Someone Else's Husband(97)

He smiles at me then. It’s not a simple smile.

“I need to leave,” I say, the words both a shield and a sword.

Richard seems to consider pushing, thinks better of it. He nods as he removes his hand from my arm. And I feel relieved. “Let me at least get you a pair of flip-flops. From one of the girls’ rooms, maybe. I don’t think Gretchen wears them.”

The way he mentions his wife so casually is destabilizing. It’s making me feel like I’ve imagined the part of this that’s wrong. Or maybe I’ve just imagined the whole thing.

But the reality is that the soles of my feet are raw. And I could use some shoes. “Yes, thank you,” I say. “If you have some you don’t mind me borrowing, that would be great.”

“Okay, but please just sit back down. Drink the glass of water, for God’s sake,” Richard says as he walks into the foyer. “I’ll be right back.”

My mouth feels like it’s lined with fleece. I pick up the glass and drain it quickly, head over to the sink to refill it. Tucked in a corner of the counter, there’s a little bag from Cartier. Jewelry bought for his wife, waiting there for her to open in their home.

“Got ’em!” Richard calls out as he returns, beaming. He’s gripping a pair of flip-flops as he crosses over to the kitchen table where I’ve been sitting, staring at that Cartier bag. Wondering how I got into this mess. “These were my daughter Elizabeth’s.”

“You’re sure she won’t miss them?”

“They’re ten-dollar flip-flops, Frankie. You can keep them,” Richard says. “Also, she’s never here. She’s in some kind of cult.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Thank you,” I say. My heart is pounding as I slip them on. “Can I use your bathroom before I leave?” I want to blow my nose, maybe splash water on my face. I need to pull myself together.

“Of course.” He motions down the hall. “There’s a powder room right there.”



* * *



—

The little bathroom is comically gold. A teeny tiny explosion of vulgarity in a world of otherwise tasteful restraint—gold-leaf wallpaper, gold-framed mirror. At least the toilet is not gold. There are no tissues or toilet paper in sight. I check underneath the small vanity. Nothing but pricey room spray and even pricier hand soap. Maybe the wife isn’t so perfect, after all.

There’s a closet across from the toilet. No toilet paper there, either. As I’m closing the door, my eye catches on a Goldman Sachs gym bag at the bottom of the closet. The bag is partially unzipped, exposing something that isn’t gym clothes. I crouch down for a closer look.

Cans of spray paint—red, yellow, blue. The same three neon colors that were used to destroy my studio.





Grand Jury Transcript


Testimony of Crime Scene Investigator Celia Leland


Conducted by Abigail Hoffman, Assistant District Attorney



November 27


Q. Can you describe the state of the blood evidence when you arrived at Ms. Callahan’s apartment?

A. There was a significant amount of blood, and also blood spatter. There were also large sections of floor that appeared clean to the naked eye, but blood residue was detected when using luminol, a chemical used to reveal traces of blood residue.

Q. What did you conclude?

A. The volume of blood residue combined with the significant volume of actual blood at the scene was indicative of catastrophic injuries to the victim.

Q. Catastrophic?

A. Fatal. There were approximately two liters of blood found and evidence of significant additional blood that had been cleaned up. That amount of blood loss is not survivable.

Q. Your office found a body in connection with this case, correct?

A. Yes. The body of a female in her thirties in the Hudson River near Battery Park.

Q. And you identified that body as Frankie Callahan’s?

A. Not officially, but we did believe it was her at the time of the arraignment and for several days thereafter. The physical description matched—hair and eye color, height and weight. The body’s damaged fingerprints were consistent with Frankie Callahan being a painter. The wounds were also consistent with the blood evidence, and there was a partial tattoo in the chest area that was in the right approximate location and, from what was visible, the right approximate shape. There had been a lot of sharp-force damage to the body, stab wounds, making a facial identification impossible, and DNA and dental records were not available to us at arraignment.

Q. But it wasn’t her body?

A. No. Ultimately, the DNA was not a match. The body was not Frankie Callahan’s. This was established shortly after the arraignment.

Q. Does this kind of misidentification happen often?

A. I wouldn’t call it a “misidentification.” Our office offered a preliminary identification based on the limited information at our disposal and in the limited time available prior to arraignment. But no, it does not happen often. It happens more often than a layman might think, but it requires a unique set of circumstances.

Q. And that unique set of circumstances was present here?

A. Apparently.

Q. Could you please answer yes or no?

A. Yes.

Q. What did you do once you had established that the body did not belong to Frankie Callahan?