The Innocent Woman

fare?”
    “Six something.”
    “Six what?”
    “I don’t remember. Yes, I do. It was six twenty-five.”
    “Then you must have got change.”
    “Yes, I did.”
    “How much?”
    “Let me see. I told him to keep seven-fifty.”
    “So you got two fifty back?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You tipped him a buck twenty-five?”
    “Yes.”
    “You remember him handing the two fifty back?”
    “Not really. I remember taking it, shoving it in my purse.”
    “But you don’t recall his face, him looking at you when he handed you the money?”
    “No, I don’t. I really wasn’t paying attention.”
    “But you do remember taking the money and putting it in your purse?”
    “Yes.”
    “He didn’t hand you a receipt, did he?”
    Her eyes widened.
    Steve groaned. “Oh, don’t tell me.”
    She put up her hand. “No, no. He didn’t. I’m sure he didn’t.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because you asked me to get a receipt. For the other taxi ride. I got it, put it in my purse. I’d have remembered if there was another receipt already there.”
    “So,” Steve said. “The receipt you got for the second ride—how much was that for?”
    “Six seventy-five.”
    “Oh yeah? Faster meter?”
    “Yeah, I guess. No, I remember now. The cab had the fifty cent surcharge—for after dark. That was the difference.”
    “Is that right?” Steve said.
    “Yeah. That’s right.”
    Steve leaned back, cocked his head. “You recall last night in my office? I asked you about finding the body, you told me you took the subway down.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    “Oh yes you did,” Steve said. “I remember because I was particularly relieved.”
    “Maybe so, but I didn’t say that.”
    “Oh no? Don’t you remember how we talked about you walked from Seventh Avenue so you must have passed by the window of the music store?”
    Amy frowned.
    “Beginning to refresh your recollection?” Steve said sarcastically. “Or was that a lie too?”
    “It’s not a lie,” Amy said. “I walked from Seventh Avenue.”
    “Oh?”
    “Because 47th Street’s one-way west. I wasn’t going to have him go all the way around the block. So I paid him off at 47th and Seventh. And walked from Seventh Avenue, just like I said.”
    “So the only lie you told was about taking the subway.”
    “I never said I took the subway. I may have said I walked from Seventh Avenue, but I’m sure I never mentioned the subway.”
    “Fine,” Steve said. “The second cab you took—the one you got the receipt for—he let you out at 47th and Seventh too?”
    “No, of course not. You told me to give him the address and go right to the door.”
    “Oh.”
    “Well, didn’t you? Wasn’t that the whole point?”
    “Yes, it was.”
    “There you are.”
    “Did that cab have to take you around the block?”
    “Of course.”
    “That’s why there was fifty cents more on the meter?”
    “Sure.”
    “What about the fifty cent surcharge?”
    “Huh?”
    “I thought the cab was more because there was a fifty cent surcharge for driving at night.”
    “Oh. Well, maybe it was.”
    “You can’t even keep your lies straight, can you?”
    “They’re not lies.”
    “Uh huh,” Steve said without enthusiasm. “Anyway, you paid off the cab and went inside. What time was that?”
    “Just about eight.”
    “You went in and used your key?”
    “I didn’t have to. The door was open.”
    “But you were going to use your key?”
    “Yes.”
    “The door was open and the lights were on?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You expected Frank Fletcher to be there?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “So, what did you do?”
    “I went in, looked around, listened.”
    “Surprised when you didn’t hear him?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Call his name?”
    “Sure.”
    “What did you do when you got no answer?”
    “I went over and looked at my desk. That’s when I saw the petty cash drawer was open.”
    “What did you do then?”
    “I was scared. The place had been robbed, and Frank was gone. I looked around and found him.”
    “Right away?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Last night you said it was five or ten minutes.”
    She frowned. “Why do you keep doing that? Telling me what I said last night? I was upset. I’d had a huge shock. I’m telling this the best I can.”
    “No, you’re not,” Steve said. “You’re telling me what you think I want to hear. You’re such a liar you pick and choose what you want to say.”
    “I do not.”
    “Sure you do. I