Death Before Facebook

ago, no longer wanted to kick his grinning teeth in. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
    “Snapped! You were a Class A bitch.”
    She got up in his face. “Pearce, let’s get one thing straight. I’m a police officer; you either treat me with respect or you get more of the same treatment. Understand?”
    “Just because you’re a cop you can’t—”
    “I haven’t got time for this crap. Look. You’re a possible suspect. I’m going to read you your rights.”
    “What?”
    “Before I ask you any questions, you must understand your rights. You have the right to remain silent…” She watched the play of emotions on his face, saw his cockiness change to respect, noted, not for the first time, the sobering effect of the Miranda warning.
    “I’ll answer your questions,” he said. “I have nothing to hide.”
    “First, let’s hear you apologize.” This wasn’t necessary to the interview, but Skip liked things clean. The suspect had been disrespectful and she was giving him a chance to wipe the slate; she’d feel better about him, be less likely to lose her temper with him.
    “Sorry.” He lowered his head like a kid when he said it, practically whispered. It was all she could do not to grin. Like Geoff, this was a man who wasn’t truly a grown-up—except this one was well into his fifties.
    “That’s better. Let’s go up on the porch.” The light was on there; she could see his face. “Okay, you said you came and got me out of bed because you thought I was your friend. What did you mean by that?” She had started here to let him know just how precarious his position was—if she was the easiest cop to deal with, he’d better not blow it.
    “I’m kind of embarrassed about what happened.”
    “How’s that?”
    “It might sound crazy.”
    She nodded sympathetically. “I listen to crazy stories all day.”
    “Well, I’ve been kind of taking care of Lenore since Geoff died—trying to be her friend—and so when she E-mailed me to come over tonight, I felt I had to. I knew she was going through some rough times, and probably needed to talk to somebody.”
    “What time was this?”
    “It must have been about nine or nine-thirty. I’d just gotten home from dinner with friends.”
    “Nine? Or nine-thirty?”
    He thought about it. “Closer to nine, I guess.”
    “And you came right over.”
    “Yes. I got here near ten, I guess, and stayed about an hour and a half, maybe two; then I left. She was in a real bad way—I really felt lousy about it so I ended up in a bar, having a couple of drinks, and then I remembered I left something and I went back for it. She didn’t answer the door, so I went around the back.”
    “You went around the back. Did you think she’d be in the backyard?”
    Despite the chill—it was a nippy night—he wiped perspiration from his face. “I thought the back door might be open.”
    “Oh. Why did you think that?”
    “Well, while I was here, we went out the back, for a few minutes—to look at the moon. Lenore had a thing about the moon.”
    “You thought she left the door open?”
    He shrugged. “She was pretty loaded.”
    “Well, if she didn’t answer the door, she was obviously either not home or asleep—did you plan to just walk in?”
    He mopped his face again. “We’d been making love.”
    She crossed her arms. “Fine. If you’ve made love with someone, that gives you the right to break into their house.”
    “Look, it was a stupid thing to do, okay? I just wanted to get the thing I’d left and go home. I didn’t—” He searched for words, didn’t seem to find any. “I didn’t want to run into her.”
    Skip hoped she looked as skeptical and disapproving as she felt.
    The coroner and Paul Gottschalk from the crime lab turned up. She filled them in quickly, and went back to Pearce.
    As if there’d been no interruption, she said, “Why didn’t you want to run into her? It was her house. You were her lover.”
    “I didn’t feel too good about what was happening between us. When she invited me over, I thought she just needed someone to talk to, but she met me in this crazy getup with a garter belt and everything—look, I didn’t even want to make love to her. But she grabbed me.”
    “She overpowered you. Great big Lenore and little tiny Pearce. Why didn’t you just report her for rape?” Part of her nastiness was meant for effect, but Skip was also aware that an even bigger part was perfectly sincere—that this was the same