Haley opened the door before they arrived. She thought that would make her seem more open to them.
There were two of them. A man and a woman.
“Good morning, Ms. Sommers. My name is Lieutenant Velasquez. This is Detective Jamali. May we come in?”
Haley wondered if the NYPD sold a beefcake calendar at Christmas for fundraising, and if so, whether Lieutenant Velasquez was Mr. December. She wished he weren’t so good-looking. She found it much easier to manipulate men who were appreciative that she was giving them the time of day.
“What’s this about?” she said, hoping it came off as if she really didn’t know.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Sommers, but your ex-husband, James Sommers, was killed.”
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed and brought her hands up over her face, the way someone who had found out for the first time that their ex-husband was dead might do. She tried to force out a tear, but it was beyond her skill set.
“You didn’t know?” Lieutenant Velasquez said.
She shook her head, as if it were less of a lie if she didn’t speak it. “No. We don’t have any friends in common any longer.”
“May we come in?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”
She led them to the living room, with its panoramic view of the Hudson River. She had purchased this place before marrying James. The thing she liked best about it now was that it didn’t have a single piece of art on the walls.
Once they were seated, the cops in the armchairs and Haley on her sofa, the interrogation resumed.
“We know there’s been some animosity between you and your ex-husband,” Lieutenant Velasquez said. “Obviously, that makes you a suspect in all of this.”
He stopped there. No question. Just stating as an indisputable fact that Haley hated James, and they thought she might have killed him as a result.
There was no point in denying her animosity toward James, of course. Every guest at the party would testify that it was true. Not to mention her emails and text messages and voice mails and various violations of the restraining order.
“Yes. James left me for Jessica, and that kind of betrayal is hard to forgive. At times, I have acted . . . let’s just say inappropriately. I’m sure you heard about my outburst at his anniversary party. Not my finest hour, by any means. But I did not kill him. I swear that I didn’t. It wasn’t that way between us.”
“What way was it?” Detective Jamali asked.
“It’s hard to explain. I loved James and I hated James. I wanted him to know both those things. That’s why I acted out from time to time. But killing him? No, I’d never do that. It would end things. Forever. And I didn’t want them to end. That was my problem: I wanted a relationship with James, albeit a destructive, one-sided, and completely dysfunctional one. But still . . . Now that he’s gone, that’s over for me. And, believe it or not, it makes me incredibly sad.”
She didn’t expect them to believe it. Still, she thought it was a good speech.
“We need to know your whereabouts the day he died,” Lieutenant Velasquez said. “Start with when you woke up.”
“Did it happen yesterday?” she asked, proud of herself that she did. If the police were going to trick her into revealing that she knew more than she let on, they’d have to work harder.
“Actually the day before yesterday. Two days ago.”
Haley considered this, the way she imagined she would if she didn’t know exactly when James had died. “Okay. So two days ago. Well, I’m unemployed, which while unfortunate in many ways, does have the one upside that my time is my own. So two days ago, let’s see . . . After I got up, I went to the gym. I’m sure there will be a swipe record of me being there from maybe eleven to noon. Then I came back home and showered. And I just puttered around here alone for a while.”
She thought about whether to mention anything about her time in Sant Ambroeus. If they asked around, someone was bound to remember her being there. But maybe it would never come to that. She decided to go straight for the alibi. If the police later learned that she’d been at Sant Ambroeus, lying to them would be the least of her worries.
“After that, I went to a friend’s apartment in the Bronx. I got there at around five. I was with him until the morning, at which time I went home to my place.”
“Write down the name, address, and phone number for this friend of yours, please,” Detective Jamali said.
Wayne knew he should do this face-to-face. At least that’s what people always said about breakups. He actually had never done it before. The few girlfriends he’d had prior to Jessica had dumped him. Some not even face-to-face.
He wondered if the in-person rule still applied in the smartphone era. Wouldn’t Stephanie prefer to hear the news by text rather than have to endure it in person?
Nonetheless, he suggested that they meet for a drink. That should have been a tip-off to Stephanie. Not dinner, as was their usual Friday-night activity. On the other hand, he said that he was tight for time because he had to see Owen right after. If she accepted that at face value, she’d be blindsided by what he was about to reveal.
He half expected (or maybe hoped) that Stephanie would decline. They hadn’t seen each other all week, and he held out some hope that was another sign she’d read. But she said she’d come straight from work, and they agreed to meet at six. Perhaps she thought he wanted to talk about James’s death, which he’d told her about over the phone when making their date.
Wayne arrived at 5:30
