“Although now, since we’re here, maybe I should ask you just a couple more questions. Save us having to come back further down the road. Would that be okay with you?”
“Of course,” Charlie said. “We’re all extremely eager to get this cleared up. It isn’t too relaxing knowing there’s a killer wandering around out there. I was actually wondering at what point do you call in the big guns-you know, the state police, the FBI, whatever…”
Matthew let his eyes drift casually toward the coffee table, wondering what had caught the detective’s attention. Could it have been something on the Scrabble board? He scanned the crisscrossing words, but on reflection the idea of a detective picking up some cryptic clue from a Scrabble game seemed unlikely.
“What I’m thinking”-Fernandez was tapping his pen against his notepad-“is that it would be helpful to have a record of what you were doing yourselves the night Mr. Grollier was killed.”
Charlie gave an incredulous snort. “You mean our alibis?”
“Like I say, it’s just so we have it on record,” Fernandez said affably. “Dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s, so to speak.”
“Of course,” Chloe said politely. She had turned ashen since the detective had sat back down. “Charlie was in New York having dinner. Matthew and I were here all afternoon. Matthew went out to the Millstream bar-I think around six-thirty, right, Matt?” Matthew nodded. “And I left about ten minutes later to spend the evening with my cousin Jana in Lake Classon. Our daughter was still away at camp-that’s her upstairs practicing. I can give you my cousin’s number if you like.”
“Thank you. We’ll get all your details before we go.”
Might it have been something about the books, then? Matthew looked at the lavish monographs and catalogues raisonnés of Chloe’s favorite photographers as closely as he dared: Nan Goldin, Robert Frank, the Helmut Newton book… Was it possible that one of these had some unsuspected suggestion of Grollier about it? But that too seemed unlikely. He thought perhaps he’d been imagining things after all, and Fernandez really was just trying to make sure he didn’t have to come back unnecessarily.
The detective had turned back to Charlie:
“And just so I have it straight, you came home after your dinner in New York, or you spent the night somewhere in the city?”
“Well, we have a home in the city too, but I came back here.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Around ten. Happy to give you contact details of the people I was with.”
“Thanks. So you got back here, what, around midnight?”
“Yeah, twelve, twelve-thirty,” Charlie said airily.
“Twelve, twelve-thirty,” the detective said, writing in his notepad. “And went straight to bed?”
“Yes,” Charlie answered.
“Actually, Charlie,” Matthew heard himself say, “wasn’t that the night you had to stop for a nap on the Thruway?”
Charlie looked at him. He’d obviously thought the nap wasn’t worth mentioning.
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. I’d forgotten that. So it was probably a bit later.”
“So… what time, then, approximately?” the detective asked.
“Yeah, probably closer to one-thirty, two.”
The detective looked down at his notepad, stroking his mustache for a moment.
“Thanks,” he said, and turned to Matthew.
“And just to go back to the Millstream Inn, sir. You left at what time, approximately?”
“I’d say around seven-fifteen, seven-thirty.”
“But you didn’t see Mr. Grollier take a call on his phone.”
“No. I think I’d have remembered if I had.”
“Did you go to the fireworks?”
Matthew had already decided there was nothing to gain by pretending he’d been at the fireworks.
“No, I came back here. Got an early night.”
The detective nodded, writing in his pad.
“All right.” He turned to face Chloe and Charlie. “Now, if I could just ask if either of you have plans to travel over the next few days? Just in case we have other questions for you.”
“No,” Charlie said dryly. “We have friends coming to visit. I doubt we’ll be leaving the house. Feel free to drop in anytime.”
“I’m actually going to New York tomorrow for a few days,” Matthew volunteered. “I’ll be back on Thursday.”
“Okay,” the detective said, without great interest.
He stood up, his glance lingering a moment on the coffee table.
“What’s the word for those little orange guys?” he said, pointing at the plate Chloe had brought in earlier. “My mom used to call them quinotos…”
“Those? Kumquats,” Charlie said. “My wife’s addicted to them. Kumquats and chocolate together. Preferably in the same bite. Right, Chlo? Help yourself.”
“Maybe I’ll take one for the road, and a little piece of chocolate.” The detective took a kumquat and a piece of the dark chocolate.
“Let me just get those contacts from you,” he said. “Then we’ll be out of your hair.”
The uniformed officer took down the contact details. Matthew looked at her, wondering again if she’d seen something, but there was nothing to be gleaned from her blank expression.
It was still raining when they left. Their car, an unmarked black Ford Explorer, sizzled on the wet as it pulled out. A few yellow leaves, fallen from the trees along the driveway, gleamed behind them on the darkened gravel.
“Morons,” Charlie said, closing the door.
Chloe looked at him.
“You weren’t very polite.”
“I don’t grovel to flunkies. Not my style. Anyway, the guy was completely out of line.”
“He was just doing his job.”
“His job? His job is to be down at that Rainbow encampment or over in Crackville or Methville”-those were Charlie’s names for the two little run-down communities west of Aurelia where the county’s poorest residents lived-“finding out whose deadbeat neighbor just tricked out his Chevy or came home from Sears with a brand-new log-splitter. Not lounging around nice people’s houses sipping coffee and pretending to be Hercule Poirot. ‘Dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s’… For fuck’s sake!”
“Calm down, Charlie.” Chloe was clearing off the table now, moving slowly, as if through some thicker element than air. She had the look of an accident victim trying to assess the damage while still absorbing the blow.
“I mean, he seemed to think it was seriously possible we had something to do with this business!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Chlo, he practically accused you of having an affair with the guy.”
Chloe looked at her husband, her face wrung tight. For a terrible instant Matthew thought she was going to crack; spill it all. But she said quietly:
“You’re getting carried away, Charlie.”
Charlie glanced at her, holding her gaze for a moment before turning aside with a subdued, sheepish look.
“Sorry.”
“Why don’t you take Fu for a walk? He needs exercise.”
“Good idea,” Charlie muttered. “I could use some air myself.”
Fu came padding in at the sound of his own name, and Charlie clipped on his leash. He’d put on his Burberry rain jacket and was just leading Fu out through the sliding door when he turned back to Matthew.
“By the way, Matt. I thought you were leaving us for good tomorrow. I didn’t realize you were coming back.”
“Oh!” Matthew said. “Well, if you’d rather I didn’t…”
“No. I’d just forgotten.”
“Of course we want you to come back,” Chloe said, looking sharply at Charlie.