“Sure,” I said. “Tell me about your husband’s death, Mrs. Smith.”
“Do I have to?”
“No,” I said.
“But you want me to?”
“Yes.”
Graff put his hand on Mary’s arm. “Mary,” he said, “these people are trying to help you.”
“I know they are, Larson. It’s just, the whole subject is just so really, so really, really… icky.”
I was quiet. Rita was quiet. Beyond the big glass windows of the conference room, the tops of the city were quiet. Off to the right I could see the river flowing past Cambridge.
“He died at home,” I said.
“Yes. Louisburg Square. Nathan bought it when we got married. It’s tripled, at least, in value.”
“Real estate is always a sound investment,” I said. “And you were in the house when he died.”
“Yes. He was upstairs in the bedroom. I was in the library downstairs watching ”Survivor.“ Do you watch that?”
“You bet,” I said. “Was your door open?”
“Open?”
“Yes. The library door, was it open or closed?”
“I always close it. Nathan liked to sleep with his door open and the sound of the TV bothered him.”
“And his bedroom is on the second floor?”
“The third. Nathan liked to get away from city sounds at night.”
“Where did you sleep?”
She smiled a little and lowered her eyes.
“Why, aren’t you nosy?” she said.
“I certainly am,” I said.
“My bedroom was right next to Nathan’s. We were very close. Just because we had separate rooms. We had a very full sex life.”
“Everyone should,” I said. “Tell me about when you found his body.”
“Oh, don’t say it that way. ”His body.“ It sounds so, it’s so really…”
I waited. Rita had rocked back in her chair, one spectacular leg crossed over the other. There was no expression on her face.
“How did you come across your, ah, late husband?” I said.
“I went up after the eleven-o’clock news,” she said. “I always watch Channel Five when I’m home. I really like them. You watch Channel Five?”
“Day and night,” I said. “You went up after the news?”
“Yes. I always do, and I always peek in, see if he’s awake, so, if he is, I can say nighty-night to him.”
“And you saw right away that he was deceased?”
“His light was on,” she said.
She was the center of our attention. Her face had a kind of sweet dreaminess about it, as if reciting her story pleased her.
“Which is very unusual. Nathan usually goes to sleep very early. So I went in and, my God, there was blood everywhere on his pillow.”
Her hands were resting on the tabletop in front of her. Graff patted one of them.
“It must have been so awful,” he said.
“It was awful,” Mary said.
We all sat for a time contemplating how awful it was.
“What did you do after you made this discovery?” I said.
“I don’t… I guess I don’t really remember. I think I burst into tears.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yes.”
“How long after?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I think.”
“And no one else was in the house?”
“No.”
