Sleet pelted the plate-glass windows of the yoga studio as Aubrey rose from her mat at the front of the class. Outside, the river ran gray and cold. She dimmed the lights and flicked on the music. The sound of wind chimes and birdsong filled the airy room, which smelled of exotic woods and incense and was heated to a tropical intensity. Aubrey passed among the closely spaced mats passing out cool towels to be used as eyeshades, gliding with such grace that she appeared to float. Women gazed at her adoringly and accepted her offering, then closed their eyes, and let out a luxuriant breath.
“As we relax into our savasana,” Aubrey said in her most soothing tone, “allow the warmth of the room to penetrate into your breath and through your breath. Cherish the warmth of your body. Relax your fingers and your toes. Open yourself to gratitude. Gratitude for your body. Gratitude for your decision to practice today despite inclement weather, despite other calls on your time and attention. Honor yourself. Honor the winter, that cleanses and redeems. Honor this moment of peace, that restores and fortifies you for the day ahead. And rest.”
Aubrey flowed toward the front of the room, stopping here and there to make gentle adjustments to a student’s posture. A moment later, she was back on her mat, seated in a perfect lotus, her serene expression belying her anxious heartbeat. The police were in the office across the hall, talking to her assistant. She could see them through the glass door.
A powerful gust of wind drove sleet against the window as Aubrey looked at the clock. It was five minutes too early, but she decided to dismiss the class. She couldn’t stand the suspense a moment longer.
“Allow your eyes to come back to focus beneath your eyelids,” she said, her voice less soothing, more rushed, than usual. “Allow energy to flow back into your limbs. Stretch your arms, wiggle your fingers and your toes. When you’re ready, open your eyes, and come to a seated position.”
When the majority of the class was upright, Aubrey struck the small gong that she used to end each class, and listened as the note flowed out, rich and sonorous. She drew her hands together at her heart and bowed her head.
“Namaste.”
A chorus of namastes echoed back from the smiling students. Usually she lingered after class to answer questions and accept personal expressions of gratitude from her students. Not today, not with the police waiting. Aubrey expertly rolled her mat, rose to her feet in a graceful motion, and walked from the room, leaving a few of the regulars gazing after her in puzzlement.
As she entered the glass-walled office, her assistant Mikayla, round and freckle-faced and normally cheerful, turned to her with alarm. A man and a woman stood in front of Aubrey’s desk. Aubrey recognized the man from the TV news. He was the chief of police.
“These officers are here to ask some questions about your friend who died. I explained I don’t know anything,” Mikayla said.
“Thank you, Mikayla. I’ll take care of this.”
Aubrey shut the door firmly behind Mikayla. “What can I do for you, Officers,” she said.
“You’re Mrs. Saxman?” the man asked.
“Aubrey Saxman, yes. And you are—?”
“Chief Owen Rizzo, Belle River PD, and my colleague, Detective Keisha Charles. We’re investigating the death of Kate Eastman, and we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Was she required to speak with them? Aubrey wondered. Should she refuse, or call a lawyer? Or would that look bad? If only she’d thought about this before the police showed up. She’d expected them to question her at some point, but she never thought it would be so soon. And she’d been too caught up in taking care of Griff to look out for herself.
Aubrey decided the best course of action was to appear cooperative.
“Certainly, have a seat. Can I offer you some tea? Such unpleasant weather,” Aubrey said, taking a seat behind her desk.
“No, thank you, that’s not necessary. We were told you knew Ms. Eastman, is that correct?” Chief Rizzo asked.
“Oh, yes. We were close friends, for twenty years, give or take. I’m devastated at her death,” Aubrey said, looking away, her face puckering.
Rizzo nodded at the female detective, and Aubrey noticed that she started taking notes. That was unnerving. Why would they think anything Aubrey had to say was worth writing down?
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Rizzo said. “When exactly did you last see Ms. Eastman?”
“I—well, I’m not sure,” she said.
“Any guess?”
Aubrey’s stomach fluttered with nerves. She wondered if this was one of those situations like on TV cop shows where they already knew the answer and were trying to catch her in a lie.
“I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing,” she said, her eyes trailing the detective’s pen as it moved across the page.
“An approximate date would be fine,” he said.
“Let me see. I remember we had lunch a few weeks ago.”
“Just the two of you?”
“No. Jenny was with us. Jenny Healy.”
“The mayor?”
“Yes.”
“Why was she there?” the chief asked.
“Because we’re good friends.”
“You and the mayor?”
“All three of us. We roomed together freshman year at Carlisle. You didn’t know that?” Aubrey said, trying to gauge whether they’d done their homework.
He ignored her question. “So the three of you had lunch several weeks back, and you haven’t seen Ms. Eastman since then?”
“That’s right.”
“What about this past Friday?” Rizzo asked, and Aubrey’s heart stopped.
“Uhh, you mean—?” she asked, stupefied, and shook her head.
“Weren’t you planning to see Ms. Eastman this past Friday? It was her fortieth birthday, and I understood you had a dinner scheduled.”
“Oh! Right, yes. Yes. We did have a plan to take Kate out for her birthday. Jenny and I. It was originally supposed to be the six of us, the three roommates and our husbands, at Henry’s Bistro, but we changed it to a girls’ night.”
“What time were you supposed to meet?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“But it never happened?”
“No.”
“Why not?” the chief asked.
“It got called off.”
“When did that happen?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe that same day.”
“This was only a few days ago. You don’t remember?”
“No, sorry, I’m not good with dates and such,” Aubrey said, with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes. If she played up the airhead-yoga-instructor stereotype, maybe they would go away and leave her alone.
“Why was it canceled?”
“I think Kate was sick.”
“Did you hear that from Kate herself?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you should ask Jenny. Details aren’t my strong suit. I might be remembering wrong.”
“No worries,” the chief said. “We’re talking to a lot of people. We’re simply trying to develop a timeline of Ms. Eastman’s actions on the day she disappeared, so we can answer questions like who saw her last, and so forth,” the chief said.
“But why does that matter? Wasn’t Kate’s death an accident?” Aubrey asked.
“Maybe, but maybe not. That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” the chief replied.
Aubrey folded her hands, trying to appear calm. There was nothing to worry about here. It was always likely that the police would investigate, and that they might question her. The chief just said, they were talking to a lot of people. It was always a possibility that they might decide Kate’s death was suspicious. None of that should concern Aubrey unduly, since nothing they would find could implicate her.
“If you don’t think it was an accident, then it must have been a suicide, right?” Aubrey said.
“Not necessarily,” Chief Rizzo said. “She didn’t leave a note. So there’s nothing definitive that suggests this was suicide, unless you know something about her state of mind, in which case, please, tell us.”
Aubrey hesitated. If they didn’t think Kate’s death was an accident, and they weren’t considering the possibility of suicide, then that meant they were considering murder, for sure. Could they be thinking that, already? Did they already have a suspect?
“Mrs. Saxman?” the chief prompted.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” Aubrey said. “I’m just a bit hesitant to discuss Kate’s private … troubles.” She had almost said affairs.
“I understand. But this is very important. We’ll keep what you tell us confidential if at all possible,” he said.
“All right, then. If you must know, Kate did have what you could call suicidal tendencies. She made a pretty serious attempt in high school, and talked about killing herself a lot in college. She seemed serious about it. I wouldn’t be surprised, if she got upset, that she might contemplate something like that to this day. It’s something you should be looking into.”
“I see. Do you have reason to believe she was particularly upset recently?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been so busy with my kids, and the yoga studio lately. Of course, I regret it now, not making more time for her,” Aubrey said.
“We have reason to believe Ms. Eastman’s marriage was troubled,” Rizzo said. “Can you tell us anything about that?”
Did he know something specific, or was he fishing? If the police hadn’t already found out about Kate and Ethan’s affair, Aubrey wasn’t about to enlighten them. It would only turn the spotlight on her own life.
“I had no idea,” Aubrey said.
“You weren’t aware that she recently filed for divorce?”
Aubrey looked at him in surprise. Was that possible? Was it even true? Surely somebody would’ve told her something as important as that.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t know. I find it hard to believe I wouldn’t have heard.”
“Well, you said you hadn’t talked to Ms. Eastman much lately. Mr. Rothenberg didn’t tell you?” Chief Rizzo asked, watching Aubrey closely.
“Mr. Rothenberg? No, why would he tell me? Kate would’ve been the one to tell me, and she didn’t mention it,” Aubrey said.
“Did you know Kate—Ms. Eastman—had just come into a substantial sum of money? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, according to bank records that we’ve subpoenaed.”
“I’m not sure Kate would consider that a substantial sum of money. But no, I didn’t know that.”
“It seems like a relevant fact, don’t you think? That leads me to another question. You came to the station Sunday night to pick up Mr. Rothenberg.”
“Yes.”
“So you know Mr. Rothenberg?”
“Sure. I’ve known him since college. Kate was my roommate. Since they were married, I ended up keeping in touch with Griff as well.”
“Do you know, was Mr. Rothenberg … seeing anyone?”
“You mean, was Griff involved with another woman?”
“Yes.”
Aubrey laughed in shock. Griff, the devoted husband? “No, absolutely not,” she said.
“You sound very certain of that. How can you be so sure?”
Aubrey had no idea where the police chief was going with these questions. Was Griff having an affair, and Aubrey didn’t know? Impossible, she didn’t believe it for a second. She spent way too much time watching Griff, thinking about him, to miss something that major.
“I’m sure because I know how much Griff loved his wife,” she said. “Chief Rizzo, I have to say, I feel like you’re fishing for gossip. Is this really how the police investigate a case?”
“Look, I’ll be honest. Our dispatch secretary mentioned you and Mr. Rothenberg seemed unusually cozy when you came to pick him up from the station the other night. Please understand, I have no desire to offend you, but I’m obligated to ask. Mrs. Saxman, are you romantically involved with Mr. Rothenberg?”
In the mirror over the sofa, Aubrey saw her reflection, all bright eyes and sharp spots of color in pale cheeks, looking as rattled as she felt. The idea that the police might zero in on Aubrey, or on Griff, not because of Ethan and Kate’s affair, but because of some imagined entanglement between the two of them? That had never occurred to her in a million years. Yet, if they did, it would have the same result as if they knew the truth about Kate and Ethan. They’d still be messing around in Aubrey’s private business, with all the risks that presented. At this point, she realized she’d said enough, and anything more would be counterproductive. She wasn’t in control of this interview, and she ought to shut it down.
“You think Griff and I were having an affair, simply because I picked him up from the police station after the man found out his wife died?” Aubrey asked, allowing a note of anger to creep into her voice.
“I’m not saying I think that. I’m just asking,” Rizzo said.
“Well, the answer is no. I was trying to be a good friend, that’s all.”
“All right,” Rizzo said.
“I have to say, I’m finding your questions somewhat offensive, Chief Rizzo. I feel like you’re looking for a scandal where there’s only a tragedy. Kate was simply a woman with a history of depression who in all likelihood took her own life. She is—was—a dear friend of mine, and I have to ask you not to disrespect her memory with your wild allegations.”
Rizzo flushed, looking stung. “That’s not my intention at all. I’m trying to find out the truth about how she died,” he said.
“You won’t get the truth by asking such absurd questions.”
“They’re not absurd,” he said, in an angry tone, then took a deep breath. “Mrs. Saxman, look, we’re on the same side. I’ll explain my thinking, if you give me your word you’ll keep it in confidence.”
“All right. Fine, go ahead,” Aubrey said.
“First of all, the forensic evidence in this case is consistent with homicide. Not with an accident. Not with the victim taking her own life. I know you say Kate had a history of suicidal behavior, but it sounds like that was many years ago. And there’s something else, a very important reason that she wouldn’t kill herself. You might not have known this, but Kate was pregnant at the time of her death,” Rizzo said.
As the sick expression spread across Aubrey’s face, Rizzo nodded.
“So now you understand,” he said. “I wouldn’t normally disclose such sensitive information, but given that you were close to both parties, I feel that you could shed some light and be a very useful witness, if only you’d help. I need you to see that your friend was probably murdered, possibly by her own husband. Things were very wrong between the two of them. We know that, because she filed for divorce. So I have to ask you to think hard about their relationship. Was there anything you saw or heard, in the weeks leading up to her death, that I should be aware of, that might shed light on the situation? If so, I urge you to tell me. Don’t protect him.”
Aubrey stared at her hands, folded in her lap, unable to give Rizzo any answer. Kate pregnant with Ethan’s baby. She couldn’t believe it. Something else she hadn’t known, something huge they’d kept from her.
“You look upset,” Rizzo said. “I understand, you’re in mourning for your friend, and this news may have added to the shock. I just felt it was important for you to have the complete picture. We’ll get out of your way now, so you can have time to think things over. Here’s my card,” Rizzo said, standing up, and nodding to his partner, who rose also. “You think about it, and if you remember anything, you give me a call. All right?”
Aubrey nodded helplessly, and Rizzo left the card on her desk. When they’d gone, Aubrey locked herself in the bathroom and threw up.
The baby had to be Ethan’s; Kate and Griff weren’t sleeping together as far as Aubrey knew. Aubrey had figured out, from her clandestine monitoring of Ethan’s texts, that Kate was begging him to run off with her. This must be why—because Kate was pregnant. This made everything so much worse. The betrayal was greater, and yet so was the tragedy of Kate’s death. Aubrey had tried to live with their affair, she really had. But the humiliation had been too great, the betrayal beyond what she could tolerate. She had to take a stand. Yet—an innocent child had died. Aubrey felt feverish, light-headed, sick at the thought of the baby.
When Aubrey emerged from the bathroom, Mikayla took one look at her and decided that she was coming down with something and needed to be driven home immediately. Aubrey went to her room, got in bed, and pulled the covers over her head. The kids fended for themselves for supper—there were enough organic veggie pizzas in the freezer to keep them for a week if need be. Lilly came by with a mug of tea but Aubrey sent her away, saying she was contagious. When Ethan came home, Aubrey first pretended to be asleep, then instructed him to sleep on the couch in his study so he wouldn’t catch what she had. Instead of asking after her symptoms, he jumped at the chance to be away from her and alone with his grief for his mistress. He thought she was too stupid to understand. He still thought that. But that was fine now, it was all right. Aubrey had a plan. Ethan would get what he deserved.
The next day, Aubrey went through the motions of her day as her mind raced. She went to work, came home, fed the kids, helped with homework, washed the dishes. She told everyone that she’d had a bout of food poisoning, but it was over now. She told Ethan he could come back to their bedroom. When he resisted, she bullied him into it, and forced herself to lie beside him no matter how much she despised him, so she could know for sure when he fell asleep.
Ethan wasn’t sleeping well; imagine that. Poor thing tossed and turned and got up more than once to go to the bathroom. Around one thirty, when his breathing finally quieted, Aubrey swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet gingerly. She tiptoed to the door, closing it softly behind her, and made her way down the stairs in the dark. By the glow of the appliances, she hurried through the kitchen to the laundry room. The laundry room was Aubrey’s turf, even more so than the yoga studio. Nobody came in here but her, and if she wanted to hide something, this was the place. There was a tall cabinet with louvered doors to the right of the washer-dryer. It normally squeaked to high heaven when you opened it, but she’d gotten out the oil can today, and now the hinges flowed like silk. Wrapping her hand in a dish towel to avoid leaving fingerprints, Aubrey reached into the cabinet with her long arm, all the way to the back, behind the Tide and the dryer sheets, and pulled out a small purse. It was a pretty thing, a little black shoulder bag with a long gold chain. Kate didn’t stint: it looked expensive. Her things were still inside—wallet, keys, lipstick, hairbrush, compact, a miniature atomizer of perfume. Aubrey raised the bag to within an inch of her nose and breathed in. It smelled like Kate, which made her feel a rush of love. And of hatred, and grief, and victory. Every emotion at once.
From the laundry room, Aubrey had to pass through the kitchen to get to the garage. On the way, she stopped at the basket to retrieve Ethan’s car keys. A noise made her jump, but it was just the cat. He meowed. She ignored him. Aubrey stepped into the garage, where the comforting smells of rubber and gasoline soothed her fraying nerves. Aubrey opened the passenger door of Ethan’s Audi and shoved the handbag as far under the seat as it would go, then stepped back to check. Good. The handbag was invisible, but not if you knew where to look for it. She’d kept the police chief’s card. She would make the call anonymously, and Ethan would finally learn that actions had consequences.