‘‘Are you going to check on—what’s her name?— Grace Noel, I suppose Grace Tully now?’’ he asked.
‘‘No,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You are.’’
‘‘Oh?’’ he said, his cup halfway to his lips.
‘‘Some things Grace Tully said made me think that maybe Clymene was right—like maybe her husband is trying to separate her from friends.’’ Diane shrugged. ‘‘You are better equipped to determine if she has married a killer than I,’’ said Diane.
The waitress came out and refilled Kingsley’s coffee and gave Diane a fresh pot of tea.
‘‘Can I get the two of you anything? Chocolate cake? Apple cobbler?’’
‘‘None for me, thanks,’’ said Diane. Kingsley shook his head and the waitress left. ‘‘Sure. I’ll be happy to speak with Mrs. Tully,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘That was easy,’’ said Diane.
‘‘What you have told me is sufficiently disturbing to warrant a look. Maybe he simply wants a traditional household with a stay-at-home wife; he may be just a controlling guy—or a killer.’’ He gave a short laugh before he took another sip of his coffee. ‘‘Amazing how much credibility we are giving to Clymene’s judgment. Tell me what you think about her,’’ said Kingsley, his eyes glittering. ‘‘I would like to know your impression. Did you find that you liked her?’’
Diane squinted at Kingsley.
‘‘But what?’’ Kingsley leaned forward, smiling.
‘‘But that’s it. I didn’t dislike her. She won over Rev. Rivers, did you know that?’’
‘‘No, I didn’t. You spoke with him?’’ Kingsley said.
‘‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but an interesting conversation. He didn’t seem to know he had been drawn in by her until we talked.’’
‘‘What do you mean?’’ he asked.
‘‘He wanted to know the evidence presented in court against Clymene and I went over it with him. His general comments and attitude were very subtly in defense of Clymene.’’
Kingsley’s brow knitted together in a frown. ‘‘Did he believe the evidence?’’
‘‘Oh, yes. And he was visibly disappointed. I think he himself was surprised at how disappointed. The thing that is interesting to me is I think she knows not only what to say, but what not to say. That’s—’’
‘‘Explain that.’’ Kingsley leaned forward again. Diane had the impression that he wished he was taking notes or recording the conversation.
‘‘I’ve spoken before with felons I’ve helped put in prison. Almost all of them have complained about what an injustice I’ve done them. And if they know anything about my background, they make some kind of jab about the death of my daughter. They’ve enjoyed twisting that knife.
‘‘As you said,’’ Diane continued, ‘‘Clymene is very low-key about proclaiming her innocence. With me, she made a joke of it. She let me know early in the conversation that her lawyer had researched my background. But she never once even alluded to my tragedy—subconsciously I noticed that.
‘‘According to Rev. Rivers, she didn’t proclaim her innocence to him either. With him she was simply helpful. She helped other prisoners in his classes. She didn’t proclaim that she had found religion, which, as you know, is common. She listened to what Rivers had to say. That won him over and that is her special gift. Her methods are subtle and their effect is often subconscious. And that is why I think she’s dangerous and why I think she has killed other husbands—she is so very accomplished.’’
Kingsley sat nodding as she spoke. When Diane stopped he was quiet for a long while.
‘‘Interesting analysis,’’ he said. ‘‘And I agree with it. It’s hard to explain those subtleties to a jury. It’s lucky you found that cotton ball filled with all that evidence.’’ He relaxed, sitting back in his chair. ‘‘You know, I had to study hard to become a profiler—I still have to take workshops to keep up on the latest information. But Clymene is a natural.’’
‘‘I believe you’re right,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m still just a little unsettled about what she wanted to speak with me about. You know, waiting for the other shoe to drop.’’
‘‘You want me to give the DA a report on your visit with Clymene?’’ said Kingsley.
Diane eyed him suspiciously. ‘‘That would be good. I really don’t have the time,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Thank you. Talking to Grace, profiling her husband, talking to the DA. I don’t know what to think. What should I think?’’ Diane stared at him.
Kingsley blushed under her steady gaze and grinned. ‘‘Actually I have a favor to ask.’’
‘‘Favor? Does it have anywhere near the value of speaking to the DA and Grace for me?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘No. I definitely will have to sweeten the pot,’’ he said.
Chapter 12
‘‘This sounds like something I would want to say no to,’’ said Diane. She had pushed her teacup away and sat with her forearms resting on the table, scrutinizing Kingsley. She was envious of Clymene’s ability to size people up so quickly that it seemed as if she was reading their minds.
‘‘You will say no at first. I know that because I’m a profiler.’’ He grinned.
‘‘Okay, what is it?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I’m working on a book about Clymene and some other cases,’’ he said.
‘‘Clymene told me,’’ said Diane.
