Page 14 of The Writer
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IN THE CAFETERIA-LIKE meeting room of Rikers Island, Denise Morrow sits at the aluminum table with her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting and turning over each other like she’s kneading a pound of dough. She doesn’t want to touch anything . She doesn’t want to breathe the air. Every time she inhales, the stale scent of vomit and urine buried beneath years of bleach fills her nostrils, and it’s all she can do to keep from throwing up and adding to whatever came before.
The floor is pale green, the walls dull yellow, with doors and random pieces of furniture in purple. Looks like a day care decorated by a mad clown.
She doesn’t belong here.
This is a bad dream.
She will get out and make things right.
It’s that last line she keeps repeating in her head like some kind of mantra. She can’t help wondering how many other people in this room, this place, are telling themselves the same.
Led into the room by a female guard large enough to wrestle a bear, Geller Hoffman spots her and smiles, showing his perfectly capped white teeth.
“How you holding up?” He takes the seat next to her and unbuttons his suit jacket.
“How do you think?” And this comes out angrier than she means it to. None of this is his fault, and taking it out on him isn’t going to help. She draws in a deep breath and shifts gears. Time to plead. “Please get me out of here.”
“I’m working on it.”
She says, a hitch in her voice, “I didn’t do this. You know that.”
Geller glances at the surrounding tables, nearly all full. The large guard who brought him here is standing against the wall not five feet away. She’s not hiding the fact that she’s watching them. She’s close enough to hear them. Probably reporting back to someone. Maybe the warden. Maybe the police. Maybe both. Geller gives Denise a perturbed glance. “I tried to get us a private room, but the next one isn’t available until tomorrow at three. I didn’t want to wait that long before coming to see you.”
Denise feels a pang in her chest. “How’s Quimby?”
“He’s doing fine. I took his food and treats from your apartment but they rushed me out, so I had to leave his automatic feeder and his water-fountain thing behind. I picked up some dishes and a litter box at the pet shop.”
“Is he eating and drinking? He’s had his fountain since he was a kitten.”
Geller places his palms down on the table between them, an attempt at reassurance. “Don’t worry. He’s drinking. He did turn his nose up at first, but I watched him, and after a while he seemed to accept the temporary change in amenities and went slumming at the peasant ceramic dish. You know you spoil that cat. How’s anyone supposed to cat-sit for you?”
She pulls at the orange fabric by her collarbone. “Well, I wasn’t planning on signing him up for sleepaway camp, Geller. When I travel, I get a cat-sitter to check on him so he doesn’t need to leave home. He likes his feeder and his cat bubbler. He likes his bed and his tree and—oh, no. What kind of litter box did you pick up?”
Geller looks bewildered. “The plastic-box kind?”
“And is he using it?”
“Of course. I would have noticed if he selected a different toilet option. Why, what does he use at your place? A gold-plated cat throne with a warm-water bidet?”
Denise swats his hand. “Quimby is my boy. Some women have children; I have Quimby. And no, he does not have a cat bidet. Though I wouldn’t deny him one if I thought he’d use it.”
“Well, perhaps you can upgrade his can when you’re back home. For now, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of him. You have my word.”
“Speaking of that, how long do you think they’re going to keep me here?”
“You heard the judge. With the grand jury convening Wednesday, our next shot to get you out will be Thursday. We need to prep for that.”
“Thursday,” she mutters. That feels like a lifetime. She’s already been here for three days. “You don’t understand what it’s like… I can’t…”
“We’ll get you out,” he insists.
The promise feels hollow, and she wonders how many times he’s said those four words to clients. Denise reminds herself she’s not a client, she’s a friend. She’s a close friend, and there is a world of difference.
Under the watchful eye of the guard, Geller retrieves a pad and pen from his briefcase, scribbles in the top corner to get the ink flowing, then says, “Can you think of anyone who might want David dead?”
“It was a break-in. I told you that.” She eyes the notepad. “Can I have a sheet and something to write with?”
Geller looks to the guard, who nods. He tears off the top sheet, finds another pen, and slides both over to her. “I understand it was a break-in, but with nothing taken, we need to consider other options. I got a look at the police report, and they mentioned that David had no defensive wounds. Given how far back in the apartment you found him, there’s a very good chance he let his attacker in and walked the guy down that hall before he turned on him. That indicates someone who was known to him. We need to give the police someone other than you. Can you think of anyone who had a problem with your husband?”
“No.”
“Think.”
“He never mentioned anyone. I suppose there could be someone at the hospital, but David rarely talked about work when he was home. He did in the beginning, but all the sleepless nights started to take a toll, so about four years ago he decided for the sake of his mental health to leave the hospital at the hospital.”
“Okay, so is there someone I can talk to there? Mercy, right?”
Denise nods and thinks about that for a second. “Try Jeffery Varano. He runs the cardiology department. He and David are friends. He’d know.” She hesitates, then mumbles, “ Were friends.”
Geller Hoffman has never been big on emotion. He offers her his facsimile of a sympathetic glance, then makes a note of the name and goes quiet for a long time.
“What is it?” she asks.
“The condoms are a problem for us,” he says in a low voice. “Can you think of any reason David might have had them?”
Denise closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, she doesn’t answer but writes a sentence down on her paper. Geller reads it aloud. “‘A criminal’s best asset is his lie ability.’” He frowns. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She looks down at the words as if she’s seeing them for the first time. “Sorry. When I get stuck while I’m writing, I jot down puns. It’s just this trick I learned. Writing words, any words, helps me think and makes more words come. Like opening a valve.”
“Puns aren’t going to get you out of jail, and condoms in your husband’s pocket could keep you here, so let’s try and focus. Was he cheating?”
“Give me another sheet of paper.”
He does, and she begins writing again. Writing fast. A list of at least thirty items. When she finishes, she slides it over to him.
“What’s this?”
“Things that could be missing from my apartment.”
Geller’s gaze shifts to the guard; she shakes her head. He slides the list back to Denise. “I’m going to push for a walk-through. Once we do that, we can create a real list.”
“The police are treating me like a criminal. They’re lying, so why shouldn’t I?”
“Because you don’t have to. The truth—”
“Is doing a shitty job of setting me free.”
Geller rolls his eyes. “How about we stay on task. Was David cheating?”
Denise glances at the guard, who’s gotten closer. She’s looking at them like she’s watching her own personal soap opera. Lovely. “Not that I know of,” she tells Geller.
“If he was—and I understand this is hard for you—any idea who it was with?”
She shakes her head.
“Can you think of anyone who might have seen something?”
“No.”
“Friends? Neighbors? Coworkers?”
Again, she closes her eyes. It’s hard to say this. “David wasn’t sloppy. He was meticulous. If he was having an affair, no one would have known unless he wanted them to. Including me. He wouldn’t be so careless.”
“Let’s look at this from a different angle. How about someone who can testify your marriage was solid?”
Denise thinks about that for a second, then shakes her head again. “You know how much the two of us work. Our schedules don’t leave much time for socializing. He’s always at the hospital, and when I meet new people, I feel like they’re interested in me only because I’m a little famous. We keep our circle small.” She forces a grin. “I don’t suppose you can testify? You know us better than anyone.”
“I’m afraid not,” he tells her. “What about your housekeeper? Maybe she saw you two hugging? Kissing? Laughing together?”
Denise runs through her recent memories, then says, “No. Martha is like a ghost when she’s there. With the language barrier, she and I have never been close.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t see anything.”
“I don’t think she likes me much,” Denise admits. “Look, David and I were married for sixteen years. I’m not going to tell you it was all roses and sunshine. Things got particularly ugly after I had the emergency hysterectomy, and for a long time I resented him, but we got past it. Did I occasionally want to pick up something heavy and swing it at his shins? Sure, and I don’t doubt I drove him batshit with my own unlovable quirks. That’s how it goes. We were a team, though.”
Geller doesn’t look at her directly when he asks his next question. “Were the two of you…”
“Fucking?”
Geller’s cheeks flush. “Yes.”
“Yes. He had no complaints. I kept him fed and happy. At least twice a week.”
The guard looks away with that one. Good to know she has some boundaries.
On the opposite end of the room, there’s a flash of orange jumpsuit. A lanky inmate covered in tattoos gets to her feet and lunges at another inmate who just entered the room, a burly beast of a woman with a partially shaved head. The two of them stumble, roll across one of the tables, and drop to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The guards are on them fast. There are several shouts. The crackle of a stun gun. Then they’re pulling them apart.
Denise watches all of this in absolute horror. She turns back to him. “Geller, you’ve got to get me out. I don’t belong in here with these wild animals.”
“I will.” He rests his hand on top of hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t pull away until the large guard returns and tells him to, and even then, he waits several more seconds. “But first, you need to tell me everything you know about Detective Declan Shaw.”