“In the late winter. When Dr. Keaton was at the clinic before.”
“But I’ve only been at the clinic for a few weeks,” she said, carefully.
“You weren’t consulting when Dr. Keaton was there back in March?”
“No.” Her head was spinning. It seemed like they were trying to lay traps for her, leading her to the edge of a cliff.
“Let’s switch gears a minute,” McCarty said. “You mentioned the other day that you and Dr. Keaton had spoken about the clinic he’d worked at in L.A. Did he say anything particular about it?”
Where was this going? she wondered fretfully.
“We only spoke about it for a few moments. He said that they had some great marketing strategies.”
The heat was starting to get to her now. She could feel trickles of sweat running down the back of her neck, one chasing the other. But she just sat there, her posture as straight as possible, waiting for the next question. None came. McCarty thumbed back through endless pages of his notebook, perhaps for the notes he’d taken when she was first interviewed. Was he trying to find a contradiction, some new way to trip her up? Hull just sat there, staring at her. She’d heard about this technique. It was called the pregnant pause, wasn’t it?—or the let-them-stew-in-their-own-juices-and-then-see-what-they-spill strategy? Give it time and she would confess to anything, like operating a terrorist cell out of this very apartment.
“You have kids?” Hull said finally.
“Yes. They—” She was about to mention they were away at camp but realized it would be insane to reveal that they hadn’t been around last week. “They’re nine and eleven.”
Hull rose then without a word, as if suddenly bored. McCarty closed his notebook and stood as well. She couldn’t believe they were actually going. She followed them out into the hall, letting a breath finally escape from her lungs.
“Is there anything else?” she said. She regretted the words as soon as she’d spoken them, but relief had left her light-headed.
“Actually, yes,” said Hull.
She almost smiled at how damn stupid she’d been to ask.
“Someone at the clinic mentioned that you’ve been awfully upset since the murder,” Hull continued. “Not yourself. I’m surprised the murder would have disturbed you that much—I mean, since you hardly knew Dr. Keaton.”
Her legs felt suddenly deboned, too soft to stand on.
“Who—who said that?” she asked weakly.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Hull said.
She remembered the ploy she’d used with Harry and decided she had no choice but to try it here, too.
“I have been upset—but not just about the murder. I found out last week that my ex is going to fight for full custody of our children. I’ve been beside myself about it.”
Both detectives looked at her without saying a word. She could feel that the entire back of her cotton blouse was soaked now—and there was perspiration above her lips, too. She had to resist the urge to wipe it away.
“That’s gotta be tough,” McCarty said finally.
“Yes. It is.”
Just then a long meow emanated from her bedroom. Followed by another. And then the sound of claws scratching at the door. In unison the two men jerked their heads in that direction.
“Someone doesn’t sound very happy back there,” McCarty said.
“Oh, it’s…my cat. I put him back there when I heard you were coming up.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” McCarty said. “We aren’t allergic, are we, Scott?”
“No. In fact, we’re real kitty lovers,” Hull said with a smirk.
She held her breath. Were they just going to stand there and wait until she let the cat out?
“Maybe you could put the AC on for him at least,” Hull said, shrugging and turning toward the door. “I bet he’s hot as hell.”
A minute later they were gone. She watched through the peephole to make sure they boarded the elevator and then she let Smokey out of the bedroom. He shot down the hall as if his tail had been set on fire.
Lake felt completely spent, and yet frantic, too. She tore off her wet blouse and let it drop in a heap on the bedroom floor. After flicking on the AC, she hurried to the kitchen and rifled through a drawer for a pad and pen. Then she began to scribble down notes. She didn’t want to forget a word the cops had said.
It was clear from the questions that they were seriously focusing on the clinic—obviously in light of Maggie’s