Джонатан Келлерман - Night Moves

No Good morning, ma’am, no friendly-cop smile.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant?”

“Inside would be better.”

She looked down the street. “I’ve got to get going soon.”

Milo said, “Please,” making it sound like a command.

She stepped back and we entered. Footsteps from upstairs pinpointed the kids’ location. Breakfast smells — eggs, toast, coffee — drifted from the kitchen.

Milo said, “I’m sorry to tell you, Ms. Corvin. Your husband’s body was found last night.”

Long stare. Three blinks. “Body?”

“He’s been murdered, Ms. Corvin.”

“Body,” she repeated. She stood there, not moving a muscle. Then she teetered and when Milo caught her elbow, she didn’t resist.

Her hand pressed against her mouth and her breathing raced as he steered her into the living room. The kids’ footsteps stopped and Felice Corvin looked at the staircase with panic. Then the noise resumed and she allowed Milo to sit her down on a sofa. He and I took facing chairs. He edged his closer to her.

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. Dry eyes, rigid posture. Every hair remained in place. “Body?”

Flat voice. Her complexion had lost color; makeup could only go so far.

“Last night, Mr. Corvin was found in a hotel shot to death.”

“He’s always in hotels.”

“This one was in Hollywood.”

“The Roosevelt?” she said. “That’s the only hotel I know in Hollywood. It’s supposed to be haunted. I went to a concert there a few years ago. The Da Camera Society. Baroque music. I loved it, Chet slept through the whole thing. Why would he go to the Roosevelt?”

Milo exhaled. “This was more like a mo tel.”

Felice Corvin’s face whipped toward him. “Why didn’t you say that at the beginning? Why can’t you be precise?”

We sat there.

She said, “You really need to be precise. Precision matters. If the educational system was more precise...” She shook her head. “Who killed him in a motel ?”

“We don’t know.”

“A motel. ” Lips curling around the word. “Are you trying to tell me something icky about Chet?”

“We don’t know much, yet, ma’am.”

“That seems to be your pattern,” she said. “Not knowing much.”

“It’s a tough job.”

“So is mine. So is everyone’s. Life’s frigging tough. I wish my kids could learn that, they’re growing up expecting everything to come their way. At least Brett is. He’s spoiled, Chelsea... for her, everything’s a challenge. I’m not sure she really understands what she’s up against... a mo tel ? What are you really telling me, Lieutenant?”

“Just that, ma’am.”

“I know about motels. What they connote. Are you denying that?”

Milo said nothing.

Felice Corvin hugged herself and glanced at the stairs, again.

“Ma’am, would you like us to tell the children?”

“Us?” she said. “The two of you are a team? Or does that just mean you want Dr. Delaware to tell them? Psychological sensitivity and all that.” To me: “You want to make them psychiatric patients? No, thanks, they’re mine and I’ll handle it.”

A thump from above.

Felice Corvin said, “When I’m ready.”

We sat there.

Her grip on her own shoulders tightened. “I am so angry. One friggin’ damn thing after another — it just keeps — okay, let’s stop beating around the bush. Was he with a whore ?”

Milo said, “Did Chet make a habit of—”

“I have no idea about Chet’s habits. Other than the ones he displayed here. ” She huffed. “He was gone all the time. Business. I’m not stupid. I know what men are like. I know what Chet was like. He didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.”

“Is there a specific woman he was—”

She laughed, clawed air, yanked on her hair. “Why don’t you just log onto whores.com or something and run your finger down the list.”

“So you were aware—”

“I was aware that Chet had the sexual scruples of a wolverine in heat. And that when he returned from his ‘business’ ” — she shaped quotation marks — “he paid even less attention to me than usual, which was pretty minimal to begin with. Are you understanding ? His needs were being tended to. A while back I decided to confront him. So he wouldn’t give me a disease. Of course he denied it but I told him if you ever infect me with something, I’ll kil—”

She cut herself off. Literally, with a hand over her mouth. When her fingers dropped, her lips formed a crooked, icy smile. “That was a figure of speech. I certainly didn’t leave my children last night, drive over to some disgusting motel I had no idea existed in the first place, and shoot my husband. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”

Milo nodded.

“You agree?” said Felice Corvin. “Don’t tell me you’re not considering it. Isn’t the spouse the first person you look at? Am I one of your friggin suspects ? Fine, do your thing, I have nothing to hide.”

She charged to her feet, stomped to the entry hall, raised a fist. “I am so, so angry. It never stops. ”

Milo said, “What doesn’t?”

The fist waved. “ Crap doesn’t. The endless flood of crap and... and... and ... issues. Now I have to go tell my children something that’s going to screw them up forever. How are they ever going to have faith in the future?”

She covered her face with both hands, fought tears and lost.

I guided her back to the living room. Her body stiffened when I touched her elbow but she returned with me and sat in the same place.

I fetched tissues from the powder room. She dabbed her eyes dry, sat with her hands in her lap, a chastened child.

Milo said, “Ma’am.”

Felice Corvin said, “I apologize, Dr. Delaware. I’m not one of those people — afraid of therapists. I believe in therapy, used to be a teacher, wanted so many kids to get help who never did. Then I had my own and — I’m sorry. I’ve been rude to you, Dr. Delaware, and I want to explain.”

“Not neces—”

“It is necessary! I need you to understand! It was nothing personal, I’m sure you’re a good psychologist. But a bunch of your colleagues did nothing for my daughter and some of them made her feel much worse. So I lost faith... I’m sorry. For being so angry and for being such a pain in the butt and now it’s really hit the fan and what the hell am I going to do ?”

More tears, followed by a lopsided smile. “During challenging times one needs especially to be gracious. My mother always said that. Her mother, too. I told them I agreed. I do.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’ve obviously failed that challenge miserably.”

Milo said, “It’s a terrible thing to go through. Again, we’re so sorry.”

“I believe you, Lieutenant. I really do.”

“There are questions we need to ask about Chet.”

“Chet,” said Felice Corvin. “Who knows anything about Chet?” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll miss him.”

Milo managed to get the basics in. Could she think of any possible link between her husband and Hal Braun?

Not to my knowledge.

Did Chet have any business dealings in Ventura, Oxnard, or Santa Barbara?

I know nothing about his business.

Had he been involved in exceptionally bitter business conflicts — denied claims that led to personal attacks?

I have no idea.

I believed her and from the looks of it, Milo did, as well.