A Good Marriage(56)

“God only knows.” Sam laughed a little too hard and then took another sip.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly the romantic response I was hoping for,” I joked back, but it stung. That was the problem with a night like that—the night you were engaged—the stakes were too high. “Well, I knew the second I met you. Maybe I was imagining things.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said lightly, oblivious. Drunk already. “I was swept off my feet by you. About that I have no doubt. It’s the specifics of the conversation that get fuzzy. We had all been drinking for hours. But who needs specifics when I have you?”

I’d laughed because that was my favorite thing about Sam and me—unlike a lot of couples, we didn’t pretend to be perfect. We were honest about our flaws. And truthful was so much better than perfect.

Maude had said something.

“What?” I asked.

“Why do they think Zach killed her?” she asked, seemingly for the second time.

“They found his golf club at the scene,” I said. “And he found Amanda. It was their house. He’s the husband. It’s a routine assumption. Also, they’d been at your party, so …”

“Our party?” Maude sounded nervous. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I know there was …” The hesitating was death. So much for passing myself off as casual about it. “The police are calling it a key party. Apparently there have been problems in the past.”

“The police,” Sebe scoffed. “Thanks to this unstable neighbor of ours, they get called every year. She’s a very old, very angry sort—racist, too, I’m fairly certain. If Maude and I were both white, I suspect she’d never even consider calling the police. Anyway, last year the police carted off two dads because they’d gotten into some kind of foolish argument, about American football of all things. If the police hadn’t been called, it would have been nothing. It was nothing.”

“I know what it sounds like, the ‘upstairs,’” Maude said, more seriously. “But it isn’t that big a deal. Only a handful of people participate, and it’s all very discreet.”

Sebe’s cell phone rang then. “I apologize. This is the hospital,” he said. “I need to speak with them.”

“Of course,” I said, as Sebe swiftly exited the room.

“The police have already interviewed you?” I asked Maude once he was gone.

“Not yet. They’re supposed to come tomorrow morning.”

“They haven’t been here at all?”

“Is that a problem?” she asked, nervous again.

“This is the last place Amanda was seen,” I said. Was the prosecution’s case already locked up that tight that they didn’t even need to talk to anyone else? “I’d think they’d want the names of the party guests and that kind of thing.”

“Maybe they got those from Sarah. I know they talked to her.” She was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry about Zach being assaulted in jail. It would be awful if something really happened to him. Especially, I mean—poor Case.”

And so I decided to raise the stakes. “Yes, Rikers can turn a false accusation into a death sentence.”

“Death sentence?” Maude blanched. “But what would happen to Case then?”

I felt a guilty burn at the base of my gut. Maybe I was overstating the situation a bit, but it wasn’t a complete fabrication. Zach had been attacked.

“I’m not saying that will happen,” I went on. “I’m just saying that it could. That’s why I’m focused on getting Zach out on bail. I feel confident he’ll be acquitted once there is an actual trial.”

“What can we do to help?” Maude asked.

“Did you speak to either Zach or Amanda at your party?”

Maude nodded. “To Amanda only briefly.”

“How did she seem that night?”

“She was sweet and lovely as always. She tried to make me feel better about my daughter—she’s been having some, ah, issues. Amanda was always a very good friend, so supportive.” Maude stared down in silence into her whiskey glass. “Listen, I know that Zach didn’t kill Amanda.” She hesitated. “Because, um, I was with him when she died.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

She closed her eyes, and I watched her jaw tighten. “Zach and I were together at the time Amanda died.”

That didn’t mean what it sounded like, did it?

“But not … You mean, together together?” I asked.

When Maude finally looked up, her eyes were cold, almost angry. As though she was being forced to make this disclosure, rather than volunteering it. “Yes.”

“Oh.” My cheeks felt warm again.

Why the hell hadn’t Zach told me? Was he worried about how it would look? Assuming the time windows matched, being with Maude would give him an alibi, which was huge. On the other hand, being an unfaithful husband didn’t exactly go down in the innocent column. A skilled prosecutor would have a field day with it. Here was a man who wanted to sleep with other women, like this gorgeous woman Maude here, exhibit A. That’s why he killed his wife. A jury might believe that, even though Amanda was so beautiful herself. But an alibi was still an alibi.