Speak Now by Margaret Dumas Page B

I’m sorry but Jack had to go out, so if you need to speak with both of us, I’m afraid we’ll have to do it another time. I’d be happy to come down to the station. Do you have a station?” I chirped. “Of course you have a station, so if you just tell me where it is, Jack and I can come see you as soon as he gets back.”
    The inspector kept his gaze on me as I babbled, and I was starting to feel like a bug being seared under a magnifying glass until he released me with a slight smile. “But it’s you I came to talk to.”
    “Me?” Another brain freeze.
    “I have a few questions.” The slim notebook appeared in one hand, the glittering pen in the other. “About your husband.”
    “Inspector, really, another time would be—I beg your pardon?”
    “How long have you known your husband, Mrs. Fairfax?”
    “Excuse me?”
    The man who noticed everything didn’t seem to take note of my confusion. He continued crisply. “I know you arrived from London on the day you discovered the victim.”
    “Have you found out who she is—was?” This was the one topic that could divert my attention from the fact that Jack was probably risking his life right now to save my cousin’s sorry ass.
    “I also know that you were married only two days before your arrival.”
    “So?” What was he writing down?
    “How well do you know your husband, Mrs. Fairfax?”
    Was he saying he suspected Jack? “What does that have to do with anything?”
    There must have been something in my tone that caused the detective’s eyebrow to raise a nanometer. “In the course of my investigation I have come across certain facts, certain discrepancies, in your husband’s background.”
    Oh, great, that. But I really didn’t have time to hear Yahata’s take on the information Harry had already come up with.
    “Inspector, my husband’s background has nothing to do with the woman who was in that bathtub.” I stared at him with as much cool confidence as I could muster, but admittedly I wasn’t having much of a day for mustering cool confidence.
    “I find it difficult to accept that conclusion without knowing who the woman was. Or, for that matter, who exactly your husband is.”
    That was a fair point, but I was in no mood to acknowledge it to the detective. “Jack had nothing to do with that woman’s death.”
    “Are you quite sure of that?”
    I was quite sure I didn’t want to have this conversation. “Yes.”
    “Then I can only ask you to impress upon your husband the importance of sharing any information he might have…forgotten in the shock of finding the body. I would be very interested in anything he might now remember.”
    “Fine.” If it would get him out of there, I’d agree to anything.
    The detective paused before speaking again, and seemed to choose his words with surgical precision. “Mrs. Fairfax, I urge you to be cautious. Extremely cautious.”
    He held my gaze for a moment, then nodded infinitesimally and was gone.
    I stood staring at the closed door, which seemed to vibrate slightly behind him. “Great,” I breathed out. “I’ll be cautious. But first I have to go on a ransom drop.”
    ***
    When Brenda finally showed up I was waiting for her on the corner, wearing sensible black clothes and silent black shoes. I hadn’t bothered to tell Brenda to wear something black, because she nearly always did. True to form, she showed up in a loose-fitting black sweater and dark gray pants. Good enough.
    “What are we doing? What’s going on?” She was a little breathless, tossing papers, folders, half-empty water bottles, and snack wrappers into the back seat. I swept everything that remained on the passenger seat onto the floor and threw myself in.
    “Head for Hillsborough. Hurry!” I strapped myself into the little VW, hoping she’d floor it.
    “Not until you tell me what’s going on. Where’s Jack?” Brenda used her most serious I’m-the-teacher-and-you’ll-tell-me-what-you’re-up-to-young-lady