Officer Finnegan.
A: Morning.
Q: Did you report to a call at 597 Montgomery Place on the night of July 2nd at approximately 11:45 p.m.?
A: Yes.
Q: And what was the nature of that call?
A: It was a report of a suspected homicide.
Q: What occurred when you arrived at the scene?
A: My partner, Officer Romano, and I entered the residence to assist officers already on scene.
Q: What did you observe when you entered the home?
A: There was a lot of blood on the stairs and the walls. There was a golf club near the body. They had marked it off so nobody touched it. The victim’s husband was there.
Q: Anything else?
A: The EMTs had arrived just before us, and they were attempting to revive the victim with CPR and to control the bleeding.
Q: Were they able to revive her?
A: No. She was pronounced dead at the scene.
Q: What did you do then?
A: My partner and I were standing with the victim’s husband when the crime scene unit detectives arrived, followed by ADA Lewis and Detective Mendez. The crime scene unit started taking photos so that the body could be removed.
Q: And what was ADA Lewis doing?
A: Just observing. The ADA on homicide duty overnight comes to the scene, but they don’t talk.
Q: What was Detective Mendez doing?
A: He started talking to Mr. Grayson.
Q: At any point, did Mr. Grayson appear to be crying or similarly emotional?
A: No. He made some noises. But there were no visible tears.
Q: Did Detective Mendez eventually get Mr. Grayson to move outside?
A: I don’t know.
Q: Why not?
A: Because I was injured at the scene.
Q: How were you injured?
A: Mr. Grayson hit me in the face.
Q: With his fist?
A: No. Detective Mendez put his hand on Mr. Grayson’s arm, you know, to encourage him to come away from his wife’s body, and Mr. Grayson jerked his arm away, and I think he might have said “Fuck you” or “Fuck off” or words to that effect.
Q: To Detective Mendez, who was asking him to step away from his dead wife’s body?
A: Yes.
Q: And then what happened?
A: He swung his arm back and his elbow made contact with my face, breaking my nose.
Q: Was it intentional?
A: He knew I was standing there. You tell me?
Q: Sorry, Officer Finnegan, but it’s my job to ask the questions, not answer them. I need to know whether you think it was intentional.
A: Then, yeah. In my opinion, it was intentional.
Lizzie
JULY 8, WEDNESDAY
I took a deep breath as I rang the doorbell to Sebe and Maude’s stately brownstone. It was on First Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues, not far from Zach’s and almost as impressive. As I waited for someone to answer, I tried to keep myself from imagining the upstairs goings-on at the party. Who could possibly survive a marriage where partners strayed openly? Who could possibly survive marriage, period?
I’d stopped at Café du Jour after leaving Hope First with the journal I’d swiped from Amanda’s office. It was indeed her most recent one, with detailed entries for each day since they’d arrived in Park Slope. There were also summaries of life with Case, how lonely and lost Amanda felt with him at camp, her intimidating running habits, the mundane details of her trying to handle foundation business, and chats she’d had with Carolyn. But, most importantly, there was a log of incidents—somebody calling and hanging up, following her.
In the entries I’d read so far, Amanda hadn’t identified this person. But she was scared of him, that was clear. Excellent reasonable doubt for Zach’s case, if I could eventually find a name. Luckily, I had time. A new suspect—no matter how compelling—wouldn’t be useful until trial.
When the door finally opened, there was an alarmingly good-looking man in the doorway.
“Hi?” he said like it was a question, pushing his thick black hair back with one hand, his eyes boring into me as he waited a beat for me to explain myself. “Can I help you?”
He had an accent, too. French, as Sarah had said. Sebe.
“I’m Zach Grayson’s lawyer,” I began, bracing myself for another hostile reception. “I called. Your wife said I could come by and ask some questions.”
“Of course, come in,” he said cordially. “Tragic, what happened. Amanda was a lovely person.”
“Lizzie Kitsakis,” I said, extending a hand once we were in the foyer.
“Sebastian Lagueux. But everyone calls me Sebe.” He shook my hand firmly before motioning me onward into the house. “Come have a seat in the living room.”
The inside of the house was as grand as the outside, with lots of dark polished wood and vibrant modern rugs. It had been renovated, but in a way that retained more of its historic charm than Zach’s house, which really was quite modern inside. The art was particularly eye-catching, especially a large blue and red abstract painting directly through the main entryway on the living room wall.
“That’s amazing,” I said.
Sebe laughed gently. “Ah, did Sarah tell you to say that?”