Contraband

46

Herb whipped out a legal pad from his briefcase. “Now, Mrs. Hedger...”

“I don’t like that name!” Robbie said.

“What happened to that happy smile from a moment ago?” Herb asked.

“Sorry.” She restored the smile. “I prefer Ms. Calder.”

“Noted. How long were you and Mr. Hedger married?”

“I believe it was a little over two years.”

“And did you have a happy sex life?”

“That’s a rude question,” she said, frowning.

“They’ll get ruder,” Herb said. “Get used to it.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Smile!”

She smiled.

“Did you have a happy sex life?” he repeated.

“Very,” she said.

“And how long did that last?”

Robbie’s lip curled into a snarl, but she caught herself and smiled again.

“And how long did your happy sex life last?”

“Until I learned that he was— How should I put it? Playing the field, when there shouldn’t have been a field.”

“And did your sex life together end at that point?”

“Pretty much.”

“Please be specific.”

“Roughly six months after we were married. I didn’t note the date in my diary.”

“Ah, do you keep a diary, Ms. Calder?”

“I do not, which is why I didn’t enter the event.”

“I note in the police report after their search of your apartment that they listed a diary among your possessions.”

“That was kept as a list of appointments. I did not enter ‘Stopped fucking Randy.’”

Herb wagged a finger at her, and she resumed her pose.

“Were you aware of others with whom Mr. Hedger was having carnal relations?”

“There was much gossip about that subject among my circle. There were too many ‘others’ to count.”

“Did this make you angry?”

“The first dozen times or so, then I got over it.”

“How did Mr. Hedger earn his living?”

“‘Earn’ may be too strong a word. He played the horses, and he took shelter and money from women.”

“Was one of these women a Ms. Parkinson?”

“Yes.”

“Was she a friend of yours?”

“Most of Mr. Hedger’s conquests were friends of mine.”

“Did this make you angry?”

“As I said, I got over it.”

“An inventory of the residence of Mr. Hedger included more than half a million dollars in cash, with another eighty thousand dollars delivered by hand on the day of his death. What was the source of these funds?”

“Mr. Hedger once told me that he knew how to fix horse races,” she said. “I assume that he had recently fixed one or more races.”

“If that were known, those funds might be perceived as ill-gotten gains, and you couldn’t inherit them.”

“Forget I said that.”

Herb sighed. “Did he report this cash as income on his state and federal tax returns?”

“I was not privy to his tax returns. He once told me that he was scrupulous about these things, but then he told me a lot of things that weren’t true.”

“Did you and Mr. Hedger share an accountant?”

“You mean in a threesome?”

“Robbie...”

“We both employed the same accountant shortly after we were married. I retained him afterward, but I don’t know if Mr. Hedger did.”

“Mr. Hedger maintained a luxurious apartment in an exclusive co-op building, one that requires shareholders to pay for their apartments in cash, without financing. Where did Mr. Hedger get the funds to pay for that residence?”

“I suppose from the same source as the cash, but I was unaware that he owned that residence until yesterday.”

“Where did you think he resided?”

“With whoever his current inamorata was, I supposed.”

“What weapon did you use to kill Mr. Hedger and Ms. Parkinson?”

“Fuck you!” Robbie shouted.

“That was a trick question,” Herbie said, “and you fell for it. Answer the question.”

Robbie composed herself yet again. “I played no part in their deaths.”

“Did you hire someone to kill them?”

“Asked and answered, I believe the term is.”

“Don’t say that, just repeat your answer.”

“I played no part in their deaths.”

“Good. What was your relationship with Estelle Parkinson?”

“We were good friends — warm and affectionate friends.”

“Did you have a sexual relationship?”

“What have you heard?” Robbie asked, alarmed.

“Please answer the question.”

“We both preferred men.”

“Does that mean that, when suitable male company was unavailable, the two of you had sex?”

“No.”

“Did you harbor any ill will toward Ms. Parkinson?”

“I did not.”

“Did you know she had slept with your husband during your marriage?”

“Dozens did. I took no offense, being aware of his attractiveness to women.”

“When the police searched your home, did they find a Smith & Wesson snub-nosed .38 pistol?”

“They found a pistol belonging to Mr. Hedger. I’ve no idea of its specifications.”

“Are you aware that four of the six bullets in the gun had been fired?”

“Yes, since they were fired at me.” She pointed to a corner of the room. “Right over there.”

“How long ago?”

“The last time Mr. Hedger asked me for money and was refused.”

“When was that?”

“About six months after we were married.”

“Did Mr. Hedger receive other valuable considerations from you?”

“Yes, I designed and made a wardrobe for him,” Robbie said. “You look to be about a forty-two regular; if so, you may have them as part of your fee.”

Herbie did not respond to that, but tossed his legal pad into his briefcase and snapped it shut. “All right, you’ve learned how to answer questions. I’m going to have this list typed up and send you a copy. I suggest you commit it to memory, so that the next time you are asked these questions — and you will be asked them, perhaps repeatedly — you will not contradict yourself.”

“Thank you very much,” Robbie said, rising in dismissal. “Stone, may I speak to you privately?” she asked.

Stone rose in unison with Herbie. “I’m sorry, I’m late for another appointment,” he said, then he got out of there.