“That must make things awkward for you,” Detective Holman surmised.
“A little,” Lynn admitted, “but over time I expect Chip’s family will come around. At least that’s what I’m hoping. It’s also one of the reasons we’re not rushing into anything.”
“Have you ever heard Dr. Ralston voice any threats against his former wife?”
“Threats?” Lynn echoed. “Never. Not once.”
“He never made any comments to you that maybe he’d be better off if Gemma were dead?”
“No!” Lynn said forcefully. “He never mentioned such a thing. Not to me, anyway, and I doubt he’d say it to anyone else, either. You need to understand, Chip Ralston is a good man-an honorable man.”
“In your opinion,” Detective Holman said.
The comment made Lynn flush, but she said nothing.
“Let’s talk about the other night,” Holman continued. “You spent the night.”
“Yes,” Lynn said. “I do most nights.”
“You were there the whole night? Was Dr. Ralston there as well?”
“Yes, of course he was. We slept in the same bed.”
“He didn’t go out at any time? Was he on call?”
“We were both there all night,” Lynn repeated.
“Is there a chance he might have slipped out of bed and been gone for a while without your noticing?”
Lynn paused before answering. For years she had struggled with sleep apnea. It was only with the arrival of a breathing aid, a CPAP machine, on the recommendation of a physician specializing in sleep disorders, that she had started sleeping well at night. When she and Chip started dating, she had been too embarrassed to bring it up. Who wants to think that a romantic partner is going to come to bed looking like a gas mask-wearing member of a hazmat team. But she also knew that the mask was the source of her ability to sleep well and safely.
So the first time she and Chip spent the night together-at a casino on the outskirts of Scottsdale-Lynn had brought her mask and machine along, tucked discreetly into her suitcase. She hadn’t really intended to take it out or use it, but then a miracle happened. Chip opened his overnight bag, and Lynn caught sight of his machine, tucked in among his underwear and his shaving kit. Not only did they each have a CPAP machine, they had the same make and model.
Lynn had grabbed hers out of her suitcase, and they stood looking back and forth. “What,” he said finally, grinning. “You, too? Looks like we’re a matched set.”
With that, the two of them had collapsed onto the hotel bed, laughing hysterically. Months into the relationship, the masks and machines were an integral part of their lives. Chip bought Lynn an extra machine to leave at his house so she wouldn’t have to carry hers back and forth. Over time they stopped being self-conscious about it. Donning their masks in the aftermath of lovemaking was as automatic as brushing their teeth after dinner. Lynn had adjusted to the comfort of the machine’s white noise, and when she was at Chip’s house, she slept in a welcome, dream-filled slumber that allowed her to awaken after only a few hours fully rested and alert. More than once, Chip had teased her, saying that when she was asleep with her mask on, the house could fall down around her and she wouldn’t notice.
So he could have crept out without her knowledge, but she didn’t mention that to Detective Holman. “No,” she insisted instead. “That’s just not possible.”
“How long have you known Dr. Ralston?”
“I met him over a year ago.”
“While he was still married to his wife?”
“Their marriage was over long before I came into the picture,” Lynn said. “He was my father’s doctor. That’s how I met him. He does primary care for Alzheimer’s patients and provides counseling for families dealing with Alzheimer’s-related issues. You need to understand that Chip didn’t make any inappropriate overtures to me while my father was alive and his patient. His behavior was entirely aboveboard.”
“So you don’t regard yourself as Gemma’s rival?”
“Absolutely not. I told you. Their marriage was over before I came into Chip’s life.”
“When’s the last time you remember using your phone?”
The abrupt change in direction caught Lynn momentarily off guard. “I’m pretty sure the last time I used the phone was when I called Chip that evening to let him know I was on my way to his house. The next time I tried to use it was in the morning after I got back to my mother’s place in Surprise. That’s when I discovered it was gone.”
“What can you tell me about Dr. Ralston’s demeanor the last time you saw him?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. He was glad to see me. I was glad to see him.”
“He didn’t seem upset or preoccupied?”
“No. Not at all.”
“He didn’t seem angry?”
“No. Everything seemed normal.”
“What if I told you that Gemma Ralston is dead?”
“She’s dead?” Lynn repeated weakly.
And that was when he dropped the bomb-or at least what she thought was the bomb.
“And what if I told you that your phone was found at the scene of Gemma’s murder?”
Stunned, Lynn said nothing.
The detective nodded. “Right next to her body, so here’s the thing. How do you suppose your phone got there? Were you at the crime scene and left it behind without meaning to? Or was it left there by someone else in order to implicate you in the commission of that crime-to share the blame, as it were?”
Lynn’s half-empty coffee mug clattered onto the tabletop, slopping coffee in every direction. “I didn’t do it!” she said. She wanted to add,
“As you said earlier, Dr. Ralston has been under a good deal of financial pressure. People in those kinds of binds can do uncharacteristic things.”
Lynn reached for her new phone. “I need to call him,” she said. “I need to let him know what’s going on.”
“That’s not necessary,” Detective Holman said. “I’m quite sure Dr. Ralston is already aware of the situation.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just what you’re doing,” he answered. “Talk to me. Give me your take on what’s going on. This has been a completely informal interview, and I really appreciate your help. But I’d like to have a more formal one. That would need to be done in Prescott-at the Sheriff’s Department. That way I’ll be able to record it; have it on the record.”
“You’re saying you want me to drive up to Prescott for an interview?”
“No. I’ll be glad to give you a ride up and a ride back down.”
“A ride. I’m not under arrest, am I?”
“Not at all.”
“All right, then, but what about my car? Shouldn’t I drive it home, and we can leave for Prescott from there?”
“It’s just for a few hours,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine here. Driving all the way out to Surprise and back will add two hours to the trip. I’ll clear it with the restaurant manager before we leave.”
That was how, a few minutes later, Lynn Martinson walked out of Denny’s under her own power and waited patiently while Detective Holman unlocked his vehicle and opened the back door to let her inside. “There’s too much stuff in the front seat,” he explained.
It wasn’t until after she was seated inside with the door locked from the outside that Lynn began to wonder if she’d been lied to again. By yet another man.
Her phone was in her pocket. Detective Holman had strongly suggested that she not try calling Chip; he hadn’t said anything about Lynn not calling her mother. Still, Lynn left the phone where it was. If she hadn’t told her mother about something as simple as losing her phone, how could she explain that she was somehow mixed up in a homicide?
