“Don’t,” I said firmly. “Everything will be fine now. I’m here with you.” I supported her as she stood shakily and walked, haltingly and with evident pain, toward the staircase. “My van’s parked out front. Do you want me to bring it around back, or can you make it down the steps?”
“Let me try to walk to your car. It’ll be good for me, I?m so cramped up.
We inched down the steps across the runner, then to the front door. I told Marla to hold on to a side table. I opened the door, and we both gasped.
Standing on the flagstone entry were two investigators dressed in plain clothes: Hersey and De Groot.
“Well!” said De Groot. He regarded the two of us with theatrical astonishment, his thick black eyebrows pulled upward. “Going someplace, ladies?”
12
“What is it, what are you doing here?” I asked. It felt like such a stupid question. Nevertheless, these guys had already proven they could make me feel idiotic. The pair eyed us with an undisguised mixture of hostility and suspicion that made me squirm.
“Aren’t you going to ask us about Schulz?” De Groot wanted to know. Before I could frame a response, he held up his hand and smirked. “He’s fine. At least the last time we saw him he was.” He quirked his eyebrows as if he were going to say more, but then seemed to think better of it. Blandly, he appraised Marla’s battered face. “Ms. Korman?”
With an uncharacteristic lack of resolve that made me want to put my arms around her, Marla replied, “Yes? What is it?”
“Can we come in?” I stepped between the cops and Marla. “No, I’m sorry, you can’t,” I replied curtly before she had a chance to respond. “As you can see, my friend’s in pain. Her doctor wants me to bring her in right away. We’ll talk to you later.”
Hersey ignored me. He stepped to one side and addressed Marla. “Got into another fight, did we, Ms. Korman?”
Marla said tonelessly, “It’s a long story.” I felt her embarrassment acutely. No woman likes to be seen covered with bruises and cuts: I knew that all too well from my personal experience with the Jerk.
My tone to the two investigators was icy. “Would you , please leave? We’re under doctor’s orders, on our way l to the hospital. My friend is hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” said De Groot. But he wasn’t. Cold, moist air billowed into the foyer. De Groot ran his fingers through his slick black hair. “We’re under time pressure, I’m afraid, Mrs. Schulz. If you take Ms. Korman here to the doctor, we’ll just have to follow you I down and talk to her there.”
“You’re joking,” I said. Again, he wasn’t.
“It won’t take long,” said Hersey.
“Oh, let them in,” said Marla dejectedly. “Let’s get this over with, then I’ll go see the doctor.” She turned away from the door and started to limp toward the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “I don’t mind if you talk to me, as long as Goldy can stay with me.”
Her gait was pained and self-conscious, and I loathed Hersey and De Groot for their insensitive intrusion even as I jerked the front door open so they could enter.
They didn’t remove their dripping raincoats, and I decided this must be some kind of psychological ploy: We don’t want to be unprotected in this house. I didn’t care. I just wanted them to ask their questions and I leave. Hersey craned his thick neck upward to scrutinize the lushly carpeted staircase. Was he looking for someone? Hard to tell. De Groot peered at a framed painting. Executed in bold strokes, it showed a woman holding a cup of coffee.
“You won’t know this one,” I said defiantly. “It’s by a woman, a Colorado artist whom Marla is patronizing.”
De Groot said, “Yeah. I see she has plenty of money to pay people to do what she wants. Painting pictures. Driving her to the hospital. Sticking with her while she’s questioned.”
“You’d better cool it,” I said. De Groot looked down at the cherry buffet under the painting, which held a large Steuben vase filled with dried sweetheart roses. I was about to follow Marla when Hersey crooked a meaty finger in my direction.
“We know she wants you with her. But when we’re talking to her?” His voice brimmed with menace. “If you say anything-you blink, you wink, you clear your throat ? you’re going outside. Understand?”
“Why are you here?” I shot back. “Does Captain Shockley know you’re conducting this kind of interrogation, when a woman should be in the hospital?”
He grinned. “Shockley sent us.” “I insist you wait to question her until I call Tom.” Hersey scowled. “You want to talk to somebody?
Go home and call Shockley. He’s real interested in your friend Marla Korman.”
Without a word I stalked into the kitchen. De Groot and Hersey sauntered in after me.
Evidently, De Groot had appointed himself in charge of this interrogation. And from the way the two policemen were acting-notebooks out, eyes noting each detail of the room, interrogation was precisely what they had in mind. I just hoped codeine-tranquilized Marla recognized the threat this posed.
De Groot smiled humorlessly at her. “We’re here to ask you about Tony Royce.”
Marla sank into one of the chairs and regarded De Groot dolefully. “Is he all right?” she asked sadly. “Did you find him?”
“No, not exactly. When was the last time you saw hi?”
Marla shook her head and looked away. Tears of embarrassment again welled in her eyes. “It would have been… Saturday night.”
“And where was that?”
To my horror, Marla began to sob. She stumbled across the room to the cabinet where the paper towel rack was mounted. Balancing herself against the counter, she ripped a towel off and dabbed her bruised eyes. Just don’t throw the towel into the trash with all the bloody ones, I implored her silently. She didn’t.
Staring out at the swirling fog, she struggled to compose herself. Finally she murmured, “We were… up at a camping site. By Grizzly Creek.”
De Groot asked, “And what were the circumstances of this last time you saw him?”
“There was a fight. Somebody dragged me out of our tent and beat me up. I think it was Albert Lipscomb.”
“So there was a fight?” De Groot repeated, with a glance at his partner, who gave a barely perceptible nod. “Okay, then, Ms. Korman, I need to tell you that you have the right to remain silent.” Goose bumps raced up my arms. “Also,” De Groot went on in a friendly voice, as if he were reciting a recipe, “that anything you say can and will be held against you. You have the right to an attorney and to have that attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
“I can afford an attorney-” Marla spat. “What the hell do I need ? “
“Hey!” I hollered. “Hey! Don’t say another word, Marla! What’s going on here? What’s she a suspect for? Are you arresting her? You just stop right there. I’m calling my husband.”
Hersey stabbed his finger at me. “What did I say to you? Now you just shut up, or you can drive your little caterer’s van right back to your kitchen, you got that? Tom Schulz is not involved in this case.”
I turned to Marla. “Don’t talk. Let’s just go to the doctor.”
“She’s not going to any doctor,” Hersey interjected ominously. “She can either stay here and answer our questions or she can come down to the department and answer our questions.”
“Excuse me!” Marla yelled. Her bloodshot eyes were wild. “I have nothing to hide! I didn’t do anything except defend myself against an attacker! Why aren’t you out looking for him?”
“That’s what we’re trying to ask you about, if Mrs. Schulz here will be quiet,” De Groot said gently.
Marla squeezed her eyes shut. Why had the cops Mirandized her without an arrest? If she was a suspect, her state of mind wasn’t helping to clear her. Unfortunately, the codeine was kicking in big-time. I cursed’ myself for letting her take three pills. Finally she said, “Okay, look. I’ll answer your questions, and then I’m going to the doctor, you got that? Now exactly what do you want to know? I’m trying to tell you what happened. I was attacked. One minute I was in my sleeping bag, the next, somebody was whaling away at me.
De Groot thought for a moment, as if he wanted to be in charge of the conversation, and resented having
