Bitter Business

already acting guilty,” I interjected. “Talking to him, you’d think he was the first man on the planet to ever cheat on his wife. He’s like a little kid who sticks his hand into the cookie jar and comes out with a handful of snakes. At this point he’s feeling so guilty that I’m afraid he’ll confess to anything.”
    “So you’re his lawyer.” Caufield laughed. “You go with him. If he starts taking credit for the Lindbergh baby, shut him up. If not, let him talk. Besides, a trip to the police station will do you good. You guys at Callahan need a taste of what real lawyering is all about.”
     
    A burly policewoman with a face like the back of a bus ushered us into a windowless room the size of two parking spaces. One wall was mirrored and I wondered who was watching us from beyond the dark glass. From the way that voices died in the air, I guessed that the room was soundproof. I thought about Elkin Caufield and did not see how this could possibly be doing me any good.
    Joe Blades made a casual entrance, a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of forms in the other. He sat down at one end of the scarred wooden table and laid the papers down in front of him.
    He began by thanking Philip for coming in, assuring him that the police were truly grateful for any information that might assist them in their investigation. I looked over at my client. He was so nervous he wasn’t shaking—it was more like he was vibrating.
    Detective Blades began reading questions from the form in front of him, laboriously filling in the blanks as Philip answered. Orderly and reasonable—like a doctor taking a medical history from a patient with an embarrassing complaint—he struck an attitude of weary routine that was remarkably effective with Philip. Names and dates, times and places—the rhythm of the interrogation resembled nothing more than the filling out of a bank application, and the story that it revealed was scarcely more interesting.
    Man Sleeps with Secretary—ho-hum. According to Philip, it had been Cecilia who’d instigated the affair, offering to stay late and behaving provocatively until she finally succeeded in seducing him one night in his father’s office. Soon they were meeting once a week on his wife Sally’s Bonko nights. The only person I could think of who would find that interesting might be one of Lydia’s shrinks.
    “What kind of person was she?” asked Blades, in a voice that invited friendly confidence. Philip Cavanaugh actually smiled.
    “She wasn’t educated and she wasn’t sophisticated, but she was smart. She was always talking about wanting to improve her situation.”
    “Do you know if she took drugs?”
    “I don’t know. I never saw her do it. But she was the kind of person who might—I mean, she liked to have a good time.”
    “Do you think your wife knew about your relationship with the deceased?”
    “No,” Philip bleated. “I was very careful. Sally has a naturally suspicious nature...
    I thought I detected a flicker of a smile pass Joe Blades’s lips, but it was gone in an instant. All in all he didn’t seem overly impressed with Philip’s indiscretion.
    When he was finished with his questions Blades asked Philip to read and initial each page of his statement.
    “Is that it?” Philip asked as he slid the initialed sheets back across the table toward the detective. He sounded almost disappointed.
    “That’s all. Thank you for your time, Mr. Cavanaugh. You’re free to go.”
    Philip rose, but as I followed suit Joe Blades reached across the table and took my arm.
    “I was wondering if I might have a word in private with your attorney.”
     

13
     
    Cops as a rule don’t make me nervous, but there is something essentially unnerving about any conversation conducted in a homicide interrogation room.
    “Thanks for getting Philip Cavanaugh to come in,” Detective Blades began, equably enough. “We’d have found out about him and the Dobson woman eventually, but anytime somebody can save me half a day’s dragging around town, I’ll take it.”
    “This is hard for a man like Philip Cavanaugh,” I said. “He feels very guilty about their affair—ashamed actually. But all the Cavanaughs want to cooperate with the police in any way they can.”
    Blades took a slow sip of his coffee, no doubt long grown cold. His skin was so pale that it seemed almost translucent, and now that I had a chance to look closely I could see the first strands of gray hair mixed