Authors: Sylvia M. Roberts
- It's ok. So let's move on - he agreed, trying to feign indifference and again turned on the recorder. - You were saying that you also performed errands for a fashion magazine?
- Yes, but they don’t pay much for this work…So I have to keep the other job.
He stood with his head down, writing details in a book note avoiding looking at her.
- Now tell me about what happened between you and Phelps that night.
- It was like I told you. He suggested that I should be nice and he tried to touch me.
- And then you reacted with violence, according the neighbors.
- I don’t deny that I cried all the bad names I knew to push him out of my flat with punches and kicks, but I didn’t kill him.
- What did you do after he is gone?
- I left. I had to walk a bit to calm down. And without realizing it, I walked for hours ending up at Windsor where someone claimed have seen me.
- Having seen someone who matched your description, you mean - Richard corrected.
- Anyway, what I know is that I was there - she said, tilting her head slightly and try to look him in the eyes.
Richard stood with his head down. He didn’t want to decentralize from his work he was reasoning about the possibility of her being to that location at the time when the killing was committed, he concluded:
- It still wouldn’t be a conclusive proof.
- Why not? Phelps was shot at four in the morning and I left the building by midnight and only came back at eight in the morning. Besides, a witness saw me kilometers away.
- But you could have taken a taxi.
- And did you have the testimony of a driver who claims having left me at home at the time of the murder?
- Nope. But I only have your word that you weren’t in the building at the time of the murder.
- My word and the witness who saw me at Windsor - she insisted.
- It's all right. Let's leave it for an hour. Now tell me what happened when you returned home?
- The room was a mess because of confusion with Phelps. I put back things in place and wiped the blood from the top of the fireplace. He had fallen against it during our fight and cracked his upper lip...
Richard interrupted before she continues:
- Why didn’t you tell me?
- I said.
- But not in our first interview. You only mentioned this fact two days later, when I had already sent your clothes that you wore that day to analyze and found out that the spot was Phelps’s blood.
- So you think I created the story of the fall, to justify the blood on my clothes?
He agreed with a nod.
- How I wish I had said that before ... - He lamented, shaking his head from side to side.
- I was confused. Did you ever felt being in a state of affairs in which the reasoning seems to function? - She asked and then concluded with a bitter smile on her lips: - No ... Not you. I don’t imagine what it is to lose a child and get all the time thinking about him.
- Maybe ... - he murmured, finally lifting his head and fixing his eyes on her.
- You don’t believe it’s true? - She teased with a smirk. - Why don’t we reverse the position and talk a little about you, mister tough investigator?
- Don’t you think that precipitates a trial?
- No I don’t. I really had too much time to judge you ... Three years to be more exact.
- But there is much you don’t know about me - he said almost without realizing it.
- Like what, for example?
Before the defiant look she gave him, he felt the urge to scream as he had been finished and wounded on that occasion. But he preferred to remain silent than to open his heart to the woman who hated him so much. So, he decided to change the subject:
- This is the case now. We must limit ourselves to the main facts. Phelps blood traces were found in your flat.
- But the body was found downstairs... - And before he argued anything, she hurried forward: - But I know what you will say "He was a slight man and you aren’t as fragile as you seem to be."
At the sound of those words Richard shuddered:
- I said that?
- Now, stop being cynical. I saw those tapes, which means that you also saw them. And speaking about them... how could you remove them from the police station?
- I didn’t remove them. I copied them.
She bit her lower lip and felt satisfied with that revelation. It meant how much he was risking. Somehow she felt an accomplice of the situation.
- Let's go back to it - he said, dodging the issue of the tapes and trying to keep the reins of dialogue. – Let’s proceed.
- Well ... When I said weren’t as fragile as you appeared, I was referring when you lost control and advanced on him as well...
Suddenly she rose and fell on him, striking him with her fists clenched. He got up and, with open palms, tried to keep his distance. But she attacked him with such fury that in the end he had to hold her wrists, imprisoning her in his arms.
Their bodies were so close, that she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. And when he looked up to look in her eyes, he realized the heat wave invading his cheeks, he flushed.
With a mischievous smile and eyes of who enjoyed a bit the reaction she provoked in him, he lamented:
- Wow...I forgot how it ended! What you did then? - Richard was diminishing his force until he freed Annie and hoarsely whispered:
- I pulled him away from me, like that. - And putting her hands on his shoulders, she made him flinch.
Annie was a little bit disappointed. But she knew she was dealing with a strong, confident man who probably didn’t subjugate to her so easily. But this would make a fascinating victory.
- Ah! Now I remember...- she said. - Then you asked if had been that way I acted with Phelps.
- And what are your thoughts about your fingerprints being found in the candle holder with which Phelps had been beaten to death.
- I have never denied that the candle holder was mine. That's why it had my impressions. It turns out that Phelps had the strange habit of always coming to my flat with some false pretense and filch any object of when I would claim it, he would apologize and take advantage to offer me a drink or anything else. - And, taking a deep breath to regain strength, she reproached: - You can’t suggest that I would be so stupid to kill him with my own candle holder and then forget to throw it away do you?!
- I can’t rule out the fact that it was the murder weapon and that your finger prints were in it.
- Did you ever occur to you that I had no reason to kill him?
- You admitted that you hated him.
- Yes, but that would be reason to fight with him and never to kill him… Oh, my God! ... If I intended to kill all men who gave me a sung, there would be the need of more graveyards!
In the heat of argument, she took her right hand to the top of the head and let the buckle that imprisoned her hair, leaving the hair fall free over her shoulder.
- That I believe - he muttered quietly, without being able to avoid an admiring look on that woman's sensuality. - There must have been many men who desired you...
She shook her head moving the long thick shiny threads from one side to the other. And with a laugh of derision, she pondered;
- Don’t tell me you also believe this nonsense. It was just a publicity stunt...Basically I am a woman like any other.
- You're not a woman like any other - he repeated. – You never were.
- That's it? How am I different, is it because I am guilty from the beginning?
- Nonsense...
- Confess that you hated me from the first moment you saw me.
He remained silent for a few minutes, not knowing what to say. Somehow she could let him uncomfortable. Finally he decided to continue the questioning.
- We are moving away from the subject.
- First tell me why do you hate me so much? - She insisted, holding her arms.
- I don’t hate you - he denied, shaking his head.
- So tell me what you feel right now...
He deepened the look and quivering his lips, and words came out without control.
- Needless to say... A woman, who was once so desired, should see in the eyes of a man and recognize what he is feeling.
Annie smiled with satisfaction. What had just heard proved that she was right. He was falling for her...
- Why the smile? - Presumed suspicious. - Is it because you like to see me at your feet to have fun at my expense?
- I wouldn’t do that...
- So what are your plans? Why did you change clothes if not to provoke me?
- I'm not obliged to hear it - she protested.
- But you will hear, yes - he insisted holding her arms. - Was it last night when you noticed my embarrassment at the time when your blouse fell? Where do you want to go?
- Why don’t you find out? - She suggested with a provocative look.
That was too much for him, he was still trying to block his feelings. Without hesitating any longer, he pulled her against him and brushed his lips to hers at his touch opened, allowing his tongue to enter and touch every corner of that sensuous mouth. Meanwhile, his hands slid delicately to her soft back, moving down her curves hips pressing further her against him. She corresponded savoring to his kiss with passion and encouraging him rubbing her fingers in his neck, which caused him shivers of desire. "No doubt this woman knew how to please a man ..." - Richard thought while reflecting: "It wouldn’t have been like this with Phelps. Had she provoked him and at last minute kill him?"
The question tormented him. Part of him wanted to believe that sensitive and gentle woman in his arms was unable to hurt anyone else. On the other hand, they had all that evidence pointing to a cold and calculating killer...
Diverting his lips from hers, he kissed her all over her face and neck. Then up to the right ear, he nibbled the delicate earlobe, whispering in her ear:
- Did you killed Phelps?
Continue soon…