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“Okay, see,” Stafford says with a satisfied nod, looking from Nora to Anderson to Montgomery, “that’s a place to start from the work side of his life.”
“Wait, how is that a place to start?” Nora asks in concern. “I just said Frank really liked Ian. Why would that make him a suspect?”
“Strong emotions either way can lead to murder,” Anderson explains. “Admiration can go south quickly.”
A crease appears across Nora’s brow. “No,” she says quickly. “No, no. I’m sure Frank didn’t kill him.”
“How can you be sure?” Anderson replies, looking way more interested in her answer than I’m comfortable with. It’s like he’s expecting her to confess.
No. That’s just me being paranoid.
Nobody here thinks Nora killed Ian Wharfman.
“I-,” Nora falters. “I don’t know,” she finally says. “I just don’t think he did it.”
My three friends all exchange a look. I know that look. Even if I’m not privy to the silent discussion passing between them, I still know that look. So I lower my lips to Nora’s ears under the guise of planting a kiss there.
“They’re still going to question him, but it’ll be fine,” I tell her quietly before planting a light kiss on the soft skin below her ear. I force myself not to linger. Nora looks up at me with wide panicked eyes, and I can tell that she’s worried about Frank going to prison in her place. “Don’t worry,” I mouth.
“Okay, what do you know about Wharfman’s personal life?” Anderson asks. “Anything of note?”
“Um, he’s married,” she offers with a shrug. “That’s about it.”
“Right, to Constance Wharfman?” Montgomery asks with a glance at his notes.
“Yes, but she just goes by Connie, I think. I’ve only met her once, though, so I’m not positive. She didn’t come to the office or anything, but she hosted a surprise birthday party for him last year and invited everyone.”
“I see,” Anderson nods. “We’ll have to talk to her as well.” He taps his fingers across his knees. “We haven’t been able to get a hold of her. She wasn’t at home when we sent an officer earlier. Any idea how she’ll take the news that her husband is dead?” he asks carefully.
“I assume she’ll be upset,” Nora replies.
“So you don’t think she knew about his philandering ways?” Montgomery asks, his pen poised at the ready for her answer.
“Oh.” This stumps her. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I mean, it’s not like I knew he was a skeeze when I got in his car.” She twists the skirt of her dress nervously. “But I guess I also wasn’t all that surprised to discover it.”
“Shoot!” Becca’s sudden exclamation once again has all of us looking her way. “Sorry,” she repeats her earlier iteration, but I barely hear her thanks to the strawberry-sized pink stain I spy on the top of her shirt. She spilled.
It was so inevitable I don’t know why my blood pressure is even spiking in response. It should’ve been prepared for such a time as this.
“Gosh. I swear the water just jumped right out of the cup. But don’t worry,” she trills, standing up. “I already know where to go for the Tide pen. You guys don’t have to move a muscle.”
“No, remember the Tide pen is gone,” Nora reminds her quickly. “I used it all up last night.”
Becca’s face falls for only a second before she waves off this obstacle. “Oh right. No worries. I saw you have Dawn in the kitchen. I can work miracles with some Dawn detergent.”
“Okay, great,” Nora agrees and Becca disappears into the kitchen. I relax back into my seat.
“You okay there, Reynolds?” Anderson asks. “You seem a little tense.”
“Yeah, well, hanging out in my living room with all of you discussing a murder isn’t exactly how I pictured spending my wedding day,” I gripe.
“He’s right,” Lucy declares. “We are completely crowding the newlyweds. You’ve asked them enough questions, haven’t you, babe?” she addresses Stafford.
“I’d say yes for now,” he agrees. “What do you two think?” He looks between Montgomery and Anderson.
“Yeah, I’m eager to go talk to Frank and the rest of the employees at the company,” Anderson answers.
“We can go and talk to his wife,” Montgomery volunteers, indicating himself and Stafford.
