Q: Anything else that points to the golf club as the murder weapon?
A: Preliminary analysis suggests that the wounds are consistent with the size and shape of the golf club.
Q: Meaning?
A: I believe she was struck with a golf club about the head when she was standing, then again several times after she had fallen. Her being at different heights as the attack continued accounts for the various locations and the variety in the type of blood spatter.
Q: So, in layman’s terms and based only on your preliminary analysis, of course, what is your professional conclusion as to the manner and cause of Mrs. Grayson’s death?
A: That she was beaten to death with a golf club while at the bottom of the stairs in her home.
Amanda
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PARTY
Amanda awoke later than usual the day after Kerry’s birthday dinner, her body beginning to acclimate to her child-free days. Almost as if Case had never even existed. It frightened her a little. But at least Amanda hadn’t had the dream again, had she? That was something. Maybe getting used to Case being gone wasn’t the worst thing.
It was 8:15 a.m., the bed next to her long empty. Zach was always up and out at 5:30 a.m. to the gym and then to work. He did not believe in idleness.
What was he doing, though, she wondered, at this exact moment? And why was he always at the office so late, and so early? Did hereallyneed to work quitethatmuch? Kerry was a lawyer and Sebe was a doctor and a tech start-up entrepreneur, and neither of them put in hours like Zach. Or was he not really working the whole time he was gone? The thought had, of course, occurred to Amanda before. She was not stupid.
But when Case was around, Amanda always had more important things to worry about. And their life moved more smoothly when she held her tongue. Amanda thought back to the last time she’d forgotten that. They’d been in their second home in Davis and Zach had been complaining again about his most recent boss—he was not as smart or talented or hardworking or insightful as Zach. And Amanda was pregnant and so nauseous at the time. It was like their entire reality slipped her mind.
“You never like anybody,” she’d snapped at Zach. “Have you ever thought about whether the problem is you?”
Zach’s eyes had flashed. But then Amanda watched his face shift like he’d just decided something. Calmly he set down his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Just glaring at her. In silence. Amanda had squirmed in her chair. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.
“What did you just say?”
Zach was looking at Amanda like he despised her. Like he wanted her dead. No, like she already was dead, and all that remained was the disposing of her body.
“Nothing,” she’d said quickly, wrapping her hands around her belly. “I didn’t say anything.”
Even now, Amanda felt queasy remembering. But she couldn’t risk staying silent. Certainly not about her dad. Case would be back in a few weeks. Amanda needed to find her voice immediately.
She could even start right then, but with something small. She could call Zach at work and tell Taylor she needed to speak with him directly. Then she could do that simple, ordinary thing other wives did every single goddamn day: ask her husband if he would be home for dinner. And she could act like she was entitled to the answer.
Full of purpose, Amanda rolled over and grabbed her phone. But there was already a new voice mail. Not from an unknown number, luckily. This was a 212 area code. She tapped to listen.
“Hello, Mrs. Grayson, this is Teddy Buckley, your accountant from PricewaterhouseCoopers?” he began. “We had an appointment this morning? I’m at your office, and no one is answering. I don’t know if we got our signals crossed, but I really do need to meet with you as soon as possible. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Shoot.Had she really just forgotten, though? Or had it been more deliberate than that? But leaving Teddy Buckley waiting outside the foundation’s office at such an early hour was rude, not assertive.Amanda was going to need to be a lot more precise in how she stood up for herself if she was going to get Zach to listen.
The phone lit up with another call. Carolyn.
“Hello?”
“How was the dinner party?” Carolyn asked. The sound of a busy Manhattan street was in the background—horns, voices—and Carolyn was breathing hard, as though she was walking quickly. “Did Sarah give you shit about Zach not being there?”
The “shit about Zach” role belonged to Carolyn. She got territorial.
“It was a little awkward,” Amanda said. “But they were all really sweet and understanding in the end.”
“Hmm. Sweet,” Carolyn said skeptically. “Just don’t get too sucked in. You know how those women can be.”
“Those women” were any of the wives and mothers Amanda had become friends with in any of the towns they’d moved to over the years. To Carolyn they were all the same. But Amanda believed that Sarah and Maude were different. They were real friends. They cared about her. She didn’t want Carolyn to undermine that.
“Hey, could you meet for a run after work?” Amanda asked. “I need to talk to you about something.”
