by Lotta Smith
“Thanks.” I offered him a smile, and Sophie waved at him.
“Hello, darling.” Detective Rochester gave her a wide grin. “Do you want to see us question the suspect? All right, you can watch us from the best seat.”
He escorted us to the next room adjacent, and we got seated.
Inside the interrogation room, Ellis Goodman was sitting opposite Detective Rochester, another detective—a younger guy—with them.
“You ordered a copy of the Hepburns’ condo key back in June, at a key shop close to your eatery,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She cocked her head.
“I’m talking about this.” The detective slid a plastic bag containing the key toward her.
I caught her nostrils slightly flaring as if she’d inhaled deeply.
“Oh, that’s the key we watched her fumble with,” Clara said excitedly.
“Yes it is!” Jackie bounced. “She thoroughly crushed the paper cup. I’m impressed the cops found it so fast. Ellis moved like she was tossing it, but with a closer look, she was practically burying it deep in the garbage.”
“If I were attempting to discard evidence of the crime I’d committed, I’d seek the option of using a high-temperature incinerator,” Clara said thoughtfully. “I’ve befriended a former crime-fiction author. According to him, recent progress in incinerator technology is so fast and furious that when a corpse is burned in a good high-temp incinerator, not even the bones remain. A metal key would melt to nothingness, of course.”
“Really?” Jackie’s eyes widened. “Had she used such an option, the investigation wouldn’t be easy. Detective Rochester is so lucky.”
As the ghosts chattered nonstop, the detective asked in a casual tone, “Do you recognize that?”
“Well….” Ellis parted her crimson lips, but words failed to come out.
“This is the key you discarded in the garbage can at a convenience store last night.” Detective Rochester looked straight in her eyes. “For your information, the fingerprints on it matched yours.”
Ellis looked back at the detective in silence.
“Also, the college student manning the key shop recalled seeing you,” Detective Rochester went on. “He said he was going to send you away, as it was already past closing time, but when he saw you, he changed his mind and worked your order. According to him, he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to talk to a beautiful lady. Women say it’s so unfair that good-looking gals are treated better, but I’m not sure if better treatment is in your benefit this time.”
“Detective Rochester, it’s politically incorrect to say anything about other people’s looks.” Jackie made tsk-tsk sounds disapprovingly.
“When you’re dead, superficial beauty is what matters the least,” Clara commented. “Believe me, if your body ends up being cremated, your facelift jobs, nose jobs, and Botox literally end up in cinders.”
Sophie giggled as the ghostly duo kept chattering, and I rolled my eyes. Rick looked at me quizzically, so I gave him a synopsis of what was going on, and he reacted the same.
On the other hand, Ellis Goodman was silent, averting her gaze from the detective.
“Matt told you to copy the key, didn’t he?” Rochester questioned, but Ellis didn’t answer.
“I don’t think so.” Jackie crossed her arms. “She doesn’t look like the kind of woman who’d do anything her man tells her to.”
“You’re right, Jackie,” Clara agreed. “She seems like a woman with a will of steel.”
I relayed their words to Rick, who muttered, “That’s interesting,” without moving his attention from the interrogation room. But then he was distracted when Sophie patted his arm, flashing a hundred-watt smile at him.
Meanwhile, Detective Rochester was busy talking to an unresponsive Ellis.
“Did he suggest marrying you if you’d help him get rid of his wife?” he asked, sounding a little sympathetic. “Or maybe sharing two million dollars in insurance money covering Christina? Matt might look like a harmless guy, but it’s always the ones like him who turn out to be truly evil.”
“That’s not right, Detective. I had no idea Mrs. Hepburn was so heavily insured in the first place.”
“If that’s the case, then he lured you with a marriage proposition, right?” The detective leaned in.
“When Matt was dozing off in his drunken stupor, I borrowed his key to make a copy,” she said casually.
“Pardon me?” Rochester looked confused. “Are you implying you made a copy of the key without Matt’s permission?”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “So Matt doesn’t know I have the key to his residence.”
“Uh-huh. All right then. Have you ever used the key?” Detective Rochester asked, frowning.
“I’d prefer not to answer that question,” she mumbled.
“Can you believe that? She said she didn’t need an attorney present at the interview.” Clara shook her head. “I’m sure she’s changed her mind.”
Detective Rochester seemed to be deep in thought, but then he uncrossed his arms and stretched his upper body. “All right then. Matt himself has been insisting it’s all his fault that Christina is dead, and you had nothing to do with the murder of his wife. So perhaps he’s right and I’m the one who’s been overthinking and overanalyzing that he could be desperately trying to protect you.” Then he shook his head and looked down at the desk. “Still, I can’t stop thinking about it. Like, hell, Matt must have been madly in love with you.”
“Detective….” Ellis’s voice trembled. For a moment, I thought she could be crying, but I was wrong.
“She’s laughing,” Rick observed, and he was right.
When Ellis lifted her head, she was sporting a smirk. It wasn’t the kind of smile that came across your face when you encountered something funny. The face she made resembled one a kindergarten teacher would make at a not-so-smart pupil. The detective’s eyes widened a little, prompting her to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” He narrowed his eyes.
“No offense, but you’re seriously misunderstanding the whole situation,” she said. All of a sudden, she looked confident. “Here’s the thing. Matt isn’t trying to protect me. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s an honest person who’s never broken a law except for getting a traffic ticket or two. So as an honest person, he’s trying to explain a crime he believes he committed. First of all, he doesn’t know that I killed his wife.”
“What did you just say?” Detective Rochester’s eyebrows shot up.
“The night before Christina’s death, Matt was visiting my tavern. That night, he drank heavily and ended up dozing off and waking up at the bar counter. It was one of those slow nights, and he was the only customer, so I was enjoying his company. In his drunken stupor, he suddenly started talking about his vicious murder plot to off his wife. He talked about creating a solid alibi by going to Midtown, calling Mrs. Hepburn’s cell phone, distracting her and prompting her to fall off the balcony. He was bragging about plotting a perfect crime, but hey, that’s impossible bordering on ridiculous, isn’t it?” Ellis shook her head with a sad smile.
Nodding, Detective Rochester encouraged her. “And?”
“And I helped him commit the perfect crime by sneaking into the Hepburns’ residence and pushing Mrs. Hepburn off the eighth-floor balcony,” she said nonchalantly.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” the detective muttered, wrinkling his forehead.
“I’m not.” Ellis shook her head. “I’m telling the truth, and I’m not an accessory to Matt’s murder plot. I took advantage of his phone call, but there was no guarantee that he’d actually make that particular call to his wife on that day. Anyway, I did what I did all by myself.”
“But… why?” Detective Rochester looked truly dazed and confused. “Why did you go that far?”
“I thought I’d have a better chance of being the new Mrs. Hepburn if Christina wasn’t in the picture,” she replied in a ca
lm voice. “Matt wasn’t good at household chores like cooking and laundry. It’s funny that he sucks at doing his own laundry when he’s running a dry cleaning factory.”
“Come on, you could have been caught by Christina,” the detective countered. “She’d definitely have called the police, and you could have been arrested. Didn’t you think through such risks?”
“You’re right, Detective. It was a gamble, and I was betting my life.” Ellis shrugged. When she did that, I realized she had prominent clavicles. Instinctively, I reached for my neck zone, trying to figure out where my clavicles were buried underneath my fat cells.
Rick massaged my shoulders, apparently misunderstanding my thoughts. “Feel better?” he said. “Sophie’s getting heavier. No wonder you have stiff shoulders.”
“I feel a lot better, thanks.” I kissed him on the jaw. I didn’t tell him that I was looking for my right clavicle, but what really counted was that he cared for me and Sophie, and we were a happy family.
“Sophie, you’re such a lucky girl, you know,” Clara said. “Your parents are deeply in love with each other.”
“I know!” Jackie chimed in. “When you grow up, I’m gonna share all the juicy details of your mommy and daddy’s relationship.”
In the interrogation room, Ellis went on. “The part of discarding this key at the convenience store was one of my little bets. I was going to keep my mouth shut for as long as I could without getting caught. On the other hand, I was determined to tell the police the truth to prove Matt is innocent and I’m the real culprit. That’s why I didn’t wipe my prints from the key.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Goodman,” the younger detective interjected. “I don’t understand why you seem to be obsessed with Matt Hepburn. I don’t mean to be judgmental, but he doesn’t look like he’ll be voted the sexiest man alive anytime soon. In my opinion, he’s an ordinary middle-aged Joe with two kids. What was it about him that made you fall for him?”
Detective Rochester cleared his throat. “In my opinion, you’re asking too many personal questions, Johnson.”
“It’s okay.” Ellis chuckled as the young detective chewed his lips uncomfortably. “I can imagine your confusion. Just like you say, Matt is an average Joe. He’s a gentle, hard-working guy who’s nobody special. He’s a caring father and a husband who wasn’t strong enough to resist the temptation of having an affair when the opportunity presented itself.”
“I see.” Detective Johnson furrowed his blond eyebrows.
“The man I had foolishly opted to marry was horrible.” Ellis snorted.
“How do you define horrible?” Detective Rochester asked.
“For starters, he was a wife beater.” She shrugged. “He seemed like he’d make a great hubby when I met him. He was smart, good-looking, sophisticated, and worked for one of those mega investment banks. My marriage was happy… no, I mean I had mistakenly thought I was happy, until he started to get physical with me. He used to beat me and kick me for any reason, and when he couldn’t find a good one, his excuse was that I irritated him. The worst part was he always told me how much he loved me, and all he wanted to do was help me become the perfect match for him.”
“Hell, I already want to punch him in the gut,” Rick muttered, crossing his arms.
“In retrospect, all he wanted was a caretaker who worked for free for his mother with Alzheimer’s.” Ellis exhaled deeply. “I begged him for a divorce, but he said no. I tried to hire a divorce lawyer, but he was better connected, and no one took my side.”
“That must have been hard for you,” Detective Rochester said sympathetically.
“When his demented mother finally passed away half a year ago, I was able to get a divorce.” Ellis sighed. “And the rest is history. I went to cooking school and opened a tavern, using my parents’ old home. At first, I wanted to open a French restaurant, but the bank that approved my request for a loan told me to go for a more casual option, so I went with a tavern with a bar.
“If it was a book or something, I’d be living happily ever after with freedom and my own eatery, but it’s just my life and not a story. My eatery was a decent success, but I was tired to the bones. Then Matt came to my tavern.” Her face lit up. “He was the opposite of my ex-husband. Even though he wasn’t strikingly good-looking, I could see he was a warm, kind, and honest person. I couldn’t help but wonder what his lucky wife was like.”
“Did you send that text message to Christina?” Detective Rochester interjected. “About her husband having an affair?”
“Yes.” She nodded, shutting her eyes tightly. “I went to see her for myself, going up to the rooftop of the building in front of the Hepburns’ condo. I should never have done that. I was just curious and wanted to see what the woman he’d had kids with looked like. It was on a late Sunday morning. The kids were playing a video game, and Matt was being a couch potato. Then she came out onto the balcony with blossoming flowers. I don’t know what I’d expected of her, but I think I was desperately hoping to see a drop-dead gorgeous woman, someone like a supermodel.”
“That’s ridiculous. She’s an idiot.” Clara rolled her eyes. “Just because Matt looked like Prince Charming to her doesn’t mean he was indeed one. Besides, looks are just a superficial part of a person. No wonder she made the wrong choice when she married her ex-husband. She’s so shallow. I’m tempted to use a really bad word, but I won’t.”
“You have a point, Clara,” Jackie agreed. “She murdered someone who did nothing terrible to her, but she keeps blaming her miserable past and has no remorse over what she’s done.”
“Yeah, right,” I muttered. As Rick looked at me questioningly, I passed on my ghostly friends’ opinions while slightly fuming. When I got engaged with him, mean girls in the city’s upper crust didn’t take it kindly. I was called that fat bitch who was totally out of her league.
“Don’t get overexcited.” He patted my cheek. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.”
The corner of my lips quirked up into a smile. “Really? Thanks! For your information, you also happen to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I hugged him.
“That’s good to hear.” He kissed the top of my head.
“Waa,” Sophie babbled, furiously moving her arms.
“Mandy, Sophie wants to join the hug,” Jackie informed me.
“Wanna join us?” Rick picked her up before I said anything, and we had a group hug.
“Not many families engage in a group hug in the observation room of an interrogation,” I said, giggling.
In the interrogation room, Ellis’s confession continued. “I was beyond jealous, and my jealousy grew into an obsession. I know she had nothing to do with my failed marriage and my miserable feelings, but… she was chubby in a not-so-nice muumuu, and she didn’t even have makeup on her face. She didn’t even bother putting on lipstick! Then I realized she had everything I wanted so desperately, and she had it so easily! She had a loving, caring husband, lovely kids, and she even had a balcony full of blossoming flowers. I wanted to be a happy woman like her. Something snapped in me, I guess. And the next thing I knew, I was desperate to replace her.”
“So you tried to convince Matt to divorce Christina, right?” Detective Rochester asked.
“Yes, that’s right.” She nodded. “He was indecisive, so I tried to manipulate his wife into thinking her marriage with him wasn’t as happy as she believed… but that didn’t work at all. On the morning of that fatal day, I knew what I was going to do, and I was fully aware that I was about to cross the red line. A part of me prayed that it was going to rain and Matt would abort his stupid plan to kill his wife with a phone call, but it was crystal clear.”
“Hello? You killed your crush’s wife just because it was a sunny day?” Jackie yelled toward the interrogation room, fully knowing Ellis couldn’t hear her. “You’re as horrible as the idiot who killed me!”
“You’re right, Jackie. She’s a horrible woman.” I moved my hand
in a manner that looked like I was patting her shoulder.
Rick touched my arm. “Let’s get out of here. We learned enough to tell Christina what really happened.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Clara agreed. “Let’s go.”
With Ellis still talking about how she watched Christina come out on the balcony to water her plants and take the call from Matt, explaining how she took the stairs from the emergency exit to the Hepburns’ unit and how desperate she was when her eyes met with Christina’s, we left.
According to Rick, the reason she took the emergency exit was because that route had no security camera.
CHAPTER 10
The next day, we visited the sidewalk in Brooklyn where Christina was still confined. It was a Monday, so Rick was at work, but we met at USCAB headquarters downtown and came to Brooklyn to meet Christina and help her get closure. Luckily, he didn’t have a lunch meeting that day.
“Hi, Christina.” Clara waved at her as she found the woman standing at the corner of the street. There was a brand-new bouquet of flowers sitting on the pavement, and she was smiling as she admired them.
“Hi, Clara! Oh, hi, everybody.” She turned back, and her smile grew bigger. “Look at this. Isn’t it pretty? Matt and our kids left it for me this morning. I was worried sick when the police took Matt away, but now that he’s returned with the kids, I’m so excited.”
“That’s great,” Rick commented as I relayed her words to him.
Detective Rochester had called him after we’d left the precinct to thank us. According to him, while Ellis was making her confession, other detectives were searching her residence. As a result, they found a pair of gloves with the residue of paint from the Hepburns’ balcony, and she was arrested. According to the detective, Ellis’s boldness didn’t end with her discarding the key with her prints on. She’d kept the gloves at her apartment, claiming she was sure about getting away with what she’d committed, keeping the gloves for her memory if the key wasn’t discovered in the first place.