The Devil and the Detective Read Online Free Page A

mélange, though mainly made up of purple lilies. I said that sounded perfect. She asked me whether I planned to pay with Visa or MasterCard. I told her that I’d call her back re the flowers later and so on and so forth. Then I listened to the playback.
    The recording, the recording of the conversation between me and the florist, was crisp and clear and the device worked perfectly, as I’d expected it to, though I wanted to be thorough, so as to make sure. I looked at Elaine’s number and although I was nervous – my stomach felt weak and my heart beat quickly – I knew that I must call her and suss out the situation. I needed to know, I thought, where I stood, even if it meant discovering something unpleasant about myself. Before I called, though, I went and poured a large glass of ice water.

3
    (T ime: 1330h. Place: My apt. I pick the phone up off the mount, look at the number on the Post-it [i.e., Elaine Andrews’s number], and I key said number into the number pad. The phone rings approx. four times before she picks up. I’ve already started the recording device.)
    EA née J : Hello …
    RJ : Hi. Elaine. It’s me. Robert. Bob. Bob James. The detective.
    EA née J : Hi. I was wondering when you were going to call. How are you?
    RJ : A little hungover, actually, though fine. And I’ve resolved to cut way back on my drinking for the remainder of the case.
    EA née J : Don’t do anything crazy. [ She laughs. ]
    RJ : Did I … ? Did I do anything crazy last night?
    EA née J : No. I did, though. I drove home.
    RJ : I shouldn’t’ve let you.
    EA née J : You tried to stop me. You tried to tell me not to drive, that we’d order a cab, that the bartender would order us a cab. I didn’t listen. It was too late, so I dropped you off, and you said I could crash at your place, that you’d take the couch, but I said goodnight and drove off. Anyway, I made it home fine, thankfully, though it was dumb of me to drive that drunk, especially … Anyway, it’s over now, and I promise to watch my drinking and driving.
    RJ : Well, I’m glad to hear you made it home safely. What’s going on at your house?
    EA née J : An officer stopped by this morning, though no one’s around right now. Oh, wait … [ indeterminate background noises ] Sorry … Sorry about that … Do you want to get together?
    RJ : Soon. What did the officer from this morning want?
    EA née J : He was going through Gerald’s desk, and he was taking pictures for his report, he said. I asked him what he was looking for and he said any evidence that would help the police department catch the killer. He took photographs of Gerald’s desktop, as it was, covered with files, letters, journals, magazines, random notes with messy handwriting, and he kept taking pictures. He asked me questions, though I avoided answering them, because I’ve already answered those questions: Where were you when your husband was murdered? What cause would someone have to murder your husband? Did you and your husband ever fight? they ask. They ask all sorts of demeaning questions, the same ones, over and over, ad nauseam. He was checking me out, too.
    RJ : Who? The officer?
    EA née J : Yes. He was looking at my body, up and down, in a creepy way; he was leering, shamelessly leering, while I stood in my husband’s den, waiting for him to finish and leave. He looked at me and said, ‘So you stand to inherit a sizable amount of money. Come over here,’ he said and stupidly I obeyed, and he motioned for me to lean in, and then he whispered into my ear, ‘Now that you have all the money and don’t have to fuck the old man you must be pleased.’ I told him to get out. He laughed. I screamed, ‘Get out now!’ He tried to talk so I screamed more, ‘Get out, get out, get out!’ I