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?She walked toward the bedroom, stopped, and suddenly sat in one of the leather chairs. She leaned forward, and her arms holding the pad and pencil fell limply to her sides as she sucked in deep breaths.
?“What’s wrong?” I knelt next to her. “Are you all right?”
?“I will be,” she muttered and sat staring at the wall, her mouth a tight line.
?“Sheryl?”
?“This is…harder than I thought it would be,” she explained and blinked rapidly as she tried to force a smile.
?“This was a man you once loved,” I sympathized. “You’ve got to let it out.”
?“No,” she quavered, her voice tense. “I have to accept the fact that he never really loved me.”
?“I’m sure that isn’t true.”
?“It’s true. Four years. Goddamn it! We were married four years, and then I walked in to find that bitch in my bed and on top of him. And after he gave me my settlement, he told me there were many others.”
?“Sheryl—”
?“And now he’s dead, and I’m not sure if I’m sad, angry, or pleased the bastard got what he deserved.”
?“That’s very normal—”
?“Is it, Mark?” she sniffled and faced me, her eyes bright. “Is that how you feel about your wife?”
?I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Susie and I were different. We had a very good marriage. I could never be unfaithful to her.”
?Sheryl sighed again. “And Randall was unfaithful to me from the beginning. But I was so busy working on my books, I didn’t see it.”
?“Sheryl, you can’t blame yourself.”
?She gave me a cold, hard stare. “You blame yourself, Mark.”
?“I—I—” I stammered. I took a moment to compose myself. “Wouldn’t it be best if we looked at the crime scene?”
?“You’re right.” She rose from the chair, her eyes clear. We walked to the bedroom door and Sheryl stopped. “I haven’t been in this bedroom since I packed my things and left.”
?“You can do it,” I maintained and moved my hand to the doorknob.
?“Hold it,” she warned, and I jerked my hand back as she examined the doorway. “Do you notice what’s missing?”
?“Missing?” I mocked. “How would I know if something was missing?”
?“We just entered a crime scene,” she encouraged.
?My eyes grew wide. “No yellow tape.”
?“Correct. They didn’t seal the outside door, or here at the bedroom.” She made another quick scribble in her notebook.
?“I wonder why?” I admitted.
?“Another mystery, Watkins,” Sheryl acknowledged. “Let us go forward with caution.”
?I was startled by her change in speech. She now sounded more analytical and her voice took on the characteristics of the Victorian Age. If she’d suddenly developed an English accent, I would not have been surprised.
?She turned the door handle, and we carefully stepped into the room. She touched a wall switch and the room came alive around us.
?I recognized the bed and the brass headboard from the photos. The only thing missing was the naked body of Randall Lawrence.
