A Good Marriage(67)
“That’s okay.”
“I was in court for the hearing. Why didn’t you tell them about the alibi?” Her tone wasn’t quite accusatory, but almost.
“The alibi is useful, but complicated.”
Maude crossed her arms. She looked almost angry now. “But I was trying to help.”
Help. Such an unfortunate choice of words. Had she fabricated the alibi? Honestly, I didn’t want to know. Because if I knew for a fact that the alibi was false, I wouldn’t be able to use it later at trial—that would be suborning perjury. Having doubts but not knowing anything for sure? That was a different story entirely.
“I understand,” I said noncommittally.
“What happens now?” Maude asked, squeezing her arms tighter.
“Zach stays in jail and there’ll be a trial,” I said. “Between now and then we’ll investigate. The best way to get Zach acquitted will be to find out who actually killed Amanda. That’s not supposed to be our responsibility, but if the defendant didn’t do it, a jury will want to know who did. Have the police interviewed you yet?” I asked, wondering what she’d shared with them, and whether Wendy Wallace might even already know about the alibi.
“They rescheduled the interview for tomorrow,” Maude said. “Isn’t that strange? That they’re not in any rush? Don’t they want all the facts they can get?”
They might have been worried Maude would present something contradictory to their theory of the case, maybe about this upstairs encounter Amanda supposedly had—it was the whole basis of Zach’s supposed motive, as far as I could tell.
“They don’t want all the facts,” I said. “Only the ones that help their case.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“It’s not.” I shrugged, because Wendy Wallace was only doing her job. “But it is the way the game is played.”
Amanda
THREE DAYS BEFORE THE PARTY
Sarah swung open her door with a delighted grin. “Hell—” Her face fell when she saw the empty steps behind Amanda. “Seriously?”
“He’ll be here any minute.” It was stupid to keep lying, but Amanda felt so cornered.
Sarah made a face and crossed her arms. “Any minute?”
“Okay, he’s not coming.” Amanda hung her head. “Zach really is overwhelmed with the new business. He’s working so hard that he can’t even see straight, much less make it here for a dinner party. I’m sorry, I did try.”
In truth, Amanda hadn’t even asked Zach. He would have said no anyway, and Amanda would have had to suffer the usual back-and-forth with Zach’s assistant Taylor. A sweet, plain-faced girl with a fixation on fashion magazines and an obsession with one unhealthy diet fad after another, Taylor did her best in a tough situation. If Amanda had asked about the dinner—via email, as was the procedure—Taylor would have written right back, as she always did, that she would check ASAP! Taylor would be just as kindhearted when she wrote back to say: “Sorry! Zach can’t squeeze it in tonight!”
Amanda didn’t mind if Zach couldn’t be there. But those exchanges with Taylor were excruciating. Just thinking about it now, stand ing there at Sarah’s front door, Amanda’s eyes filled with unexpected tears. She blinked and forced a smile, hoping Sarah wouldn’t notice.
“Oh, no, no. Come on.” Sarah tugged Amanda in the front door and gave her a hug. “Ignore me. I’m being a pain in the ass.”
“I’ll attest to that!” Kerry called cheerfully as he made his way down the stairs to the kitchen in gray sweatpants and a dark-blue Oklahoma City Thunder T-shirt. “Anyway, we don’t need more husbands. I am plenty.”
“Happy birthday!” Amanda called.
“Thank you, thank you.” Kerry gestured regally as he hit the landing.
“This is for you.” Amanda went over and thrust the wrapped bottle of whiskey, probably too forcefully, in Kerry’s direction.
Kerry’s face lit up. “For me?”
“Look at you,” Sarah chirped at Kerry, then turned to Amanda. “You’d think I’d never bought him a gift in his entire life. Or that he hadn’t been told only five minutes ago that sweatpants were not dinner wear.”
“Yes, my love, but I like sweatpants and it is my birthday. As for your gifts, they come with strings,” Kerry joked. “Taking the garbage out, listening to your stories. It’s all so much work.”
Sarah turned to Amanda and winked. “That’s the true secret to a good marriage: strategic quid pro quo.”
Kerry excitedly untied the ribbon at the top of the silvery bag as though it weren’t already completely obvious from the shape that it was a bottle of something.
“Wow!” he exclaimed once he’d gotten it open.
His expression turned thoughtful as he studied the bottle. Did he know how much it had cost? Amanda leaned in to point at the label. “I remembered you said that your family was from—”
“I know,” Kerry said quietly, seeming genuinely touched. “It’s also a damn nice bottle of whiskey.”
“What about his family?” Sarah moved closer to investigate.