Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_03 by Death in Lovers' Lane Page A

“Don’t you love it, how men want to have guns around?”
    Not Richard, I thought quickly. And not Jimmy.
    â€œBig bad Dennis.” Her voice oozed sarcasm. “Tough guy. Stud. Ready to screw any slut who’d give him five minutes. And I’d had it, had it up to here.” Her hand jerked up to touch her chin. “I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. Not again.And not that day. Not that day of all days.”
    â€œYou got Dennis’s gun—”
    She nodded wearily.
    â€œâ€”and where did you go?”
    â€œHer apartment. I got the address from the campus directory. The bitch’s apartment.” Rita’s eyes blazed. “If I’d caught them there, I would have shot him. I would have. But nobody came to the door. I banged and banged. Some neighbors came out and then the manager. I asked her why she had a whore living there. She told me she was going to call the police. I told her to go to hell. I kept banging on the door, but she said the bitch wasn’t there, that she was at school.”
    â€œIs that why you came to the campus?”
    â€œI knew he was supposed to be at work. Sure, I’ve heard that one before. But I thought maybe he was still at the newsroom and she was there with him.” Sudden awareness flickered in her eyes. “You were there, weren’t you?”
    I nodded. “I didn’t see a gun.”
    â€œIt was in my purse.” Her expression curved into cunning. “I was saving the gun for him. That would have got me in a lot of trouble, waving a gun around. But the bastard wasn’t there. Just you and some of the kids. So I thought maybe he was in his office with that girl. But nobody was in his office. I wonder how many of them he’s screwed in there?”
    â€œThe offices have windows that look out on the newsroom.” My voice was mild.
    â€œIf nobody’s around, so what?” Her heavy shoulders shrugged. “Hell, he’d like that. Make it more fun.”
    I’d never heard the word fun sound uglier.
    â€œOkay, Dennis wasn’t there. Where did you go then?” I looked at her and felt unutterably sad.
    Rita had stormed out of the newsroom around half past six. Early evening, that was when Lieutenant Urschel said Maggie was strangled. So this was the time that mattered.
    Rita didn’t hesitate. Her tone was unchanged, aching with resentment, surly with frustration. “I went down to the parking lot. His car wasn’t there. So I got into my car. I drove around. God, I don’t know where. Everywhere. By the motels first. But I didn’t see his car anywhere. I went back to her apartment, looked over the parking lot. But Dennis’s car wasn’t there either. Then I went to the Green Owl. He loves the Green Owl. It lets him pretend he’s young.”
    â€œWhen you were in the parking lot—by the J-School—did you see anyone?”
    She pushed back a sagging swirl of hair. “It was dark. I didn’t notice.”
    â€œDid you see Maggie’s car?”
    â€œI don’t know her car.”
    â€œAre you saying you didn’t find Dennis or Maggie at any time during the evening?”
    â€œNo. I don’t know where they were. I couldn’t find them.” Her face crinkled in thought. “But,” she said slowly, wearily, “I guess Dennis wasn’t with her after all.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    Her eyes flared wide. “Somebody killed her! So Dennis couldn’t have been with her.”
    I looked at her curiously. Dennis was a major slime in his wife’s eyes. But not a killer! “Dennis could have killed her. He wasn’t in his office. Hesays he was driving around.” I deliberately made my voice skeptical.
    â€œDennis didn’t strangle that girl. Not Dennis.” She was sitting up straight, staring at me with outrage in her eyes. “Why would he?”
    â€œI don’t know, Rita. What if