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“Do you have to?”
“It’s better if I do. We’ll make this as quick as we can. Is there anyone you’d like us to contact for you—a friend, family member—before we start?”
“I... I can’t think.”
“Well, if you think of someone you want with you, we’ll arrange it.” She sat across from him, read off the Revised Miranda. “Do you understand your rights and obligations?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. You were out of town?”
“Chicago. A client. We’re event creators. I got back this morning, and...”
“You returned from Chicago this morning. At what time?”
“I think, about eleven. I wasn’t due until four, but I was able to finish early. I wanted to surprise Cecil.”
“So you switched your flight and your car service?”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. I was able to take an earlier shuttle, arrange an earlier pickup. To surprise Cecil.” Choking on a sob, he pressed the damp handkerchief to his face.
“You’ve had a terrible shock, I know. What car service was that, Mr. Havertoe? Just for the record.”
“We always use Delux.”
“Okay. And when you got home,” Eve continued as Peabody stepped quietly out of the room, “what happened?”
“I came in, and I brought my bag in here, but Cecil wasn’t in the bedroom.”
“Should he have been home at that time of the day?”
“He was scheduled to work from home today. He has a client coming in this afternoon. I should contact them.” He looked blankly around the room with streaming eyes. “I should—”
“We’ll help you with that. What did you do next?”
“I... I called out for him—um—the way you do. And I thought he must be in his office. It’s off the kitchen, with a view of the courtyard, because he likes looking out at our little garden when he works. And I saw him on the floor. I saw him, and he was dead.”
“Did you touch anything? Anything in the kitchen?”
“I touched Cecil. I took his hand. He was dead.”
“Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Cecil?”
“No. No. Everybody loves Cecil.” With some drama, he pressed the soggy handkerchief to his heart. “I love Cecil.”
“Who do you suppose he’d let in, while he was wearing only his robe?”
“I...” Havertoe struggled to firm his trembling lips. “I think Cecil was having an affair. I think he’d been seeing someone.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He’d been late getting home a few times, and—there were signs.”
“Did you confront him about it?”
“He denied it.”
“You argued?”
