“Last week she said she wanted to end it. Stop seeing each other. I think she had another guy. Some man younger, richer. She didn’t say that, but I could—”

“When last week did she tell you this?” Frames couldn’t believe how much he sounded like Mahler.

“I don’t know. Tuesday?”

“So it wasn’t this Monday, two days ago?”

“No. I didn’t see her Monday. I told you before.” Bennett’s shoulders fell. “Why do you people keep asking the same questions? You have the answers in front of you.”

“What happened in your car?”

“I told you. We met there sometimes.”

Mahler turned a page in the file. “We found blood on the front seat.”

“Blood? That’s not possible.”

“Hold on, Chris,” Stricker said.

Mahler closed the file and let twenty seconds go by. He could see the thing about the blood had surprised Bennett. The guy probably put some effort into cleaning the car seat, figured he had it whipped. Mahler saw no reason to tell Bennett forensics hadn’t confirmed the blood was the victim’s. Bennett just needed a few seconds to realize he wasn’t getting out of this room like he thought he was. Mahler felt a weariness at the testimony he knew was to come.

“Dr. Bennett,” Mahler said, “Elise Durand was murdered. We’re investigating a homicide. Whatever you’re trying to spare yourself you can forget. It’s too late. The lies you’ve told your wife and yourself for the past six months are in the past. All I care about now is what happened. Your attorney here—”

“I hit her.” Bennett blinked, surprised at his own words.

“Chris, listen to me,” Stricker said.

“You hit Ms. Durand?” Mahler asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to. We were arguing, and she slapped me. Hard. I wasn’t expecting it, and before I knew it, I slapped her back. A slap, not a punch, but I hit her nose and it started bleeding. The blood got all over both of us. It was a mess.” He looked at Mahler and, seeing no sympathy, turned to Frames. “I mean, my God, I’ve never struck anyone in my life.”

Frames held his look. In the dynamic of the moment, he was the good guy, Bennett’s friend. “It happens. What’d you do after that?”

“We stopped the bleeding, and we both calmed down. But she said she wouldn’t see me anymore. She said it was over, done.”

“Did you see her again?”

“No, I—”

“From last Tuesday to this Monday, you didn’t see her?”

“I tried. I called. I went to Lerner’s office, but she wouldn’t see me.”

Mahler leaned back in his chair. “Until Monday night.”

“Until Monday night? No, Jesus, how many times—” Bennett closed his eyes.