At least half an hour passed before Jones returned empty-handed. Empty-handed but with McNearny by his side. He’d been buying time for McNearny to return.
Both officers seated themselves across from me, Jones smiling, McNearny scowling.
Jones leaned forward and said the date and time into the microphone. He mentioned all our names then looked up at me. “Mrs. Connolly, can you tell us the last time you saw Michelle Avery?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Where was that?” Jones asked.
“At her house. She’d invited me for lunch.”
“Tell us about it,” Jones said.
I shrugged. “She was very upset. She was drinking. She drank a bottle of wine while I was there.”
“Was that unusual for her?” Jones asked.
“I don’t know. I thought so. A whole bottle? But, you know, you’re right, I hadn’t seen her in a long time. I have no idea what her drinking habits were.”
McNearny cleared his throat. “So, she was a drunk.”
“I’m not saying that. I don’t really know. I just know she was upset. .”
Jones leaned in close to me. “So upset, you think maybe she could have killed herself?”
Before I could answer, McNearny said, “You got her suicide note in your purse or anything?”
“What?” I practically yelled. The anger that bubbled up inside me turned to tears. I plucked a tissue from the box on the table and wiped at my eyes. Jones bowed his head, giving me a moment to compose myself. McNearny simply watched me.
I blew my nose and crumbled the tissue in my hand. The adrenaline from finding Michelle dead had left my system and now all I felt was sadness, disbelief, and bone-deep weariness.
I sighed. “I really don’t think she killed herself.”
“Earlier, you said Mrs. Avery thought whoever killed her husband might come after her,” Jones said. “Did she give you any indication, any at all, about who she thought that was? Take your time.”
I shook my head.
“You said you hadn’t seen her in long time?” McNearny asked. “When was the previous time?”
“I hadn’t seen her until. .”
How much should I say? Surely the medical examiner had told McNearny I’d retrieved George’s things.
They waited for me to answer, exchanging looks. Finally Jones prompted gently, “Until when?”
“Monday,” I said.
“I see.” Jones made a note.
There was a deafening silence in the room as they both consulted their respective notebooks. I licked my lips. I was parched again. Couldn’t they get me more water?
“Where did you see her?” McNearny asked.
Didn’t he already know the answer?
“I saw her at the medical examiner’s office.”
“Ah, yes. Mrs. Avery would have had to sign release papers,” McNearny said. “What were you doing there?”
If he didn’t already know, he could find out. Why mess with me like this? I sat back in my chair, crossed my feet, then uncrossed them.
Honesty would be best.
I fidgeted with my empty water cup, finally depositing the crumpled tissue inside it. “I was picking up my brother-in-law’s bags.”
Inspector McNearny flipped through his notebook. “Ah, brother-in-law. Would that be George Connolly?”
Jim had been right. Nothing good would come from meddling in George’s business. “Yes,” I mumbled.
“Interesting. Very interesting. Mrs. Avery said she didn’t know George Connolly.” He tapped his fingers on his notebook. “Do you know why she would say that?”
I felt a protective surge for George, Jim’s brother, Laurie’s uncle. Not to mention I was getting tired of McNearny’s attitude. “What makes you think they knew each other?” I challenged.
“Well, if he was your brother-in-law and you and she were friends. .”
“I went to high school with Michelle. Before Monday, we hadn’t seen each other since. .” When had been the last time I’d seen Michelle? “I don’t even remember when. Probably our reunion a few years back. It was a coincidence seeing her at the medical examiner’s office.”
McNearny frowned. “Was it?”
I nodded emphatically. “Um-hum.”
McNearny sucked some air between his teeth, sort of tsking at my response. “Now see? That’s where I have a problem.”
The weariness in my bones was slowly turning to dread.
Why not tell them everything I know?
But then, what did I know, really? Michelle had said George was with her the night Brad died. Therefore, George couldn’t have killed Brad. He couldn’t have, right?
Unless, Michelle and George were in on it together. Or he killed Brad after leaving Michelle. Who killed Michelle? Dread was overcoming me.
No! George is not a killer!
“I don’t believe in coincidences, Mrs. Connolly,” McNearny said.
Of course, neither did I. Normally anyway, but in this case I really really needed to believe. I blurted, “Sometimes things happen for no reason at all. An accident, a fluke, chance.”
“I had to release those bags to your family, because I couldn’t prove there was any connection to Mr. Avery. He was last seen on June fifteenth and the medical examiner places his death in June. George Connolly’s bags were found on September nineteenth on the same pier where Mr. Avery was recovered. Months apart. Is there a connection?” McNearny opened his hands toward me in question. “Mrs. Avery tells me she doesn’t know a George Connolly. So technically, I can’t prove a thing. But this”-he patted his broad stomach-“isn’t technical. My gut says there is a connection between the Connollys and the Averys.”
“I already told you I went to high school with Michelle.”
He breathed more air in through his teeth and grimaced. “Something more recent. Something that involves your brother-in-law.”
“I haven’t seen George in a long time. When I see him, I’ll ask him for you.”
“One more thing, Mrs. Connolly. When your car was broken into yesterday, the location was curiously close to El Paraiso, the restaurant owned by the Averys.”
“Yep.”
“What were you doing there exactly?”
“What everyone does at restaurants, eat.”
“Kind of strange, isn’t it? You don’t see your friend for a long time, then all of sudden you’re frequenting her restaurant?” McNearny asked.
“Is there a law against that?”
“I’m just trying to understand why you were there. Were you meeting her there?”
“Nope. Just eating. Alone. Well, with my daughter actually, whom I’ve got to get home to.”
McNearny and Jones exchanged glances. Jones said, “Thank you, Mrs. Connolly. We appreciate your time. If we need anything else, we’ll contact you.”
I stood. Jones stood with me. McNearny remained seated, his arms folded across his chest. I made my way toward the door. I glanced over my shoulder; McNearny was still watching me.
Let him watch.
Where was the condolence? I’d found a friend dead and he’d shown no sympathy. All he wanted to do was try and pin the murder on George. Close the case, narrow his workload.
And yet, the dread turned to nausea. Maybe McNearny was right. George had to be connected somehow.
When I arrived home, Laurie was screaming in Mom’s arms.
“She won’t take the formula.”
I wrinkled my nose at the yellowish bottle Mom was putting in Laurie’s face. “I don’t blame her.”
“You used to love the stuff.”
Obviously, my daughter had a more discriminating palate.
I collapsed onto the couch and nursed Laurie. I don’t know who was more relieved, me as the burning sensation dissipated from my breasts, Laurie at being fed, or Mom at the peace and quiet.