Tips for Living(65)

Grace touched my arm. “Thanks, Nor.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, my turn for confessing. And please don’t ask questions until I’m done.”

It was difficult for Grace not to interrogate me, but she managed to let me speak. It all poured out in a rush. I told her about Ben and Gubbins both subscribing to the theory that I’d been framed. The slashed painting, the posed bodies.

“What the fuck?”

I told her about Hugh’s damning divorce diary that documented my attack on the very same painting.

“He was collecting evidence on you for the divorce? That’s rich.”

“You promised not to interrupt.”

I gave her my list of possible suspects: an angry drug dealer, a jilted lover of Hugh’s and, finally, Stokes. I made the strongest case for him, positing him as a serial killer whose trigger was humiliation. “His in-laws demeaned him. He asphyxiated them and managed to get his hands on their money. Then Helene and Hugh humiliated him, and there was a sexual mortification this time. He took his revenge.”

Grace tapped her pen. “I don’t know. I can’t see Stokes Diekmann having the bandwidth to orchestrate the framing scenario.”

“He’s a very angry guy. He’s scary, believe me. It’s good Kelly is staying with you. Now please stop interrupting. There’s more.”

Then I told her about sleeping with Ben. “Well, not sleeping, except for an hour.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve finally met someone, and it’s Ben fucking Wickstein. Wow. How was it?”

“Wait. I’m not finished.”

“Nor, come on.”

“It was great. But kind of overwhelming . . .”

“Of course, it’s been a while. But that’s wonderful. I’m thrilled for you. For both of you.”

“Please don’t make too much of it. It was probably a one-night thing.”

Grace frowned. “What makes you think so?”

I glanced at the clock on Grace’s wall. Almost 9:45 a.m. Ben would be at the Courier’s weekly staff meeting, where I should be. How could I have walked out on him? I felt lousy about it. Cowardly. Small. But I still cringed when I thought of telling him about my sleepwalking. I took another deep breath.

“Grace. I’ve been sleepwalking again.”

“What?” She stiffened. “I asked you. You told me you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t sure. Then it happened last night at Ben’s. And maybe before that, too, I think.” I paused. I wasn’t going to hedge with her now. “No. I know I was sleepwalking before.”

Grace stared at me, her expression growing more concerned by the second. What was going through her mind?

“The morning of the murders . . . Nora, you had all that crud in your hair. And the scratch on your face. You said you went for a walk and you fell. Was that a lie? Had you been sleepwalking?”

“I’m pretty sure. I just don’t know where I went.”

“Holy shit. You must be terrified,” she said. I could hear the stress in her voice.

She rolled her chair back slightly and angled her body away. It was subtle, but I knew what it meant. My heart sank. I’d never seen a graver look on Grace’s face. I began wringing my hands, anguished.

“You think I did it.”

Grace flinched.

“You think I killed Hugh and Helene.”

I crumpled into the chair, crushed.

“Stop the crazy talk.” Grace stood up and shook her head adamantly.

“I know you. You couldn’t do something like that. No way in hell. You are not that person.”

“It’s just . . . there are so many things that line up,” I said. “How can you be sure? Remember Axel? Nora Scissorhands?”

“That was a sweatshirt. These are human beings. It’s completely impossible. Never in a million years. You understand? Never.” She grabbed both my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Repeat after me. Never.”

It felt like I’d just been yanked back from the precipice.

“Never.”

“Good. What does Ben have to say about it?”

I averted my eyes. “I didn’t tell him.”

“You need to.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

I looked at Grace again, pleading. “What if it makes him think I killed them?”

“Then he’s not the man for you. You’ve got to tell him.”

“No.” I stiffened and crossed my arms. As empathic as she was, Grace had no idea what this was like. How exposed and defenseless I felt.

“You’re stubborn,” she said sternly.

“You’re bossy.”

She flipped her hair back with her hand and sat back down. We eyed each other, unblinking.

“We’ll revisit this,” Grace said. “Meanwhile, I think you should find a sleep clinic. You haven’t tried that.”

“The police are watching. They don’t have those clinics out here. Gubbins said if I leave the county, they’d be sure to track me. I can’t have them finding out about my sleepwalking. A sleep clinic isn’t an option right now.”

“Okay. Then we’ve got to figure out a way to reduce your stress. I bet that’s triggering the episodes.”