Page 8 of Little Merry Murder

“You claim you’re innocent, but right now, all roads lead back to you,” I said.

“Then let’s flip the script, catch the real killer. How do we go about it?”

“We start by you walking me through the night of your wife’s murder.”

He shrugged. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“Before you left work.”

“Let’s see … I was planning to leave on time, and then there was a problem on the jobsite.”

“What kind of problem?”

“The electrician ran into some issues, and I needed to stick around and weigh in, which I did. After he left, I did one last walkthrough of the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“When the cabinets were installed, they had several dings and scratches. I was marking them with tape so the installer could fix or replace what he needed to when he came in the next day. I tried calling Claire to let her know I was going to be late. She didn’t answer, not that I was surprised.”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t always take my calls after her mother died. It wasn’t like she was ignoring me or anything. She’d get home from work most nights, skip dinner, get in her pajamas, and open a bottle of wine. Half the time, she was asleep on the couch when I walked in.”

“When did her mother die?”

He tipped his head to the side, thinking. “About a year ago. After the accident, Claire changed. She was depressed, crying all the time. She stopped going to the gym. Must have put on twenty-five pounds or more.”

“Did the weight gain bother you?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. When you’re in a relationship with someone, and they have a great figure from the start, I don’t think it’s okay not to keep up with it. Marriage doesn’t give you a free pass to let yourself go. It’s false advertising.”

Wow.

I didn’t know what to say—almost.

“Claire was dealing with the loss of her mother,” I said. “You could have been more understanding, and it’s clear you weren’t. You were selfish, thinking of your wants and needs when you should have been thinking of hers.”

He raised a brow like he was shocked I’d spoken to him in such a way.

I found it amusing.

He was lucky I’d kept my comments PG-13.

There was a lot more I wanted to say, and I was pleased I’d managed to resist.

“Whose side are you on?” he asked. “It sure doesn’t sound like you’re on mine.”

“Again, this is about Claire, not you. I’m onherside. I was hired to find her killer, and I will.”

“You should be here for me, on my side.”

My boiling point had been reached.

I took a breath.

It didn’t help.

I took another.

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