Jeff Lindsay - Double Dexter

I think I have a right to know my husband killed somebody, Rita said. And he s cheating on me? she added, as if killing might be overlooked, but cheating was something truly despicable. It was not quite the proper order of our society s priorities as I had come to understand them, but this was not the time to debate contemporary ethical concepts.

Rita, I said, with all the calm authority I could muster. I barely knew this woman. Camilla.

Bullshit, she said. Richard said the detective said there were pictures of you everywhere!

Yes, and Astor has pictures of the Jonas Brothers, I said; and I thought it was a pretty good point, but for some reason Rita didn t agree.

Astor is eleven years old, Rita said venomously, as if I was totally vile even to try this argument and she would never let me get away with something that low. And she doesn t stay out all night with the Jonas Brothers.

Camilla and I worked together, I said, trying to break through the cloud of unreason. And sometimes we have to work late. In public. With lots of cops all around us.

And did all of the cops have pictures of you? she demanded. In a binder? On the back of the toilet?! Please. Don t insult my intelligence.

I very badly wanted to say that I had to find it before I could insult it, but sometimes we have to sacrifice a very good line for the larger purpose at hand, and this was almost certainly one of those times. Rita, I said. Camilla took pictures of me. I put the palms of my hands up to show that I was man enough to admit an awkward fact. Lots of them, apparently. Deborah says she had a crush on me. I can t control any of that. I sighed and shook my head, to let her see that the full weight of an unjust world lay comfortably on my broad shoulders.

But I have never, ever cheated on you. Not with Camilla, not with anyone else.

I saw a first small flicker of doubt on her face I really am very good at portraying a real human being, and this time I had the advantage of telling something that was very close to the truth. It was a genuine Method Acting Moment, and Rita could see that I was being sincere.

Bullshit, she said, but with less conviction.

All those nights when you just leave the house? With some stupid excuse about work? As if I was supposed to believe She shook her head and gathered steam again. Goddamn it, I knew it was something like this. I just knew it, because And now you killed her?

It was a very uncomfortable moment, even more so than when she had first accused me. All those nights in question, I actually had been up to something: not quite an affair, and certainly nothing involving Camilla just the quiet pursuit of my hobby, which was relatively innocent, at least in the present context. But I couldn t tell her that, and of course, there was no proof of this innocence at least, I hoped not; I mean, I was sure I d always cleaned up quite thoroughly. Worst of all, though, was realizing that I had just assumed she hadn t really noticed when I slipped casually out of the house, which made me look incredibly stupid, even to me.

But surviving in this life almost always means making the best of bad situations, and if a small moment of creativity is called for, I am usually up to the task especially since I am not burdened by any compulsion to tell the truth. And so I took a breath and let my giant brain lead me out of the woods. Rita, I said.

My work is important to me. I help to catch some really bad people not even people. They re animals. The kind of animal that s a real threat to all of us even And I paused shamelessly for dramatic effect. Especially the kids. Even Lily Anne.

And so you leave the house at night? she said.

To do what?

I, um, I said, as if I was a little bit embarrassed. Sometimes I get an idea. About something that, you know. Might help break the case.

Oh, come on, Rita said. That s incredibly I mean, I m not naive enough, for God s sake

Rita, damn it, you re the same way obsessed with your job, I said. You ve been working nights lately, and I mean, I thought you understood when I did, too.

I don t slink out of the house at night to go to the office, she said.

But you don t have to, I said, and I felt myself gaining a little bit of momentum. You can do your work in your head, or on a piece of paper. I need the equipment in the lab.

Well, but, I mean, she said, and I could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. I just assumed that I mean, it makes more sense that, you know.

It makes more sense that I would cheat on someone as beautiful as you? I said. With somebody as drab and shapeless as Camilla Figg? I know it isn t considered proper to speak ill of the dead, and doing so puts you at risk of some kind of divine retribution. But as if to prove that God does not really exist, I bad-mouthed dear dead Camilla and yet no bolt of lightning crashed through the ceiling to turn Dexter into chitlins, and Rita s expression even softened a bit.

But that s not she said, and to my great relief she was slipping back into her normal speech pattern of partial sentences. I mean, Richard said And you never even, all those late nights. She blinked and fluttered one hand in the air. How can it just with all those pictures?

I know it looks bad, I said, and then I had one of those wonderfully happy inspirations that only a totally empty, wicked, hollow mockery of a person could ever have the gall to actually use which, of course, made it just perfect for me.

It s looks bad to Detective Hood Richard,

I said, and gave her a bitter shake of the head to show I had noticed she was on a first-name basis with the enemy. So bad that I m in a lot of trouble, I said. And to be honest, I thought you were the one person I could count on to stand by me. When I really need somebody in my corner.

It was a perfect punch, a true body blow, and it took the wind out of her so completely that she collapsed into a chair as if she was an inflatable doll and somebody had just punctured her. But that s only she said. I didn t even And he said, she said. I mean, he s a detective.

A really bad detective, I said. He likes to beat up suspects to make them talk. And he doesn t like me.

But if you didn t do anything she said, trying one last time to convince herself that I actually did.

People have been framed before, I said wearily.

This is Miami.

She shook her head slowly. But he was so sure How could he even? I mean, if you didn t.

There comes a time when repeating your arguments starts to sound like you re only making excuses. I knew this very well from the hours of daytime drama I had watched over the years, and I was pretty sure I was at that point now. Luckily, I had seen this exact situation so many times on TV that I knew precisely what to do to. I put both hands on the table, pushed upward, and stood. Rita, I said, with truly impressive dignity, I am your husband, and there has never been anybody else but you. If you can t believe me now, when I really need you then I might as well let Detective Hood take me away to jail. I said it very sincerely, and with such conviction and pathos that it nearly persuaded even me.

It was my last round of ammunition but it was a bull s-eye. Rita bit her lip, shook her head, and said,

But all those nights when you And the pictures

And then she s dead. For just a second a last small doubt flickered across her face and I thought I had failed; and then she closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip and I knew I had won. Oh, Dexter, what if they believe him? She opened her eyes and a tear rolled out of the corner and down across one cheek, but Rita brushed it away with a finger and pursed her lips. That bastard, she said, and I realized with great relief that she no longer meant me. And he s supposed to But he can t just And she slapped a hand on the table.