Nowhere Safe by Nancy Bush Page A

everyone.”
    â€œMrs. Bernstein complained that your husband gave her daughter a stick of gum.”
    Janet could feel the color rise in her face. “Well, I’m sure he did. He gave everyone gum. That’s just who he was. And Mrs. Bernstein’s one of those women who hovers over her child like she’s so fragile and lovely, but I can tell you, Missy Bernstein is a sly little imp. She loves to stir up trouble. My Chris gave all the kids on his route gum. He’d done it for years, and when Mrs. Bernstein complained, there were other people on his route who stood up for him. LeeAnn Walters and Marnie Dramur were right there. That better be in your file, too!”
    â€œYes, it’s all documented. I’m just looking for anomalies.”
    â€œAre you going to interview Mrs. Bernstein? You should. Then you’ll see what she’s like.”
    â€œWas there anything else that occurred in the last few weeks before his death that seemed different, out of routine?”
    â€œDetective Chubb asked me the same thing. No.” Janet was firm.
    â€œYour son is at school now?”
    Janet’s right hand clenched into the fabric of her apron. “Yes. Why? You can’t talk to him. He’s a minor.”
    â€œI would like to talk to him,” the detective said. “With your permission.”
    â€œWell, I’m sorry. He’s missing his father so much, it’s all he can do to get himself up each day. It’s so unfair. Someone did this to Chris and you people haven’t done anything to find out who that is, and Chris Jr. is struggling so much. No, you can’t talk to him. You’ll just stir everything up for no good reason!”
    The detective considered. Janet could practically hear thoughts tumbling around in her head. “You’ve never felt your husband’s death was a suicide,” the detective said.
    â€œChris would never do that. Detective Chubb seemed to think that suicide was the likely answer, but he’s wrong.” She harrumphed again. “Not my Chris. And how would he have done it? He was drugged and he couldn’t tie his hands behind his back by himself.”
    â€œActually, Detective Chubb believed it was an accidental homicide. Detective Sandler agreed.”
    â€œThey just said that because they knew I would never accept suicide. Accidental homicide—what does that even mean?”
    â€œThat whoever did this to your husband didn’t mean to kill him.”
    Janet didn’t like the way this was going. She hadn’t liked it with the other detectives either. “You think he was playing some sex game with a woman and it got out of hand.”
    Detective Rafferty blinked. “I don’t know about that. Your husband died of exposure and that was because the temperature sank into the teens that night.”
    â€œMy husband wasn’t the kind to cheat!” Janet declared. She knew what they were thinking. What they were all thinking.
    â€œWe don’t know the reason he was tied up,” she said.
    â€œI know what it said in the newspapers,” Janet retorted icily. “And I know what Gloria said. She’s probably the one who said all those terrible things. Not that it’s any of your business, but we had a healthy sex life. He wasn’t into role-playing!”
    â€œWho’s Gloria?” she asked, searching her notes.
    â€œGloria del Courte. A coworker of Chris’s. She always had a thing for him, but she didn’t start making terrible remarks concerning him until after that scurrilous newspaper story about those weird sex acts, like autoerotic asphyxiation.”
    The detective frowned. “I’m not sure what newspaper article you’re referring to.”
    â€œThe Oregonian did a whole series of articles after Chris’s death.” She flapped her hands, waving the memory away. “It was just awful.”
    â€œThere was a placard around his neck