Chapter 34 #2
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right,” he says.
“Of course.”
He gestures to the couch and chairs at the north end of the patio.
The other officers take Eric inside. Rain clinks against the patio roof, and the stench of worms wafts up from the grass.
Suddenly, I feel very alone. As I sit on the couch, my mind races with questions.
When did they die? Is my mom a suspect? Am I a suspect?
I think of me and Vivek struggling in the woods.
The scratches on his face, bruises on his skull.
All from me. Then I think of the scratches on my arms. I pull my sleeves down and clasp my hands tight to prevent from shaking.
Gonzalez sits forward in his chair and gives me a closed-lip smile.
His round cheeks press up into kind brown eyes.
A tiny paunch hangs over his thin leather belt.
He places a small recorder on the table and explains that I’m not under arrest, that I’m free to leave at any time.
Somehow, it doesn’t feel that way. He starts with the basics, asking me my name and address, how long I’ve been here, whether there are any cameras on the house, et cetera.
His voice is higher than I’d expect, his tone warm and curious, like a friend asking about your day.
Then, he dives into the meat of the interview.
“How well did you know the Adwanis?”
Sweat beads in my underarms as I realize where this line of questioning is heading. A series of paths leading to a single implication: my involvement in this. If not in this interview, soon enough. Do I spill the beans or play it close to the vest? Normally, I’m the one asking the questions.
“I’ve known Vivek for about five years. We worked together at Winthrop and Company. Freida, I just met two days ago.”
His eyes brighten. “You worked with Mr. Adwani for five years?”
“Yes.”
“Would you say you knew him well?”
Memories of Vivek flash through my mind like a strobe. Late nights at a whiteboard. His hotel room. Moments I’ve forgotten. I search Gonzalez’s eyes. Do I tell him the truth? No, if I tell him the truth, I’m never going home.
“Yes. I knew him well. We worked on a number of projects together.”
“Did he have any enemies at work? Anyone who might want to harm him?”
I stiffen in my chair at the question. “No. Obviously, it’s a competitive workplace, so there were people gunning for him, but no one who would want to harm him.”
“Did you know he owned a home here?”
“No, it was just a coincidence.” At least, I think it was. Maybe I did know. He said he had told me. Why was he really here?
“Huh.” His eyes linger, and I can tell he’s replaying my statements in his mind, debating how much to press.
“You mentioned you met his wife two days ago. How did that happen?”
“I was canoeing and saw them out in front of their house, so I stopped and said hello.”
“I see. Did you notice anything unusual?”
“Unusual?” You mean besides the marks on his face?
“Yeah, unusual. Unfamiliar people or vehicles. Any strange interactions? Disputes?” As he asks, the detective’s eyes crinkle with empathy. He’s a kind man.
“No.”
He nods but holds my gaze. He sees something in my eyes I don’t want him to see.
“I’d like to ask you about the day of the crime. Did you see or hear from them yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me about that?”
“Sure. Eric and I went for a walk after dinner along the trail that runs along the shore, and we saw them outside having drinks around the fire.”
“What time was that?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but roughly around ten p.m.”
“Did you speak to them?”
“No, we turned around and went home.”
“Was there anyone else with them?”
My head throbs as I picture my mother with Vivek and Freida. Her voice raised, finger pointing in his face. I consider saying no, but lying will only make it worse.
“Yes, actually, my mother was with them.”
His eyebrows jump to his hairline. “Your mother?”
“Yes.”
He slides forward in his chair and leans closer to me, so that our faces are inches apart. “Was she friends with the Adwanis?”
“No, she was there on business.”
“What kind of business?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” He smiles but holds the smile like a pistol.
I chew on my lips as I calculate whether there’s any way to explain this that doesn’t look terrible for me or my mom. I consider whether I should ask for a lawyer, but I remind myself that I have nothing to hide. Do I? No. Vivek is the villain, not me.
“Vivek sexually harassed me at work and then assaulted me here.” The words spill out, a dam breaking, and I feel my chest freeing.
“He assaulted you?” His voice rises even higher, and he leans back to give me space.
“Yes.”
“Can you be more specific?”
I recount the story to Gonzalez, who looks like he’s doing everything he can to contain his excitement at this treasure trove of information I’m dropping on him.
After I’m done, he taps his notebook. “Your mother went to the Adwanis last night, ostensibly to tell him to leave you alone?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’ll need her contact information.”
I give him her name, phone number, and email.
He hands me his business card. “We will reach out to her, but if you speak to her in the meantime, please tell her to call me.” He holds my gaze to communicate that this is not a request; it’s an order.
“Is Mrs. Parker here?”
“No, she’s on a canoe trip in the Boundary Waters.”
“Do you have her contact information?”
“Well, yes. But there’s no service up there.”
“So, you can’t be sure she’s in the Boundary Waters?”
“I guess not. But she said she was going there.”
“Have you spoken to her recently?”
“Well, no.”
A pause. “I see.” Two crevices form between his eyebrows. “Have you ever been to Big Island before, Ms. Hoffman?”
“No.”
“Ever heard the name Marjorie Neuman?”
“No,” I lie, not wanting to be dragged in any deeper than I already am.
He stands up from his chair and extends his hand. “Well, thank you very much for your time, Ms. Hoffman. If you have any more relevant information, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m going to speak with Mr. Parker and the little ones inside now. Please stay outside the room, but otherwise, go about your day.”
“Okay, thanks.” He lumbers inside, and I stand on the patio watching the rain and trying to grasp the fact that Vivek is dead. I think of what Eric said. Killed with an axe. My eyes flash to the Parkers’ woodpile, and my head goes dizzy.
The axe is missing.