Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jamie

I had hoped a good night’s sleep would help me a little bit with this case. That I would wake up refreshed and with a clearer picture of exactly what had happened to Candy Xavier. Or at the very least, a theory I could prove or disprove. It might even have worked had I have gotten a good night’s sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned in the heat, unable to think straight but unable to put the thoughts of the case out of my mind.

When I finally did fall into a fitful, troubled sleep about four a.m., I dreamed of a couple arguing. I was standing beside a window, listening to them arguing, and the next thing I knew, the couple turned on me and pushed me and I was falling through the window. I woke with a start at 5:17 a.m. and that was the last thread of sleep I managed to cling to.

I gave up even trying to sleep after that, and I went down to the precinct to go back over the case file. I read back over all the interview transcripts, but that only confirmed what I already knew—I hadn’t missed anything. Either William and Carlotta were damned good actors, or they were telling the truth about not remembering the night Candy died. Either way, there was nothing in either interview that gave me a clue as to the identity of the killer.

I kept coming back to my suspicion that William and Candy where having an affair, and something told me knowing that for sure would help me crack the case. Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t. Even when I let myself assume it to be true, it gave both suspects an alibi—William pushed to the point of breaking and attacking the girl because she was causing a real problem to his home life or Carlotta attacking the girl in a fit of jealous rage. But I allowed myself to believe this was the missing piece, because without some hope to cling to, I knew I would drive myself insane.

I knew Officer Stanford wasn’t wasting any time getting the warrant to get the phone records, and I suspected the judge would have it ready for her today when he saw the case was a murder, but I was too antsy to just sit around and wait. I needed to be doing something.

I checked the time. It was almost nine, and I decided it was time to go and pay a visit to William at home. If he truly had nothing to hide, he would have no problem allowing me to look at his cellphone. Even if he had an affair to hide as opposed to a murder, I thought I could persuade him to hand it over. After all, he wasn’t a stupid man. He must know I could gain access to his call and message logs easily enough, and if he held the cellphone back from me, it would only make him look guilty in the long run once I had the records.

The decision made, I got to my feet and picked up my jacket and headed for the door. I felt better now that I was moving. It made me feel like I had a purpose, and that helped me to straighten out my thoughts a lot more. It didn’t give me any answers, though. Just like I suspected the cellphone wouldn’t. There was the autopsy this evening too, but again, I felt like that wouldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.

I pushed the negative thoughts away. I had to stay positive and keep focusing on the things I could do and the things I knew or could find out rather than focusing on what I didn’t know. So much for this being a simple case. It had sure sounded simple. A girl dead. Two possible suspects. But I hadn’t banked on any of the shit that had come with it. And I certainly hadn’t banked on the convenient alcoholic amnesia both suspects were supposedly suffering from.

As I made my way across the lobby toward the parking lot, Officer Stanford was coming toward me. She frowned when she saw me.

“Do you have something?” she asked. “Are you chasing up a lead?”

I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “I’m going over to the Aldens’ place, see if I can find anything out from either of them in a more relaxed setting.”

I held off from telling her I wanted William’s cellphone. I didn’t want her to think I was doubting her efforts to get the phone records quickly. I thought I could probably convince her it wasn’t personal, but how do you convince someone you have to be moving and doing something, even if it’s make work, before you go crazy without them actually thinking you’re going crazy? You don’t. You lie. Like I have .

“Do you want some company?” Officer Stanford asked.

I shook my head again.

“No, it’s fine, thanks. I need you focused on getting those phone records,” I told her.

She held up a piece of paper and smiled.

“It should be pretty quick getting them now that I have this. The judge called me this morning to say the warrant was signed, and I called into the courthouse on my way over here to collect it. I’ll get back on with the phone company straight away.”

“Great. Thank you, Officer. Call me the second you have anything, okay?”

She nodded and started walking toward the building again.

“Ask if you can see the scene,” she shouted back over her shoulder. “I know the CSI guys are pretty thorough, but they could have missed something.”

I gave her a thumbs-up as I headed for my car. I didn’t think the team would have missed anything, but still, it might be worth checking out the scene. Just standing there where Candy stood might inspire me somehow. And like asking for the cellphone, the couple’s reaction might give me something to go on. One of them might be a little more reluctant for me to go up there, and that might at least give me some idea of who had the most to hide. Assuming, of course, the lost memories were a lie.

I got into my car and pulled out of the parking lot, joining the thick traffic weaving slowly through the city. Officer Stanford was right about my asking to see the scene rather than demanding it. I could take the warrant we had and force the couple to show me the scene but letting them think they had a choice gave one or both of them the chance to say no, and that would likely tell me much more than anything I would see in the room. She was shrewd, Officer Stanford, and in some ways, she thought a lot like me. I liked her, and I was definitely glad to have her on my team.

It took me a good hour to get through the traffic in the main city. The joys of traveling through the early morning rush hour of people going to work, taking their kids to school, and generally starting their days. I should have waited half an hour or so before I set off, and that would have left the roads a bit clearer, but the worst of the drive was over now, and once I was on the quieter roads leading to the outskirts of the city where the Aldens lived, it was pretty fast going.

It was almost eleven when I finally got to the house, but I was confident I’d find the couple at home. I couldn’t see either of them being in a rush to go back to work, especially William as his office would be buzzing with the talk of what had happened to Candy. Of course, no one would know William was a suspect at this point, but they would most likely have heard that Candy was dead.

I got out of the car and walked up to the house. The front door stood open and I frowned. I shrugged my shoulders. Maybe it was too hot in the house and the air conditioner was out or something. As I got closer to the door, I knew that wasn’t the case. I could hear the air conditioner whirling, working overtime to try and compensate for the heat drifting in through the open door.

I reached the door and knocked. I waited a moment, but there was no response. I knew I was getting into a gray area, stepping inside the house of the suspects uninvited, but the open door made me think something was definitely wrong here, and before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped inside and started to walk slowly along the hallway.

“Hello?” I shouted. “Mr. Alden? Mrs. Alden? It’s Jamie Del Rey, the detective you spoke to yesterday? Do you have a minute?”

No answer. I kept walking down the hall and peering into the open doors on either side of it. I walked through into the kitchen, noting the still hot pot of coffee sitting on the plate, steam drifting lazily through the air. Someone was here, or they had been very recently.

“Hello?” I shouted again.

I thought I heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the kitchen, as though someone was shuffling against the wall or something. I looked up. A closed door sat opposite me in the kitchen, and I went and tapped gently on it.

“Go away, William. I have nothing more to say to you,” a muffled voice replied.

It was Carlotta’s voice, and she sounded like she had been crying. Again, I reminded myself that I was very much in the gray here, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity. Carlotta was clearly upset, and judging by what she had said, she was upset with William. This might be my chance to get something useful out of her.

I pushed the door open a crack and stuck my head around it. The room was an art studio, and while I was no art critic, the half-done painting on the easel looked damned good to me. My attention shifted to the far corner of the room, where Carlotta sat on the ground, her knees hugged to her chest. She was staring straight ahead, tears shining on her cheeks.

“Mrs. Alden?” I said gently. “Are you all right?”

She turned her head slowly to look at me. Her eyes were glassy, like she wasn’t really seeing me, but then she blinked, and the life seemed to come back into her. She wiped at her face, cleaning away the tears, and she gave a loud sniff as she rushed to her feet.

“Detective Del Rey. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Did my husband let you in?” she asked, suspicion in her voice. But there was also something else there too. Something that sounded a lot like hope.

I was quickly putting together what had happened. The couple had argued, and William had stormed away. My presence gave Carlotta hope that he hadn’t actually left, that they could still fix whatever was broken in their marriage. I hated to have to take that hope from her, but what else could I do?

“No. The front door was wide open, and I was worried something had happened, so I came in to check that everything was okay,” I said.

Carlotta shrugged one shoulder, looking a little bit more in control of herself now .

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “Or at least everything’s fine with me. I guess William couldn’t even be bothered to close the front door behind him as he ran away from our problems.”

She sighed, and then she clapped her hands together and smiled brightly at me as if she had just remembered who I really was and saw that she was letting her guard down a little bit too much.

“So, Detective, that’s enough of my moaning. What can I do for you?” she asked brightly.

I knew there was no point in asking her for William’s cellphone. He would most likely have it with him, and even if he didn’t, I didn’t think she was going to be willing to just hand it over and potentially make her marriage even more of a bust if that were even possible at this point.

“I was hoping to talk to you if you’re not too busy,” I said.

She nodded her head and stepped past me into the kitchen.

“Why not? It’s not like my painting is any good,” she said.

“On the contrary, I think it’s excellent,” I told her honestly.

She gave me a half-smile. “You do?” she asked.

“I do. ”

She smiled again, brighter this time and less fake than her earlier smile.

“Let me go and shut the front door, and then I’ll pour us some coffee and we can go through to the lounge and talk,” she said.

“I tell you what. You pour the coffee and I’ll go and close the front door for you,” I said.

She smiled again and stepped toward the coffee pot. I went to close the front door, and we both stepped into the lounge from opposite doors at the same time. Carlotta handed me a cup of black coffee and sat down, indicating that I should do the same. I sat down in an armchair opposite Carlotta, where she curled up in the corner of the couch.

She was doing her best to present herself as she had yesterday, but I could see something was different. She somehow looked smaller. Whatever she and William had argued about, it had knocked Carlotta’s confidence sideways.

“Carlotta, is there anything you want to tell me that you maybe didn’t feel comfortable talking about in the precinct? Off the record like,” I said gently.

She looked up at me, fixing me with her large doleful eyes as she sized me up. After a couple of seconds of silence, she gave me a half-nod and then she sighed again. She took a long drink of her coffee and then she wrapped both hands around the mug, looking down into it as she began to talk.

“I loved my husband, Detective. The sad thing is, I think maybe I still do,” she said. She looked up at me then and smiled sadly. “But if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then you’re right. William was having an affair with Candy.”

My senses tingled as she confirmed my theory about the affair, but I kept my face neutral. If she thought for even half a second that I was remotely happy to hear that revelation, I knew she would clam up again.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Then I guess that makes two of us. We used to be happy together, you know. But William has a fragile ego, to say the least, and when I began to make a name for myself on the art scene, William didn’t like it. He seemed to think I was somehow stealing his thunder. In his mind, we couldn’t both be successful. He had to be successful and I had to be the good little wife. But I wanted more, and I kept painting. I suspect he has been sleeping with various interns at the company for around two years. That’s when I really made it big. I was featured in several magazines and my work was commissioned for a lot of money.

“I buried my head in the sand when it came to my marriage, told myself I was imagining the affairs. That William was just working hard, that I couldn’t smell perfume on his clothes when he came home. He started sleeping with interns shortly after we completed the docks project. You know the buildings there? William was pissed off because my mural got more attention than his design work did. Candy was the latest in a long list of interns. I don't know if he was just less secretive about his thing with Candy, or if she was the one to push the boundaries of their agreement, but I know he wanted to hurt me. Belittle me. In his mind, I had hurt him with all of my success as an artist and his affairs are his revenge.”

She trailed off, and I gave her a moment, waiting to see if she would say more. She went back to quietly sipping her coffee and I took a drink of mine. It was strong and good, and I took another drink, letting Carlotta gather her thoughts for a bit longer.

“So, you confronted him about it?” I asked.

Carlotta nodded.

“Yes. William was at work one day and he had left his laptop on. I didn’t go on to intentionally check up on him. I wanted to check my emails. Or maybe I did want to check up on him. I don’t know. Maybe some part of me did. Anyway, his own inbox was open and there was an unread email from Candy. I couldn’t help myself, Detective. I read it. And I instantly wished I hadn’t. It was full of such filth I won’t even repeat it. I found myself going back through the whole thread, and I felt sick to the bottom of my stomach when I saw the things he was saying to her. Yet still, I told myself it was nothing, that it would just fizzle out like all the others. Stupid, huh?”

She looked up at me, and I gave her what I hoped was a sympathetic look. I found it hard to understand how she could turn a blind eye to all of this. I mean, she was successful, richer than William. It wasn't like she was hanging around for the lifestyle he could give her. I guessed she wasn’t lying when she said she loved him. She loved him enough to pretend he wasn’t cheating on her at that point.

“A week or so after that, she turned up on our doorstep. Candy. I told you in my interview that she came for a file. And that was her cover story. But I knew it was just that, a story. She came to size me up, check out the competition. And that’s when I knew this wouldn’t just fizzle out. Candy wasn’t messing around. She actually wanted William for herself. That’s when I finally confronted him. We had a big fight, but he agreed to call it off, and he did.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked. “That he called it off, I mean. I’m sorry to be so blunt, Carlotta, but if William was happy to cheat on you, why do you think he wouldn’t just continue to see Candy behind your back?”

“Because once he called it off, her gloves came off. She was unhinged, Detective, and she was willing to fight for what she saw as her man. She called him at all hours, and I heard some of the voicemails she left. Voicemails that were full of scathing threats and the rantings of someone who has gone off the deep end. She went into full-on stalker mode, and I even caught her hanging around at the bottom of the driveway when she knew William was at work.”

I raised an eyebrow. This was certainly painting a very different picture of Candy than the one I had in my head. She sure sounded like she had gone off the deep end. If this was true, it put a whole new slant on the murder. Candy had broken into the Aldens’ home, that much I knew for a fact. What if she had come to attack the couple? She could have wanted to hurt William for dumping her, or she could have wanted to hurt Carlotta, blaming her for the relationship with William coming to an end. It was starting to seem like the murder could have been done in self-defense.

I didn’t think Carlotta was lying. She seemed so ... so broken. Like she had finally decided to just lay all of her shit bare. Of course, she could still be playing a very convincing role. Suddenly, though, I felt a little bit more optimistic about the autopsy. Maybe it would reveal something I didn’t know, after all. Maybe it would reveal that Candy had been killed in self-defense. It wouldn’t help me to know which of the couple had actually killed her, but it would certainly change the tone and the direction of the case.

“Look, Detective, I’m sorry I didn’t mention this earlier, but it’s not easy telling a complete stranger that your husband betrayed you. And that you were stupid enough to put up with it and stick around,” Carlotta said in a quiet voice, pulling me out of my head and back into the room with her.

“It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “I understand. And Carlotta? You did the right thing by telling me about this now.”

She shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t look overly convinced that she had done the right thing, and that made me sway more toward believing her story. People didn’t have regrets about telling you a story they made up to make themselves look less guilty.

She was shrinking back in on herself, and I knew I wouldn’t get anything else out of her today. She had given me plenty to think about, though, and hopefully, the records from the phone company would back up her story.

I stood up, and Carlotta blinked up at me, looking almost like she was seeing me there for the first time. William had really done a number on her. She caught herself and smiled at me, getting up too.

“I should really be getting back to the precinct,” I said, deciding now wasn't the time to ask to see the crime scene. “Thank you for your honesty today. Now I’ll let you get back to your painting.”

She nodded and walked me to the door. I stepped out and said goodbye and went back to my car. I had just started the engine when my cellphone rang. I turned the engine back off and pulled my cellphone from my pocket. It was Officer Stanford .

“Hey,” I said into the phone, taking her call.

“I’ve got the records,” she said.

“Anything to report?” I asked.

“William Alden knew Candy a whole lot better than he has implied. There are hundreds of calls and texts between them. It’s weird, though, because in the last few weeks, there’s no calls or texts from William to Candy. There are calls from her to him, always in the middle of the night, though.”

Carlotta was telling me the truth then, and it sounds like she was right that William had told her the truth about ending things with Candy. So Candy really was stalking certainly William and perhaps both of the couple.

I quickly filled Detective Stanford in on everything Carlotta had told me. When I was done, she whistled softly through her teeth.

“That autopsy just got a lot more important, huh?” she said.

“Yeah. It might just show that Candy was killed in self-defense,” I said.

“Did you ask to see the bedroom?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Carlotta was very forthcoming with the information, and if she’s going to keep talking, I wanted to keep her on our side. Plus, I noticed from outside of the house that the window was already fixed, so anything I might have found would likely be gone. And even if I did find something, the likelihood of proving it wasn’t caused by the glazers is almost zero.”

“You have to wonder, don’t you?” Officer Stanford said in a thoughtful voice. “On the one hand, the couple seems reasonably open. Especially Carlotta. But then they do shit like this that makes me feel like they’re desperately trying to cover something up. I mean, a kid died on their lawn. Replacing the glass would hardly be my first priority.”