A few seconds later, Elliot emerges from the upstairs bedroom wearing a dress shirt and slacks, his head freshly shaved. He’s got a tie loose around his neck that he’s expertly tying. But when he sees Detective Hanrahan at the door, his fingers freeze.
“Mr. Masterson?” Hanrahan calls out.
Elliot looks around, like he’s hoping there’s another Mr. Masterson the officer might be talking to. “Uh… yes…”
“My name is Detective Hanrahan. Could I have a word with you?”
Elliot makes his way down the stairs, nearly tripping on the final step. “How can I help you, Detective?”
Hanrahan’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
When a policeman comes to your door and tells you he’s got bad news, you can’t help but think the worst. I wonder if something happened to one of Elliot’s parents. It can’t be my mother—the nursing home would have called me.
But why would a detective be coming if something happened to one of Elliot’s parents?
“Yes?” Elliot says.
Hanrahan hesitates for a split second and bows his head. “I’m afraid I gotta tell you that your receptionist, Brianna Anderson… was found dead last night.”
Brianna is… dead?
Elliot looks like he’s about to choke. He grabs onto the banister of the stairs, and it’s the only thing holding him up. All the color has left his face.
The detective squints at him. “Are you okay, Mr. Masterson?”
He nods, but it looks like he’s barely keeping it together. My head is spinning. Brianna was found dead? What does that mean? She’s so young… People in their early twenties don’t just die for no reason.
“What… happened to her?” Elliot croaks.
“I’m afraid…” Detective Hanrahan pauses for what seems like an eternity and a half. “I’m afraid she was murdered.”
Murdered. Oh my God.
But I suppose that makes sense, considering there’s a detective at our door.
Elliot’s eyes widen. My husband might have a heart attack right now. “Murdered?” he gasps. “How?”
“Blunt trauma to the head. Basically, she was beaten to death. We found her in an alley a block away from her house”
“She was…” He sinks onto the steps. “Someone beat her to death? That’s… Jesus Christ, I can’t…”
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
He sounds like he means it. He doesn’t sound suspicious of us at all. It sounds like he’s just letting us know, by the way, Elliot’s receptionist is dead.
I wonder if he knows Brianna was pregnant. He’s going to know sooner or later, I assume. They do an autopsy on anyone who gets murdered. That’s the sort of thing that would show up on autopsy. And then he might not seem quite so friendly.
“This is so sad,” I speak up. There’s no need for him to know that I hated Brianna with a passion. “I can’t believe somebody would do that to poor Brianna. She was such a nice girl.”
He nods. “Yes, it’s very sad.” His eyes dart between the two of us. “I’m afraid I gotta ask you both a few questions. You have time to talk?”
Elliot raises his face to look at the detective. He reaches out for the banister and shakily gets back to his feet. “Of course. Whatever we can do…”
Hanrahan clears his throat. “Can you tell me where you were during the late evening last night?”
Elliot rubs his neck. “I was home. I was here the whole night. With my son.”
“Me too,” I quickly add. “We were here together.”
Hanrahan raises his eyebrows. “So you two were together here the whole night?”
“Well,” Elliot says, “except for the time when April went to her book club.”
Why? Why would he say something like that?
“You went to a book club meeting last night?” Detective Hanrahan asks me.
“Yes,” I say. Technically, it’s true. I did go to the book club meeting. But Lucy wouldn’t let me in the door.
I flinch as the officer studies my face. “What book?” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“What book were you reading for your book club?”
“Oh!” My smile feels so phony. He must see through it. “We were reading Life of Pi.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “I always meant to check that one out. Any good?”
I did read the book, but that doesn’t mean I have anything intelligent to say about it. “Yes. I enjoyed it very much.”
He nods, like this is a key piece of information. “And the other members of the book club could vouch for you that you were there?”
“Yes.”
My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks. Why did I lie like that? Nobody at the book club will vouch for me. I have no alibi at all for last night. It will take the detective five minutes to walk over to Lucy’s house and find out I was lying through my teeth.
My head starts to spin as I realize what is happening here. Brianna has been murdered, and I have both motive and a lack of an alibi.
I look over at Elliot, who seems like he’s going to throw up. I wonder if we should just tell this detective everything. Admit to him that Elliot was having an affair with Brianna. She was pregnant. It was his. And then admit to him that I wasn’t at the book club last night.
Of course, that last bit of information is damning. I can’t bring myself to hammer that nail into my own coffin.
“Mr. Masterson,” the detective says, “do you have any idea who might have done this to Miss Anderson?”
Elliot shakes his head slowly. “No… No one I can think of.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
He runs his hand over his skull. “Um. Maybe. I don’t know. We didn’t discuss things like that.”
“Her roommate said she was seeing someone.” Detective Hanrahan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little notebook. He consults it for a moment, then looks back up at us. “She said Miss Anderson was seeing a married man. You got any idea who that could have been?”
He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.”
The detective stands there for a moment, scratching at his reddish-brown hair. Does he know Elliot was the man Brianna was seeing? He must at least suspect. Or maybe he doesn’t. He doesn’t seem like he thinks one of us is a murderer.
“Do you have any other questions?” Elliot finally says.
Detective Hanrahan shakes his head. “Not at this moment. Thank you for your time. But if you could make yourself available in the future, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Elliot manages a half-hearted smile. “I want to cooperate in any way I can.”
The detective turns around and heads for the door. I feel a rush of relief. He’s leaving. He hasn’t accused me of anything. He doesn’t even seem that suspicious of us. But then, just before his fingers touch the doorknob, he turns around.
“One more question,” he says.
Elliot raises his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Who was Courtney Burns?”
I feel all the blood rush out of my face. That is the last question I wanted to hear right now.