Free Murder Unleashed by Elaine Viets

assault.”
    “A cut?” Helen couldn’t hide her surprise. “I didn’t see any cut. I was there when it happened.”
    Did Todd cut himself so he’d have something to show the police?
    “How long have you known the victim, Tammie Grimsby?” Crayton said. McGoogan flicked something off his nails.
    “Today was the first time I saw her,” Helen said. “She wanted help with a birthday party for her Yorkie, Prince. She also wanted to have him groomed. She didn’t have time to bring the dog back to the shop for his appointment, so Jeff arranged a pickup. It was the first time I’d ever done a pickup at her house.”
    “You’ve had no prior dealings with the victim outside of the store?” Detective Crayton said. “You never went to any parties at her house, for instance?”
    They know Tammie and Kent are swingers, Helen thought.
    “Never,” she said. “Today was the first time I was ever at her house, and that was to get her dog.”
    Now the other detective, McGoogan, stopped picking, flicking, and scratching. His cop’s eyes bored in on Helen. “And how was the victim dressed?” he said.
    “Dressed?” Helen said.
    “Is there an echo in here?” McGoogan said. “What was she wearing?”
    Something shear, Helen wanted to say, as she pictured those scissors in Tammie’s chest.
    “Nothing,” Helen said. “She was on her chaise longue and she wasn’t dressed at all.”
    “Did she throw a towel over herself or anything?”
    “No,” Helen said.
    “And how did you react?” Crayton was back asking the questions again. McGoogan was scratching his elbow.
    “I ignored it,” Helen said. “I picked up her dog and left.”
    “You weren’t offended by her nudity?” he said. McGoogan pulled on his shirt collar.
    “Rich people are eccentric,” Helen said.
    “Anyone else in the Grimsby house while you were getting the dog?” Crayton said.
    “Her husband, Kent.”
    “And what was he wearing?”
    “A Speedo,” Helen said. “He came out by the pool to talk to us.”
    “About what?” Crayton said.
    “He was going to test-drive a new car. A Porsche or a Ferrari, something fast.” Helen left out the part where Kent talked about his wife’s body—and hers.
    “Did the victim get up off the chaise longue while you were there? Did she walk you to the door?”
    “No,” Helen said. “She just laid there.” Or was it lay? She never got that straight. In Tammie’s case, either one was probably correct.
    “So at the time that you left the house, the victim was on the chaise longue and her husband was by the pool. There was no one else in the home. No servants or guests?”
    “No one,” Helen said. “No housekeeper came to the door. Kent said he had to get dressed for the test drive. Tammie pointed to the dog. Prince was sleeping in the sun. I picked him up and let myself out.”
    “And what happened when you returned to the Grimsby home with the dog?”
    How many times was she going to have to repeat this? “I knocked on the door. I rang the bell and shouted her name, but Tammie never came out. When I couldn’t get any answer, I drove Prince back to the shop.”
    “Did you drive straight back?”
    “Yes,” Helen lied. She watched McGoogan pick at a crater on his red face.
    “We’d like to have a tech take your fingerprints,” Detective Crayton said.
    “Mine? Why?”
    “For elimination purposes. We should find them on the door and the bell.”
    Helen had a sick feeling. “Uh, sure,” she said.
    “And Miss Hawthorne,” Detective Crayton said. “We’d like you to remain available for future questioning.”
    Remain available for future questioning. It sounded like a curse. Remain available. Remain available. The words echoed in her dreams. That night Helen slept poorly, sick with worry and cheap wine.
    When she got to the shop in the morning, Jeff looked like he’d had the same kind of night as Helen. His hair was flat and oily and his face was baggy as an old hound’s. His yellow polo