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“At their house?”
“Yes.”
“How often are you there?”
“I haven’t been inside since they bought the place.”
Wilma turns back to the lake. Squinting, she says, “You noticed worrisome things all the way from over here?”
I nod to the binoculars sitting on the table between the rocking chairs, like they have been for days. Wilma, looking back and forth between me and the table, says, “I see. May I borrow these?”
“Knock yourself out.”
The detective lifts the binoculars to her eyes, fiddles with the focus, scans the lake’s opposite shore. When she lowers the binoculars, it’s to give me a stern look.
“There are laws against spying on people, you know.”
“I wasn’t spying,” I say. “I was observing. Casually.”
“Right,” Wilma says, not even bothering to pretend she thinks I’m telling the truth. “How well do each of you know them?”
“Not well,” Boone says. “I met them a couple of times out and about on the lake.”
“I only met Tom Royce twice,” I say. “But Katherine and I have crossed paths a few times. She’s been over here twice, and we talked after I saved her from drowning in the lake.”
I know it’s wrong, but I’m pleased that last part of my sentence seems to surprise the otherwise unflappable Wilma Anson. “When was this?” she says.
“Day before yesterday,” I say, although it feels longer than that. Time seems to have stretched since I returned to the lake, fueled by drunken days and endless, sleepless nights.
“This incident in the lake—do you have any reason to believe her husband had something to do with it?”
“None. Katherine told me she was swimming, the water was too cold, and she cramped up.”
“When you talked to her, did Katherine ever give any indication she thought her husband was trying to do her harm? Did she say she was scared?”
“She hinted that she was unhappy.”
Wilma stops me with a raised hand. “That’s different than fear.”
“She also told me there were financial issues. She said she pays for everything and that Tom would never agree to a divorce because he needed her money too much. She told me he’d probably kill her before letting her leave.”
“Do you think she was being serious?” Wilma asks.
“Not really. At the time, I thought it was a joke.”
“Wouldyoujoke about a thing like that?”
“No,” Boone says.
“Yes,” I say.
Wilma brings the binoculars to her eyes again, and I can tell she’s zeroed in on the lit windows of the Royce house. “Have you seen anything suspicious inside? You know, while casually observing?”
“I saw them fighting. Late last night. He grabbed her by the arm and she hit him.”
“Then maybe it’s for the best that they’re currently apart,” Wilma says.
“I agree,” I say. “But the big question is where Katherine went. Her husband says she’s back at their apartment. I called a friend in the city, who went there and checked. The doorman said she hasn’t been there for days. One of them is lying, and I don’t think it’s the doorman.”