“I’m simply asking you about the sequence of events that led to your husband’s death.” “I didn’t come down until my drink was empty,” I told him. “I’m a ridiculously petty wife, and when I heard the thud, I thought he had broken yet another piece of furniture with his oafishness and it annoyed me. So I ignored it. And now, I must live with that for the rest of my life knowing that I could have saved his life.”
He didn’t believe me. Not even with the tears I had managed to force out of my eyes to make my point.
“Do you feel that way about your other husbands’ deaths?” he asked me.
The question had been so out of left field that it shook me for a moment. “I’m sorry?”
“Oliver was your sixth husband, if I’m not mistaken. Not one of them had ended via divorce from what I’ve discovered. All died within a few years of marrying you. Don’t you find that odd?”
It surprised me that he knew about them. They were all under different names, but it wouldn’t take a genius to work out that I had changed my name. I’d never been that secretive about it before, because it had never been an issue.
“They were all accidents and suicides,” I replied. “I’ve never been charged with anything, nor should I. I’m the one who is left behind.”
“No, but you sure do seem to have a stiff upper lip about all of this. I’m accusing you of serial murder and you haven’t cracked, you haven’t raised your voice, you haven’t made hysterical rantings, and you certainly haven’t sobbed for your husband’s death.”
“I am from higher society,” I told him. “We do not show our emotions. It’s unladylike.”
“Is it unladylike to start shopping for the next husband before your last husband’s funeral?”
He had been following me. And I hadn’t seen him.
Damn, he was good.
“Are you following me, Detective?”
“Of course we are, Maur–a.”
My heart hammered in my chest when he hesitated on my name. Did he know my real name? He couldn’t possibly. I’d taken great strides to hide that from everyone. Then again, most of my husbands’ I had married under other names so if he’d pieced that together, then perhaps I hadn’t taken as much care as I thought.
“Are you charging me with anything?” I asked him.
“We’re simply having a chat,” he said. “Are you feeling a little guilty?”
“Before you make false claims, and get yourself in trouble, I’d like you to call my lawyer.”
“An innocent woman doesn’t need a lawyer,” he said.
“I’d be a fool if I didn’t protect myself legally,” I replied, grabbing my lawyer’s business card from my bag and sliding it across the desk. “After all, it is your profession that has imprisoned innocent parties consistently, and has more than your fair share of corrupt officers.”
“Sit tight,” he replied before he took his folder and grabbed the card before he left the room.
Kane
She followed her lawyer to the door after I’d exhausted all of my questions that I could ask. I stood there, watching a serial killer walk out scot free, unable to find enough to charge her. If I charged her too fast and without enough evidence, she’d get away with it. At least we had time until she was going to kill her next victim. She needed to marry them first, and usually nothing happened for a few years.
“I will stop you,” I told her when her lawyer had cleared the room. “You won’t find another victim. You’re going to end up with a needle in your arm, Maurelle, and the State will take your life.”
She stopped in her tracks when I mentioned her real name and turned to me, smiling. I could smell her perfume from here, a mix of florals and musks, causing me to have a visceral reaction to it, and I had no idea why.
“I invite you to try, Detective,” she said, softly so that no one could hear. “No one’s been able to stop me yet.”
She winked as she caught up to her lawyer and left the precinct.
A challenge.
Well, little lady, I sure did relish challenges.
Chapter Five
