The Perfect Mother(36)

Colette nods. “Okay,” she says, barely getting the word out. “Thanks.”

“And I should let you know. The copy machine broke.” Allison lowers her voice. “The repairman won’t be here for another hour, if you need to use the room. I can make a sign. Nobody will disturb you.”

Colette glances down at the article. “Good timing,” she says. “I was just about to see if the bathroom is empty.”

Allison’s smile is wide. “Give me a minute.”

Colette takes her bag from under the chair and walks to the credenza beside the mayor’s desk. The file is still there, heavier in her hands than it was two days earlier. Allison flashes a thumbs-up from her desk as Colette walks to the copy room, clicking the lock into place behind her. As she lifts the file from her bag, something falls from it, landing at her feet. A flash drive. She sets it on the copy machine and pages quickly through the papers inside the file, scanning for Bodhi Mogaro’s name. In her haste she slices the crease of her thumb and forefinger, leaving a painful wisp of a paper cut, and a trail of her blood on the top page.

“Shit,” she whispers, rubbing the blood across the words “Membership list: May Mothers.”

She flips through copies of the questionnaire she had to fill out when signing up for May Mothers through the Village website. She sees Nell’s profile. Yuko’s. Scarlett’s. Francie’s. How did the police get access to these?

She sees hers.

She takes it from the stack, looking at the photo she included, from the trip to Sanibel Island she and Charlie took before Poppy was born. The night he proposed, the anniversary of their first date, the first night they’d spent together, waking up the next morning in his Brooklyn Heights apartment, watching the first plane hit the tower. “I will be with you forever,” she said that day on the Florida beach, her hair thick with sand and salt water, holding the ring in her hand. “But you know me, Charlie. Marriage isn’t my thing.” She barely recognizes herself in the photo. Just two years earlier, but she appears so young.

Then it occurs to her: Teb will see this. He’ll discover that she knows Winnie. He’ll know—if he doesn’t know already—that she was there that night. He’ll want to know why she didn’t tell him.

She looks at the shredder next to the copy machine, and without a second thought, she feeds the paper into the slit on top. In one rapid motion, slivers emerge from the other end of the machine.

She returns to the folder, flipping through the papers. Photos of the back deck of the Jolly Llama. Photos of Winnie’s house. Her kitchen. A lab report Colette can’t make sense of. She stops at a transcript of an interview, several pages long.

Hoyt: Can you spell your name for me?

Meraud Spool: M-E-R-A-U-D S-P-O-O-L

Hoyt: And you’re a friend of Ms. Ross?

Spool: A former friend. We haven’t spoken in years, but we were close when we were young.

Hoyt: I know we want to get to the incident with Daniel you witnessed, but before we get to that, tell me about your relationship with Ms. Ross.

Spool: We met at the Bluebird auditions. We had a lot in common, and we clicked right away. When my mom and I moved here for the show, Mrs. Ross invited us to stay with them while the apartment we bought was being renovated. We would spend our weekends at their country home, upstate. Winnie and I shared a room. She felt like my sister.

Hoyt: Okay.

Spool: So, anyway, we both got cast. Winnie, obviously, got the lead.

[Laughter]

Hoyt: How did you feel about that?

Spool: How did I feel? To be perfectly honest, it stung. For all the girls, not just me. She wasn’t the best dancer. But she was the most beautiful.

Hoyt: Did she get along well with the other girls?

Spool: No, not really. She was awkward.

Hoyt: Awkward?

Spool: Yeah, like she never really knew how to just be herself. She was always shape-shifting, trying to be what she thought others wanted her to be. Trying to portray whatever image it was that served the situation. But she got more confident after she met Daniel.

Hoyt: And where did they meet?

Spool: I have no idea, to be honest. Skinny. Acne. It shocked all the other girls that they were dating, but not me, not after I saw the two of them together. They made so much sense. He was a lot like her. Studious. Artsy. They really loved each other. [Laughter] I mean, the way we do when we’re seventeen. Kid love. Although, at thirty-nine, with three kids and twelve years of marriage, I’m starting to think that that, in fact, is what real love is. This? This is work. Am I talking too much? I’m not sure I’m answering your questions.

Hoyt: You’re doing fine.

Spool: Well, anyway, the show was doing great. Winnie had Daniel. She had me. And then her mom died. And—

Hoyt: Yes?

Spool: And then things, well— Look, you guys contacted me to ask if you could interview me, and I’m happy to help. I have three sons. I seriously can’t imagine what she’s going through. But I’m afraid to say the wrong thing.

Hoyt: Try not to worry about that. We’re just gathering facts.

Spool: She went crazy. I mean, who wouldn’t? Losing your mom so young. It was horrible. This freak accident, which nobody could explain. Her brakes go out, just as she’s driving down a hill? It was so strange. On top of that, the guy was back. Archie Andersen.