Page 85 of The Life She Had

As for the questions on Liam’s finances, I equivocate as much as I can, same as I did about his clients. I’m just the girlfriend, after all. Not Liam’s partner in crime. I inwardly laugh. He might have called me that, but I knew what I was. His tool. His captive. His victim. For now, I play the role of a graphic-designer girlfriend, innocent and perhaps not terribly bright.

I have no idea where you’re leading with these questions, officers, but I’ll answer them as best I can, which is not very well, I fear. I will, however, nudge you in a direction that’ll reveal a lot about Liam Garey.

The interview is winding down when voices sound outside the kitchen window. I look through to see Daisy and Tom walking past, his head tilting her way as he talks.

The cops follow my gaze, and Mazur asks, “Who’s with Ms. Moss?”

“Tom Lowe,” I say. “He owns the garage on the corner.”

He grunts. “He’s the one who found the vehicle. Friend of yours?”

“Friend of Daisy’s.” I slip them a smile. “Possibly more than a friend. You know how it goes.”

“Mr. Lowe was here with you and Mr. Garey the night before Mr. Garey disappeared, right? He’s on our interview list for today.”

“He’s a good guy. He won’t be thrilled to talk to you, but he’ll do it.”

“Doesn’t like the police?” Mazur says.

I hesitate. Then I say, “You’ll get this from his background check, so I might as well tell you. He’s spent some time in prison. When he was younger. Like I said, though, he’s a good guy. Pillar of the community.”

Mazur snorts and mutters under his breath, “They always are.”

Coleman shoots him a look, but Mazur shrugs, unrepentant.

“What was he in for?” Mazur asks. He peers at Tom, still visible outside, deep in conversation with Daisy. “Assault would be my bet. Looks like he’d be fast with his fists.”

Coleman sighs softly but makes no effort to rein in his partner, only shakes his head.

“It wasn’t anything like that. Although—” I stop short.

“Yes? You were about to say something,” Coleman presses.

“I...” I shift uncomfortably. “We didn’t discuss that evening much when you were here last night. It didn’t seem relevant.” I quickly add, “It still isn’t. But now that Liam is... is gone, and there’s going to be an investigation...” I swallow. “There’s a bruise on Liam’s jaw. That isn’t from any possible killer. I’m sure Tom will tell you about it. I just...” I trail off and fidget. Then I say, firmly, “It’s not connected.”

“Lowe hit him. Over the poker game.”

“Over Daisy. Liam had too much to drink, and he was being a jerk, joking about playing for keys.”

Coleman’s brows knit. “Wagering cars?”

“Women,” Mazur says. “House keys.”

“Right,” I say. “It was a joke, but Liam was out of line, and Tom hit him. That has nothing to do with Liam’s murder. It just means that the bruise on his jaw isn’t from whoever killed him.”

Mazur mutters something I don’t catch. Then he says, “You never answered the question. What was Lowe in for?”

“A nonviolent crime,” I say firmly. “Money laundering. He was training to be an accountant and got in over his head.”

“Money laundering?” Mazur repeats, and he straightens for the first time since this interview began. “Did he know Liam before last night?”

I see where this is going and hesitate again, twisting my hands in my lap.

“Ms. Turner?” Coleman prompts.

“Liam worked for my grandmother,” I say. “Maeve Turner. She owned this house. He was her lawyer, which is how we met. Maeve lived in Fort Exile for fifty years, and I think Tom grew up here. He was helping out with Maeve before I came along.”

“In other words, yes, Mr. Garey and Mr. Lowe knew each other.”

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