Cole runs in and throws his arms around my legs, almost sending me toppling. “Yay, you’re home. Now we can do the family tree. I need photographs of Sharon and Aunt Caitlin and Aunt Krystle and everyone.”
Just then, a stout woman with dark skin and salt-and-pepper hair emerges from the bathroom. She strides toward me, wiping her wet hands on her blue pants.
“Detective Stephanie Lopez.” She takes my hand and squeezes it a bit too hard, telegraphing the message that she is not to be toyed with. She gives Detective Katz a stern nod. “Ready?”
He nods back like a well-trained dog.
“What is this about?” I ask.
Detective Lopez glances at Cole, her nostrils flare, and I know at once that she is childless. She looks from me to Susan and then back to me. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” Detective Lopez asks. “Privately?”
Cole squeezes my thighs harder. “Mommy, you promised. This is due soon.”
“I can stay a bit longer,” Susan offers. Today, her earrings are dangling orange popsicles. “If that would help.”
“Would you? You’re a godsend.” Susan has been picking up Cole from school and watching him until I get home from work since we moved here. I don’t know what I would do without her.
“No!” Cole shouts. “I want you to make the family tree.”
Susan bends down. “Cole, how would you like to walk to my house and feed Marnie? It’s her dinnertime. And I have some poster board you can use for the family tree. It’s neon green.”
Cole narrows his eyes, looking for the trick. But he loves Marnie and will do almost anything to spend time with the little white dog. He looks up at me. “And then we’ll do the family tree, Mommy?”
“Of course. Thank you, Susan.” I send a little thanks heavenward that I managed to find a babysitter who keeps neon poster board in stock.
The detectives follow me into our living room. I can feel their eyes boring into the back of my head. As soon as we are in the living room, I regret coming in, too, and I’m sure it shows. The furnishings have been passed down to us from Mark’s mom, and they are not my taste at all. I sit in one of two wingbacks that overlook the street through a bay window and point to the couch. Detective Lopez takes a seat, but the younger Detective Katz wanders over to the bookshelf and starts examining family photographs, to my consternation.
Lopez sits across from me, legs spread wide, and leans forward as if she’s ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. A large black gun sits askew on her hip, revealed by her open jacket. I wonder if that’s on purpose, letting me see her weapon. Her wide face is makeup-free, ageless in the way that women who refuse to play the appearance game can be. She could be anywhere from thirty-five to fifty.
“How can I help you?” She glances at my hands. I realize I’ve been twisting the edges of my long cardigan. I drop my hands flat on my lap.
She hands me a business card exactly like the one Detective Katz gave me, only with her own name on it, and then takes out a small spiral notebook and flips it open.
“We are investigating a homicide that occurred in the five hundred block of Wentworth early Sunday morning.”
I swallow hard. “Yes, I heard about it. It’s awful.”
“Were you awake between the hours of midnight and 6:00 a.m. on Sunday, Ms. Ross?”
“No, I was sleeping.” Then I remember. “Actually, I did get up around five.”
“So you were awake. Did you leave the house?”
“No.”
“Not to get the paper, let the dog out?”
“We don’t have a dog.”
She asks about my routine, then about Mark’s, and about whether we have any security cameras that might offer footage. She wants to know if I’ve noticed anyone suspicious around, any work people who looked out of place in the past few weeks. I feel as relaxed as I can being questioned by a homicide detective when she begins asking about the alley in the back of the house.
“Your house backs up to an alley,” she says without missing a beat. “As does the property on which the crime occurred. Have you ever walked down that alley?”
“Sure. It’s the quickest way to get to the metro station at Friendship Heights.” The defensive note in my voice makes me cringe. I have a right to walk down the alley behind my house.
“How often do you walk it?”
“I don’t know. Once a week? Mark, my husband, walks it every day on his commute.”
She jots something down on her pad.
“A lot of people in this neighborhood used that alley,” I say. “Kids, people walking their dogs.”
“When is the last time you used the alley?”
I let out a throaty laugh. “I don’t know.”
“Think, Ms. Ross.”
“Umm, last Thursday? Walking Cole home from a playdate?”
“Have you ever stopped at the Avery residence?”
“Of course not. I didn’t even know he lived there.” I shift in my chair, feeling restless. “We just moved here a few months ago.”
“But you knew Robert Avery.”
I pause, unsure if this is a question. “No,” I say. “I didn’t know him.”
“I see.” But what does she see? Her face is impossible to read. The only sign of reaction is two deep grooves between her eyebrows. “You’re telling us that you did not know Robert Avery?”
I shake my head.
She takes out her phone and pokes at it so loudly I can hear her finger hitting the glass. A look of recognition crosses her face, and she turns the screen to me. “Can you tell me a little about this photograph?”
I take her phone from her and examine the picture on the screen. It was taken in Daisy’s kitchen on the night of the party. In the center of the photo, two women grin into the camera. But Rob
