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Beau’s fists clenched. “Who?”
Josie tossed the printout back onto the table and took out her phone, pulling up Archie Gamble’s driver’s license photo. “Who is this man?”
He stared at the photo, his face trying on several different expressions before finally settling on consternation. “I don’t know. Why? Is he the one who killed Claudia and Eve?”
“We’re not sure,” said Noah.
Josie showed the photo to Margot, but she shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“I’m going to ask you again,” Josie told Beau. “Who is this man?”
Beau’s nostrils flared. He didn’t answer.
Noah said, “You’ve never met this man? Not ever?”
“No. Of course not! I’m telling you the truth.”
Margot had inched slowly away from him until her body was pressed against the opposite side of the couch. Her hands gripped the arm as if it were a lifeline. She stared at him with open disgust. “How can we be sure? How can anyone be sure of anything you say anymore?”
Beau turned to her, eyes pleading. “Margot, please.”
He reached for her but she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”
“Margot!” he said, his tone switching rapidly to annoyance. “You can’t possibly be angry with me. You never even told me about that man you’ve been seeing from the station.”
“That is none of your business!”
“You’ve been keeping things from me!”
Margot opened her mouth and sucked in a big breath. As if sensing that she was about to explode on Beau, Noah quickly said, “Archie Gamble’s name was found written down among Eve’s things.”
Margot’s mouth clamped shut, her expression morphing from anger to confusion. For the first time, Josie saw a true crack in Beau’s television personality veneer. For a fleeting second, his expression of earnest indignation, exhaustion, and stress slipped and in its place was naked fear. A vein in his temple bulged, the tiny pulse vibrating so hard it was visible. He said, “Eve—wait, did Eve know him?”
“You tell us,” said Noah.
“How would I—how would—how would I know that?” he stammered.
Josie said, “Archie Gamble’s name was written on the back of a piece of mail addressed to your wife. It’s possible that Claudia wrote his name down and Eve took it. We would need handwriting samples to clarify.”
The pulsing vein slowed incrementally. “I can do that. I can get those for you. Today, in fact.”
“Great,” said Noah. “How about your wife? Did she know Archie Gamble?”
“No. I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know. Is he a patient of hers, or maybe he had been in the past? I can talk to Claudia’s secretary. Her name is Trudy Dawson. You may still need a warrant, given the privacy laws, but she’ll be able to help you with anything having to do with Claudia’s practice.”
“That would be great,” said Noah. “It’s unlikely that Mr. Gamble is or was a patient of your wife’s, but we’ll look into it. Is it possible that Gamble and Claudia were having an affair?”
A noise of incredulity came from deep in Beau’s throat. “No, no,” he spluttered. “That’s not possible.”
Margot narrowed her eyes at him. “How would you know?”
Beau threw his hands in the air. “Because Claudia would never have an affair! She just wouldn’t! If she had, even with…a person like that, I would have noticed. Seen him lurking around or something, but I’ve never met the man before. Never even seen him until just now!”
He had met Archie Gamble at the DMV if Gamble was to be believed. Was it possible he simply didn’t remember? What reason would he have for lying about something like that?
Josie brought up the photo of Gamble once more and turned it toward Beau. “In the meantime, I want you to take a moment. Look at his photo again. Tell us, truthfully, that you’ve never met this man in your life.”
With a sigh, Beau took the phone from her and studied Gamble’s photo. It looked more like a mugshot the way that Gamble stared down the camera, all menace. Josie counted off ten seconds before Beau handed back the phone. “I swear to you that I do not know this man. I’ve never met him. I’m not sure what else you want me to say or what you want me to do. My wife is dead. Eve is dead. My entire life is falling apart. You should be out there doing your jobs instead of here interrogating me like I’m some kind of criminal, because I am not.”
