“Oh, great.” David curled his lip. “So basically you’ll be working for the bank.”

“They only take ten percent.” I unhooked my bra. “They’re paying me enough that we’ll barely notice it.” I’d already calculated my net pay to the penny, including the deduction for the fee charged by the check-cashing company. I didn’t have a bank account anymore; I couldn’t, not with our judgment creditors lining up to seize it. Still, the net-net was a decent number. We’d get by.

He pulled on his topcoat. It hung below his knees now. Somehow he’d lost height along with everything else. “You act like this is actually gonna work out for you,” he sneered.

“For us, David.”

I was naked by then, a state that used to bring him across the room as if pulled by a tractor beam. Tonight he didn’t even glance at me on his way out. “Yeah, right,” he said, and slammed the door.

Chapter 11

Free to go, Detective Cruz had told me five hours ago, and now I realized I should have taken him up on it. It was a mistake to insist on staying. I was pretty sure the police were inclined to clear me, but there was no way they’d do it in the middle of the night. They’d want to wait for the forensics, and I doubted the lab worked the third shift. They’d want to search my apartment, and they’d probably wait until dawn to do that. They’d want to search my office, too, and Lucy’s, and they’d have to wait for business hours to get access. No matter how far they were leaning my way, they wouldn’t close their file before they checked off all those boxes.

Of course, I’d also hoped that staying would signal my cooperativeness and gain a few points in my favor. But I may have miscalculated there, too. The officious little woman who’d been checking on me since the start of her shift that morning seemed nothing but annoyed by my continued presence. Aren’t you tired of just sitting here? she’d snapped at me the last time she came in.

Now, though, at 9:45, I could hope that the end was in sight. By now the police should have been through the apartment, and I knew there was nothing there to link me to the gun and nothing to suggest any reason I’d want to kill Lucy. By now they might have searched our offices, too. I couldn’t hope for a suicide note on Lucy’s desk or computer, but at least I knew they wouldn’t find anything incriminating in my office.

When they finally returned empty-handed to Interview A, I’d turn on the full strength of my persuasive powers. I’d make them see that without any evidence of means or motive on my part, there was no reasonable basis for concluding that Lucy’s death was anything but suicide.

I prepared. I organized my thoughts and rehearsed my phrasing. When the bossy little woman escorted me to the bathroom, I splashed handfuls of cold water on my face. I accepted a cup of coffee and a glazed donut. I was caffeinated and my blood sugar level was restored. I was ready to wrap this up.