I decided to hold my questions for Nick until he arrived. Frankly, I found the situation to be stress-inducing beyond words. What motive would I possibly have for committing such a brutal act? On my own clients? Was all of this because of the timing of that goddamn phone call?
I got up and paced like a caged lion from the tiny kitchen area to the tiny sleeping area and back. There must be an explanation because I knew I was innocent, and I intended to prove it—beyond any doubt. I forced myself to stop and simply stare out the window. I needed some proof soon, before I wore a trench into the floor.
When Nick arrived, my first words were, "Just what the fuck is going on, dude?" He didn't even flinch. He knew me well enough to expect my greeting would be something less than gracious.
We stood in silence for a few seconds, way too long at any rate. Nick finally cracked a slight grin. "May I come in?"
Exasperated and embarrassed by my initial outburst, my cheeks warmed despite my attempt to hide my feelings. "Of course," I said, tossing my hand in the general direction of "inside."
Once we had settled in with two mugs of coffee, Nick said, "I think there are a couple things that have raised the detectives' interest. One is Marian Harcourt's phone call and the other is the time of death."
"Yeah, no shit," I said.
Nick seemed to consider his next words. "The other thing that struck me, other than the way they kept asking questions about you, was the type of questions they asked. How much detail did you give them about your actions that morning?"
I tried to think back. "Pretty much the bare bones."
"Did you walk up to the house, then go back to the car to get gloves?"
"Well, yeah. The door was open. I was worried. Turned out I was right to be."
"Did you tell the cops about that?"
What had I said exactly? Had I mentioned the gloves?
"You think someone saw me," I said.
Nick nodded. "They didn't say it outright, but I got that impression."
I shook my head. "Do you know how easy it would be for a decent lawyer to cast doubt on a witness like that? People usually fail to recall little details or remember them wrong because they don't pay close attention."
"Perhaps it was a neighbor," Nick mused. "Someone who might have noticed you because you weren't normally in that neighborhood."
"Or had ever been there before," I said. "And I'm still dying to hear what the cops think my motive was."
The look on Nick's face was one of mild shock. Okay, maybe my word choice wasn't that great. His gaze drifted past me and he said, "Seriously, Erica?"
I must have given him a look of desperation, because he quickly added, "I'm not being judgy here. Look at it from their point of view. Given your history, given all the circumstances, would it be right for them as investigators to simply rule you out now?"