The AlaLitCom - 2013

“I had a killer migraine that came on me about 8 p.m. I took a pill and went to my room. I was out like a light. And the servants were off duty in a wing at the back of the house.”

“So, no alibi. And Thomas was shot, what, around 10 p.m.,” I put in.

And Turkey Run Park was no more than a half hour from McLean, a little west on the Parkway.

I went over and stood with my back to the radiator. Puddles jumped off the couch, stretched and went to the door. I let him out and watched him pad confidently up the stairs to waiting kibble.

I walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk facing her.

“And you?” I asked.

She licked her lips and said in a low voice, “The police called me yesterday. They want to come by the house later today, while Win is at work, and talk to me.

I knew what that meant. Aaron considered Winston Benedict a possible suspect and he wanted to nose around his life. He had probably already done a background check on both of the Benedicts. And he was going to take one look at Avery and start thinking affair. The only thing that surprised me was that she hadn’t been asked to come to the station.

She would be more relaxed, comfortable at home. But maybe that was the point.

She went over to the window and stared out at the street, her arms locked together across her chest. It was raining again. Her perfect posture was drooping a little.

“They wouldn’t tell me anything when they called.”

“They are like that sometimes,” I said. “Like to play their cards close to their chest. It rattles people, especially the guilty ones.”

She reached out and traced the path of a raindrop as it slid down the pane.

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