Page 42 of Sinful Memory

“Right.” Fletch adjusts in his seat to face Frederick. “Did you know her personally?”

“No. I…” He swallows so his throat bobs. “I mean, yes, I met her personally. Once.”

“What was the nature of your relationship?”

“We didn’t…” he shakes his head. “We didn’t have a relationship.”

“But you met her,” Fletch reminds him.

“I met you too.” Calming fractionally, Frederick meets Fletch’s eyes. “One time. Doesn’t mean we have a relationship.”

“You’re married, right?” I bring his attention back to me. “Ten years, two kids?”

“Yes.” He stiffens his chin in defiance. “Which is precisely why I didn’t have a personal relationship with Anna Switzer. We all had a chance to, Detectives. But I went home with my wife and stayed out of trouble.”

“You ‘all,’ who?” My stomach twists with dread. “Went home from where?”

“We had a party last year.” He slides his tongue forward and wets his bottom lip. “After the playoffs. We’d had a perfect season, so we had this team party that got kinda wild. But the wives were there, too,” he adds, almost desperately. “Mine. Dustin’s, Vance’s. Neron’s girl. Some of the other guys brought dates too, but of the casual variety, if you get what I mean.”

I incline my head.I get you.

“We got word that some A-lister wanted to party with us. But before she would enter, her publicist had us all sign NDAs.” At the memory, his cheeks pale. “Shit. The NDA means I’m not supposed to say.”

“Forget the NDA when you’re speaking with us,” Fletch grumbles. “It doesn’t count right now. A celebrity was coming in to party?”

“Yeah. Turned out to be Switzer. She was blitzed,” he breathes. “Already three sheets to the wind when she arrived. Her people had the NDAs in hand, so once they were signed, Switzer came in and let loose.”

“So the entire team has met her?” Fletch groans. “All of you partied with her?”

“Well… not Jonty,” he amends. “He was with another team this time last year. But everyone else…”

“So, she walked in,” I recap. “Drunk and messy. But you and your wife left?”

“Yeah. It was already after eleven, and our babysitter couldn’t stay past midnight, so we stayed for a few minutes, since Switzer’s a big deal. Had her sign my shirt.” His cheeks warm with a blush. “Asked for a photo with her, but her people said no. Then Lacey and I left, and after that, we were on a family vacation for a week, down at the lake house.”

“And you haven’t seen or spoken to Anna Switzer since?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “By the time we got back to the city, the team was off for the season, and everyone was granted time away.” He looks to Whittaker. “We all get a few weeks of freedom before we’re back at it.”

Whittaker nods in my peripherals. “They each took three weeks last year. Only a week this year, since our season was less than stellar. They win me the trophy and get the payday, and I reward them in kind. They let me down and cost me money, then we’re gonna train harder in the off season, and make sure the new year justifies their place on the team.” He studies Frederick with a sharp eye.

Warning.

To which Frederick agrees. “Yes, sir.” Then he looks to me. “Is she really dead, Detective? Anna Switzer?”

“She’s really dead. I just have one more question, then you can go.” He watches me, waiting, so I ask, “Where were you between seven and nine o’clock, the night before last?”

“I was with my wife and kids.” Wringing his fingers again, he spins his wedding band. “My little girl had a recital at the Fifth Street Theater at six o’clock. Dancing,” he clarifies. “It ended just after seven thirty. The girls are only five years old, so keeping them up past that is a shitshow.” He chuckles under his breath. “We stopped by this local Italian restaurant on the way home. It’s a regular spot for us, somewhere we’re not often bothered by overeager fans. We chowed down on spaghetti and got out again around eight.”

He pats his pockets as inspiration strikes, but looks down to be reminded he’s wearing shorts, and not carrying his wallet or phone. “I can get you receipts to pinpoint exactly when we left. We went home right after that and got the kids ready for bed. Showers. Jammies. Bedtime story. By then, it was probably nine, or close to it.”

He’s in the clear already. Too fucking wholesome for me to even consider as our murderer. But I’ll take the receipts for our files anyway, so the captain doesn’t ride me about it.

“Thank you, Mr. Frederick.” I extend my hand toward the door. “You can go. But don’t speak to your team about what we’re doing up here.” I glance to Jenna. “Bring in the next one, please.”

“I’ll get Fabian.”

She has to pass Cato to do so, and she looks him up and down, the way a full-grown woman studies a man. But just three feet from where he stands, she bends, sending his eyebrows shooting high on his forehead.

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