“Like what?”
“So filled with terror,” she replied. “He practically sprinted toward Amsterdam Avenue. I waited until he turned the corner. Then I approached the door and pressed her apartment button. Nobody answered. I started pressing other buttons. Somebody finally buzzed me in. I went upstairs and knocked on her door for a while. Then I tried the knob. It was unlocked. So I opened the door.”
Emily stopped. A trembling hand brought the cup up to her lips. She took a sip.
“This is going to sound awful,” she went on, “but I didn’t see a dead human being lying there. I only saw my last hope of keeping my kids.”
“So you decided to plant evidence.”
Emily put down the cup and looked at him. Her eyes were clear. “Yes. And you were right about everything else too. I chose the playroom because I knew he’d never go down there. I figured that when Greg got back home —I didn’t know he’d run—the blood would be safe. Look, I know I went too far, but it’s not like I was lying. He killed her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What?”
“He might have stumbled across the body the same way you did.”
“Are you serious?” Her tone was sharp now. “Of course Greg killed her. The blood on the floor was still fresh. He was the one who had everything to lose. He had motive, opportunity.”
“Just as you do,” Myron said.
“What motive?”
“You wanted to set him up for murder. You wanted to keep your children.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Do you have any proof your story is true?” Myron asked.
“Do I have what?”
“Proof. I don’t think the police are going to buy it.”
“Do you buy it?” she asked him.
“I’d like to see proof.”
“What do you mean, proof?” she snapped. “Like what? It’s not like I took pictures.”
“Any facts that back up your story?”
“Why would I kill her, Myron? What possible motive could I have? I needed her alive. She was my best chance of keeping my kids.”
“But let’s assume for a moment that this woman did indeed have something on Greg,” Myron said. “Something concrete. Like a letter he wrote or a videotape”—he watched for a reaction—“or something like that.”
“All right,” she said with a nod. “Go ahead.”
“And suppose she double-crossed you. Suppose she sold the incriminating evidence to Greg. You admit Greg was there before you. Maybe he paid her enough so that she’d back out of your agreement. Then you go into her apartment. You find out what she’s done. You realize your one chance at keeping your kids is gone. So you kill her and pin it on the man who had seemed to have the most to gain from her death: Greg.”
Emily shook her head. “That’s nuts.”
“You hated Greg enough,” Myron continued. “He played dirty with you; you’d play dirty back.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
Myron took another look at the robins, but they were gone. The yard looked barren now, stripped of any life. He waited a few seconds before he turned back toward her. “I know about the videotape of you and Thumper.”
A quick bolt of anger hit Emily’s eyes. Her fingers clutched the coffee mug. Myron half-expected her to throw it at him. “How the hell…?” Then her grip suddenly slackened. She backed away. She sort of shrugged into a slouch. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It must have made you furious,” he said.
She shook her head. A small sound like a chuckle escaped from her lips. “You just don’t get it, do you, Myron?”
“Don’t get what?”
“I wasn’t looking for revenge. The only thing that mattered was that the tape could take away my kids.”
“No, I do get it,” Myron countered. “You’d do anything to keep your kids.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
Myron shifted gears. “Tell me about you and Thumper,” he said.
Emily snorted a derisive laugh. “I didn’t think you were that type, Myron.”
“I’m not.”
She picked up her coffee mug and took a deep sip. “Did you watch the whole tape from beginning to end?” she asked in a tone somewhere between flirtatious and furious. “Did you hit the slow motion button a few times, Myron? Rewind and replay certain parts over and over? Drop your pants to your knees?”
“No to all of the above.”
“How much did you see?”
“Just enough to know what was going on.”
“Then you stopped?”
“Then I stopped.”
She regarded him from behind the mug. “You know something? I actually believe you. You’re that kind of Goody Two-shoes.”
“Emily, I’m trying to help.”
“Help me or Greg?”
“Help get to the truth. I assume you want that too.”
She shrugged noncommittally.
“So when did you and Thumper…?” He made vague coming-together motions with his hand.
She laughed at his discomfort. “It was the first time,” she replied. “In all respects.”
“I’m not judging—”
“I don’t care if you are or not. You want to know what happened, right? It was my first time. That little whore set me up.”
“How?”
“What do you mean, how?” she countered. “You want me to go into details—how many drinks I had, how I was feeling lonely, how her hand started up my leg?”
“I guess not.”
“Then let me give you the quick capsule: she seduced me. We’d flirted innocently a few times in the past. She invited me to the Glenpointe for drinks. It was like a dare on myself—I was drawn and repelled, but I knew I wouldn’t go through with it. One thing led to another. We went upstairs. End of capsule.”
“So you’re saying Thumper knew you were being filmed?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know? Did she say anything?”
“She didn’t say anything. But I know.”
“How?”
“Myron, please stop asking so many goddamn questions. I just know, okay? How else would anyone know to set up a camera in that room? She set me up.”
That made sense, Myron thought. “But why would she do it?”
Her face registered her exasperation. “Christ, Myron, she’s the team whore. Didn’t she fuck you yet? Or no, let me guess. You refused, right?”
Emily stormed away into the living room and collapsed on a couch. “Get me the aspirin,” she said. “They’re in the bathroom. In the medicine chest.”
Myron shook out two tablets and filled a cup with water. When he came back, he said, “I have to ask you about one more thing.”
She sighed. “What?”
