A Clean Kill

Eight

Awkward, awkward. April hated the jockeying for position at the beginning of cases. And in the marble foyer the feng shui was as bad as it got. All the brass who'd come for their look-see had melted away. Those left behind were standing under the curve of the stairs in such a way that the energy could flow neither out the front door where the press had gathered, nor into the living room where the French doors led to the garden. The energy was trapped, stuck in a funnel like a twister, so no one could easily take the leadership position. Mike was outside, suited up in Tyvek with the Crime Scene Unit, and April felt herself being sucked into a tug-of-war.

Wayne started talking right away, his tone instantly modified. "April, April, thank you for coming so fast," he said as if she were a close friend he had summoned to the scene himself.

April was surprised by the effusiveness of the greeting, and even the fact that he had remembered her name. They'd met only for a few moments, and she had been just one person in a huge crowd. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she murmured, then quickly introduced herself to Sergeant Minnow. Right away she wanted to put some distance between herself and her husband. "I'm Lieutenant Woo."

"I've heard of you," he replied with a smile.

"I've heard of you, too," she said graciously.

Wayne ended that exchange, putting her right back in her place. "April, your husband told me you were going to take care of me. Now, I want to see my wife."

April blushed. She doubted very much that Mike had said any such thing. "Sergeant Minnow is in charge of the investigation. He'll help you with the process," she said smoothly. She wasn't going to let herself get sucked in.

"Now, now. There's no reason to be so nice. That's not what I heard." Wayne touched her arm in a familiar way.

April felt the heat in her face. Wayne was manipulative; he just kept on talking.

"I might as well be open with you. Commissioner Avery called me on my cell phone as soon as he heard. He told me you were heading the investigation."

That was highly unlikely. The police commissioner happened to be in New York Hospital that morning having double hernias repaired. April knew for a fact that he wouldn't be conscious until sometime in the afternoon. Furthermore, he didn't call people on their cell phones to tell them who was handling the case when their wives were murdered.

Wayne was completely unembarrassed about lying. "So let's get started. I want to be involved with this thing every step of the way. I want to see the scene. I want to talk to Remy. She's my right-hand person here. What did she tell you?" He asked this with an open expression.

April glanced at Sergeant Minnow, who was listening to all this very quietly. Now that the police commissioner's name had come up, he began to look worried. It was clear he didn't know the PC's schedule.

"I can't talk about confidential information," April replied after a moment.

Wayne ignored the slight. "Look, this is obvious. We all know who did it. He killed her in my gym, for Christ's sake."

"Sir?" Minnow interjected for the first time.

"He's probably at Workout now."

"Who?" Minnow locked eyes with April. She realized that he hadn't heard about the trainer yet. She didn't say anything.

It had become stifling in the foyer. Wayne actually seemed to have pumped heat into the space with all his bluster. He'd tried to pit the two detectives against each other. He'd pulled rank, dropped names. And as he did it, his color returned. April guessed that he felt better with the upper hand. Finally, he wagged his finger at Remy to join them. He thought he'd put them all in their places.

April had been at many murder scenes. Every single one had been sad and upsetting, but this was the oddest. What struck her the most was that Wayne Wilson had invited Mike and her to his party a few months ago. Now he acted as if they were friends and expected them to overlook the fact that he was a suspect. She had to nip this little hubris in the bud. Murder suspects were not friends. She lifted her chin to give Minnow the heads-up.

I'll take care of this.

He nodded slowly and tipped back on his heel to give her the lead.

"Mr. Wilson. Would you step into the library with me for a moment?" She hadn't seen the whole house yet but figured he had a library. An office, something.

"Of course. Follow me."

Wayne went up the stairs without a second glance. She could see in his back that being in control meant a great deal to him. Outside in the gym, his wife's body was" being photographed, videotaped, examined by someone from the medical examiner's office, and slowly prepared for removal. He had given up trying to see her in situ. He was moving on. At the top of the marble stairs he entered an octagonal room filled with books. The sun streamed in from a leaded bay window that completed three of the eight sides. It was noon.

April felt the power of the room with its unusual bright orange Oriental carpet, unusual windows, leather desk, armchairs, and computer hooked up to a large-screen "TV. Wayne sat down in his desk chair and leaned forward.

"She was only thirty-four, a beautiful, wonderful woman. A terrific mother to our boys," he said heatedly, riding up the roller coaster of emotion again.

April nodded. Of course she was. The dead were either saints or devils. She was beginning to think Maddy had to have been a saint to put up with him. Or maybe a devil for wanting him in the first place, but it wasn't her call and it didn't matter one. way or the other.

"This is why I asked you up here. I want to get this over and done with right now. Get everything on the table," Wayne said, ignoring the fact that it had been April's idea to find a private place to talk.

April wished she had a tape recorder with her. She had a feeling this was going to be a good one. Wayne's expression was open. She knew his type. He was a liar who deeply believed he told only the truth.

"I'm a man. Once in a while I fucked other women. It didn't mean anything. Maddy was my wife, the woman I loved." He looked to her for the reactions he was used to getting: understanding, applause for the performance, pity. Whatever.

"I'll need their names," April replied stoutly. Out came the notebook. Wayne stared at her as she wrote

player.

"What?" He sounded startled.

April brushed her fingers against the buttery leather on the back of the closest club chair. "The names of your girlfriends," she prompted.

"Wait a minute. They're not

girlfriends.

You're not listening to anything I said. I thought we were friends. Don't go cop on me," he said in an injured tone.

"Mr. Wilson, just give me a moment to tell you how this works. And then we'll have everything squared away."

"Just a minute—"

"I know this is very painful for you, but friendship doesn't enter into police work,' ' April said firmly, cutting him off. "It's the same for everybody. What's going to happen here is this. You better look for another place to stay for a few days. We'11 be going through this house, looking at your wife's things, her notes, her telephone calls, her appointment list. Her friends, her employees—all the people who knew and worked with her will be interviewed. In addition, we'll put everyone in this household under a microscope. It's not optional."

He shook his head. "But this isn't necessary. I can tell you everything you need to know."

"Well, maybe, but maybe not. Did she know everything about you? Did she know about your girlfriends?"

His face hardened. "That's not the point."

"We're going to catch her killer. Trust me on that. You can help us by letting us do our job."

"Well, that's exactly what I'm trying to do," he said benignly. "Help you do your job."

"Good, then we'll get along fine. By the way, all the officers you see here are a team. Sergeant Minnow is in charge, so why don't you tell him what you just told me."