The Accomplice(55)

“Better?” Goldman asked.

“Thank you,” Luna said.

Goldman took his seat. “We appreciate you bringing in the…uh—” Goldman began.

“Even if Sam’s DNA matches what you found on the body, it doesn’t mean he killed her,” Luna said.

“No. It doesn’t. But it helps. We could at least exclude your husband,” Detective Goldman said.

“Right,” Luna said.

“Where was your husband the morning of Monday, October 7?”

“He left for work before I woke up,” Luna said.

“Around what time was that?”

“He usually wakes up before six a.m.”

“Did he wake you?”

Luna paused before answering. “We don’t sleep in the same room.”

“Because of his early mornings?”

“That might be one of the reasons.”

“Was your marriage in trouble?” Goldman asked.

“Clearly it was,” Luna said. “But I’m not sure I would have said so before I answered that phone.”

“So, how would you have described your marriage yesterday morning?” Goldman asked.

“I don’t know,” Luna said.

She felt an oppressive exhaustion wash over her.

“Did you fight?”

“Not often,” Luna said.

“So, you didn’t sleep in the same bed and you didn’t fight,” Goldman said.

He was getting a decent picture of the union.

“It sounds passionless, I know,” Luna said.

Luna had to admit that their sex life had waned. Was that before or after Sam started up with Irene? She didn’t know when they started up, so she couldn’t say. The interview felt more like a therapy session than an interrogation.

“Was it?” he asked.

Luna wasn’t going to offer intimate details of her marriage. To a psychiatrist she might have admitted that she and Sam were like friends with benefits who resided under the same roof. Weird, but efficient.

“It was always easy with Sam. I never had to explain myself. I think we had similar dispositions. I couldn’t be around another person all the time. Neither could he. At least that’s what I believed. Maybe he was lonelier than I thought. Whatever happened with Irene has nothing to do with her death.”

“You sure about that?” Goldman asked.

“What’s his motive?” Luna asked. “I don’t see one.”

“Maybe the relationship with Irene was the only good thing he had. Maybe she wanted to end it and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.”

“That’s another man you’re talking about.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re describing a man who’s out of control.”

“Sam likes to be in control?” Goldman said.

Luna realized that her description of Sam was not helping his case. “Look, I gave you Sam’s toothbrush because I knew you’d want his DNA. And I knew you’d have to look at him for this. Still, I don’t think Sam did it.”

Again, her conviction weakened the more she insisted upon it.

“Noted,” Goldman said.

“Does this mean you’re done looking at Owen?”

Goldman leaned back in his chair and looked Luna in the eye. People don’t look you in the eye all that often. It can unsettle someone who doesn’t want to be seen. But this time it didn’t have the desired effect. Goldman felt like she was seeing him instead. Maybe it was the dim lighting. It had that strangely charged feeling of a first date. He immediately looked away and asked the first question that came to mind.

“Would you rather our prime suspect be your husband or your best friend?”

“I’d rather it be neither,” Luna said.

“But if you had to choose—”

“Come on, Detective.”

Goldman raised his hands, conceding the unfairness of the challenge. “Indulge my curiosity for a moment,” Goldman said.

Luna nodded, bracing herself for the usual questions.

“Given Owen’s history, have you considered the possibility?”

“It’s not a pattern, Detective. A lousy coincidence, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Goldman said. “But if you were me, wouldn’t you look twice?”

“Maybe,” Luna said. “If you’re looking at patterns, you should know something.”



* * *



—

When Sam unlocked his front door, he fully expected to find his wife at home. The visit to his mother in Philadelphia was really just a brief reprieve from Irene’s death and his domestic life. He hadn’t had time to think about Irene or allow himself to feel something.

Sam announced his arrival. There was no answer, but he had a powerful sense of not being alone. He heard labored breaths first. Then he saw the dog. It was just sitting on his couch, breathing. It frightened Sam. He stepped back. The dog didn’t move. Sam called Luna’s name, but she didn’t answer. Sam was not a dog person. He didn’t know what to do. He stood in his living room, staring at the animal for about a minute or so. He’d remember the moment as being much longer.

At some point, he realized that the dog wasn’t going to attack. He walked in slow motion over to the refrigerator and poured a strong Bloody Mary. Sam knew that it was only a matter of time before the police found out about him and Irene.