but everything had happened so fast. Shit. The detective unwrapped a new toothpick and held it like a cigarette. A reformed smoker, she would bet on it. He asked her to tell him once again what had happened, starting with Ivan’s phone call.
Claudia’s relief that he didn’t ask her for Zebediah’s letter was immediate and intense. This time around she remembered about the matching logos on the florist’s van and the flowers in the foyer. “Is there any more you can tell me, ma’am?”
The “ma’am” annoyed her, made her feel ninety-nine instead of thirty-nine. She wondered if he did it deliberately.
“No.”
But he continued asking questions and making notes, with an occasional grunted, “Uh huh” as she answered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, “What was it he wanted you to pick up?”
“What? Uh, that’s confidential.”
“Must have been pretty important to bring you out here so late on a Monday night.”
“It was related to the case I’m working on for him. As far as I know, it has nothing to do with what happened here tonight.”
“What kind of case is it you’re working on, Ms. Rose?”
“As I told you, I’m a handwriting examiner. He asked me to examine some handwriting.”
Jovanic made no response to that and a long silence ensued, during which she concluded that he wasn’t going to say anything further.
Point conceded. Score one for Detective Jovanic.
“Ivan worked for a woman named Lindsey Alexander, who recently committed suicide,” Claudia explained. “ Apparently committed suicide, but Ivan didn’t believe it.” She watched him closely as she described Ivan’s suspicions about Lindsey’s death and saw the flicker of disbelief in his eyes.
“I’m familiar with the case,” he said. “There was nothing to suggest it was anything other than suicide.” He sucked thoughtfully on the toothpick, looking at her straight on with eyes sharp enough to penetrate the smallest white lie. She would hate to be a suspect if he were doing the interrogating. Being a witness was uncomfortable enough. “What makes you so sure your case isn’t related to the attack on Mr. Novak?”
“What makes you think it is?” she countered. There she went again, letting the words rush out without thinking. She needed some sleep. Real sleep; not the nightmare-inducing catnaps she’d been allowed this night.
“It’s my job to investigate,” said Detective Jovanic. “And I’m investigating. Doesn’t it seem a little strange to you? It just happens that he calls you to come over, then, voila , he’s attacked?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I attacked him?”
His face was expressionless as he replied, “We’re just beginning the investigation. I’m not ruling anything out at this point.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, now I’m a suspect ?” Outraged, Claudia glared at him. “I’m the one who called 911, remember? What motive would I have for attacking Ivan?”
Jovanic shrugged. “If you have a motive, I’ll find out. Meanwhile, do you really believe that two acts of violence in the same place inside of two weeks is a coincidence?”
“You’re the ones who are so sure Lindsey committed suicide. That’s a very different kind of violence than this! Come on, detective, it’s nearly two in the morning; I’m wiped; I can’t think straight. Or is that why you’ve kept me here? So I won’t know what I’m saying?” Suddenly, Claudia’s anger deflated like a popped balloon. “Can’t we finish this some other time? Please?”
Jovanic pointed to his own cheek. “You’ve got blood on your face.”
Her hand flew to her cheek, felt the dried spot on her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“How’d the blood get on you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Have you seen the amount of blood in there, Columbo?”
“You know, Ms. Rose, you might want to consider changing your attitude. At the very least, you’re a witness at a serious crime, and I expect
Claudia’s relief that he didn’t ask her for Zebediah’s letter was immediate and intense. This time around she remembered about the matching logos on the florist’s van and the flowers in the foyer. “Is there any more you can tell me, ma’am?”
The “ma’am” annoyed her, made her feel ninety-nine instead of thirty-nine. She wondered if he did it deliberately.
“No.”
But he continued asking questions and making notes, with an occasional grunted, “Uh huh” as she answered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, “What was it he wanted you to pick up?”
“What? Uh, that’s confidential.”
“Must have been pretty important to bring you out here so late on a Monday night.”
“It was related to the case I’m working on for him. As far as I know, it has nothing to do with what happened here tonight.”
“What kind of case is it you’re working on, Ms. Rose?”
“As I told you, I’m a handwriting examiner. He asked me to examine some handwriting.”
Jovanic made no response to that and a long silence ensued, during which she concluded that he wasn’t going to say anything further.
Point conceded. Score one for Detective Jovanic.
“Ivan worked for a woman named Lindsey Alexander, who recently committed suicide,” Claudia explained. “ Apparently committed suicide, but Ivan didn’t believe it.” She watched him closely as she described Ivan’s suspicions about Lindsey’s death and saw the flicker of disbelief in his eyes.
“I’m familiar with the case,” he said. “There was nothing to suggest it was anything other than suicide.” He sucked thoughtfully on the toothpick, looking at her straight on with eyes sharp enough to penetrate the smallest white lie. She would hate to be a suspect if he were doing the interrogating. Being a witness was uncomfortable enough. “What makes you so sure your case isn’t related to the attack on Mr. Novak?”
“What makes you think it is?” she countered. There she went again, letting the words rush out without thinking. She needed some sleep. Real sleep; not the nightmare-inducing catnaps she’d been allowed this night.
“It’s my job to investigate,” said Detective Jovanic. “And I’m investigating. Doesn’t it seem a little strange to you? It just happens that he calls you to come over, then, voila , he’s attacked?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I attacked him?”
His face was expressionless as he replied, “We’re just beginning the investigation. I’m not ruling anything out at this point.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, now I’m a suspect ?” Outraged, Claudia glared at him. “I’m the one who called 911, remember? What motive would I have for attacking Ivan?”
Jovanic shrugged. “If you have a motive, I’ll find out. Meanwhile, do you really believe that two acts of violence in the same place inside of two weeks is a coincidence?”
“You’re the ones who are so sure Lindsey committed suicide. That’s a very different kind of violence than this! Come on, detective, it’s nearly two in the morning; I’m wiped; I can’t think straight. Or is that why you’ve kept me here? So I won’t know what I’m saying?” Suddenly, Claudia’s anger deflated like a popped balloon. “Can’t we finish this some other time? Please?”
Jovanic pointed to his own cheek. “You’ve got blood on your face.”
Her hand flew to her cheek, felt the dried spot on her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“How’d the blood get on you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Have you seen the amount of blood in there, Columbo?”
“You know, Ms. Rose, you might want to consider changing your attitude. At the very least, you’re a witness at a serious crime, and I expect
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