The Blue Journal (37 page)

And this time we had the luxury of time. This would not just be sex punctuated by sleep, it promised to be a more complete experience. After we got to our room we made love, then drifted into the sublime post-coital twilight. His leg was draped over mine, our bodies still touching, an expression of both physical and emotional intimacy.

We did not rest for long. I was still aroused. I opened my eyes and, in the dark, could make out his features. In repose there was something kind about his face, something I had not seen before.

He was on his stomach, breathing gently, and I felt the need to touch him. I began by using my long nails, running my hand slowly up and down his back, from his neck to the base of his spine. As he began to stir I traced circles with my fingers, moving to the swell of his firm ass. Then I slid down and reached for his thighs, still employing very little pressure, tickling rather than rubbing him.

When I slid my hand between his legs I could feel he was already growing. Without a word I got to my knees, spread his legs apart and pressed my face into the dark warm crevice, licking him as I reached underneath with my hand and softly massaged the tip of his cock.

He asked if I wanted him to do something to me, but I told him to relax. I insisted he enjoy what I was doing, and he did. I turned him over and went down on him, using a long slow motion, cupping his balls in one hand while using the other to rub his chest. All the while my head moved up and down, slowly increasing in speed and intensity until he exploded in my mouth.

Later, we lay side-by-side, whispering in the dark. I wanted to say something to him, something about how much pleasure I had derived from pleasing him, but I could not. All I could bring myself to say was how I hoped he enjoyed it.

Instead of the expected response, he took me in his arms and held me, and for an instant I thought I might cry.

It truly was a night of surprises.

Kovacevic walked in and Walker placed the pages in his desk drawer with the rest of Elizabeth's journal, then they headed out.

Walker drove, with Kovacevic riding shotgun. They traveled on the Post Road west, toward a part of town where more modest houses can be found—this was not the neighborhood where the Averys or Knoebels resided. They reached the modest ranch-style home where the Colellos lived, pleased to see all the cars were still in the driveway.

Walker stepped up to the front door, rang the bell and waited. When a dark-haired man opened up, the detective showed him his identification and said, “Mr. Colello?”

Thomas Colello stood in the entrance, gripping the door knob as if it were the only thing holding him up. He was dressed for work, but he saw his plans for the day were about to change. He stared at Walker's police badge, remaining motionless for a moment, then blinked. “Yes, I'm Thomas Colello,” he said. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

“I'm Detective Anthony Walker. We need to talk.” Walker glanced past Colello into the small house. “This is probably not the best place.”

Colello stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. “What's this about?” For the first time he saw Officer Kovacevic standing beside Walker's Explorer at the end of the short driveway.

“It's about the death of Elizabeth Knoebel. It'd probably be better if we have this discussion at the station house.”

Despite Colello's initial reaction, it was clear that this visit had not come as a complete surprise. “Do I need to call my lawyer?”

Walker said, “That will be entirely up to you.” Then he nodded at the young officer, who quickly stepped forward and positioned himself beside his superior officer. Kovacevic took out a small card and read Thomas Colello his legal rights.

“I understand,” Colello said when Kovacevic completed the litany. It was apparent from the look on his face that his legal rights were not his primary concern at the moment. “I've got to tell my wife I'm leaving.” He said it as if he was asking the two policemen for their help.

Walker nodded his understanding. “Just tell her we're investigating Mrs. Knoebel's death.”

“How the hell can I say that?”

“Tell her we need to speak with you because you're acquainted with Doctor Knoebel. We know you were in a therapy group together. You can tell her we'll also be talking with her and some other people who knew the Knoebels.”

“Is that true?”

Walker nodded. “Afraid so.”

“Jesus,” Colello groaned. Then he shook his head and said, “Okay,” although the expression he wore now made it clear he would rather tell his wife the bank was foreclosing on their mortgage. “I'll need a minute, all right?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

When Colello disappeared inside the house, Kovacevic gave Walker a puzzled look.

“What's the matter, kid? You think he's going to scoot out the back door and make a run for it?” Walker smiled. “Trust me. He's in there giving his wife some bullshit story, maybe even telling her what I suggested. Then he's calling his lawyer.”

Walker was correct on both counts. After a few minutes Colello rejoined them on the front steps. He told them he would drive his own car to the police station. It would be unseemly to have his neighbors witness two cops shoving him into the back of their car and driving off with him.

Walker looked around. There wasn't a neighbor in sight.

It would also be more convenient, Colello added, since he could make his own way home afterward.

Walker gave that a skeptical look too.

There was a third reason, Colello admitted. He had indeed phoned his lawyer, who demanded they have no further conversation with him until they all convened at the police station.

A half hour later, in the detectives' squad room, Walker was prepared to conduct what he regarded as a fairly polite interview, given that Colello was nominally a suspect in a murder investigation. Chief Gill was on hand, and Officer Kovacevic was operating the recorder. Colello's lawyer, a local criminal-defense attorney named Mark Silverstein, had arrived. He and Walker were acquainted, which was the warmest possible description of their relationship. Silverstein had known Chief Gill for years, and the lawyer realized the situation had to be serious if Gill was sitting in.

“We're entitled to a clarification,” said the attorney. “Before we go through any preliminary matters, I would like to know if Mr. Colello is a target of your investigation.”

“Yes, Counselor,” Walker replied. “He is.”

“In that case, we should suspend this meeting until I've had a further opportunity to confer with my client.”

“You want a few minutes to talk?” Walker asked, “is that what you're saying?”

Silverstein bristled. “Look, Henry,” he said, ignoring Walker and directing himself to Gill, “I don't like the way this is being handled. Your man barges into my client's home without a warrant, and now he wants to bulldoze us into this interrogation.” He stood up, making it clear that he and his client were ready to walk out.

Before Gill could respond, Colello placed his hand on the lawyer's arm. “Take it easy, Mark. We're going to get to this eventually.” He turned to Walker. “Go ahead and ask your questions. I didn't kill Elizabeth.”

“All right,” Walker said, avoiding the glare directed at him from Mr. Silverstein. He figured, given Colello's statement, the best plan was to jump right in. “You and Elizabeth Knoebel were lovers, that right?”

“That's right,” Colello said without hesitation. “We were.”

Now Silverstein collapsed, rather than sat in his chair, but when he tried to protest again Colello shut him up. Walker simply ignored him.

“How long?” the detective asked.

“A few months. Not long.”

“Where did you first meet her?”

“At a bar, near my office. Lots of singles and cheater action there.”

“Uh huh. And this was a few months ago?”

“Right.” Colello took a deep breath. “A Wednesday night, I think. Maybe it was Thursday, I can't remember.”

“How many times did you see her after that?”

“Not sure. Five times, maybe six.” He tried to sound casual about it, taking a moment to smooth back his dark hair.

“Which was it?” Walker asked with a skeptical look. He had already concluded that an evening with Elizabeth Knoebel was not something a man was likely to forget.

Colello and Walker stared at each other for a moment. “Six times,” Colello said. “Including that first night.”

“Did you know who she was when you met her?”

“You mean, did I know she was Stanley Knoebel's wife? No, of course not.”

“What do you mean, ‘of course not'?”

Colello rolled that one over once or twice before answering. “Knoebel was in my marriage counseling group. If I knew she was the guy's wife, I wouldn't have made a play. It wouldn't be my style, you know?”

“I think I know,” Walker replied amiably. “But at some point you did learn she was Knoebel's wife, right?”

Colello nodded.

“When?”

“I think it was the fourth time we were together.” When Walker responded with another dubious look, Colello said, “The fourth time.”

“Uh huh. And where were you
together
?”

Silverstein didn't care much for Walker's tone and said so, but his client talked right through the interruption. “We arranged to meet in that same bar the first couple of times. From there we'd go to a motel.” He paused, then added, “It didn't start off as an affair of the heart, if you catch my drift.”

Silverstein tried to stop their colloquy again. “Just hold on, Detective Walker.” Turning to his client he asked, “Don't you think we should talk this over?”

Colello said, “We already talked it over, Mark,” the admission in front of the police only further infuriating his counsel. “I didn't kill the woman, but they already knew I was seeing her. Isn't that right, Detective?”

“That's the information we have,” Walker agreed pleasantly.

“Who gave you the information?” Colello wondered.

Walker smiled. “You save your questions for the end. I'll do the asking for now, okay?” He looked from Colello to his lawyer, then back to the suspect. “So Mr. Colello, at some point you did learn that she was married to Stanley Knoebel, correct?”

“Right.”

“A man you knew from your group therapy.”

“Right.”

“And by then you also knew Elizabeth Knoebel was in your wife's therapy group, correct?”

“Yeah. At that point I knew exactly who she was.”

“How'd you find out?”

Colello chewed at his lower lip for a moment. “She told me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“What'd she say?”

“She spelled the whole thing out. Said she knew who I was, right from jump street. She came looking for me, or at least that's how I had it figured by then. Said the things my wife told them about me in their group made me sound interesting.” Colello gave them a nervous imitation of a smile. “She said I sounded interesting, can you imagine? Meanwhile, Fran would come home and tell me about this bitch in her group that she hated.” He looked slightly embarrassed about mentioning his wife. “You don't need all the details, do you?”

“Details are helpful.”

“Elizabeth handed me all this crap about how Fran made me sound like a man's man. How she thought my wife didn't understand me.” He began laughing. “That's supposed to be the guy's line, right? ‘My wife doesn't understand me.' Elizabeth snowed me like a Colorado avalanche.”

“But you did go on seeing her after that?”

“After what?”

“After you knew she was Knoebel's wife.”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh. “Yeah, I did.”

Walker played with the papers on his desk, then looked up at Colello. “You were at her house the day she was murdered, isn't that right?”

This time, when Silverstein spoke up, Colello and Walker both remained quiet. They listened as the lawyer went back and forth with the police chief about Colello's rights, whether they were charging him with murder, and the Fifth Amendment. Their argument became increasingly heated, until Colello held up his hand.

For a moment everyone was silent. Then Silverstein said to his client, “It's time for you to stop talking Thomas.”

But Colello shook his head and looked at Walker. “I told you I didn't kill her, and that's the truth. But I was there that day. You want details, right?”

“Right.”

The attorney tried one last time to stop him, but Colello told him to forget it. “The only way to clear myself here is to tell the truth, Mark. They already know I was at the house that day.” He turned back to Walker. “That's why you brought me in here, right?”

Walker nodded. “That's certainly a big part of it.”

“Okay. It was late in the afternoon. Elizabeth called me that morning, asked me to come over, said she would be alone.”

“You know we can check the phone records on that,” Walker said.

“Why would I lie about it?” Colello asked. Then he became quiet.

They all watched as he shook his head, remembering.

“I need something to drink. Could I get a cup of coffee?” Colello asked. “Black.”

They all waited as Kovacevic got him a cup and Colello took a sip.

“Where was I? Oh yeah. Elizabeth called me, told me her husband would be in New York till the next day, I should meet her at the house.” Colello stopped again. “What a complete numb-nuts I was. I mean, what if Stanley came home early? Or someone else stopped by to see her? It was totally idiotic on my part, I know that now. But you've got to understand something about Elizabeth. She was the kind of woman who made you do stupid things. Even after I knew who she was I couldn't bring myself to stop seeing her. And it wasn't just because she threatened to tell my wife about us.”