I begin, “It’s been quite a twenty-four hours, hasn’t it?”
They both assume I’m referring to theirs, which is my intention.
“So, I think Marissa filled you in on everything,” Matthew says. “The only new information is that the employee I had to let go—the guy who tried to get into the building with a gun last year—had a clear alibi. And the police reviewed the footage from the garage, but the attack happened in a blind corner. They saw a guy hanging around the garage before I was hit, but they couldn’t see anything else.”
“I see.” I ask for the fired employee’s name, which Matthew freely gives, and I jot it down in my pad. “Do either of you have any other thoughts on who would want to hurt Matthew?”
Marissa fixes her gaze to the floor and fiddles with her wedding band.
Matthew shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about that all day. Must’ve been a random attack. Maybe he thought he heard someone coming and didn’t have time to rob me.”
Marissa’s eyes rise, and I can read the raw fear in them. We’re both wondering if the man she slept with, the one who can’t let go so easily, is behind it. She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, her expression pleading.
I can almost hear her thoughts: It wasn’t him.… He’s out of town.… Don’t say anything.…
I’m not going to break the promise I made to her by letting Matthew know she slept with one of his old friends, but I am planning to pull Marissa aside after the session. I can’t wait until Monday to start checking this guy out; I need a name.
Marissa clears her throat and changes the subject. “There’s one other thing I can’t stop thinking about. When I got home from the hospital, I couldn’t find Polly at first.”
“Polly?” I put more emphasis on her name than I intended.
“Yes, my assistant at Coco. I asked her to come to the house because I couldn’t leave Bennett alone. I told her he’d probably sleep through everything, and that she could nap on the couch.”
Polly had a busy night trying to keep tabs on the Bishops, I think.
“I finally found her in Bennett’s room.” Marissa gives a little shudder, and Matthew pulls her in even closer. “She was sound asleep, leaning against his big stuffed dog.… Something about it made me deeply uncomfortable.”
“I can imagine,” I comment. “What did you do?”
“I woke her up and motioned for her to come into the hallway. She claimed she heard Bennett whimpering and went to check on him. He hadn’t woken up, but she said she decided to stay close. Just in case.”
“She heard him whimpering from one floor below?” I ask.
Matthew frowns. “Marissa, there’s no way she could have…”
“So what was she really doing up there?” I interject. “There’s Bennett’s room and the master bedroom and what else?”
“Just a couple of guest rooms,” Marissa replies. “One I use as a little office, but I don’t store a lot there. Most of my work things are at Coco.”
Which Polly has full access to, I think.
“Your bedroom.” I tap my pen against my pad. “Anything missing or moved in it?”
I haven’t seen the master bedroom in the Bishops’ house, but I imagine it’s similar to areas on the first floor, which means it looks like a spread out of a design magazine.
“I’m not certain.” Marissa hesitates, then frowns. “I’m pretty sure our closet door was open and I always keep it closed, but I left in such a rush…”
“We don’t have anything in there but clothes and shoes,” Matthew says. “There’s nothing of real value in the bedroom.”
“Matthew, all my jewelry is there. And I left my watch and the necklace out on the dresser.”
Matthew’s phone buzzes, and without looking at it, he reaches into his pocket to silence it. “Sorry.”
I’m pleased his priorities are where they should be right now.
“But nothing’s missing, right?”
Marissa shakes her head.
“Look, there’s an old axiom that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one,” Matthew continues. “Bennett has nightmares now and then. It’s possible that Polly came upstairs to sneak a look around and really did hear him whimpering. There’s no other good reason for her falling asleep in his room.”
Marissa nods slowly. “You’re probably right. I can see her taking a peek at our bedroom—she’s intrusive like that—but it’s probably nothing more than her curiosity and lack of boundaries.”