Chapter 55
APRIL
The same two police detectives came by my house the next day. Abbott and Costello. Whoops, I meant Abbott and Wright.
They were also back the following day, which happened to be Valentine’s Day. The irony wasn’t lost on me. How could it be?
I know they were just doing their jobs, but part of me started to think that they also enjoyed seeing me. I was still playing the grieving wife, but I’d opened up a little bit to both of them, and being a pretty woman, maybe they thought I was someone to keep an eye on, if you know what I mean.
I wouldn’t put it past them. Men can be such pigs. And it’s not like women were much better. Just look at me.
I continued to stick to my story: that I was in love with David, and had no idea who would want to kill him.
I got one piece of good news when they confirmed that I was in my house when the shooting happened. They must have triangulated my location from street cameras and realized I didn’t leave my house until Bex Andrews knocked on it.
They asked me more questions about his finances and the impending promotion he was going to get. I told them what I could. I admitted that April’s Coffee Shop hadn’t been the success we’d been hoping for, but we were confident it would turn the corner in the coming months.
One of my few worries was when they got around to interviewing David’s friends.
I wasn’t exactly their favorite person in the world, but as long as he hadn’t told them I’d cheated, and he was going to divorce me, then it didn’t really matter.
The detectives had no specific evidence tying me to his murder.
A few times during our interviews, I alluded to the fact that David wasn’t as close to his old friends as he used to be. I did it understatedly, as with everything else. I wanted the detectives to know. The hope was that they would then take what David’s friends said about me with a grain of salt.
“You know how it is when you’re married,” I said. “It kind of becomes all about your husband or your wife. So, no, we didn’t get to see his friends as much. I hope they aren’t mad at me for that. I know his old drinking buddies probably don’t like it.”
I never came out and said I suspected anyone of his murder, but I’d occasionally harp on his impending raise. I was always trying to stay one step ahead of the cops. Give them reasons not to focus solely on me.
As the Valentine’s Day interview was winding down, a touchy subject came up.
“We learned that you and David took out life insurance policies on each other,” one of the detectives said.
“Yeah, we did. It was within a month of our marriage and was David’s idea. Sounded like a good idea, so I went along with it.”
“Do you know why David wanted to do it? I mean, he seemed to be making enough money.”
“Well, early on in our marriage, he was making good money, but nothing like he’s been making the last few years.
And certainly nothing like he would have made once his raise kicked in.
He said at the time that in case anything happened to him, he wanted me to be set for life.
I don’t think that one million dollars is exactly set for life, but I didn’t tell him that at the time.
We were in love and newly married. I just did what he wanted. ”
“But you’ll be inheriting more than one million dollars. With David’s stock options, all the money you two have in the bank, along with the life insurance policy, you’re looking at around five million dollars—maybe more.”
“I’d give it all back if I could have David back,” I said, and brushed away a tear. “And I’ve been nothing but honest with you two. I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”
“We wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t ask, Mrs. Devers.”
“I understand, Detectives. I’m sorry for saying that, but I just felt like you were putting me on the spot. And, David was going to be making money hand over fist in a month or two.”
I didn’t have to finish the sentence. We all knew what I meant.
I’d be crazy to kill my husband a few months before his salary really took off.
“We get your frustration. In fact, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but at this point, my partner and I don’t think you had anything to do with your husband’s death. We do still have to ask these tough questions, however. I hope you understand.”
“I understand. No problem.” I wiped my eyes again. “This is all so much. I’m also in the midst of planning his funeral for next week.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Devers. We could come back tomorrow.”
“No, it’s okay. You can ask me anything else you want right now.”
And that’s how it went for the first several days after David’s murder.
The LAPD is asking tough questions, and I’m playing the grieving widow.