chairs around a circular table near a window.
“The chief will be right in,” she said, and left.
I looked around. A big desk was angled to maximize the ocean view through two sets of windows, and a wall of built-in bookcases were crammed with binders, directories, files, and matching wicker storage boxes.
“I’m so curious, I could bust,” I said.
Max smiled. “We’ll know more soon.”
“Whatever we learn is going to be a shock to me,” I said. “Remember, I was certain it was Barney.”
Alverez walked in on my words. He looked tired, but he didn’t act it. He smiled and conveyed the same level of power and confidence as always.
“Thanks for coming in on such short notice,” he said. “Murphy just called. He got stuck in a meeting, but should be here in about fifteen minutes.”
Max nodded. “No problem.”
“In the meantime, I can fill you in.” He sat down at the table. “Did I hear you right?” he asked me. “You thought it was Barney?”
“Yeah, I did. Didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “Nah, his alibi was tight. Plus, I thought it was a woman. Remember the footprint we found by the Renoir?”
I nodded and glanced at Max. “Yeah. I remember. I don’t know, I thought maybe it was unrelated or something. This morning, when you left the message saying you caught ‘her,’ well, then Max and I thought it might be Andi.”
“Andi.” He pulled his ear, thoughtfully. “Maybe. I never liked her for it myself. All huff and puff and no action. Did you see how she ran away from me at the Grant place that day?”
“Yeah, but I thought maybe she was on drugs when she killed him.”
“Yeah, that’d be the only way she’d actually be able to do it.”
“But it isn’t her.”
“No. How’d you know?”
“I spoke to Mrs. Cabot just now. She had an intervention yesterday, and Andi entered rehab last night.”
He nodded. “And now? Who do you think now?”
I shrugged and glanced at Max.
“No idea,” Max said.
An image of Sasha came into my mind. Sasha, so shy and unassuming, so quiet, so self-contained. Still waters run deep, I thought. It couldn’t be, I told myself, my eyes growing wide with dismay. I felt myself choke, as if I’d swallowed too big a bite of food. I remembered suddenly that she wore size nine shoes. I closed my eyes, unable to restrain the tears that threatened me. I felt as if I might faint.
“Don’t overlook the obvious,” I heard Alverez say.
I opened my eyes, stricken, but braced for the worst.
Alverez looked mildly amused, as if he thought it was a pretty good joke that what was self-evident to him wasn’t apparent to us. If it was Sasha, I thought, surely he wouldn’t be amused.
“So…” Alverez began. As he spoke, I heard a rustling sound behind me and turned toward the open door. Martha, her chin raised defiantly, her hands handcuffed behind her, her head turned as if to shield her face from view, passed by, followed by a uniformed officer. I shivered and looked away.
“Martha,” I whispered.
“Of course,” Alverez said, nodding. “It was obvious from the start.”
“Not to me,” Max protested. “Martha Troudeaux?” He looked appalled.
Sasha had nothing to do with it, I thought, relief tinged with guilt that I could have suspected her at all. I realized how much I cared about her, and how grateful I was to learn that she had nothing to do with it. “Martha,” I repeated softly, still shocked.
“Yup,” he said, watching me react.
“Where are they taking her?” I asked, not quite whispering.
“To a cell,” Alverez answered.
“She killed Mr. Grant?”
“Yes.”
“For the painting?”
He nodded. “For money, yes.”
“And then she tried to ruin me? It’s unbelievable. She and Barney couldn’t compete so she set out to ruin me?”
“Yeah,” Alverez agreed, “no question about it. She tried to destroy you.”
“It’s outrageous!”
Max reached over and patted my shoulder. “But it’s over.”
“I can’t believe it!” I repeated. I shook my head, astounded that someone would plot against me. Worse, that someone I knew and had worked with would deliberately set out to wreck my life. “How could anyone have done such a thing?” I exclaimed. “It’s disgusting! It’s unbelievable! It’s outrageous!”
“Calm down, Josie,” Max said.
I forced myself to breathe deeply. “I’m okay,” I said, trying to regain control. “I’m okay,” I repeated. I shook my head and smiled a little. “It’s just such a shock, you know?”
“I can only begin to imagine,” Alverez said.
“So,” I said, trying to focus on the facts, “when you say it was obvious from the start, did you mean because she’s known for doing Barney’s dirty work?”
“That’s right.” Alverez shook his head. “And Barney counted on it.”
“I always wondered how he could stand to be with her,” I said, feeling calmer. As I waited for Alverez’s response, I wondered where Sasha was and hoped that she was all right.
“Barney got a lot out of the relationship,” Alverez said, matterof-factly. “Her definition of caretaking was broader than most wives’, and her passion was unassailable. But as far as I can tell, she has no moral core. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Like what?” Max asked.
Alverez shifted in his chair. “She felt no guilt about any of it. Not the murder. Not trying to frame Josie. Not stealing the Renoir. Nothing.” He shook his head. “From her perspective, she did what was necessary to protect her Barney, and if she had to, she’d do it again.”
I shivered and closed my eyes as a memory rushed into my mind. I could see her mean little pig eyes challenging me to defend my pricing of the bamboo stool at the tag sale. I could hear her sarcastic, mean-spirited tirade. I could easily imagine her murdering someone. And once the initial shock wore off, I could, in fact, believe that she’d set out to frame me. She was evil.
She chose to frame me not because she hated me but because I was an easy and desirable mark. From her perspective, if I were arrested for Mr. Grant’s murder, no one would suspect her or Barney, and, as an added bonus, she’d eliminate a tough competitor.
While it was natural to picture her lashing out, doing what she’d always done, protecting her beloved husband, it was appalling to think that she’d kill and then try to destroy me in the process. I shivered, horrified to realize that she had murdered an old man and set out to ruin my life.
Martha, the bitch-queen, that’s how I’d always thought of her. I shook my head, aghast to realize how right I’d been.
My phone began to vibrate, and I recognized Sasha’s cell phone number on the caller ID display.
“Excuse me,” I said to Alverez and Max, stood up and moved away, standing by the window with my back to the room, and answered. “Sasha?”
“Oh, Josie, I’m so sorry.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m afraid I overslept.”
“What? Overslept? You!”
“Yes, and then I was rushing to get in. Still, I should have called you sooner.”
