“Yes,” Rodney confirmed. “The information is being released now, since we’ve contacted the next of kin. So it’s likely to hit the news media very quickly. Therefore, we wanted to let you know what had happened.”
“Good Lord.” He looked shaky. “I can’t believe it.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed his forehead.
She stared at him. “You had a personal relationship with her?” It was a stab in the dark, but she’d spoken from her heart and her instincts. When he turned toward Kate, she saw the shock in his expression, and his gaze darted from one detective to the other, as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Of course you did, and you’re married.” Kate tried hard to trim the disgust in her voice, but it was difficult.
His shoulders sagged, as all theoomphthat had been there—when Tom had first opened the conference room door—had walked out. He slid into the seat nearest him. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I was planning on leaving my wife.”
“You mean, that’s what you told Cherry.”
Tom looked at her with a frown and then shook his head. “No, I actually was.”
“Was. But, of course,nowyou’re not in a position to worry about that, are you?” she asked quietly.
He stared at her, his face blanching. “I would never have done that to her.”
“I wonder.” Kate pulled a pen and a notebook from her pocket to take notes. “I wonder if you actually would leave your wife or whether this was just a very convenient time to break up an affair that obviously wasn’t appropriate at the office.”
He stared at her, his throat working.
“Maybe you should start by telling us where you’ve been for the last week,” Rodney said.
“The last week?” he asked, his voice rising in a squeak.
Rodney nodded carefully. “Yes, we’re working on a time of death, but it’s not been locked down just yet.”
He stared at Rodney first, his gaze going from one to the other. “I was supposed to be at a conference this weekend,” he stated.
“But you didn’t go, right?” Kate asked.
He slowly shook his head. “I didn’t go, no. I stayed here with Cherry instead.”
“Interesting,” she murmured. “And where were you?”
“At her place.”
“Until when?”
“We had a fight Saturday morning,” he admitted. “I left, and I didn’t go back.”
“Where did you go?”
He hesitated, and she just stared at him.
“I took a room in a hotel in another building,” he replied. “I couldn’t go home to my wife without an explanation. I couldn’t go back to Cherry because, well, we were still fighting. So I went to a hotel.”
“What hotel was that?” she asked him flatly. “When did you arrive, and when did you leave? What did you do while you were there?”
“I checked in at noon on Saturday at the Hotel Vancouver. I left Sunday at four, so I could go home, which would be the normal time to return after the conference.”
“And what did you do while you were at the hotel?”
“I sat in my room and drank myself stupid,” he replied in disgust. “I was upset over the entire thing.”
“What was the fight about?”
He hesitated, then admitted, “Whether I would leave my wife or not.”