Hades Read Online Free PDF Page B

her body, and she began to pull on her clothes.
    Justin watched Abby for a second, then he found the pair of jeans he’d tossed onto the floor and the black short-sleeved polo shirt that had been discarded near them. He waited for her to finish dressing and watched as she grabbed what was left of her martini, downed it in one quick gulp, and then walked down toward the living room.
    So much for contentment, Justin Westwood thought.
    So much for happiness.
    Then he blew out the candle on his birthday cake and followed her downstairs.
    The Harmon house was only a ten- or twelve-minute drive from Justin’s. Sitting in his beat-up ’89 BMW, he let the first two or three minutes pass in silence. Then he said, as delicately as he could manage, “I should ask you some questions before we get there.”
    She turned to him, her eyes still dull, and she nodded.
    “Where were you before you came over?”
    “To your house?”
    Justin nodded. He realized that Abby’s silence wasn’t just due to the shock. He heard the tremor in her voice, understood she was fighting back tears. Knew she was, even more than that, struggling not to reveal any weakness.
    “I was looking for your birthday cake,” she said.
    “Where did you get it?”
    “What does that have to do with anything? How stupid is—”
    “Abby, please.”
    “Why do you care—”
    “Answer the question,” he said. “Please. Just answer the question.”
    “At that giant supermarket in Bridgehampton. In the mall. King Kullen.”
    “What time was that?”
    “I don’t know. What time did I get to your place?”
    “Tell me approximately what time
you
think you were there.”
    “Jay, what difference does it fucking make what time— Oh my god.” She shifted in the bucket seat of the convertible so she could face him. The anger biting through her words was both palpable and remarkably restrained. It was the restraint that surprised him, not the hurt or the bitterness. “Do you think I killed my husband?”
    “No.” He didn’t hesitate or stumble over his response.
    “Then what the hell are you doing?”
    “They’re questions that have to be asked. Someone’s going to ask them—I thought it would be better for you if it was me and I asked them now.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Look . . . Abby . . . I’ll know more when I see the crime scene. Evan’s death is going to have repercussions. He’s rich. And I assume you’ll have been left a lot of money.”
    “That makes me a murderer?”
    “No. That makes it a situation cops have to investigate.”
    Now he hesitated again, and Abby picked up on it.
    “And I won’t exactly be perceived as the grieving widow, will I?” she said.
    “You were having an affair. And I’m not egotistical enough to assume I’m your first.”
    He didn’t say it as a question, but she knew she was supposed to give an answer. “No,” she told him. “You’re not the first.” She chewed on her lower lip for a few moments. He made a right turn now off South Hole Road, the road that separated East End Harbor from Bridgehampton, and drove up into the hills. The charming little houses were no more, replaced by imposing gates, long driveways, hedges, and unseen mansions.
    “When was the last time you were home?”
    “This afternoon.”
    “What time?”
    “I don’t know.” She bit off the words, speaking through clenched teeth.
    “Approximately,” he said. “Two? Three? Six?”
    “Three. Maybe four.”
    “And what were you doing between three or four and . . . birthday cake shopping?”
    “Errands.”
    “What kind of errands?”
    “I don’t want to do this anymore, Jay. Stop it.”
    “Abby, was anyone at the house when you left?”
    “No.”
    “No maid?”
    “No. Sara and Pepe were there this morning. Evan gave them the rest of the day off.”
    “Was that normal?”
    “No.”
    “So why’d he do it?”
    “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “He knew I’d be out tonight. I guess he