The Mirror and the Mask (17 page)

“No, but two men got out. They look official.”

Her words were interrupted by the doorbell.

“If you want me to,” said Barbara, “I'll tell them you're not home.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I haven't done anything wrong.” The questioning was inevitable and he wanted to get it over with. He followed her out into the living room. When the doorbell rang again, he was the one who answered it.

The men stood outside, holding open their wallets to show off their badges. One was gray haired, kind faced, and Latino; the other younger, balding, and dour.

“Mr. Robbe?” asked the gray-haired cop.

“Yes?”

“I'm Sergeant Ramos. This is Sergeant Sterling. Could we come in?”

“Is this about Susan Bowman?”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

Kristjan returned to the living room. He took a seat on the couch
next to his wife—a show of solidarity he didn't feel. The cops sat across from them on matching blue velvet wingback chairs. They glanced around, taking in the furnishings, the artwork, the family photos. Kristjan assumed they were making judgments about his general wealth and income, not one of which was accurate. Once upon a time, this had been a half-million-dollar house. If they tried to sell it now, they wouldn't get half that amount. Add to that their massive credit card balances, car payments, and the two mortgages they'd taken out to pay medical bills—and other various and sundry crap they thought necessary to maintain their lifestyle—and debt, in all its modern variety, was about to swallow them whole.

“My partner and I spent the morning at the real estate office in Hastings, where Mrs. Bowman worked,” said Ramos, patting his pocket and removing a notepad. “Talking to some of her coworkers—”

Barbara cut him off. “You learned about my husband's affair.”

Kristjan froze. He turned to stare at her, trying to stifle his look of shock. What the hell was she doing?

“Yes,” said Ramos. “We did hear about that. Is it true?”

“It's over,” said Barbara. “My husband ended it several days ago.”

“Is that correct, Mr. Robbe?”

Kristjan wondered how his wife knew it was over. He'd never told her that. Maybe she was just bullshitting on his behalf, trying to put a better spin on it. If so, he wasn't sure it was a smart move. “It's actually been over for quite some time, it just took me a while to say the words.”

“So you were the one who wanted to end it? Or would you say it was mutual?”

“No, it was me.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn't stand all the sneaking around. It was getting too complicated.” The words came out sounding false. Panic rose in his chest as he realized that if the cops thought Susan had called off
the affair, it gave him a motive. He pushed himself to say more. “I guess . . . I realized I love my wife and that what I was doing was wrong.”
Too weak
, he thought.
They can see right through me
.

“So you knew about the affair?” asked Sterling, watching Barbara with his chilly cop eyes.

“That's right. When it comes to manipulative bitches, my husband is very much the innocent.”

Kristjan felt his neck heat up.

“Susan's been working her wiles on him for years, although I doubt he saw it that way. Kristjan wasn't her first affair, you know.”

“Are you saying she was unhappily married?” asked Sterling.

Kristjan leaned back against the couch, away from his wife. “She was,” he said. “Jack Bowman is a brutal man. A womanizer. You've probably already heard, but Jack wanted a divorce.”

“How do you know that?”

“Susan and I had a meeting in her office on Wednesday morning. Jack phoned while I was there. I heard her talking to him about it, pleading with him not to speak to a lawyer until they could discuss it.”

Ramos kept his eyes on Kristjan. “Mr. Bowman never mentioned anything about a divorce.”

“Well, he wouldn't, would he? If Susan decided to fight him on it, it could have cost him millions. That's the one thing in the world that's most important to Jack. If he did murder her, that's why.”

“Do you have any proof that he was asking for a divorce?”

“No. But I'm not lying. Why would I make it up?”

“Did Bowman know about your affair with his wife?” asked Sterling.

Kristjan shook his head.

“Then I don't understand. Why did he want the divorce?”

“He said he was unhappy in the marriage. He'd fallen out of love.”

“Did you talk to Susan at any other time on Wednesday, the day she died?” asked Ramos.

“No. We never spoke.”

“I'm thinking,” said Sterling, sliding a cell phone out of the holder on his belt and checking it, “that it makes more sense that Bowman did know about your affair. He wanted a divorce because Susan was cheating on him.”

“That's not what Susan told me. She said it had come out of the blue. She was completely shocked.” Kristjan's mouth felt suddenly dry.

“You and Mrs. Bowman were friends for many years,” said Ramos, flipping back in his notebook. “When did the affair begin?”

“About five months ago,” said Kristjan. Next to him, he could feel his wife's back stiffen.

“Any particular reason?” asked Ramos. “I mean, you'd been strictly platonic friends for a long time, right?”

“Yes. Just friends.”

“So why the sexual involvement?”

“Boredom” was the first word that came to his mind, though he didn't say it out loud. “I'm not sure I know how to answer that.”

“She wore him down,” said Barbara. “She was good-looking. Sexy, I suppose. I'd use the word ‘slut,' but men view the world differently.”

Kristjan's gaze rose to the ceiling.

“So the two of you have worked things out?” asked Ramos. “You've forgiven your husband?”

“It's been hard,” said Barbara. “But we're trying. For the sake of the kids.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Three,” said Kristjan.

“Where were you Wednesday afternoon between one and five, Mr. Robbe?” asked Sterling.

“Here with me,” said Barbara, pulling Kristjan's hand into her lap.

Kristjan wanted to yank it away but gritted his teeth and restrained himself. “Actually, I was showing a house at one, but”—he looked over at his wife—“I was home by three, I think.”

“Yes, three,” she said. “I misspoke.”

“Are you employed, Mrs. Robbe?” asked Ramos.

“I was. I'm an LPN. The hospital where I work has been cutting staff because of the economy. I was let go recently.”

“I'm sorry to hear it,” said Ramos.

“Thanks. I'm not usually home during the day, but I was on Wednesday.”

“Did your husband leave the house after he arrived home?”

“No.”

“What kind of car do you drive, Mr. Robbe?” asked Sterling.

“A Camry.”

“What color?”

“Black.”

“And you, Mrs. Robbe?”

“Me? Why would you want to know that?”

“We need to get an idea of the cars Mr. Robbe has access to.”

She seemed put out. “An Accord.”

“The color?”

“Gray. But Kristjan never drives my car.”

“That's fine, Mrs. Robbe,” said Ramos. “We just need the information for our report.”

“Any particular reason?” asked Kristjan.

“One of the Bowmans' neighbors said she saw a dark sedan out in front of the Bowmans' house around three on Wednesday afternoon.”

“It wasn't my husband,” said Barbara, caressing Kristjan's hand.

“Just curious, Mrs. Robbe,” said Ramos. “What kind of a relationship did you have with Mrs. Bowman?”

“None at all.”

“You never saw her, even at company events?”

“Well, sure, I saw her, but I didn't like her, so I kept my distance.”

“Didn't she find that odd?”

“She did,” said Kristjan, sitting forward and extracting his hand from his wife's grasp. “She thought Barbara was rude.”

“That's nothing compared to what I thought of
her
.”

“You hated her?” asked Ramos.

“You bet I did. I had a right.”

“Even before the affair started?”

“I knew what she was up to, knew where their friendship was headed.”

“Even though your husband maintains he didn't?”

“That's right.”

“Did you ever warn him about her?”

“He doesn't listen to me. He thinks I always take the negative side.”

“So you're still in love with your husband?” asked Sterling.

“Very much.”

“You'd do anything for him?”

“I wouldn't lie for him, if that's what you're suggesting. I don't need to. He didn't do anything wrong.”

“Except cheat on you.”

“That's it,” said Kristjan, pushing off the couch. “We're done.”

Ramos held up his hand. “We're not accusing you of anything, Mr. Robbe.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“We're just doing our jobs. We have to ask these questions, even though they're difficult.”

“I would never have hurt Susan. I loved her.”

“Even after you broke it off with her, you still cared about her?”

“Of course I did. Now, I'd like you to leave.” He stalked into the front hall and opened the door.

On their way out, the officers nodded to Barbara and then to Kristjan. “We'll be in touch,” said Ramos.

Closing the door behind them, Kristjan stood in the hall at the edge of the living room. “Why'd you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Lie about me being home Wednesday.”

“To protect you.”

“How utterly perfect that my wife feels it necessary to lie to the police so they won't think I murdered my lover.”

“Ex-lover. And I don't think you murdered her. But you weren't home. I got scared. You were doing so much blathering I had to say something to back you up. Can anyone verify where you were after you showed that house?”

“No,” he said grudgingly.

“Then? I helped. I did it for you.”

“You've never had an unmixed motive in your life.”

“How can you say that?”

The hurt in her eyes cut him deeply, but he was too embarrassed to show it. “Just . . . leave me alone.” He walked back to his study and slammed the door.

 

 

 

A
nnie worked at the Xanadu Club until seven that night. Before she left, she asked around, hoping to find Jane. She located her sitting at the bar next to an attractive but frighteningly thin middle-aged woman. Jane introduced her as Julia.

Annie and Julia shook hands, spoke briefly about nothing in particular. When the conversation died abruptly, Annie turned to Jane and thanked her again for the job, said she'd worked five hours. Jane promised that's she'd have cash for her if she stopped by in the morning. Annie told her she'd be back, and if Jane could find more work for her to do—in the bar, the kitchen, just about anything—she'd be grateful. Jane seemed pleased. She gave her a hug and sent her on her way.

Stepping out into the frosty night air, Annie actually felt happy for the first time in weeks. She drove home listening to a CD, singing along with the Indigo Girls' “She's Saving Me,” one of her favorite tunes. It didn't take long for the irony to penetrate.

As she rode up in the elevator at Curt's condo, she was still thinking about Jane. At one point during the afternoon, the bartender
she'd been working with let it slip that Jane was gay. Annie had taken it in silently. She figured that the guy thought she disapproved. Not even remotely true.

Annie was beginning to realize that she was attracted to Jane. It didn't happen often with women. Most of the time, Annie stayed with guys. It was easier. Men were less complicated. If they liked you and wanted to have sex, they let you know. Annie appreciated the straightforwardness. Women were head trips. But sometimes, they were worth the effort.

Annie liked Curt, but he was young—six years younger than she was. And he was turning out to be his own kind of head trip. Not that Annie didn't owe him. She was drawn to him, for sure, to his complexity, to the hurt inside him. If Annie had an Achilles' heel, a fundamental flaw that got her in trouble over and over again, it was her empathy. She identified too easily and quickly with people who were in pain. Sometimes it impaired her ability to reason, even though, in the throes of that empathy, she always thought she was making the right decisions. She wanted to help, to comfort Curt, to be a port in the storm. There'd been an important man in her life once who'd been that for her, but at the same time she didn't want the compassion she felt for Curt to take over her life.

Unlocking the front door, Annie stepped from a bright hallway into total darkness. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she saw Curt lying on the couch in the living room, dressed in his striped flannel bathrobe and gray sweatpants. She wondered if he'd even been out today. He told her that when he had a study day at home, he sometimes took breaks up on the roof. He'd taken her up there yesterday to show her what a beautiful view he had of the river. The lock on the stairway door was cheap and opened easily with a credit card. He laughed about it. Said that his second career option was breaking and entering. Annie didn't like it up there. It scared her being up that high without railings. Curt didn't seem to notice.