Faye Kellerman - The Burnt House

“The specific call was made around midnight,” Decker said.

“If it was midnight, I was probably home sleeping. I get up early in the morning.”

“Well, maybe you could just tell us what you did that night,” Marge said.

“Or even what you did during the day,” Decker said.

“Like I said, I’ll check the calendar and give you a call.” Holmes blinked again. “I’ll even xerox you the page. Any other dates you want to know about? Get it all out. That way, you don’t have to keep asking me where I was.”

Marge and Decker exchanged quick glances. Decker said, “How about xeroxing that entire week?”

“Sure.”

“When can we expect it to arrive?” Marge said.

Decker said, “How about tomorrow? I’ll give you a FedEx number.”

Holmes blinked and wiped sweat off from his brow. “If it gets you guys off my back, why not. Tomorrow by three o’clock via FedEx. What’s the account?”

Decker gave him the number. “Thank you for cooperating so fully with our investigation.”

“Sure. You know, I have mourned Roseanne’s death for a long time even before she actually died, know what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” Decker answered.

“Then we’re done here?”

Marge said, “Not quite yet. And we really thank you for cooperating in such a delicate matter. If you hadn’t talked to Roseanne for a while, how did you hear about her being on the doomed WestAir flight?”

Holmes gave Marge a condescending look. “The crash made front-page news because the plane was going to San Jose. Locals died, Sergeant. It was a very big deal.”

“But how did you find out about Roseanne specifically?”

“From the victims list.” He rocked his chair until the two front legs came up a few inches. The chair tipped, but he caught himself before he fell backward. “I was devastated! I had no idea she was still flying this route.” He licked his lips. “I still had feelings for her. I didn’t make it to work that morning, I was so upset.” He patted his forehead dry. “I don’t think I fully accepted our breakup until that day. And now you tell me she wasn’t on the flight…God, I don’t know what to think…what to feel.”

“She may have been on the flight,” Marge said. “We just don’t know.”

“Would you also xerox the week of the crash for us?” Decker asked. When he received a sour look, he said, “Might as well get it all done with.”

“Okay,” Holmes snorted. “Are we done?”

Marge said, “Some of the people that we talked to implied that you had a hard time accepting that the relationship was over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ivan Dresden said that you two had words,” Decker said.

Holmes’s jaw muscles tightened. “So?”

“He told us you threatened him.”

“Not before he threatened me.” The big man leaned forward. “Look, we were both talking out of anger and frustration. Roseanne could be a real frustrating woman.” He threw up his hands. “Hey, it’s all water under the bridge. I’ve moved on. I’m sure the bastard has moved on as well…unless, of course, he’s the reason why Roseanne is missing.”

“You think he murdered her?” Marge asked him outright.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He was a real asshole. Did he also happen to tell you how many women he was fucking while they were married?”

“I understand that he played around,” Marge said.

“The man was a dog!” Holmes bellowed. “He was spending all of her money on lap dancers, and then he has the nerve to get outraged because Roseanne wanted a little attention.”

“How’d you meet Roseanne?” Decker asked.

“I had a business meeting in Los Angeles and was coming home. She was the flight attendant. She looked a little sad and I asked her about it. She denied anything was wrong. It wouldn’t have been professional for her to talk about her personal life with a passenger. Later, by sheer coincidence, I ran into her at her hotel bar. At first, I could tell that she thought I was just an old fat guy looking for a quick lay. But after we talked awhile…we clicked. I mean we really clicked.” His face darkened. “We spent six months together before we went to bed. We had something special, although I’m sure you find that hard to believe.”

“Not at all,” Marge said.

Holmes checked his watch, placed his hands on his knees, and hoisted himself up. “I’m sorry, but you two really need to leave now. The crew’s coming back very soon and all this talk has opened up wounds. I need a few minutes to compose myself.” He was breathing hard. “I’ll FedEx the calendar pages for you. Then we’re done here.”

Decker stood and gave him his business card. Marge gave him one as well. She said, “One last question, Mr. Holmes. Do you have any idea why Roseanne was in San Jose if she hadn’t been assigned to work here?”

“I couldn’t even hazard a guess,” Holmes said.

“Hazard one,” Decker insisted.

A big sigh. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

Decker didn’t move.

Holmes said, “It might be flattery, but maybe she finally got fed up with Ivan and was thinking about seeing me.”

“But she didn’t visit you.”

“No, she didn’t. Maybe once she got up here, she changed her mind. Or maybe she was visiting some friends. She worked the San Jose route for a while. She had some friends here, you know.”

“Girlfriends or boyfriends?” Marge asked.

“I was thinking girlfriends, but maybe she had another boyfriend. I wouldn’t know because like I said, we weren’t in contact anymore.”

Marge got out her notebook. “Can you tell me the names of some of her girlfriends?”

“Uh…” Another flick of the wrist to see the time. “I remember a Christie and a Janice. Or was it Janet?”

“Last names?” Marge asked.

Another sigh. “Christie…somethingson. Jorgenson, Ivarson, Peterson…”

“A Scandinavian name?”

“I think so.”

“What about Janet or Janice?”

“I never knew her last name.”

“What does Christie look like?” Marge persisted.

“Medium height, shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, button nose, anorexic with long legs and skinny calves. I think we met her around two, three times for dinner. Janice or Janet I met only once. She was a brunette, light brown eyes, good figure, and older. You’ve got to go now. My wife never found out about the affair, thank God, and I want to keep it that way. I been very cooperative and I expect some reciprocalness.”

Reciprocity, Decker said to himself. “We’ll do what we can. You have my card, Mr. Holmes. If you think of Christie’s last name or anything else that could help us track Roseanne’s last movements, we’d be much obliged.”

“Aren’t you curious about what happened to Roseanne?” Marge asked.

“Sure I’m curious, but that’s as far as it’s going to go. Now I’m concentrating on my marriage and my kids.” Holmes smoothed his goatee. “But if you do find something, I wouldn’t mind a phone call. Especially since I’m being so cooperative.”

“I know, sir,” Decker said. “We’ll do what we can.”

“Then I’ll do what I can for you, Lieutenant. You know how it works. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

A FTER DECKER PULLED away from the curb, Marge asked, “What do you think?”

“The verdict is still out.”

“He was pretty cooperative.”

“I know. He kept telling us how cooperative he was being.”

“That could be his nerves talking.”

“Or it could be guilt. He was sweating a lot.” She thought a moment. “On the other hand, he’s sending us Xeroxes for the dates we requested.”