However, he still had the besotted puppy-dog lover of Lou’s wife, definitely in the store where Lou was stabbed. And recently, too.
Mike leaned forward. ‘You’ve seen the photos of Lou, right? In the living room? By the marital bed? Big, meaty guy; tall, shaven head; put you through a wall if you’re screwing his wife?’
Lynch re-smoothed his tie. ‘Whatever.’
‘And you know that, well, Lou’s dead.’
‘Dead?’
Mike thought Lynch’s tell would seep through if he’d been the killer – Lynch wasn’t that good a liar. Or he’d reckoned Megan would have told Lynch straight away – the next call after ringing her mother this morning, in fact. They were still waiting on the final phone records to prove it either way.
‘You didn’t know?’
Lynch’s skin slid to ashen. Mike had known a couple of people – professional actors – who could make themselves do that to order. But Lynch probably wasn’t one of them.
‘What happened?’ Lynch’s wide eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘You haven’t got me here… you can’t… wait… no.’
‘No? Your fingerprints are a corpse’s fall from the dead body, genius. You know exactly who the victim is. You’ve admitted you know where the store is, and having been inside it. A small child could see you have motive. I’m betting you alibi Megan, and Megan’s your alibi; and neither of you has corroboration for the time in question.’
Mike stopped. He noticed that Lynch’s breathing seemed a little laboured and a little noisy. A small rattle in it, as though someone was shaking a packet of peanuts in another room. Lynch lurched forward and fell to his knees.
‘Are you okay, Spence?’ Mike stood up.
‘Water, now, please. Heart.’
Mike rushed out and grabbed a water bottle off a colleague’s desk. ‘Emergency!’ he called as he went.
Lynch was grappling with the blister pack, his fingers now inept and useless. Mike helped him out, hearing a whispered ‘two’ from Lynch as beads of sweat formed on the lawyer’s nose.
After swallowing the tablets and glugging half the bottle, Lynch puffed his cheeks several times and gulped in the air. He rubbed his hand across his face, seemingly disgusted by how wet it was. Mike nodded to two colleagues watching anxiously at the threshold. When they closed the door behind them Mike settled back in his chair.
Mike passed him some tissues. ‘Need a doctor?’
Lynch smiled weakly as he re-sat. ‘No. Good, thanks. Touch of angina. Pills control it. Doesn’t usually come that fast. Sorry to worry you.’
‘Let me know if you need the doc.’
Lynch nodded and put down the water bottle. ‘What happened to Lou?’
Mike considered how much to tell. Lynch wasn’t the prime suspect right now, but he was a chance. So was Megan. Mike had to hedge his bets. Lynch’s ignorance had taken Mike by surprise. Even in the most benign scenario, he was still sure Megan would have called Lynch straight away; was bemused that she apparently hadn’t done so.
‘He was stabbed to death in his store. Early morning, dawn. Megan didn’t mention you when she told us her own whereabouts.’
Lynch fiddled with the blister pack – his fingers still trembled. ‘No, no, she wouldn’t have. But I was there… at her place, I mean. All night. Left about six-ish, as you say. Is that after time of death? Or do you need to know where I went after that?’
Mike wouldn’t be committing to anything at this point. ‘Where’d you go?’
‘To my golf club. There’s a gym and showers at the clubhouse. Cameras everywhere in there.’ Lynch paused, took another swig. ‘Neither of us had any idea something had happened to Lou. God, how awful.’
‘You a gym-bunny, Spence?’ Mike sat back to overtly appraise Lynch’s waistline. ‘Doesn’t show. Or is there a Mrs Lynch you were trying to avoid?’
Lynch sat back, grabbed yet more water. ‘The only Mrs Lynch in my family is a ninety-year-old who sits around playing bridge with her cronies, bemoaning that her only nephew never married, Detective.’
‘So I was right to say you and Megan alibi each other?’
Mike had to remind himself that Lynch was a clever guy, not to be taken breezily. Maybe he was planting enough innocent-ingénu and improvised responses to throw Mike off the scent. Personally, Mike couldn’t stand infidelity. He thought it was lazy callousness – someone could always end one thing before starting another, if they really wanted to.
‘Smart meter. Meg has a smart meter. For the electrics? One of those boxes tells you how much power your washing machine used, that sort of thing. We both got ready around dawn. So that’ll show us moving about: lights, and so on. Electric hot water, as well. I couldn’t be making the tea and Meg showering, and we’re simultaneously killing Lou in his shop. Have you tried that?’
Mike had to admit that was a new one: being cleared by an electricity bill. He really should stay on top of this new technology: it increasingly placed people geographically and demonstrated their actions and he ought to understand what options that gave him for tracking witnesses, suspects, and others. At the very least, he should make sure Lucy was on top of it.
‘We’ll look into it. You have to admit, Spence, both you and Megan have a strong motive for wanting to lose Lou.’
Lynch shook his head. ‘Wasn’t like that. Meg isn’t like that. She’s a good person, good instincts. A better person than me, you’ll be amazed to learn. But no, it’s not like that.’
Lynch scooted his chair and risked putting his elbows on the interview room table. The tailor of his handmade suit would have wept.
‘I’m leaving the firm, Detective. Moving to the city, with Meg. Teaching divorce law at the university next year. I, uh, haven’t told the firm yet, you understand.’ He glanced up and appeared mollified by Mike’s raised palm. ‘Anyway, Meg was going to divorce Lou, that’s true. He’s a nice man, but they’ve drifted, and he’s married to the store, really. They lead separate lives. I’m helping Meg with the details.’
Seemingly more than mere lovers, the couple were actively looking to move on together, leaving Lou twisting in the wind. Maybe Lynch, or Megan, was too impatient to wait for due process and paperwork. Quicker if the impediment died.
‘How kind of you.’
Lynch slapped the table. Mike actually jumped.
‘Look, Detective, be as suspicious as you want to be, but don’t judge me, or Meg. We were trying to be nice about it all, trying to do it right. They’re business partners as well as married. It isn’t easy extricating yourself: not without wrecking things for the person you’re leaving. We didn’t want to do that. We just wanted to start our own lives. Is that so wrong? So terrible? Or are people only allowed to be happy if they meet ideally; under perfect circumstances, both free and easy and no one else in play? Life’s messy, as I’m sure you know. And I don’t have to account for myself morally to you. Neither does Meg. Check the smart meter: I’m sure you can. And then either piss or get off the pot, Detective.’
Mike recovered from the surprise. Perhaps Megan knew Lynch had killed her husband but was distancing herself from it in case Lynch was caught. His voice was low and even.
‘Why didn’t she call you first thing today, tell you Lou was dead?’
Lynch waved a hand. ‘Don’t know. Probably to protect me from this, uh, friendly chat. If she’d called me, she’d surely know that you’d find that out. Then our relationship becomes, as you know so well, the property of mature professionals who laugh at others’ private lives in the canteen. You know what? People tell me the most intimate things in my line of work and I never repeat them to anyone. Why aren’t your colleagues able to say the same?’