The Innocent Woman

o’clock.”
    “No kidding,” Steve said. He chuckled. “Tell me, do you know what else was playing at the theater? It wouldn’t he a rap music picture, would it?”
    She frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”
    “It’s not important,” Steve said. “Anyway, you were going to an eight o’clock show?”
    “That’s right.”
    “And the only reason you didn’t was because Mr. Cunningham had to work?”
    “That’s right.”
    “When did he find that out?”
    “After dinner. He called his answering machine.”
    “And what time was that?”
    “Around seven-thirty.”
    “Before or after?”
    “Probably before.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Because we got out of there around seven-thirty. So he must have called earlier. Seven-twenty. Seven twenty-five.”
    “So you were in the restaurant no more than an hour?”
    “I would say so.”
    “And you were out of there by seven-thirty?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Larry Cunningham took a cab home?”
    “Yes, he did.”
    “He walk you home first?”
    “No. He said the client was very upset and he had to go. He went right out on Broadway and hailed a cab.”
    “And you walked home?”
    “Right.”
    “Did you go straight home?”
    “Actually, I think I stopped at the store.”
    “What for?”
    She gave him a look. “Tampons.”
    “Uh huh. And after you bought them, you went right home?”
    “That’s right.”
    “What was the first thing you did when you got home?”
    “I don’t recall.”
    “Listen to the messages on your answering machine?”
    “I may have.”
    “And,” Steve said casually, “would one of those messages have been from Frank Fletcher, asking you to come down and meet him at the office?”
    Amy’s face drained of color. “Oh, my god.”

28.
    “Y OU GOT A MESSAGE from Frank Fletcher?”
    “Yes.
    “On your answering machine?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “That’s why you went down there?”
    “Yeah.”
    Steve took a breath, looked at Amy Dearborn. The one word answers were irritating. On the other hand, it had taken her several minutes to be able to talk at all. “Was this right when you got home?”
    “Yes.”
    “What time was that?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Take a guess.”
    Amy looked up sharply. “Hey.”
    “Come on, give me some help here. You held out on me, you held out on the cops. They tumbled first and now I’m trying to catch up. I know you’re upset and you feel like shit, but for the moment stay focused and zero in. The answers to these questions count. Now what time was it when you got home?”
    “I don’t know. Seven thirty-five, seven-forty. Somewhere in there.”
    “You played the answering machine as soon as you got home?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Absolutely. I could see it blinking when I came in the door.”
    “You went over and switched it on?”
    “That’s right.”
    “And there was a message from Fletcher?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did it say?”
    “What you said. To meet him at the office.”
    “I’d like the exact words.”
    “I don’t remember the exact words.”
    “Give it to me as close as you can. The cops have that tape. I’d like to know what they know.”
    “He said...Oh, gee...He said, ‘It’s Frank. We need to talk. I’m at the office, come on down.’”
    “Frank, is it?”
    “Yeah, Frank. What, he’s going to call himself Mr. Fletcher just because he had me fired?”
    “That’s all there was to the message?”
    “Isn’t that enough?”
    “It sure is,” Steve said. “Jesus Christ, what a mess.”
    “It’s not my fault.”
    Steve cocked his head, looked at her. “Fault? What are you, in high school? I didn’t do the homework, but it’s not my fault? I got news for you. In a murder, no one gives a shit. They send you to jail, the fact it’s not your fault is gonna be small consolation.”
    “Stop it!”
    “I’m sorry, I’m sure,” Steve said. “I take it back. When you go to jail, you can tell everyone it’s my fault.”
    Amy stared at him. “How could you?”
    “Oh, it’s easy,” Steve said. “My job is to defend you on a murder rap. I spent twenty-four hours doing everything wrong because you held out on me. I got myself in bad, I got Tracy in bad, and I damn near convicted you. I took a chance on you, sending you home and letting you come back and find the body again, and it’s blown up in my face. And you know why? Because you lied to me to begin with. I’m way behind and playing catch up ball. So snap out of it and