Free Accessory to Murder by Elaine Viets Page A

teas.”
    â€œHow are you, Alyce?” Josie asked. She could see a blue vein throbbing under her friend’s right eye. Tiny tension lines framed her mouth. She was coming apart.
    Alyce broke her muffin into two pieces, and then two more, before she answered. “The homicide detectives from the City of Dorchester talked to me yesterday. They wanted to ask some questions about Halley. I said, yes, of course. I thought they were trying to figure out where she went that day.”
    Alyce took a muffin quarter, and broke it into two more pieces.
    â€œWho were the detectives?” Josie asked, hoping Alyce would feel comfortable starting out with a fairly neutral subject.
    â€œGreg Evanovich and Cesar DeMille.”
    â€œCesar DeMille? Is that his real name? He sounds like a dress designer.”
    â€œI couldn’t exactly ask him, could I?” Alyce said. “DeMille looked as weird as his name. Real skinny, with a high black pompadour, like some fifties crooner. I swear it’s a hairpiece. His hair was too thick and glossy for a beat-up guy in his forties. The other detective, Evanovich, was good-looking if you like guys with a little sleaze and a lot of gym muscle. I bet he hits on half the women he interviews.”
    â€œDid he hit on you?” Josie asked.
    â€œI had on a blouse with baby spit-up. It isn’t a perfume that drives men wild.”
    Alyce had reduced her muffin to a pile of crumbs without taking a bite. Josie had demolished hers, too, but her plate was empty. Dessert wasn’t working. Josie ordered two cups of beef barley soup.
    â€œEat the soup,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.”
    The hot soup seemed to revive Alyce. The color returned to her face and the blue vein stopped throbbing. But she still looked like she might bolt at any moment. I’ve got to ease her into this, Josie thought. Otherwise, she’ll keep describing those two cops down to their shoestrings.
    â€œTell me exactly what the detectives said, Alyce. Go through it question by question, from the beginning.”
    Alyce took a deep breath. “Cesar, the guy with the weird hair, did most of the talking. He kept the questions about Halley open-ended at first. He said, ‘Tell us about her. Who did she know? What did she do? Where did she go?’
    â€œI didn’t know much. After Halley’s design business took off, she flew to New York and Milan two or three times a month. Who knows who she met there? I said Halley was talented. I admired her work and I was proud that she was going places.” Alyce sounded almost wistful.
    â€œThen both detectives peppered me with more personal questions: ‘Was she a player?’”
    â€œA player?” Josie said. “What did that mean?”
    â€œI think they were asking if Halley fooled around. They asked, ‘Did she drink or gamble or spend too much money? Did she get along with her husband?’ I told them I’d never seen her drink more than a glass of wine. To my knowledge, she didn’t gamble. If she had a lover, I didn’t know anything about it. I’d heard she was getting a divorce, but I’d never seen her fight with her husband. So far as I knew, she and Cliff got along as well as any married couple.”
    Which was not well at all, Josie thought. “Did you give them Joanie Protzel’s name?”
    â€œYes. I said that Joanie had heard Cliff and Halley fighting the night before.” Alyce stopped before she had to say that ugly word “killed.” “I don’t think Joanie will appreciate that. I should have kept quiet. Am I a police snitch?”
    Josie nearly snorted her tea through her nose. Alyce looked so hurt she stopped laughing.
    â€œThis isn’t high school,” Josie said. “It’s a murder investigation. The police need to know what’s going on.”
    â€œI didn’t know anything about the fights with her husband, except what