Page 9 of What Happened Last Night

Chapter Five

Carlotta

My body shook uncontrollably and my teeth were chattering together hard enough to make them ache. I clamped my jaw tightly closed for a minute and the chattering stopped, but the second I relaxed my jaw again, it started up again more intense than before. The chattering was so loud by then that I was convinced that half of the precinct would be able to hear it.

I had managed to hold myself together while I was being interrogated, or as Officer Dumont had put it, questioned. Questioned, my ass. They had a murder victim and two clear suspects, and I knew how this would work. They would hound William and me relentlessly, hoping to get one of us to turn on the other one. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. We were both drunk when it happened, and regardless of the cops’ tactics, we couldn’t tell them what we didn’t remember.

I clamped my jaw together again, trying desperately to get my teeth to stop knocking together. Holding myself together while I was being questioned was only useful if I could hold myself together the whole time I was in the precinct. I had watched enough cop shows to know what was happening here. They had questioned me, and now, someone would be watching me through the two-way mirror on the wall before me, watching for any sign of anything unusual. It probably wasn’t unusual for me to be shaky now, though. I had seen a dead body only hours earlier, and on top of that, I was hungover to all hell.

I tried to focus my mind, if not my body, and I had slightly more success with that. I had told Officer Dumont that William and I were drinking heavily and that we were both too drunk remember the night before. I told them I recognized Candy and how. But I didn’t tell them William and I had been arguing about the girl prior to going to bed. And I didn’t tell them about the affair. It was none of their business and telling them about the affair would make William look guilty, I knew that much. It wouldn’t exactly bode well for me, either. I would be seen as the wife who snapped.

I had also known that I had to tell them something to explain why Candy had turned up at our home in the middle of the night. Her working as an intern at the same company that William worked for was hardly reason enough for her to break into our house in the middle of the night and come up to our bedroom while we were both sleeping.

If I didn’t tell them something, they might start to think that William and I had invited her over, and that didn’t bode well for either of us. It would look like we lured her in with the intention of killing her. It would implicate us both in the murder.

I had decided to tell them the truth about Candy stalking us, just not the true reason. She was clearly unhinged, and if I showed the police that, they might start to see that whatever had happened, it had to be self-defense. Surely, they would accept that if some crazed chick who stalked you turned up in your bedroom in the dead of night, that you had every reason to assume the worst and defend yourself.

I could feel my thoughts starting to spiral out of control as I went back over my answers again. Every time I started to get a handle on myself and calm myself down, I saw the dead girl laid on our lawn. I saw the glassy, unseeing eyes, the bent leg. And I imagined that I saw her falling, her arms and legs pinwheeling wildly as she fell. I heard her scream, and I heard the thud of her body landing, the scream cutting off mid-note. And after that vision had gone, a new one flashed before my eyes. Me in a jail cell. William in a jail cell. I knew I had to stop that from happening. I just didn’t know how.

Carlotta Alden, get a grip of yourself and stop imaging things. Don’t even think about what happened last night at all. You will find a way to fix this, I told myself.

I needed something to focus on, though, and I slowly looked around the room, taking in my surroundings. There wasn’t much to see. The room contained three hard plastic chairs, the one I was sitting on and two more opposite me. Between the chairs was a metal table. And that was pretty much the extent of the room. The walls were off-white, grubby looking, and the floor was hard and unforgiving. It was the sort of room people wouldn't want to spend more time in than they had to. That was most likely the plan. Make the room uncomfortable, and people might just crack quicker to get out of it.

I wondered vaguely if the door was locked, but I refrained from getting up to check. I wasn’t under arrest, and I knew that technically, I could leave anytime, but I also knew if I tried to leave, it would make me look guilty and would likely result in my being arrested. All I had to do was keep my head straight and answer their questions, and then I would be able to leave without making myself look suspicious.

As I was looking around, the door to the room opened. I looked up expecting to see Officer Stanford, but instead, I saw a man I didn’t recognize and the male officer who had come to the house. What was his name again? Yes, Officer Dumont. I was thinking clearly again.

The man I didn’t recognize wasn’t in uniform. He was dressed in black pants and a light blue shirt. His collar was open, and he wasn’t wearing a tie. He smiled at me as he entered the room.

“Hi, Mrs. Alden. I’m Detective Del Rey. I have a few questions for you,” he said.

He sat down in one of the chairs and Officer Dumont sat beside him. I smiled in a way I hoped didn’t make me look as terrified as I felt.

“I’ve already told Officer Stanford everything I know, which isn’t much,” I said.

I noticed a flashing red light behind Detective Del Rey. This interview was obviously being recorded. I tried to remember if the light had been on for my first interview, but I couldn’t. I had to assume it had been, though.

“I know, and I’m sorry that we have to keep going over this again and again,” Detective Del Rey said. He smiled again, a warm and charming smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “But a girl is dead, and we need to know what happened to her.”

“I only wish I could be of some use to you, but as I told Officer Stanford, I had been drinking heavily and I really don’t remember anything from last night. I didn’t even know anyone had been in the house until I saw the broken window,” I told him.

“What is the last thing you do remember?” Detective Del Rey asked me.

“I remember William and me in the lounge, drinking scotch and talking about his work,” I told him.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Candy did work for him, and all of his issues came from the docks project. God, why did he have to be so damned insecure? Why couldn’t he have been like a normal husband and been pleased for me and then moved on?

“Is it possible that one of you invited Candy to your home?” Detective Del Rey asked me.

I shook my head quickly.

“No. There’s no way in hell either of us would ever have invited that little bitch to our home,” I snapped.

Dammit. I had said too much, and I knew it.

Detective Del Rey raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. I was tempted to fill the silence, to try and explain away the venom in my tone and what I had said, but I knew that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to babble on and trip myself up, so I stayed silent.

“You didn’t like Candy, I take it?” he probed.

---