Kill the Competition (39 page)

"Ms. Campbell was in her office when you delivered the envelope?"

"No. But her briefcase was on her desk, so I assumed she was still in the building, perhaps in the ladies' room."

"You didn't see her at all?"

"No."

"Did you touch anything in Ms. Campbell's office?"

"No." But Carole answered much too quickly; even Belinda could see that.

Truett held up his fat index finger. "Careful, Ms. Marchand. I'll ask you again. Are you sure you didn't touch anything in Ms. Campbell's office, didn't take anything with you?"

Carole was completely white now, and trembling. She glanced at Libby and Rosemary, who were darn near colorless themselves.

Truett set down his coffee and opened one of the thick folders in front of him. "Ladies, I have here some sort of manuscript that the four of you were working on."

"That's private," Libby said, shooting an angry look in Belinda's direction.

She could only return a remorseful expression and lament her sloppy eating habits that had left the suspicious red stain on the back page.

Truett flipped to one of several pages marked with a colored tab. "I'd like to read a few items." He cleared his throat. "'DO have the courage to cut harmful people out of your life.' The passage that follows suggests that a person 'get rid of the people in their life that are keeping them from achieving their goals."

"You're taking it out of context," Belinda said.

"Right," Libby said. "This is a book about men, not murder."

Truett pursed his thick lips. "Here's another one: 'If a relationship isn't working, DO kill it quickly.' Sounds like some kind of code to me."

"It is," Libby said dryly. "It's written for
women."

He almost smiled. "Okay what about this one: 'DO develop a system for keeping your lies straight.' The passage that follows explains how to master the art of telling a good lie and covering your tracks." He closed the manuscript with a smack and looked back to Carole.

"Ms. Marchand, I'm asking you one more time—did you touch anything in Ms. Campbell's office?"

Carole teared up and nodded.

Belinda sucked in a breath and held it.

"What?" he asked.

"Evaluation forms," Carole said miserably. "I took mine and Libby's and Rosemary's."

He withdrew forms from the folder in front of him. Belinda recognized them as the final evaluation sheets. "Why?"

"B-because Margo gave us all bad evaluations—we each got a five."

"On a scale of one to five, five being the lowest."

Carole nodded. "A five means you don't even get a cost-of-living increase."

"What did you do to the forms?"

She swallowed. "I altered them. I changed the fives to fours so we would all get a tiny raise." She sniffed. "We deserved it—Margo had it in for all of us."

Belinda cringed inwardly—the young woman was only giving the detective more ammunition. But at least now she knew what the women had been keeping from her.

On second thought, they'd been keeping lots of things from her.

"But Libby and Rosemary didn't have anything to do with it," Carole said tearfully. "I did it all on my own and told them later."

"She meant well," Libby said softly. "Changing our reviews from a five to a four wasn't going to give anyone a promotion or a huge jump in salary. To Archer, the dollars would have been negligible. No one would have known."

"What made you think Ms. Campbell wouldn't notice that you'd altered the papers?"

"She had already signed them," Carole said. "I knew they would go to HR next. I used correction fluid to change the forms, then took them to the copy room and made a duplicate of the corrected forms. Those are the copies I put back in the folder. I took the originals with me and shredded them."

Truett nodded. "Didn't you think that Martin Derlinger would remember you had been there and would tell us?"

Carole shrugged. "I'm in the copy room all the time—it wasn't anything out of the ordinary."

"Except it was around the time that Ms. Campbell was murdered."

"I didn't see her," Carole said, shaking her head. "I swear. I took the copied forms back to her office and left."

"Was her briefcase still there when you went back?" Detective Salyers asked.

Carole squinted. "I can't remember—I was in a hurry."

"I have another question, Ms. Marchand," Truett said. "Why didn't you change Ms. Hennessey's evaluation? Isn't she a friend, too?"

Belinda's skin tingled—how was she supposed to feel about being excluded from a cheating sisterhood?

Carole looked at her across the table. "Of course Belinda is a friend. But Libby told me on the phone that Belinda said her evaluation went well. I didn't even look for her form."

"Then why is it missing?"

Belinda frowned.
Missing?

"I don't know," Carole said, wide-eyed. "I didn't touch it."

"Maybe you don't regard Ms. Hennessey as a friend at all. Maybe the three of you conspired to kill Ms. Campbell and frame Ms. Hennessey."

Belinda sat back in her chair, while the other women leaned forward.

"That's not true!"

"That's absurd!"

"That's just plain crazy!"

Truett leveled his gaze on her. "Or maybe Ms. Hennessey did it knowing the rest of you had issues with Ms. Campbell that would shift the blame—maybe she set up the rest of you."

Belinda felt all eyes turn in her direction. Her chest felt as if it might explode from the air she couldn't seem to exhale. Starbursts went off behind her eyes. "Th-that simply isn't true. I had no reason to want Margo dead."

"Maybe, maybe not," Truett said with a shrug. "Maybe you didn't get the good evaluation you told us you did. Maybe the woman simply insulted you, and you snapped. A person doesn't need a good reason to commit a crime of passion."

"I didn't kill her," Belinda murmured. "And I have no idea where my evaluation form is. I didn't see it, and I didn't take it."

"But you haven't been completely truthful with everyone, have you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you told everyone you were divorced, but when we checked, we found no record of a divorce, and no record of a marriage."

She held on to the edge of the table, mortification rolling over her in waves. The women were giving her suspicious looks. Her entire right side burned from Wade's scrutiny.

"I can explain," she murmured.

"Please do," Truett said.

She swallowed and looked for her voice. "I had a wedding April 5 of this year in Cincinnati. But after the ceremony, the m-man I married..."

"Yes," Detective Salyers prompted.

"Refused to sign the marriage certificate." There. There it was, laid out for everyone to snicker at: Belinda Hennessey, the laughingstock. A dress, a cake, a ceremony, and nothing to show for her trouble.

"So why did you tell us you were divorced?" Libby asked.

"It seemed... easier." And less humiliating.

"So you've never been married?" Carole asked.

Belinda shook her head.

Wade broke his silence by suddenly shifting forward. "What does all this have to do with murder? Especially when Hardeman—"

"That's enough, Lieutenant," Detective Salyers said with a stern look. "We'll discuss that outside of this meeting."

"Right," Truett said, adding his own warning look. "My point is that Ms. Hennessey moved to Atlanta to start her life over. Maybe she was a little desperate for things to work out."

This was worse than being naked in public—this was being naked in public and wearing a polka-dot neck scarf.

"Maybe she clashed with her boss one too many times," Truett continued, now looking at her. "On top of the anger she was already feeling over the derailed marriage, maybe it was too much."

What could she say? Hadn't she practically ripped an innocent little embroidered pillow to shreds? Tossed out the photos and cards Vince had given her? Been on the verge of chucking her wedding gown? "I was angry and hurt over my breakup," she admitted carefully. "And it is the reason I moved to Atlanta. But I didn't kill my boss. Call me crazy, but the state penitentiary is not my idea of starting over."

Truett nodded. "Ms. Hennessey, do you watch a show called"—He consulted his notes—"
The Single Files?"

"Occasionally," she said, puzzled.

"We all watch that show," Carole offered.

"I don't," Rosemary said. "Not regularly."

"You do, too," Libby insisted.

"Wasn't there a recent episode where a woman was locked in a trunk?"

Belinda could see where this was leading, and it wasn't a happy place.

"Yes," Carole said. "It's one of our favorite episodes." When she realized what she'd said, she balked. "But on the show, the lady in the trunk isn't dead. She locked herself in... by accident." Her voice petered out, but the damage was done.

Truett drained his coffee cup and wadded it up in his hand. "I swear to God, I ought to arrest all four of you right now. All of your fingerprints are on the trunk or somewhere on the car, all of you have pillows freaking galore, all of you have motive." He shook his head. "Jesus, what a big damn mess."

Assistant District Attorney Greer stood. "I think that's enough for now, Detective. Ladies, search warrants have been issued for your desks, your homes, and your vehicles. If any of you have something to say, now's the time."

Belinda was sure everyone in the room could hear her heart slamming in her chest as she scoured the faces of the women who had befriended her. How well did she really know them? And from the revelations made in the last few minutes, how well did they really know each other? Rosemary seemed composed, but pale. Carole twirled her hair nervously. Libby hovered near tears.

She would have been disappointed, but not wholly shocked, if any one of the three had jumped to her feet and admitted to smothering Margo in a moment of blind rage. Hadn't Wade said that anyone was capable of doing something terrible?

No one said anything for a full minute. Belinda started to feel light-headed. At last, Greer lifted her hands. "Okay. I strongly suggest that no one leave town. Meanwhile, whoever comes forward first will receive the lightest treatment. Think about it, ladies—friendship isn't worth sacrificing your life for."

The A.D.A. and the detectives gathered their things and left the conference room. Wade leaned close enough to murmur, "I'll be in touch."

In touch—ironic word choice. She nodded absently and watched him leave, resisting the urge to run and wrap her arms around his leg. What must he think of her, the pathetic little bride whose groom had reneged while the
Macarena
was still playing at the reception, who was now immersed in this drama?

Belinda sat at the table, waiting for one of the women to say something, but everyone seemed preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Finally, Carole moaned and looked all around. "What are we going to do?"

Rosemary stood. "If they had enough evidence to arrest us, they would have," she said in a low tone. "I suggest we get back to work. And act normal."

Belinda resisted the urge to laugh hysterically. Act normal? Normal seemed like a long time ago, and a place she might never get to go back to.

Here lies Belinda Hennessey. She got caught.

Chapter 27

Margo's memorial service the next morning was an awkward affair, with a small wad of attendees. It was, Libby had told her, the same place the memorial service for Jeanie Lawford had been held. Belinda wasn't sure it was such a good thing that a company had established a standard procedure for memorializing employees.

The four of them had agreed to go for reasons ranging from obligation to keeping up appearances, and they had walked the five blocks to a small chapel in jerky silence. It seemed to Belinda that silence now defined the relationship between the women, along with wounded looks and betrayed glances. The commute home last night and to the office this morning had been interminable. She considered suggesting that they call off the carpool arrangement, but Carole didn't have a car, and Libby hadn't yet recovered her repossessed SUV. She herself was the proud renter of an egg-yolk-yellow Ford Fiesta, aka the largest Matchbox car ever produced, and she didn't relish going bumper to bumper with eighteen-wheelers through Spaghetti Junction.