Chapter 3 - DETECTIVE HARRISDetective Rebecca Harris arrived before midnight.
Plain clothes.
Brown hair.
No theatrical badge display.
She sat near my bed and asked my sister Megan to wait outside until I completed the first statement.
Megan wanted to object.
I told her:
“It’s okay.”
She left.
Rebecca opened a notebook.
“Tell me from the beginning.”
I told her only what I remembered.
Walking upstairs to get a cardigan.
Feeling strangely heavy.
My legs not obeying quickly.
A wave of dizziness near the top.
Turning.
Evelyn standing behind me.
Then my foot sliding.
Falling.
Smile.
“What kind of smile?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could you have misread her expression?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I looked at her.
“That doesn’t help me.”
“It helps your statement.”
She asked what I had eaten.
Toast.
Eggs.
Tea.
Tea.
“What kind?”
Chamomile.
“Who made it?”
I froze.
“Evelyn.”
Rebecca did not react.
“What time?”
Around nine-thirty.
Fall around eleven.
“Did you see her make it?”
“No.”
“Did it taste unusual?”
I thought.
“Slightly bitter.”
“Did you finish it?”
“Most.”
“Where is the mug now?”
“Kitchen.”
Maybe.
If nobody moved it.
I suddenly remembered the security feed.
“I have video.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Of the fall?”
“No. Bedroom. Right now.”
I showed her the live application.
Daniel, Olivia, Evelyn were no longer in the bedroom.
But the application stored cloud clips.
Rebecca asked me not to manipulate anything further.
She photographed the device screen and arranged for a forensic download with my consent.
Then:
“Who is Olivia?”
“My husband’s mistress.”
“You’re certain?”
“She’s wearing my robe in my bed.”
“Fair.”
One dry sentence.
I liked her.
“Could Olivia have been at the house before you fell?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is her full name?”
“Olivia Hart.”
“Relationship to your husband?”
“Works with him.”
“Doing what?”
Daniel owned Mercer Architectural Group, a boutique residential-design firm.
Olivia was director of client relations.
May you like
She had been my friend once.
That detail hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Related Stories
