The Housewife(62)

He’s got such big hands that the macaron looks like a little dog treat when he takes a bite. I think I’d like a big man with big hands. Well. I smooth down my skirt. I’m not likely to get one now, that’s for sure. But in another life, I think I would have liked that. A man with big hands must be a good protector. You wouldn’t get into trouble every five minutes if you were married to a man with big hands .

“If we could get on with the proceedings?” Roy says, somewhat smartly, I think. Bates and I exchange a glance.

“Did I miss something?” I ask.

“Did you know Veronica Greenwood?” Detective Marcos, asks.

“My wife—” Roy begins, but I cut him off.

“Is that your Veronica?”

“Maybe you could wait outside, Jodie.”

“If we may,” Bates says. “We’d like to ask Mrs. Davies a couple of questions.”

I swallow. “Of course.”

“What did you mean by ‘your Veronica’ just now?” Bates asks.

“Veronica was a…close friend of mine,” Roy replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Our condolences,” Bates says.

“Condolences?” I blurt. “Why? Did something happen to her?”

“I’m sorry, but Ms. Greenwood was found dead early this morning.”

I slap my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God. Was it a car accident?”

“No.”

“Where did you find her?” Roy asks.

“At her home. She was to meet her mother for breakfast but never showed up, so her mother went to her house. Ms. Greenwood was found dead on the floor of the kitchen.”

I turn to Roy. He looks ill.

“That’s awful. How?”

“We’re not sure at this point. Was she a close friend of yours, too, Mrs. Davies? ”

I take a second to study his face, his eyes. It looks like a genuine question. I shake my head sadly. “I never met her.”

“Oh?”

“Roy and Veronica had some kind of a falling-out, I believe. Isn’t that right, Roy? You haven’t been in touch since before we were married.”

We all look at him. He does that thing, pressing his fingers against his eyelids. “I–I had actually…been in touch with Veronica briefly. Recently.”

“You were?” I blurt. “But you told me—”

“It was only two days ago,” he snaps. “I’m sorry, but I would like my wife to wait outside, if that’s all right.”

“What happened to her? Do you know?” I ask Bates.

“We’re not discussing those details at this stage.”

“If my wife could—”

“Was there a Ring camera?”

“Jodie, if you don’t mind—”

“There is a Ring camera, but it wasn’t turned on. It hasn’t been turned on since 8:00 p.m. the night before last,” Bates says.

I feel a wave of relief. Of course, she turned off the cameras, the slut. She didn’t want a record of Roy, a married man, coming to her house. She didn’t want to be seen on the porch, greeting him full on the mouth with one leg kicked back in her vertiginous Versace satin sandals and her sexy little red miniskirt and gold satin top that just so happened to slip off one shoulder and Oops! I forgot to wear a bra!

“Jodie, please! I would like to talk to the detectives alone.”

I blink back to the present and smile. “Of course. ”

But I’m dying to ask. Did you find anything? Anything out of place? Like a wedding band with pavé diamonds maybe?

I walk out of the room, my legs two columns of French vanilla cream under me.





38





I walk through the archway that leads to the hall. Normally, I would simply keep walking, and no doubt that’s what Roy expects me to do, but instead, I turn around and close the double doors. We never close the double doors. But this time, I do.

I keep walking to the bottom of the stairs, my heels echoing on the floor, then I slip off my shoes, leave them on the bottom step, and hurry back.

I lean against the wall, my ear to the door.

“Did you exchange texts with Ms. Greenwood over the last forty-eight hours?” Marcos asks.

“Texts? No. No. We spoke on the phone.”

I feel a shift in the air. A breath behind me. I look over my shoulder. It’s Marie.

My stomach drops. I turn around, scowl at her, willing her to go away. I’m sure she’s going to say something very loudly, like, “Can I help you, Mrs. Davies?” She probably still hates me for her uncooked chicken.

But instead she lays a finger on her lips. Shhh.

Then, swiftly but quietly, she goes to stand on the opposite side of the double doors and slowly brings her ear to the door, so that we are staring at each other.

I have no idea what she’s doing, but I can’t argue with her right now or Roy will fling open those doors.

A click, like a satchel being opened. “This is your phone number?” Bates asks.

A pause, then Roy. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll ask again, and please consider your answer carefully, Dr. Davies. Did you send those texts to Ms. Greenwood?” There’s a rustle of paper. Then Roy. “No! No! Never! I told you, we spoke on the phone, that’s all.”