She had on the same skirt but had shed the pumps. She was around five four in stocking feet. Sara had been nearly five nine. Since Fred wasn’t tall, there must be height somewhere else in the family tree, thought Devine.
“This young man knew Sara,” said Fred. “He worked with her at that place.”
“Well, please come in, Mr. . . . ?”
“Travis, Travis Devine. Thank you.”
“I’m Ellen, this is Fred.”
He stepped inside and Fred shut the door.
Ellen motioned him to a chair and the couple sat on the couch across from him.
The place was decorated with a blend of Wayfair buys mingled with original creations from the unique shops that littered the area. It was colorful and bright and optimistic, right down to the throw pillows and the rugs over the wooden plank floors. The brick fireplace held pinecones, which was a nice touch, he thought, in the heat of summer.
Devine had seen it all before, but when he had, Sara Ewes was alive.
“Excuse me,” said Ellen. “Would you like anything to drink? Fred just made some coffee. Or iced tea?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“So, you worked with Sara?”
“Not directly. Different division. And she was about six years ahead of me.” He caught their looks and said, “I went to West Point and then served in the Army for a number of years before leaving. Then I got my MBA.”
“Well, thank you for your service, Travis,” said Fred.
“I know this must be quite a shock to you both. The whole firm is reeling.”
“Was . . . was there any inkling of a problem?” asked Ellen, her voice small, but her hopeful look looming large.
Do they not know it was a homicide?
“None. She was doing great. I still can’t believe that she . . . took her own life.” He paused, waiting for them to respond to what he now knew was incorrect information.
Fred spoke in a trembling voice. “I know that’s what the police initially thought, Travis, but their thinking has changed.”
He looked between them. “What? I don’t understand.”
Ellen glanced down at her lap. She looked like she wanted to leap up and run from the room.
Fred said, “The police now believe that Sara was . . . that someone . . . killed her.” He put a hand to his mouth even as Ellen let out a sob.
“Oh my God, I’m so . . . sorry. This . . . is stunning.” And even though he knew all of this, now it was stunning to him. Like it was the first he was hearing of it, because he was seeing it through their eyes, their grief.
Seconds passed with nothing but elevated breathing among the three.
“So, you two were friends?” said Ellen.
“She had a lot of friends. She was very outgoing.”
“She mentioned that she was seeing someone,” said Ellen. “This was a while back. But she never gave a name.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said quickly.
“Do you live nearby?” asked Fred.
“No, I live way out in the northern suburbs. Mount Kisco. I take the train in. This is a beautiful place. She did a nice job decorating it.”
“Had you never been here before?” said Ellen, watching him closely.
He met her gaze. “No. Whenever we met it was in a group, mixers, company functions. Things like that.”
He glanced to the left where he knew Ewes’s bedroom was located.
Then he looked up to see Ellen’s eyes still on him. “But you knew where she lived, Travis.”
“I walked her home once from a bar near here. We’d been drinking. I just wanted to make sure she got home all right. But this is my first time being inside.”
“Oh, I see. I hope you didn’t come all this way to see us. But I suppose you didn’t even know we were here.”
“I didn’t. I came into town to see a play. Then I thought I’d come over here just to look at the place. I was thinking about Sara, you see. Then I saw you two get out of a cab and come in here. I didn’t want to bother you, so I went away for a while. But the more I thought about it, I just wanted to let you know how sorry I was. I didn’t know how long you were staying and didn’t know if I would have another chance. I was told you were coming in from another country.”
“New Zealand,” answered Fred. “I was transferred there. A very long trip.”
“A horrible trip,” Ellen added. “Nothing but hours and hours of having to think about—”
“I’m sure,” said Devine in a small voice. “What sort of business are you involved in?”