Page 63 of What Happened Last Night

I saw the look passing between Dr. Karloff and Officer Riley, and I knew no matter how much I protested, Officer Riley was going to remove me from the room so I didn’t have to see Dr. Karloff and his assistant, who was hanging around in the doorway like a shy child at a birthday party, lifting my husband’s body onto the gurney they hadn’t brought in yet. They didn’t want me to see that. They didn’t want me to hear the sucking sound as they peeled William’s ruined head from the ground.

I realized I didn’t want to see or hear that either, and I was suddenly glad Officer Riley was here.

“Mrs. Alden? Why don’t we go on through to the kitchen and I’ll make us both some tea?” Officer Riley said gently.

I nodded and got to my feet. Officer Riley put his hand on my elbow. It wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t about to flake out, but it felt nice, comforting, and I allowed him to leave it there as he led me from the room.

True to his word, Officer Riley made us both a cup of hot, sweet tea. I began to sip it when he placed it down in front of me, and the sugar in it seemed to revive me a little more. I felt more like myself again. Up until that point, I had felt more like an observer than an active part of this, like I was watching myself going through the motions, but now I was back inside myself, back in control of myself.

Officer Riley talked a little about what would happen next, about the autopsy and the funeral arrangements. Finally, when I thought I couldn’t listen to this any longer, he began to talk about things that didn’t involve William.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, the coroner came into the kitchen and informed me that William was gone, and they would be taking their leave. I said all the right things, but by that point, I just wanted them all to go. Finally, there were just me and Officer Riley left.

“My friend will be here shortly,” I said. “I called her earlier when I went to the bathroom.”

I wasn’t sure if he fully believed me or if he was just glad to be able to finally leave, but he nodded and stood up.

“If you need anything or you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call either myself or Detective Del Rey,” Officer Riley said as I walked him to the broken-down door.

“Actually, I do have a question, Officer,” I said.

He paused and turned to face me.

“The door. And the ... the mess in the lounge. Can I fix those things, or do I have to wait?” I asked.

“You can fix the door, Mrs. Alden, but if you can avoid the lounge for the rest of the day, I’ll send a cleanup team out here first thing in the morning to sort the rest out for you.”

“Okay, thank you, Officer,” I said.

I didn’t much relish the thought of spending the night here with William’s blood and brains all over the lounge, but what other choice did I have? The last thing I wanted was more people traipsing in and out now.

Officer Riley finally left, and I went back to the kitchen. I sat down for a moment, my head in my hands. Slowly, the realization that all of this, the house, the money, everything, was now solely mine, began to really hit me.

I stood up and walked into my studio. I would be able to paint here now without any criticism. I would be able to sleep in as late as I liked, sit up as late as I liked, eat whenever I was hungry rather than whenever William was due in from the office. And I could do it all without anyone getting on my case.

No longer did I have to play the role of the good wife. No longer did I have to walk around with my head down, knowing that William’s friends and colleagues were laughing at me because he was fucking some slutty intern. No longer did I have to stomach their whispering, their pity.

William’s death had set me free in more ways than one. Yet still, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness because in his final moments, William had saved my life once more. He may have spent the last few years slowly killing my love for him, but in the end, I guess he still loved me more than I knew. Maybe more than even he knew.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jamie

It had been a long few weeks, but everything had worked itself out.

Morrie Xavier made a full confession. He got a public defender who got him a halfway decent deal considering the circumstances—twenty-five years with no parole. If Morrie was still alive by the time he was due for release, he would be well into his seventies.

In some ways, I felt for him. I knew what he did was wrong, but I genuinely didn’t think he would be a danger to the general public. In his mind, he had a good reason for this, and he didn’t strike me as the sort of man who would turn up at a random post office, for example, and open fire on innocent people.

He likely would go after Carlotta, though. Even though he had never really blamed her for any of this, and he claimed he only wanted to kill her to make William feel his pain, whether he would have thought the same if presented with an opportunity to kill Carlotta, I really wouldn’t like to say.

I guess in the end, he got what was coming to him. As did William Alden, in some ways, although I certainly wouldn’t condone what Morrie did. And it seemed like rather an uncharitable thought to have at William’s funeral.

I didn’t really know why I came here today. To pay my respects, I supposed. And because there was still a nagging voice inside my head. A little insistent voice that told me this was all just a little bit too convenient. I wasn’t exactly saying that Carlotta had killed anyone, but something about the whole thing just felt ... I don’t know ... off somehow.

When she came to the station the day after William’s murder, she made a statement about everything that happened in her lounge, and after that, off the record, she told me how her original statement had ended. It went down pretty much how William had described it to Morrie. Candy rushed at Carlotta with the knife, and William reacted on instinct, putting himself between the two women and pushing Candy away to save Carlotta. After seeing William take a bullet for his wife, I could well believe that was how it went down. And I knew she didn’t do anything to William. I couldn’t doubt that story. I mean, I was there. No one could have stopped that.

And yet there was still a niggle. Still, something tickled the edge of my brain. On paper, Carlotta was innocent. A victim herself, even. But she inherited everything upon William’s death, and if she had planned this whole thing, it couldn’t have gone better. I didn’t seriously think she’d planned this. There were too many moving pieces for her to have pulled off something this spectacular and gotten away without leaving any trace of doubt behind.

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