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"It was. You don’t know what hurt is until you come home and find another woman in your house."
"I read the report."
"You did?"
"Yes." Jensen flipped a few more pages. "She thought you broke in, and called the police on you. She must have looked pretty foolish when the officers told her that you were his wife, and she had to leave."
I laughed a little when I thought about it. "She did look pretty stupid."
"It says here that you hit her."
"To be honest with you, I knew who she was, and I knew I wouldn’t get another chance, so I tried to slap the taste out of her mouth."
Jensen laughed. "I wish I could have done that to the bitch my prick husband left me for."
"Every woman’s dream."
"And you say that was eight months ago. When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Petrocelli?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"What did you talk about?"
It was only when she asked me that question, and I thought about the fact that we argued because he had cut me off from the money, did I realize that I could be a suspect in his murder. "We talked about the divorce," I said, without going into any more detail.
"How’s that going?"
"The divorce?"
"Yes."
"The lawyers were working out the details."
"But you did talk to him yesterday. Did you see him?"
"No, we spoke by phone."
"So you didn’t go to the house?"
"No. I haven’t gone there since that day I caught her there and I moved out."
"You mind telling me where you were last night about eleven-thirty?"
"I was at home."
"Were you alone?"
"Yes."
"Can anybody verify that?"
"No, not really."
"What were you doing?"
"I was on the phone talking to my Mom and Dad most of the night, and then I went to bed."
"What time was that?"
