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Crowley’s face turned just enough red to notice. “I… uh… yes, of course. Please continue.”
“Thank you. So, I shut down my computer and packed up, and I left. Wait… no, I stopped to put some files back in my safe.”
“What kind of files?”
“Important ones. Why?”
“Just trying to get a clear picture ma’am.”
“Fine. Financial documents. Proprietary formulas. Things like that.”
“Okay. So you put the files back in your safe, and then you left the office? I thought you said you were attacked in your office?”
Monica shook her head like she was confused. “No. I… left my office and went into the reception area. It was really dark – darker than it should’ve been. Someone had turned the ambient lights off.”
On purpose.
“Someone like who? Who had access?”
“Any of the housekeeping staff, security, and my assistant Kim, I guess. And she has an assistant, who comes in a few times a week.”
“Your assistant… has an assistant?”
“Kim’s job is very demanding,” Monica told him. “If I have to pay someone to assist her, I’m more than happy to do it. I just need the work done.”
Crowley nodded. “Fair enough. So what happened in the reception area?”
“I heard a sound, like someone was there. I ignored it at first, but then I heard it again. And I… I heard someone breathing I think. So I called out… I asked who was there. And then… something hit me in the head. I remember screaming. He had his hand over my mouth, and I used my nails to dig in, so he let me go. I tried to run, but…my hair. He grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me to the floor, where it was cold. Really cold. And then… his hands were around my neck. And that’s the last thing I remember.”
From the window, Bauer asked, “You’re sure it was a man?”
“No,” Monica answered. “But they were strong… much stronger than me. I couldn’t fight him off. And it felt like a man. Smelled like a man.”
“Huh. That makes this even more interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Crowley said, pulling a picture from the pocket of the notebook he was using, “This message was written in nail polish on top of your desk. This mean anything to you?”
Was the polish dry when they arrived? How much time would that have taken?
When he handed her the picture, I leaned in too, frowning at the“WHAT’S YOURS IS MINE”painted across the glossy surface of Monica’s desk.
It’s not the same person, I thought, but didn’t speak aloud. The detectives could surely use their own investigative skills to compare the shapes of these letters to the ones from messages left at the scene of Kellen’s murder and the break-in at Monica’s house.
“It’s another one of my polish names, from the Wicked Widow collection,” Monica said, pushing the image away from her. In it, her office had been ransacked, and it was probably disturbing for her to see it that way. “That color is gold, just like the polish.”
“They used the exact polish that matches the name?”
Monica shook her head. “No. They aren’t out yet. It was supposed to launch next week, but I had to recall every last bottle from the stores. They have to be quality checked again.”
“So, you’re saying that no one had access to this nail polish, to know the names or their corresponding shades?
“Of course not – what kind of marketing would that be? Lots of people have had access, because I want people using it, and telling their followers, friends, and family about it. It’s been all over social media, just not available to the general public.”
“Got it,” Crowley said, scribbling away. “Anybody besides you have access to the safe in your office?”
“Not currently, no. I changed the combination yesterday.”
