Diane Davidson - The Main Corpse

“I don’t know what kind of damn car it was. They drove me home, they were going to church.”

“Did they offer to call us?”

Marla sighed. “Oh, yes. But I said I would do it.” She shivered and wiped her face with the paper towel. “Then got into my house, where the phone did not work.” She looked angrily at De Groot. “I was dizzy, Officer! In pain. Bleeding. I wiped off the blood, showered, and took an indeterminate number of painkillers. When the phone came back on this morning, I tried to call Tony twice. You can check his machine if you want. I wouldn’t even be going to the doctor if Goldy hadn’t shown up this morning.” She grimaced.

Neither policeman said anything for a moment. Then De Groot spoke.

“Before the car ride. Let’s go back to that, shall we? You and Tony,” he prompted, “Saturday night, had been doing… what?”

Marla replied, “We pitched the tent on a mound in case it started to rain, which it did. So we used a camp stove to heat up some food Goldy had made for us. Now that I do remember,” she said with a smile for me. “It was chicken soup and it was terrific. After we ate, we put our trash in the trunk of my car, you know, because of the threat of bears and other wildlife – “

Hersey interrupted with, “What else was in the trunk of your car?”

“What else?” Marla repeated blankly. “Well, let’s see. Tony had a gun – “

“What kind?” De Groot demanded. Marla’s nose wrinkled. “Oh, I don’t remember. I think it was a pistol. Anyway, it wasn’t loaded, but he said you had to bring it because of wildlife. Mountain lions or whatever. What else… Tony and I put our backpacks in there, clothes and whatnot – “

“Two backpacks?”

“I think so, two or three. It was raining hard, and we brought the lantern inside the tent. We closed the flaps and zipped them up. Then we shared some wine, and eventually we decided to … go to sleep.” She gave a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Anyway, we’d been asleep for a while, or at least I had, when something attacked us.” A confused expression shadowed her face. “At least, I think whoever it was attacked both of us.”

De Groot leaned forward intently. “And where was Royce? During this attack?” He still sounded skeptical that any attack had taken place.

“That’s what I can’t tell you. I couldn’t see anything. I kept calling out for him, but he never said a word. And then I thought, it’s Albert, he’s come back and… he wants something… or … he’s angry with me, because we had that argument at the., party, and now all the investors are suspicious… .”

“Albert Lipscomb,” echoed De Groot, making a note. “That’s who you thought was attacking you even before you saw his bald head when there was a flash of lightning. Lipscomb had come back to assault you and Tony Royce, only you don’t have a clue where Royce was at the time.”

“Well, I … no. Officers,” Marla pleaded. “I really want to see my doctor.”

“What time was this assault?” interjected Hersey.

Marla was startled, which was probably the effect Hersey desired. “I don’t know. I took my watch off Tony said you shouldn’t keep track of time when you’re camping.”

Both detectives fastened their eyes on her wrist, where a gold watch twinkled between the cuts and bruises. “This is one I put on when I got home,” she said with a defensive shake of her head. But even to me, it seemed the damage had been done. Was she lying or was she merely confused? Was there something she was concealing? “Anyway, I’d guess it was about two o’clock in the morning. Maybe later. Say four. It was dark, and the storm was unbelievable.”

Hersey said, “And before the attack, before the camping trip, you’d say Royce was your boyfriend?”

She exhaled painfully. “Something like that.”

Hersey persisted. “And how long had you known Royce before this little camping trip you took together?”

Marla slumped wearily. “I’ve been seeing Tony for about fifteen months. Give or take.”

De Groot made another note on his pad. “Could you be a little more specific, Ms. Korman?”

“Well, I’d have to look it up in my calendar.”

“You keep a calendar?” asked Hersey. “Like a diary?”

Marla nodded. “More or less. Upcoming events, stuff like that.”

“Could we see this calendar?”

No, no, no, I screamed mentally. But Marla had already hauled herself up obediently and shuffled over to the shelf Why was she being so compliant? It had to be the painkiller. I was dying to tell her that one rule applies equally to a criminal investigation and an IRS audit: Never volunteer anything. Marla frowned as she pulled first one thick notebook, then another off the shelf. “Okay, here we go, March, year before last. Let’s see, shopping, shopping, lunch, okay… here it is. Asti Spumanti and dessert at Eileen’s house.” My heart sank as she passed the notebook over to De Groot. “That’s when I met Tony. At Eileen’s house. He spent an hour trying to convince me to buy shares of Intel. I should have, as it turned out.”

In an offhand tone, De Groot said, “And this year’s? With the date of the camping trip?”

Marla groped along the shelf She ignored my glare, brought out another fat notebook, and leafed through. “Oh, brother.” Her voice sounded extremely tired. “Okay, here it is. Monday, June fourteen, that’s today, that’s almost exactly fifteen months, isn’t it? What, are you checking my math?”

De Groot stared at the calendar, then made a note. His mouth twitched. He tapped the calendar. “Hmm. Going to Europe this week? You? Alone?”

“I’m going with a group, if I can ever get down to the hospital and have these cuts and bruises taken care of.”

De Groot looked longingly in the direction of the coffeepot, then flashed a glance at me. I didn’t budge. I wasn’t about to indulge him.

“So, you have no idea where Tony Royce is now?” he asked Marla with surprising mildness.

“No, I don’t,” Marla replied. “I’ve been hoping he was going to call me, now that we have the phones back.” I ached to warn her again to stop talking. Marla didn’t know as much about interrogation as I did; that was why she wasn’t challenging them. It was also why these two dolts were asking so many questions and getting away with it.

There was an awkward silence. Hersey broke it. “Ms. Korman, are you aware that Tony Royce is missing?”

She sighed. “No.”

“And were you getting along with Tony Royce?”

“Yes, of course I was getting along with him,” Marla snapped.

Hersey said, “Did you have a fight with him that night at the tent? Was it Royce who hit you?”

“I don’t know!” cried Marla, furious. “I don’t know who it was! I thought it was Albert Lipscomb! I told you that, except that it was all incredibly fast and… violent.”

“Were you and Tony and Albert in on a scam with that mine? What went wrong? You and Tony had a falling out, Tony went off with Albert?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Beneath the bruises, Marla had gone pale.

“Did you find a weapon to use against your attacker?” Hersey persisted.

Marla sighed. “No. Although I wanted to get the gun out of the car – “

“Had Royce brought any other weapons?” interrupted Hersey.

Marla made a face and closed her eyes. “His fishing knife,” she said softly.

“Did you use the fishing knife as a weapon? Tony’s fishing knife, that is,” asked De Groot in that same mild voice.

“No,” said Marla acidly. “Of course not.”

“Did you stab Royce?” His eyes bored maliciously into Marla’s. “Did you shove him into the creek after you stabbed him?”