She decided to go to the bar. Maybe another poison would mask the feeling of the first. She ordered a whiskey. The bartender asked for her ID.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
It had been a week before, but she thanked him. Luna drained the whiskey and ordered another. The bartender nodded and gave her a look that said, Let’s be careful, now. Luna thanked him for the second drink. He knocked on the bar. She’d never seen anyone do that before and wondered what it meant.
A businessman sat down next to her and smiled. He didn’t give off a man-on-the-prowl vibe. It was more like What’s this kid doing alone in a hotel?
“Business or pleasure?” the man asked.
Luna laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The businessman’s curiosity was piqued. “Try me,” he said.
Luna almost blurted it out; she thought it might lessen the poison sensation. She felt a presence on the other side of her. Luna’s drink disappeared. Griff was standing there, finishing her whiskey. The bartender scrutinized the bold customer, debating whether he’d need to intervene.
“Miss, do you know this man?” the bartender asked.
Luna nodded. “I think so,” she said.
The poison lifted, like Griff was the antidote.
October 15, 2019
“Let’s recap,” Detective Goldman said. “Owen tells us he met his wife five years ago. But we find a picture of him on Irene’s camera roll from fourteen years back. When we show the evidence to Owen, he has a brain melt—a convincing one, I admit—and suddenly remembers that he spent a night with Irene in London back then. He also remembers a rather damning story she told that night. Do you believe him?”
“I think I do,” Burns said. “Memories are flexible and unreliable. And he seemed genuinely confused.”
“If we believe him,” Goldman said, “all it tells us is that Leo is a creep. What does it give us for Irene’s murder?”
“Not sure. But it does establish Leo’s murky ethics. It’s possible he thought he’d get something upon Irene’s death. Either way, let’s bring him in.”
“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?” Goldman said.
“Well, I won’t not enjoy it.”
An hour later, Whitman was sitting in an interview room with Detective Burns. Noah watched the proceedings on a monitor. Burns started the interview by asking for insight into Irene and Owen’s marriage.
“I can’t say I was hopeful about it, even at the beginning. Of course, not in a million years did I think it would end like this. God, her mother would kill me if she knew I let this happen,” Leo said.
“You’re saying that Owen and Irene’s marriage was always rocky?” Burns asked.
“Indeed.”
“In what way?” she said.
“The usual. Fights and infidelity.”
“Both of them were having affairs? Or just Owen?” Burns asked.
“I’m sure you know more than I do,” said Leo. “May I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“How common is it for someone to be shot in broad daylight without a single witness?”
“Not common,” Burns said. “But the cemetery wasn’t a heavily trafficked area.”
“Can’t you trace the gun through ballistics?” Leo said. “I’m ashamed to admit I’ve watched a few episodes of Law and Order in my day.”
“The gun would have had to be used in a previous crime,” Burns said.
“I see,” Whitman said.
“What was Irene’s relationship like with her mother?”
“Fraught. Well, more so when Irene was younger.”
“Fraught how?”
“Chantal was conservative in many ways. She had some trouble with Irene’s lifestyle.”
“Lifestyle?”
“Nothing unusual. Late nights, drinking, smoking hash. I don’t think she was into anything harder, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Tattoos?”
“She didn’t have any tattoos,” Leo said. Then, after a pause: “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Do you remember how they were getting on before your wedding?”
“There was definitely some tension,” Leo said.
“About what?”
Leo took a moment to consider the question. Or pretend to consider it, Burns thought.
“Chantal didn’t want Irene to have blue hair in our wedding photos.”