By the time Michael and Janis arrived at the constabulary, they found Robyn Fletcher sitting in a chair in the break room. She looked well put together in black jeans and a bright red cashmere turtleneck.
Michael felt awkward, knowing he'd be sitting in on the interview of his good friend's wife, a woman he'd known since he moved to Lily Rock, but also a woman who may have murdered a lady over a purse.
He wandered close to the refrigerator as Janis sat at the table across from Robyn. She placed her iPad on the table in front of her.
Michael fidgeted near the sink. Do I just sit down and pretend to be Robyn's friend? How does this work anyway? Jets spoke up first.
"I've asked Michael to sit in on the interviews. He's doing so in an official capacity, which means he won't talk to anyone else about what we say."
"Okay," mumbled Robyn.
Michael turned away from the counter, walking closer to sit down in the empty chair. He smiled at Robyn and then looked quickly at Jets. I remember just last month having dinner with her and Thorny. We knocked back a few beers. Then he remembered more. Robyn left us by ourselves for a while, something on her computer, at least that's what she said. Thorny didn't mind.
Michael had appreciated getting to know them both, especially Robyn. She had a solid presence. And he knew that she and Thorny made a good couple. Up until now he hadn’t thought of them as anything but hardworking and dependable.
Jets leaned over to point toward the floor. "I notice you brought your purse," she said.
Robyn flushed. "I usually carry a bag, especially this time of year."
“Could I have a look?" Janis's question sounded more like a demand than an invitation.
Robyn reached down, bringing up a bag that looked much like the other women's, only hers was cobalt blue. "Here you go." She shoved it across the table at Jets, who immediately turned it over to look closely at the feet.
"They unscrew," she mumbled, turning one gold foot in her hand. She held it up for Michael to see.
"So what?" Robyn said.
"So this is another fake Birkin. Did you know it was a knockoff?" Jets screwed the foot back in.
"Since when do cops care about handbags?" Robyn shrugged. "I know it's a knockoff. I can't afford the real deal. But this one's good enough."
"Where did you get it?" Jets asked.
"Over the border. Thorny and I went to Mexico and he bought it for me. A street vendor, if you must know."
Jets's jaw tightened. "What I do know is that your bag," she pointed, "is the same basic design as the ones I've seen around town. Oh sure, they vary in color, but they are the same rectangular shape, made to look like they're constructed with crocodile, with gold feet and clasps. And I bet they’re all knockoffs."
Robyn's demeanor changed. She pulled back into herself, her shoulders slumped around her small frame. "A lot of women love Birkins," she explained. But not in a convincing voice, more like an afterthought, as if even she knew she was making a lame excuse.
"That's true," Jets replied. "In fact I just spoke to two women this morning who told me all about Mrs. Claus. How she sold them Birkin bags at four thousand each, passing them off as the real deal. Of course four grand would be pricey for a purse, but if you think you're getting it at a huge bargain, it might be worth it, especially for Christmas."
Robyn's smile fell. No longer able to keep up the facade, her cheeks flushed and she turned her face away.
"Come on, Robyn, tell us," Jets urged. "How did you get into the purse business?"
When Robyn turned back around, her eyes were filled with tears. "We needed the money," she explained. "I lost a lot online. I gamble. Thorny doesn't know. I get time on the computer while he’s busy with other things. Please don't tell him." She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.
Michael inhaled deeply. Jets has ferreted her way into her suspect’s soft spot, the relationship with her husband. She's adept at going for the jugular. Remind me to stay on her good side.
"But that's not all," Janis said evenly. "There's more that Thorny doesn't know, isn't there?" Jets lowered her voice, coaxing Robyn to agree. "Like how you killed Betty King. One shove of that nutcracker and she was done. Why did you do that anyway? Did Betty threaten to out your gambling and purse knockoff business to your husband?"
"Yes she did!" Robyn cried. "She knew about the purses and wanted a cut of my profit. That was okay, but then she asked for more and more money and when I finally said no, she told me she'd tell Thorny."
"So you unbolted the feet of the nutcracker. I bet you didn't intend to kill Betty, right? You just wanted to warn her…"
"I never expected her to die!" Robyn's eyes widened. "But I wasn't the only one who hated Betty King. She blackmailed all kinds of people, sending them notes to remind them of their payments. She'd even put their names on the ornaments of her tree.
"When they resisted giving her the payment, she'd nod to the tree and threaten them with something she knew. It was her sadistic way of making Christmas all about her profit. Once they'd paid in full, she handed over the ornament. She'd say, 'This is for you. I'll make another one for next year too. Be sure to stop by.'"
Does Robyn even realize she just admitted to murdering Betty King?
"I'm sure you didn't mean to kill her," Jets said, nodding, “but you kept trying nonetheless."
"I kept taking those screws out of the feet and they kept coming back. Then I realized it was Elf Two. He must have found the bolts the first time and then screwed them back into the deck. So I had to remove them again. The second time I learned my lesson and tossed the screws in the trash. I came back the next morning and damn, the nutcracker had been reinstalled just like before. What's the matter with that kid!"
"He needed to keep himself safe in that thing," Jets said calmly. "You didn't think of that, how it would be unstable for him to stand in there when he was eavesdropping?"
Robyn's face contorted in anger. "It wasn't about him. My plan was to push the thing over on Betty first thing in the morning, before I had to pay her money to keep quiet. That's what she wanted, more than fifty percent of my operation’s money.
"Since Betty had the same pattern every day, I knew when would be the best opportunity to take her out. Right before opening the shop, she'd step outside her door and stand there looking at the view."
"So that's when you finally got her. You must have gotten there earlier and hidden behind the nutcracker and then one solid push."
"And she was down." Robyn's eyes grew wide. "She must have died right there. When she didn’t move I ran down the back stairs before anyone found her."
"Never thought to call an ambulance," Jets added. "Betty may still have been alive, but we'll never know." Looking over at Robyn, Jets began to type into her iPad.
Michael watched Robyn. Her eyes focused on her hands folded on the table. She only looked up when Janis stopped typing.
"I've got your statement. There's only one more question. Did you take the drill from Michael's truck and then give it to Logan to hide?"
Robyn looked over at Michael. "Sorry about that. I knew you had your tools in the truck bed, so I waited while you were busy in the market and took a chance. You didn't put the lock on securely, but then I'm not surprised. You're so distant this time of year. So I just took the drill. I would have put the stuff back, but Maguire showed up and I was afraid you'd be coming right along."
Michael felt his stomach clench. She seems more concerned about the mess she made with my tools than the fact that she killed Betty King.
Jets cleared her throat. "And just to make sure… You asked Logan to hide the drill?"
"Yes I did. Just so you know, I think he was relieved when Betty died."
Michael felt new admiration for Jets. She knows how to pull the details out of a story bit by bit. Robyn has shown no sign of being defensive. In fact, she seems to be enjoying the confession, as if she doesn't realize the consequences.
“One last thing,” Jets added, “was Logan always part of your plan?”
"No, he wasn't part of my plan. He actually got in my way, putting the screws back every time I took them out."
Jets nodded. "Okay then. I'll make a note of that in my report." She closed out her document and stood. Without any warning, Jets reached over to take Robyn's arm. Her voice growled. "I am arresting you for the murder of Betty King. You have the right…"
Michael tuned out of the conversation. Robyn stood and Jets ushered her around through the doorway and down the hall toward the cells.
He heard a clank and then a door close. After that only silence remained.