Page 22 of The Writer

She looks down at the words as if she’s seeing them for the first time. “Sorry. When I get stuck while I’m writing, I jot down puns. It’s just this trick I learned. Writing words,anywords, helps me think and makes more words come. Like opening a valve.”

“Puns aren’t going to get you out of jail, and condoms in your husband’s pocket could keep you here, so let’s try and focus. Was he cheating?”

“Give me another sheet of paper.”

He does, and she begins writing again. Writing fast. A list of at least thirty items. When she finishes, she slides it over to him.

“What’s this?”

“Things that could be missing from my apartment.”

Geller’s gaze shifts to the guard; she shakes her head. He slides the list back to Denise. “I’m going to push for a walk-through. Once we do that, we can create a real list.”

“The police are treating me like a criminal.They’relying, so why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you don’t have to. The truth—”

“Is doing a shitty job of setting me free.”

Geller rolls his eyes. “How about we stay on task. Was David cheating?”

Denise glances at the guard, who’s gotten closer. She’s looking at them like she’s watching her own personal soap opera. Lovely. “Not that I know of,” she tells Geller.

“If he was—and I understand this is hard for you—any idea who it was with?”

She shakes her head.

“Can you think of anyone who might have seen something?”

“No.”

“Friends? Neighbors? Coworkers?”

Again, she closes her eyes. It’s hard to say this. “David wasn’t sloppy. He was meticulous. If he was having an affair, no one would have known unless he wanted them to. Including me. He wouldn’t be so careless.”

“Let’s look at this from a different angle. How about someone who can testify your marriage was solid?”

Denise thinks about that for a second, then shakes her head again. “You know how much the two of us work. Our schedules don’t leave much time for socializing. He’s always at the hospital, and when I meet new people, I feel like they’re interested in me only because I’m a little famous. We keep our circle small.” Sheforces a grin. “I don’t suppose you can testify? You know us better than anyone.”

“I’m afraid not,” he tells her. “What about your housekeeper? Maybe she saw you two hugging? Kissing? Laughing together?”

Denise runs through her recent memories, then says, “No. Martha is like a ghost when she’s there. With the language barrier, she and I have never been close.”

“That doesn’t mean she didn’t see anything.”

“I don’t think she likes me much,” Denise admits. “Look, David and I were married for sixteen years. I’m not going to tell you it was all roses and sunshine. Things got particularly ugly after I had the emergency hysterectomy, and for a long time I resented him, but we got past it. Did I occasionally want to pick up something heavy and swing it at his shins? Sure, and I don’t doubt I drove him batshit with my own unlovable quirks. That’s how it goes. We were a team, though.”

Geller doesn’t look at her directly when he asks his next question. “Were the two of you…”

“Fucking?”

Geller’s cheeks flush. “Yes.”

“Yes. He had no complaints. I kept him fed and happy. At least twice a week.”

The guard looks away with that one. Good to know she has some boundaries.

On the opposite end of the room, there’s a flash of orange jumpsuit. A lanky inmate covered in tattoos gets to her feet and lunges at another inmate who just entered the room, a burly beast of a woman with a partially shaved head. The two of them stumble, roll across one of the tables, and drop to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The guards are on them fast. Thereare several shouts. The crackle of a stun gun. Then they’re pulling them apart.

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