Celebrity in Death

you—a friend, family member—before we start?”
    “I … I can’t think.”
    “Well, if you think of someone you want with you, we’ll arrange it.” She sat across from him, read off the Revised Miranda. “Do you understand your rights and obligations?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, good. You were out of town?”
    “Chicago. A client. We’re event creators. I got back this morning, and …”
    “You returned from Chicago this morning. At what time?”
    “I think, about eleven. I wasn’t due until four, but I was able to finish early. I wanted to surprise Cecil.”
    “So you switched your flight and your car service?”
    “Yes, yes, that’s right. I was able to take an earlier shuttle, arrange an earlier pickup. To surprise Cecil.” Choking on a sob, he pressed the damp handkerchief to his face.
    “You’ve had a terrible shock, I know. What car service was that, Mr. Havertoe? Just for the record.”
    “We always use Delux.”
    “Okay. And when you got home,” Eve continued as Peabody stepped quietly out of the room, “what happened?”
    “I came in, and I brought my bag in here, but Cecil wasn’t in the bedroom.”
    “Should he have been home at that time of the day?”
    “He was scheduled to work from home today. He has a client coming in this afternoon. I should contact them.” He looked blankly around the room with streaming eyes. “I should—”
    “We’ll help you with that. What did you do next?”
    “I … I called out for him—um—the way you do. And I thought he must be in his office. It’s off the kitchen, with a view of the courtyard, because he likes looking out at our little garden when he works. And I saw him on the floor. I saw him, and he was dead.”
    “Did you touch anything? Anything in the kitchen?”
    “I touched Cecil. I took his hand. He was dead.”
    “Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Cecil?”
    “No. No. Everybody loves Cecil.” With some drama, he pressed the soggy handkerchief to his heart. “I love Cecil.”
    “Who do you suppose he’d let in, while he was wearing only his robe?”
    “I …” Havertoe struggled to firm his trembling lips. “I think Cecil was having an affair. I think he’d been seeing someone.”
    “Why do you think that?”
    “He’d been late getting home a few times, and—there were signs.”
    “Did you confront him about it?”
    “He denied it.”
    “You argued?”
    “Every couple argues. We were happy. We made each other happy.”
    “But he was having an affair.”
    “A fling.” Havertoe dabbed at his eyes. “It wouldn’t last. Whoever he was seeing must have killed him.”
    “Who do you think he was seeing?”
    “I don’t know. A client? Someone he met at one of our events? We meet so many people. There’s a constant temptation to stray.”
    “You have an impressive home, Mr. Havertoe.”
    “We’re very proud of it. We often entertain. It’s what we do. It’s good promotion for the business.”
    “I guess that’s why you cleaned up the kitchen,” Eve said conversationally as Peabody came back in. “You didn’t want people to see the mess.”
    “I … what?”
    “Was Cecil fixing breakfast when you got in—earlier than he expected? Or had he finished? Were there signs he hadn’t been alone? Cheating on you when you were away. He was a very bad boy.”
    “He’s dead. You shouldn’t talk about him that way.”
    “What time did you get home again?”
    “I said—I think—about eleven.”
    “That’s odd, Mr. Havertoe,” Peabody said. “Because your shuttle landed at eight-forty-five.”
    “I—I had some errands—”
    “And the driver from Delux dropped you off at the door here at nine-ten.”
    “I … took a walk.”
    “With your luggage?” Eve angled her head. “No, you didn’t. You came in at nine-ten, and you and Cecil got into it while you—one of you or both—made coffee, fixed breakfast. You wanted to know who he’d been with while you were in Chicago. You wanted him to stop cheating on you. You argued, and you picked up the cast-iron skillet, swung out. You were so mad. All you’ve done for him and he can’t befaithful. Who could blame you for losing your temper. You didn’t mean to kill him, did you, Paul? You just lashed out—hurt and angry.”
    “I didn’t. You have the time wrong. That’s all.”
    “No, you got it wrong. You got home early. Did you think you might catch him with someone?”
    “No, no, it wasn’t like that. I wanted to surprise him. I