“This asshole is accusing me of something I didn’t do.He had me arrested, for God’s sake.”My lip trembles, but I keep a straight face.“I didn’t beat him up.”
“But if he turns out to be the person who’s responsible for your wife’s death…” Blake thins his lips.“I don’t have to spell it out for you, Jason.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I believe you.But if Ralphisthe man who killed your wife?You sure have a hell of a motive now.”
Fuck.
“We need to bring Detective Mann back in here,” he says.“We need to convince her that you thought you were at someone else’s place.”
“And how the hell do we do that?”
“We tell her everything,” Blake says firmly.“The whole story, Jason.We can’t leave any stone unturned.”
“But…” A thought dawns on me, and panic bubbles up in my chest.“What if she doesn’t believe us?”
Blake shrugs.“Then we keep pushing until she does.Or until the DA does.We can call this Tom Chapman.He can corroborate your story about giving you the address.We can show her the handwriting samples, see if those sway her.Or”—he tents his fingers, takes a deep breath in—“we have our day in court.”
I let out a shuddering breath.In my mind I see a cliff.And I’m standing on the edge.
Blake rises and opens the door to the interrogation room.
Detective Mann returns.“Is your client ready to answer my questions?”she asks.
“With my guidance,” Blake says.
“Of course.”She turns to me.“Now, Dr.Lansing, what were you doing outside Ralph Normandy’s apartment last night?”
“I didn’t?—”
Blake holds up a hand to quiet me.“My client was not aware that the house in question belonged to Mr.Normandy.”
Detective Mann raises an eyebrow.“So you’re telling me he just happened to be in the area in the middle of the night?”
“Not at all,” Blake says.“He was under the impression that the address belonged to someone else.A Mr.Ronny Burgundy.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“A former boyfriend of his deceased wife.My client has recently come to suspect that his wife did not take her own life, that her suicide might have been staged.”
Detective Mann widens her eyes slightly, but for the most part remains unfazed.She turns to me.“This is a serious accusation, Mr.Lansing.”
“My client is aware,” Blake responds.“And he has a handwriting sample from Mr.Burgundy that he believes matches his wife’s suicide note.”
“But none of that explains why you were actually at Mr.Normandy’shome, Dr.Lansing.”
“Are you stupid?”I ask.“They’re the same fucking person.Normandy.Burgundy.Both French provinces.Ralph Normandy is the man who killed my wife.”
Detective Mann crinkles her eyes.“What?”
“Jason, please.”Blake glares at me.“Let me do the talking, okay?If you need to clarify something, please ask for a moment with me alone.”
I sit back in my chair.“Fine.My life is in your hands.”
“So you went to Mr.Normandy’s apartment under the impression that it was the apartment of Mr.Burgundy,” Detective Mann says.“How did you come to this conclusion?”
“He received the tip from a Mr.Tom Chapman,” Blake says.“He’s the brother of a friend of Mr.Burgundy’s from high school.”
