"So they had no problems? Never fought?"
Tears glittered briefly in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. "Everyone argues. Even people in love."
"Do you know if they argued over anything recently?"
She looked away. "No."
"If you know anything," I said quietly, "even something small, it may just help track down their killers."
She didn't say anything for a moment, looking down at her clenched hands. "How could something they fought about help track down her killer? It didn't mean anything. They'd worked through it, and the wedding was going ahead."
I raised my eyebrows. "It didn't mean anything" was usually a metaphor for "I made a mistake of the sexual kind." "So Callie had a one-night stand?"
"At her bachelorette party." She hesitated, then said in a rush, "She was drunk, it really didn't mean anything, and she was so ashamed of herself afterward."
"When was the party?"
"Two days before... before - " She stopped, gulping down air.
I waited a moment, then asked, "And she told Liam about it?"
"She had to. I mean, how could she not? There were ten of us there. Someone would have told him eventually, and that would have been even worse."
Worse than being torn apart by a cuckolded fiance? I didn't think so. "You didn't try to stop her straying?"
She blushed and looked away. "I didn't know. Not until later."
Because she was too busy getting laid herself, I bet. "Where did this all happen?"
For some odd reason, I was expecting her to say Mirror Image, but she didn't. "At a friend's. She owns a house down Fairhaven way, right near the beach."
Then the friend had some money. Fairhaven had a million dollar plus price tag. "Who was the man she slept with?"
She shrugged. "One of the strippers."
"There was more than one?"
She looked away again. "There were ten."
One for each of them, then. Which meant it was not your typical bachelorette party - not if they catered to everyone's sexual needs. "Do you know the name of the company?"
"Nonpareil."
Not one I'd heard of, but then, I really didn't have a whole lot to do with humans and their sexuality. "Did you arrange it?"
"No, Cheryl, the other bridesmaid, did." She hesitated. "You don't think the strippers had anything to do with her murder, do you?"
"Probably not." If only because I doubted strippers would have been a link to the Essendon case. But then, who knew? Maybe the wife had needed to recharge her sexual batteries, or had been to a party that had employed a stripper recently.
"And there's nothing else you can tell me? About the strippers, that night, or their relationship? Nothing that you think might help, however inconsequential?"
She shook her head. "Liam wouldn't do this to her. It wasn't him. He worshipped her."
Maybe, but it wouldn't be the first time someone who worshipped their partner went off the deep end and killed them, for whatever reason. I'd watched enough of the news over my short life to realize that.
I pushed to my feet. "If you do think of anything - however small - give me a call." I gave her a card with my Directorate number on it.
She took it without comment. I headed out, and left her to her tears. But I hoped like hell I never had to confront that sort of pain again, either through work or in my private life.