The Perfect Couple(97)

“I forgot to tell the detective something,” she says.

The Chief’s expression hardens into all business. He’s not a bad-looking man, Greer thinks. He has a gruffness that she finds sort of appealing, nearly sexy. And he’s age appropriate. This is what Tag has done; now Greer has to appraise candidates for future romantic interludes. Would the Chief be interested in her?

Never, she decides.

The Greek, maybe, Nick, if he were in the mood for an older woman. Greer flushes, then she notices the Chief looking at her expectantly.

“I didn’t forget, exactly,” Greer says. She wants to clarify this. “It’s something I only just remembered.”

The Chief nods almost imperceptibly.

“I went to bed whenever, midnight or so, but I couldn’t sleep. I was wound up.”

“Wound up,” the Chief says.

“Excited about the wedding. I wanted everything to go well,” Greer says. “So, as I told the detective, I got up and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of champagne.”

“Yes,” the Chief says.

“Well, what I forgot to tell the detective—meaning what I didn’t remember at all until just a little while ago—is that I brought my sleeping pills to the kitchen. My intention was to take a pill with water before I drank my champagne.”

“What kind of pills were they?” the Chief asks.

“I’d have to call my physician in New York to be sure,” Greer says. “They’re quite potent, put me to sleep instantly and knock me out for eight hours straight. Which was why, in the end, I decided not to take a pill. I needed to be up early this morning. So I hoped the champagne would do the trick by itself, and that was, in fact, what happened. But when I looked for the pills a few moments ago in my medicine cabinet, where I keep them, they weren’t there. And that’s when I recalled bringing them to the kitchen. I checked the counter next to the refrigerator plus every shelf, every drawer, every possible hiding place. I asked my housekeeper, Elida. She hasn’t seen them.”

“Were they in a prescription bottle?” the Chief asks. “Were they marked?”

“No,” Greer says. “I have a pillbox. It’s an enamel box with a painting of Queen Elizabeth on the top.”

“So who would have known that the pills inside were sleeping pills?” the Chief asks.

“The sleeping pills and the pillbox were something of a family joke,” Greer says. “My husband obviously knew. And the children.”

“Would Ms. Monaco have known they were sleeping pills?” the Chief says.

Greer knows she can’t hesitate here, even for a second. “Oh, yes,” Greer says. “I offered Merritt a sleeping pill from the box the last time she stayed with us, in May.” This answer wouldn’t pass a polygraph, she knows. The truth is that Greer had offered Merritt aspirin for the headache she had after the wine dinner but never a sleeping pill. “So I think we can conclude what happened.”

“And what’s that?” the Chief says.

“Merritt took a sleeping pill,” Greer says.

The Chief says nothing. It’s infuriating; the man is impossible to read, even for Greer, who can normally see people’s agendas and prevailing emotions as though she were looking into a clear stream.

“She helped herself to my pills,” Greer says. “Then she went for a swim, maybe thinking she would cool down before slipping into bed. And the pill knocked her out. It was an accident.”

The Chief pulls out his pad and pencil. “Describe the pillbox again, please, Ms. Garrison.”

He’s bought it, she thinks, and relief blows through her like a cool breeze. “It’s round, about four centimeters in diameter, cherry red with a portrait of the queen on the top,” she says. “The top is hinged. It flips open.”

“And how many pills inside?” the Chief asks.

“I couldn’t say exactly,” Greer says. “Somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five.”

“The last time you remember seeing the pillbox, it was in the kitchen,” the Chief says. “There’s no chance you brought it back to your bedroom?”

“No chance,” Greer says. Her nerves return, multiplied, quivering.

“So you know there’s no chance you brought the pills back to your bedroom,” the Chief says, “and yet you didn’t remember bringing the pills into the kitchen when you talked to the detective. I guess I’m questioning how you can be so certain.”

“I keep the pills in only one place,” Greer says. “And they weren’t there. If I had brought the pills back to my room, they would have been where I always keep them.”

“No guarantees of that,” the Chief says. He clears his throat. “There are a couple of reasons why I don’t think Merritt took a pill of her own volition.”

Of her own volition, Greer thinks. Oh, dear God. They’ll suspect Tag of drugging the girl, of course. Or they’ll suspect Greer herself.

“But wait…” Greer says.

The Chief turns away. “Thank you for the information,” he says. “Now I’m going to find your son Thomas.”





Tuesday, July 3–Friday, July 6, 2018





CELESTE