Page 18 of What Happened Last Night

I pushed the door open a crack and stuck my head around it. The room was an art studio, and while I was no art critic, the half-done painting on the easel looked damned good to me. My attention shifted to the far corner of the room, where Carlotta sat on the ground, her knees hugged to her chest. She was staring straight ahead, tears shining on her cheeks.

“Mrs. Alden?” I said gently. “Are you all right?”

She turned her head slowly to look at me. Her eyes were glassy, like she wasn’t really seeing me, but then she blinked, and the life seemed to come back into her. She wiped at her face, cleaning away the tears, and she gave a loud sniff as she rushed to her feet.

“Detective Del Rey. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Did my husband let you in?” she asked, suspicion in her voice. But there was also something else there too. Something that sounded a lot like hope.

I was quickly putting together what had happened. The couple had argued, and William had stormed away. My presence gave Carlotta hope that he hadn’t actually left, that they could still fix whatever was broken in their marriage. I hated to have to take that hope from her, but what else could I do?

“No. The front door was wide open, and I was worried something had happened, so I came in to check that everything was okay,” I said.

Carlotta shrugged one shoulder, looking a little bit more in control of herself now.

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “Or at least everything’s fine with me. I guess William couldn’t even be bothered to close the front door behind him as he ran away from our problems.”

She sighed, and then she clapped her hands together and smiled brightly at me as if she had just remembered who I really was and saw that she was letting her guard down a little bit too much.

“So, Detective, that’s enough of my moaning. What can I do for you?” she asked brightly.

I knew there was no point in asking her for William’s cellphone. He would most likely have it with him, and even if he didn’t, I didn’t think she was going to be willing to just hand it over and potentially make her marriage even more of a bust if that were even possible at this point.

“I was hoping to talk to you if you’re not too busy,” I said.

She nodded her head and stepped past me into the kitchen.

“Why not? It’s not like my painting is any good,” she said.

“On the contrary, I think it’s excellent,” I told her honestly.

She gave me a half-smile. “You do?” she asked.

“I do.”

She smiled again, brighter this time and less fake than her earlier smile.

“Let me go and shut the front door, and then I’ll pour us some coffee and we can go through to the lounge and talk,” she said.

“I tell you what. You pour the coffee and I’ll go and close the front door for you,” I said.

She smiled again and stepped toward the coffee pot. I went to close the front door, and we both stepped into the lounge from opposite doors at the same time. Carlotta handed me a cup of black coffee and sat down, indicating that I should do the same. I sat down in an armchair opposite Carlotta, where she curled up in the corner of the couch.

She was doing her best to present herself as she had yesterday, but I could see something was different. She somehow looked smaller. Whatever she and William had argued about, it had knocked Carlotta’s confidence sideways.

“Carlotta, is there anything you want to tell me that you maybe didn’t feel comfortable talking about in the precinct? Off the record like,” I said gently.

She looked up at me, fixing me with her large doleful eyes as she sized me up. After a couple of seconds of silence, she gave me a half-nod and then she sighed again. She took a long drink of her coffee and then she wrapped both hands around the mug, looking down into it as she began to talk.

“I loved my husband, Detective. The sad thing is, I think maybe I still do,” she said. She looked up at me then and smiled sadly. “But if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then you’re right. William was having an affair with Candy.”

My senses tingled as she confirmed my theory about the affair, but I kept my face neutral. If she thought for even half a second that I was remotely happy to hear that revelation, I knew she would clam up again.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Then I guess that makes two of us. We used to be happy together, you know. But William has a fragile ego, to say the least, and when I began to make a name for myself on the art scene, William didn’t like it. He seemed to think I was somehow stealing his thunder. In his mind, we couldn’t both be successful. He had to be successful and I had to be the good little wife. But I wanted more, and I kept painting. I suspect he has been sleeping with various interns at the company for around two years. That’s when I really made it big. I was featured in several magazines and my work was commissioned for a lot of money.

“I buried my head in the sand when it came to my marriage, told myself I was imagining the affairs. That William was just working hard, that I couldn’t smell perfume on his clothes when he came home. He started sleeping with interns shortly after we completed the docks project. You know the buildings there? William was pissed off because my mural got more attention than his design work did. Candy was the latest in a long list of interns. I don't know if he was just less secretive about his thing with Candy, or if she was the one to push the boundaries of their agreement, but I know he wanted to hurt me. Belittle me. In his mind, I had hurt him with all of my success as an artist and his affairs are his revenge.”

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