Chasing Venus by Diana Dempsey Read Free Book Online Page A

arrested,
Ms. Rowell.”   Simpson didn’t need to
consult his notebook to rattle off the details.   “Three times in the state of
California.”
    “That’s right.”   She returned to her chair.   She had forgotten.
    The incidents were so
long ago, it was almost as if they were from another life.   Other parents might be upset that their
child had an arrest record, but given the nature of the transgressions, Annie’s
wore it like a badge of honor.   One
arrest was for a Berkeley sit-in; another for lying down in front of bulldozers
to protect an historic Santa Cruz building.   She couldn’t remember why she got hauled
in the third time.   She wondered how
many arrests her parents had on their records.   Probably a few dozen between them.
    “You don’t seem
embarrassed by your rap sheet.”   That from Simpson.
    Annie glanced at him
and decided that her best course was to continue telling the truth.   “I’m not.”
    “Even though it gives
you a history of resisting authority?”
    “If you knew my
parents, you’d know they raised me to do exactly that.”
    Higuchi pushed his wire
frames higher up his nose.   “Ms.
Rowell, what did you do on the Saturday night of the LA conference after the
awards ceremony?”
    “Michael and I went to
the bar in the hotel and had a few drinks.   Then we called it a night.”
    “So you went upstairs
to your room.”
    “That’s right.”
    “And when is the next
time you left your room?”
    “Not until …”   She tried to think.   “Not until I went downstairs on Sunday
to check out.   It was around eleven
thirty.   I had room service for
breakfast and I was working all morning.   Writing.   I’d brought my
laptop with me.”
    Simpson spoke.   “And when you were in Manhattan for your
friend’s wedding, did you have cause to travel to Connecticut?”
    Connecticut.   Where Elizabeth Wimble was
murdered.   In her home in the
picturesque town of Greenwich.
    It was as if a sinister
presence had come inside Annie’s shabby living room and made itself at home.
    Annie rose and walked
to the front window to collect her thoughts.   The cocker spaniel from across the
street had been freed from the oak tree by its mistress.   It bounded toward its porch, all joy and
energy.
    Annie tried to regain
the cool she’d felt in the kitchen.   “No, I never went to Connecticut.   The wedding was in Manhattan, as was the reception.   I was in Manhattan the entire time.”
    Simpson consulted his
notebook.   “When did you arrive in
the New York area?”
    “On the Thursday before
the wedding.   I arrived in the
evening and went straight to my hotel.”
    “Did you attend any
events related to the wedding on Friday?”
    “I saw my friend in the
morning at her apartment and then had lunch with my editor.   Both in the city.”
    “And after lunch, what
did you do?”
    “I went back to the
hotel and worked.   Wrote.”
    “All evening?”
    “Yes.”
    “You didn’t go out to
dinner?”
    “No.   I skipped dinner.   Lunch was pretty filling so I just had
snacks from the mini bar.”   Chardonnay and M&Ms, as she recalled.   The next morning she made up for the
indulgence on the treadmill.
    Higuchi spoke up.   “At the time your deadline was three
months away, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yet on a free evening
in Manhattan, you chose to stay in your hotel and write?”
    “Authors don’t write only
when they’re on deadline, Mr. Higuchi.   Otherwise they’d never meet their deadlines.”
    Simpson eyed her.   “Did anyone see you on that Friday
evening, Ms. Rowell?”
    “No.”   So
I don’t have an alibi .
    “Ms. Rowell,” Simpson
went on, “we have taken note that you were in the vicinity of every one of
these murders when they occurred.”
    It was as if she were
standing on an Alaskan glacier.   She
was that cold.   “There has to be
somebody else who was in all those places at all those times.”
    “We haven’t found
anybody