Hour Game (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 2)

At that moment Mason came in carrying a tray of coffee.

King noted that he’d already poured one for Remmy and now handed the cup to her.

Remmy said, “Thank you so much, Mason.”

Mason smiled, did a half-bow to the lady and departed.

Remmy said, “I left the hospital around ten and drove home.”

“Okay,” said Bailey as he noted this down. “What time did you get here?”

“Around eleven or so.”

“But the hospital’s no more than thirty minutes from your house,” King pointed out.

“I took a back road. I needed air; I drove slow, needed time to think.”

“Can anyone verify when you got home?” asked Bailey.

Remmy seemed to bristle a bit but said, “Mason was still up and opened the door for me.” She took a long sip of coffee. “Before I could even get my clothes off and get into bed, the phone rang and my husband was dead.” She paused for a moment, seemingly studying the depths of her drink. “I called Eddie but he wasn’t home.”

“He was actually with us at the Sage Gentleman until a little after eleven,” said King. “He was having dinner there and we joined him for a drink.”

Remmy’s left eyebrow hiked at this information. “Where was Dorothea?”

“At some function in Richmond, Eddie said.”

Remmy snorted. “Function? She sure as hell goes to lots of those.” She paused and said in a calmer tone, “I went right back to the hospital and saw my dead husband.” She looked at all of them, one by one, as though daring them to challenge one word of what she was saying. “That ended the longest day of my life.”

“Was there anything missing from Bobby’s personal effects in the hospital?”

“No. I’m particular about that, even made the hospital put together an inventory list.”

Bailey cleared his throat. “Remmy, this is going to be a difficult question to answer, but I want you to try.”

Remmy seemed to stiffen. “What is it?” she said imperiously.

Bailey shot King a sideways glance before he spoke. “The other murders that seem connected to Bobby’s death may not be. It’s just possible that someone else killed him.”

She put her cup down, sat forward and placed her hands on her knees. “What exactly is your question?”

“Just this: do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Bobby?”

She looked disappointed and sat back. “Every man has his enemies. A rich, successful man has more than most.”

“Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Remmy, we’re just trying to get to the truth.”

“So am I,” she retorted.

King said, “With ‘enemies’ are you referring to business or personal?”

The woman’s gaze swiveled to him now. “I’m sure I couldn’t say. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have funeral arrangements to attend to, now that I’ve finally gotten back my husband’s body from that place,” she said, undoubtedly referring to the undignified invasion of her husband’s remains at the morgue.

“Remmy, we have more questions,” said Bailey.