“If it was a he.”
“I didn’t think she was even wearing a wedding band now. This makes no sense.”
His voice seemed so matter of fact. By this time she was sitting on the small sofa in front of the fireplace. Gary sat next to her, the flickering flame accentuating his blue eyes and wolfish mustache. He started stroking and twirling her hair.
“Stop, Gary. My God, your wife was killed tonight.”
He pulled his hand slightly, to the back of the sofa, still resting on her shoulder. “Ex-wife,” he said. His face fell into a boyish sulk.
“I’m surprised you’re not down there,” Cheryl Beth said.
“The police want to talk to me. They left messages.” He took a deep pull on the scotch. “You know how they always suspect the husband. The ex-husband is even worse. You know how the police think. I’m considering getting my lawyer.”
Cheryl Beth regarded him silently. She had several rules concerning Dr. Gary Nagle. They were designed to keep her clear-headed about him. One was already broken: he was sitting too close. Another was getting emotional. She resisted blurting out the obvious: man, your wife, okay ex-wife, somebody you loved enough to marry, was killed tonight, murdered, horribly murdered, what the hell’s the matter with you?… After a breath, she said, “I don’t know why you came here. It’s three a.m.”
“I wanted to know what you told the police.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You might have been the last person to see her alive,” he said. After an impossible pause he added, “Other than the murderer.”
She turned toward him, felt her face redden. “What do you mean?” But she knew exactly what he meant. “You were on Main Street tonight?” She realized it was last night now, but made no effort to clarify. She shook her head. “You were spying? Following me? That’s very bizarre.”
“If an ex-husband sees his ex-wife and ex-lover having a drink together, he’s going to take notice.”
“Especially if he’s stalking.”
“You two were together around nine last night. Why in the world were you both back at the hospital later? Christine was working on a computer system, for God’s sake, not doing patient rounds any more.”
“We did have a drink. I left. Then I got paged. I do have patients. She didn’t tell me she was going back to the hospital.” Oh, she hated his neurosurgeon’s arrogance. She couldn’t imagine the time when she had mistaken it for an edgy confidence and had been attracted to him. “I was on one of the floors when they gave me a message from her at the nurses’ station. She said she was in her office and asked me to come down. Then I went down and she was, she was… Why…?” She felt herself getting angry. “Why am I explaining myself to you? I don’t owe you anything.”
