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“You were playing Nancy Drew for the public,” Eliza said. “Sharing in all those interviews about how my poor business was floundering, and didn’t I need Roman’s life insurance payout to stay afloat? Or maybe I killed him out of rage because he’d gotten one of his students pregnant. You didn’t hold anything back, did you?”
Marguerite swallowed hard but didn’t deny any of it. “If you’re so innocent, why are your fingerprints on the murder weapon?”
“I don’t know,” Eliza said. “Did you put them there? It’s possible, you know. There were two wineglasses missing from my house.”
“Why would I take a wineglass? I have plenty of money.”
“To go with the cake knife,” Eliza said. “It’s possible to transfer fingerprints from one surface to another; I looked up the technique. The prints probably weren’t even usable, but that doesn’t matter, because my DNA would have been on the knife, along with remnants of Roman’s blood, and that’s the really important bit anyway.”
“I hope you realize how far-fetched this all sounds.”
“It’s simple actually. Brilliant. You set me up for it,” Eliza said. “On the afternoon of February 13, you even suggested that I’d kill Roman with a knife. But when I didn’t take your bait, you marched in and did it yourself. You were so sweet to keep me involved, though… leaving all traces of evidence pointing my way.”
“Not true.”
“Maybe not. You did leave a little evidence toward Anne and Penny, just for kicks. But it was me you wanted. Why?”
“I didn’t kill your husband.”
“Well, we both know I didn’t kill him,” Eliza said. “I mean, what sort of criminal would dump a murder weapon—with their own damn name printed on it—in the alley behind their own house? How idiotic do people think I am?”
“It’s not—”
“I would have had weeks to dispose of it. Why didn’t I drive to the Hoover Dam and toss it over the railing? Throw it in the ocean? Bury it at the top of Runyon Canyon?” Eliza paused for dramatic effect. “Apparently the world thinks I’m stupid enough to throw it out with my leftovers. As if that weren’t coincidental enough, a Good Samaritan just happened to walk by that same night and see a bloody knife. With my name on it.”
“The truth has a way of coming out.” Marguerite’s answer rang hollowly through the room. Even she didn’t look convinced. “They arrested you. Not me.”
“I’m well aware.”
“I don’t have to be here and listen to this.”
Eliza raised her eyebrows. Marguerite didn’t make a move to leave. They waited at a standstill.
“Why did you do it?” Eliza said. “Ego? Did you actually love him?”
“I didn’t kill your fucking husband, okay?”
“Okay.”
The simplicity of Eliza’s answer seemed to irk Marguerite further.
She stood. “I came here as a friend. I have been nothing but supportive of you, Eliza.”
“Thanks for your support,” Eliza said with a half smile. “Really. In a way, you did set me free. And then you took it all away when you had me locked up.”
“I didn’t do any such thing.”
“I suppose a part of me is envious of you,” Eliza said. “You did what I never could have done. You pulled it off, too. Got away with it. If I thought I could have gotten away with killing Roman, would I have done it myself?” Eliza bobbed her shoulders. “I’m not sure, to be honest. What does it feel like, killing someone?”
Marguerite turned on her heel and stormed to the door. She knocked, and the guards moved to let her out.
“By the way,” Eliza called after her, “congratulations.”
“On what?”
“I saw you hit number one on the New York Times bestseller list with Be Free.” Eliza gave a dark chuckle. “I guess that’s the one I should read next, huh?”
“I’m glad you can joke about this.”
