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Cora got the feeling Isabelle thrived on theatrics, and she had to hand it to the woman. The house looked like a stage set. The living room was gaudy enough to be in a low-budget period film. There was an antique-style sofa with ruffled lace pillows and two ornately carved side chairs that were gilded to death. Porcelain vases held bunches of silk roses, and the millwork in the room was painted in gold filigree. Apparently, Isabelle had a thing for eighteenth-century France. The place looked like the Palace of Versailles’ cheap drunk cousin.
Cora introduced herself and Liam as they took their seats on the uncomfortable side chairs.
“I apologize for not being at my best,” Isabelle said with a sniff. “I’m sure you can understand the news came as quite a shock. May I offer you some coffee or tea? Perhaps wine?”
Liam perked up like he was on board with that last option, so Cora spoke fast. “We’re fine, Mrs. Horvath. We’d hate to take up too much of your time, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions about John Brady.”
“Of course.” Isabelle’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and she sniffed into her handkerchief. The sniffs escalated into sobs, and for the next couple of minutes, Cora and Liam waited for her to gather herself together.
“Can you tell us how long you were seeing John Brady?” Cora asked gently.
“Almost two years,” Isabelle said with a hiccup. “We met at a cocktail party hosted by a mutual friend.”
“And were you aware that John was married?”
Isabelle’s delicate face grew marble hard, and her chin jutted out. “Of course, I knew he was married. It’s not like he could’ve made it a secret, even if he’d wanted to. The local magazines always have photos of him and his wife at charity events.”
“Can you tell us where you were on the night of June 15?”
“I was here, with John.” Isabelle’s voice wobbled, but she took a shaky breath and forged on. “We were supposed to spend the weekend together, but w-we had an argument.”
“What did you argue about?” Cora asked.
“John and I were talking about our upcoming trip to Cabo. We’ve gone for the past two years when his wife attended her annual retreat. But he said he couldn’t make it this time because of some last-minute function they had to attend at her university. I got mad and started asking him if he was ever going to leave her. Because he always made me think he would, you know?” She looked to Cora for validation.
Cora nodded in encouragement, noting that Liam was staring at Isabelle with obvious distaste.
“Go on,” Cora said.
“John used to tell me that he liked that we had so much in common. He said his wife was always on the go, like a race car. He said she was young and energetic, and he enjoyed the way he and I could just relax together because I was more his speed.” Isabelle let out an unladylike snort. “His wife was racy, all right. She had affairs all the time.”
“What makes you say that?” Liam asked sharply.
Isabelle looked at him in surprise. “Well, John said it. He suspected she had lovers over the years, but he never confronted her about it. I don’t know why he stayed with her. He said they had a comfortable relationship and that it worked for them, but I never understood it. I mean, who wants to be with a cheater, you know?”
Cora gave Isabelle a polite smile, ignoring the whole pot and kettle thing.
“Anyway, John and I started arguing about the future. He said he just needed more time to sort things out, but that’s when I realized. I just knew he’d never do it! He was never going to leave her. A woman can tell when a man’s lying. It’s an instinctual thing we’re just born with, but I ignored all the signs. So, we argued some more, and then I got mad and said I wanted to break up. I said I was done for good this time. Then I kicked him out.”
Cora scribbled something on her notepad. “What time did he leave your house?”
Isabelle dabbed her eyes again. “Around twelve thirty, I think.”
“Can you tell us what state John was in when he drove away?” Cora asked.
“He was freaking out.” Isabelle’s beauty pageant facade was beginning to crack. Her pink frosted lips mashed flat, and for the first time during the interrogation, Cora felt she got an accurate view of the woman underneath the shiny veneer. “I was good to him for years, and he knew he was lucky to have me.” Isabelle’s face grew sullen and she smoothed her hair. “Margaret’s not that good-looking. She might be young, but she’s as boring as a lump of clay. No substance to her. I’ve no idea how she even became a botany teacher at the university. My guess is that she slept her way into the job. I wouldn’t be surprised. Though I can’t imagine what would entice any man to want to be with her. She’s like one of those clueless airhead types, you know?”
“I think I do,” Liam drawled. He looked outright disgusted with Isabelle, but the woman seemed too preoccupied with her own story to notice.
“Anyway, that’s all I know,” Isabelle said, fluttering her handkerchief. “After I made him leave, he called my phone five times, but I refused to answer. He left two messages begging me not to be angry. On the final message, he said he was going to bring me something to make it up to me. And that was it. That was the last I heard from him.” She started crying again, and Cora shuffled through her notes, waiting for Isabelle to get herself under control.
“I should’ve answered my phone,” Isabelle sobbed. “But I was still mad at him, and I thought I’d have time to talk to him later. If I had known I’d never seen him again...” More tears.
Cora wrapped up the meeting ten minutes later, happy to leave Isabelle’s gilded palace.
Liam was silent on the drive back. He stared moodily out the window, checking his phone every few minutes.
“Talk to me,” Cora demanded.
