Page 72 of Scripted for Love and Poison
“She’d still have kept everything. I think the only way he had to get some of that money was if Emily left him. But not if he was the one asking for the divorce,” Detective Owens said. “But that’s hardly of any relevance now.”
“Of course,” Divya conceded something everyone at the table knew wasn’t true. “And, by any chance, would you happen to know what Emily did before she stopped working? I’m sure you did a thorough interview with her, and that may have come up. We’ve got a bit of friendly betting going on among ourselves. My mate Luke thinks she was a librarian. I say political aid.”
“Neither.” Detective Owens chuckled. “I think she was a journalist, same as the husband. They worked together for a time.”
“Thanks so much,” Divya said. “That’s been incredibly helpful. And like I said, I’m sure this will be nothing. But, if it is, we’ll make sure to ring you and let you know. Have a nice rest of your day, Detective Owens.”
“And you, too, Miss Bakshi. No need to give my regards to that curt colleague of yours.”
Divya hung up, and only then she put her full attention on Luke.
“What’s your problem with thecharmingDetective Owens exactly, mate?”
“Let me see ... He stood me up, he implied I was tooyoung for Sol, he told Sol she can’t leave the country.” Luke ticked each item off on his fingers. “Oh, and he’s basically an arse. Thanks for dealing with him, though.”
“Any bloody time,” Divya said, smiling. “We got what we needed.”
36
“Am I the only one who feels conflicted about this and thinks we should let Emily ...” Sol let the thought hang. The three of them had moved from Gjusta and were now strolling alongside the more commercial stretch of Main Street in Santa Monica.
“What? Get away with murder!” Luke said.
“That’s what happens when you let civilians get involved. They’re soft,” Divya said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I mean, you have to feel for the woman a little bit, no? She meets Jason in college, falls in love,” Sol argued, enumerating some of the findings they’d unearthed about Emily after a bit of precise online research guided by the conversation with Detective Owens. “They start dating, get married, move to Los Angeles, pursuing their dream of becoming critics. I guess sharing the same exact professional dream was on the chancy side of things, but whatever. They move here, both get miraculously hired by the same publication, and then, of course, things start getting ugly.”
“Still no reason to let a killer go,” Luke said. “What if shemarries again, and she also gets annoyed with the second husband.”
As a woman who had gotten annoyed not by one but by two husbands, Sol could understand Emily’s predicament. Then again, she hadn’t exactly poisoned any of her former spouses—not even the second one.
“I think it should be me talking to her,” Sol said.
She wasn’t sure what she expected after saying those words, but it certainly wasn’t what happened next.
“I bloody agree,” Luke said, teeth clenched. “Any objections, Divya?”
“Objections? Me? None at all. Sol is perfect for the job. She shares the same profession as Emily, they knew each other previously, and they both had proper shite husbands. But my question is, are you feeling alright, mate?”
“I probably have sunstroke, but I basically agree with everything you said,” Luke told Divya and then stared at Sol. “I think Emily likes you. Let’s take advantage of that.”
“Okay, but I have to warn you. I also like her. Depending on what else I find out and what she tells me about her motives, I may sympathize even more with her.” Sol felt queasy after saying that out loud.
“As long as you don’t end up poisoned or enable Emily’s escape in some way, there’s no crime in liking a killer here and there,” Luke said. How he had the ability of always saying exactly what she needed to hear, she still couldn’t comprehend.
Sol was only certain of one thing: She was a very lucky woman. And that knowledge made her feel even more for Emily somehow.
···
Sol and Emily shared a table for two by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking La Brea Avenue at République, and Sol wished they hadn’t chosen such an iconic place. It felt intrinsically wrong—and bizarre—to hope for a killer to confess in a neo-Gothic 1928 building commissioned by Charlie Chaplin. But as Luke kept repeating over and over, the whole thing was just too Hollywood. They were in Los Angeles, after all.
“Ma’am,” a waiter addressed Sol as they brought the order of Genmaicha tea and kouign-amanns. People needed to stop with that! She really wasn’t that old.
“I wasn’t expecting your call,” Emily told Sol after the waiter left. “Not so soon after the visit yesterday.”
“I’m not sure if you’re going to believe me when I tell you that, after getting to meet you a little, I’d have loved to be friends,” Sol said. “But I’m afraid this isn’t a friendly call.”
“What kind of call is it, then?” Emily said, and once again Sol saw the nice woman transform into someone fiercer in front of her eyes.
