″We interviewed Jana′s husband,″ Luke said. He′s got a solid-sounding alibi. ″There′s nothing at all to implicate the guy in her murder. Nothing at all.″
″What about the fact that he had his hand down his girlfriend′s blouse in the hospital′s parking garage? And the fact that Jana was divorcing him and that he gets nada much unless she′s dead? That′s not solid enough to implicate him for you?″
″We′re considering all of that. I′m just saying that so far, Jana Miller′s death has gone by the numbers.″
He peered down at his notes in the file and made an exasperated gargling noise in the back of his throat.
″Strip!″ he projected in a booming voice. ″Does the-″
″Jesus Christ, Luke.″
Detective Stripling′s head rose above the other side of a filing cabinet. He had one fist wrapped around the unwrapped portion of an energy bar. Stripling nodded at me, then used the bar to make a rude gesture at Luke.
″I′m right over here eating a snack where I always am,″ he said. ″How many times do I have to tell you that you don′t have to scream?″
″Sure I do,″ Luke replied. ″Normal people can′t tell when you′ve got those damned music plugs in your ears. Is Jana Miller′s family insisting on doing a private autopsy?″
″I couldn′t talk ′em out of it. I told her brother and their lawyer that it would be a waste of their ample money. They wouldn′t listen.″
When Stripling′s head vanished behind the filing cabinet again, Luke looked at me.
″′Waste of time′ is right. Our medical examiner′s office is the best in the state. And the cause of death is straightforward in Jana′s case. Two gunshots to the head. But we′ll give them the corpse if they insist.
″Sorry,″ he added, after I flinched at the term ″corpse″ in reference to my friend.
″What will be they be looking for specifically, do you know?″ I asked him.
″They′ll be looking for anything that proves we don′t know how to do our jobs or that we screwed up,″ Luke said with a shrug. ″Rich people. What are you gonna do? They think only the private sector knows how to do anything right.″
″Have you gotten a confession from your suspect? ″
″Nah. That scumbag lawyered up real fast. He hired himself a pretty good one, too. That was actually kind of surprising. Usually these ass-holes can only afford public defenders.″
″Maybe someone else is paying for the lawyer, ″ I suggested. ″Maybe the person who is really behind Jana′s murder is footing the tab.″
″Well, aren′t you a regular little CSI. Were you thinking it was someone like Gavin Spellmore, Jana′s husband?″
When I gave a quick nod, Luke leaned back in his chair. ″Jesus Christ, Kate, would you give it a rest? Jonathan told me you lock onto a point like a pit bull and don′t let go, but I′m telling you that you′re probably wrong in this case. Okay?″
Like a pit bull? Yee-ouch.
My cheeks burst into flame. ″Certainly I could be wrong,″ I said. ″But you haven′t convinced me yet.″
″Well, you′re not the friggin′ district attorney that I have to convince, now, are you?″
Slapping the file shut, he continued, ″Anyway, Shaina has already ID′d our suspect-Antoine Hurley. She picked him out of a photo lineup after you left the hospital.″
″Shaina identified Antoine Hurley as the car jacker?″
″Isn′t that what I just said? I believe I did.″
″Yes, but what about the shooting? Shaina didn′t see a gun, she told me. And besides-even if Antoine shot Jana, he might have been hired by someone else. By Jana′s husband, Gavin, for example. Have you considered that?″
″Of course. And have you considered that having a lousy marriage and a girlfriend on the side doesn′t mean a guy had his wife killed?″
″It doesn′t mean he didn′t have her killed, either. ″
Luke was grinning now. He was having fun. ″You′d never make a real cop, you know,″ he said. ″You′re like one of those UFO conspiracy guys. You′d waste all the taxpayers′ money trying to disprove a theory that′s all in your head. Like did we really land on the moon? That′s for The X Files and nut jobs.″
″I′m not even going to dignify that,″ I replied with a sniff. ″Jana told me Gavin was stealing from her right before she died. To the tune of tens of thousands of dollars. And Fish told me-″
Luke lifted his palms in the air like a preacher beseeching the heavens. Then he pointed at me. ″I already told you, Kate-former Detective Fisher is a drunk and a psych case. So you can take all his information with a friggin′ dump-truck-load of salt. Okay?″
Glancing away, he added, ″As for Gavin Spellmore, well… look. Plenty of guys have something going on outside their marriage, or maybe they raid the family′s piggy bank. That′s just the way some men are.″
″Oh, shit, Luke. That′s just a rationalization, and you know it. How can you sit there and defend the guy when you know that he-″
″Look. I′m not defending this rat fucker,″ he said. ″But having an affair doesn′t make the guy a wife murderer. If that were true, we′d have to arrest half the male population in the United States. Hell, we′d have to arrest half the guys in this room. Why do you think it′s called the dick squad?″
″Shut up, Luke,″ a disembodied voice announced.
Someone chucked an apple core across the room. The pippin projectile sailed past my nose, headed for Luke.
While Luke ducked out of the way, I shot another glance at Jonathan′s desk. When Luke had talked about men having affairs, it felt as if he was talking about me and Jonathan directly. Plus, now I knew that Jonathan had called me a pit bull to his coworkers. It wasn′t exactly what you′d call a term of endearment. Would someone who loved you call you a pit bull to his coworkers? I don′t think so.
I wondered whether Luke or any of Jonathan′s friends in the United States knew about Gi. Probably not. Jonathan usually kept his personal matters close to the chest.
But maybe he′d kept Gi secret only from me. Maybe everyone else in town knew about her, and I was a laughingstock. The thought made the tangerine I′d just eaten start fizzing in my stomach.
Was I Jonathan′s ″something on the side″? Just a little something to be disposed of the minute his wife insinuated her size-zero butt back into the picture? Was that what I was when you broke it down? Jonathan′s naive, stupid fool. That′s exactly it.
I sat for a moment longer, trying to dismiss the distraction of having my head planted firmly up my ass. Then a new thought struck me.
″I forgot to tell you about something,″ I said to Luke. ″It′s about Jana′s purse.″
″What purse?″
″Jana′s Miu Miu bag. When Jana and I had lunch on Wednesday, she said she thought she′d left it at a friend′s house the night before. She was going to try to get it back.″
Luke reached for a notepad and pen from his desk and started making notes.
″Name of friend with Jana′s moo-moo… um, purse?″
″Trish Putnam. I don′t know whether Jana got it back before she was killed.″
″And what was Jana doing over at the Putnam home that night?″
″She was there for a support group. I was there, too. It′s a women′s group called the Newbodies. ″
″New what?″
″Newbodies. It′s a body-image support group. They-″
″I don′t give a shit what it is. Tell me about the purse.″
″It was a bronze metallic color. By the designer Miu Miu.″