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“Kalvin!” Cassidy hisses.
“No, it’s okay.” I look into the boy’s eyes and work to keep him with me. Answering questions, and not afraid of getting in trouble for snitching on a friend. “You heard Adrianna and William arguing last night?”
“Yeah.” He licks his dry lips and nervously peeks across to his mom. “It wasn’t super loud or anything. And they’ve had worse fights in the past. She said something about taking the trash out, and he said,” he looks to his little sister, Coral’s curiosity bringing her eyes around in anticipation. “Um… he made a comment on Mrs. Alves’ body…” He clears his throat. “In a negative way. He was mocking her, kinda like, saying he was not attracted to the one she has.”
Cassidy’s face tightens as her boy speaks. Her temper, worsening toward an already dead man.
“He said some ugly things, if you catch my drift.”
“I caught it.” Setting my elbows on my knees, I feel for the woman who might’ve lost her temper and just… broke. He’s talking shit, and she’s at the end of her rope. She wouldn’t be the first. She won’t be the last. “What did Mrs. Alves say back to him, Kalvin?”
“Not much. Seems she’s heard it all before, ya know? She’s kinda desensitized to the things he says. And she never really hits back with her own ugly words, since that makes arguments worse. She’s a pretty quiet woman, so whatever she said, it was just mumbles by the time it got to my ears.”
“Alright.” I lace my fingers together and consider the small family for a moment. “So you heard them exchange words last night. And you maybe heard a car outside. But maybe not.”
“Well… people live on this street, right?” Kalvin folds his arms and leans against the doorframe. “They drive cars. Maybe someone drove by, and maybe someone didn’t. I don’t know.”
“And you don’t recall hearing anything later last night?” Fletch presses. “After the Alves’ fight.”
“I heard Betty and Ed. That’s it. Daisy isn’t sleeping much right now, and Coral wanted an extra story, so I spent some time with her.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, his Michael Jordan tank lifting with the movement. “I mind my business, Detectives. In these streets, you mind your business. It’s best that way.”
And by doing so, people die. Though of course, that’s not the boy’s fault.
“Cassidy,” I look at her and wait for light brown eyes to meet mine. Her unwilling focus, anywhere but where I need it. “We know the Alves’ have had a rocky marriage, Ms. Nunes. We know William Alves abused Adrianna.” Then I sigh. “And weget the feeling you might be inclined to protect Adrianna, even if you knew she’d done something wrong.”
“I would,” she bites out, her jaw firm, but her eyes swelling with fresh tears. “She’s a good girl, Detective Malone. She’s sweet, and kind, and she’s a damn good mother. She tolerated years of BS from that man who was selfish and horrible.”
“So she killed him?” Fletch questions. “She was done with his abuse and decided to end it?”
“No.” She swings her eyes to his and grits out, “She didn’t kill him. Adrianna and I are friendly, Detective. Moms tend to bond over exhaustion and kids. I’m not saying she was in a happy marriage, and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend she hasn’t considered smacking that a-s-s-hole with Betty’s frypan in the past. But she didn’t kill him.”
“And you’re sure?” I challenge. “What makes you so positive?”
“Because she’d have told me about it first. Adrianna Alves is a gentle soul, Detective Malone. But she had a mouth on her too, when she felt safe to use it. I knew what her husband was. I knew what he did to her. Because she told me these things.” She unlatches her baby from the breast and brings it up to burp. “Am I sad William Alves has expired?” She pats the baby’s back. “No. Do I think her life will be better without him? Absolutely. And would I cover for her if she suddenly became homicidal?” She nods, small but certain. “Yes, I would. But this isn’t one of those times. If she’d told me she was gonna kill him, I’d have talked to her about divorce instead, since her only goal in this life is to raise her baby girls and live with them in a cute little cottage with a garden and picket fence. Homicide does not lead to a life of peace.”
“Maybe she snapped?” I repeat the word I’ve already thought a hundred times today. “She didn’t plan it. She didn’t have time to talk to you about it. Maybe it just… happened.”
Cassidy Nunes is an average-sized woman. Slightly broader in the shoulders, compared to Officer Tisdale, a little taller than the cop who stands by the door. But Cassidy shows no fear as she leans forward, her baby shielding us all from seeing anything of her uncovered chest. Then she looks into my eyes and sneers, “William Alves was deathly allergic to peanuts, Detective. I’m talking, if you ate a PB&J for lunch yesterday, and you happen to talk to him today, his throat is gonna start to feel tight. That man had a massive ‘expiry’ button, just sitting there for a fed-up wife to use at any moment. She had a way of dealing with the man with much less blood, and an easy ‘oopsie’ excuse should she ever feel like snapping. So no.” She grins when the squirming baby releases a belch loud enough, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume it came from a full-grown man. “I don’t think she expired him. I think she loves her daughters a thousand times more than she hated her abusive husband. Clearly I was not inside that home last night, so I can’t say what the hell happened. But you’re asking for my opinion, and I’m giving it to you. Now,” her voice breaks on emotion, “please let her see her daughters. They need her, Detective. And she needs them. Don’t punish them for a crime they never committed.”
“Apeanut allergy?” Talking to Minka Mayet on the phone is almost as good as speaking to her face-to-face. But since she’s downtown, inside her luxurious, all-glass building, filled to the brim with bodies—some dead, and some alive—and I’m still on the Alves’ street, preparing to speak to a woman whose husband’s blood stains her skin, I have to settle for the phone and slow my stroll as Fletch and I head in Adrianna Alves’ direction.
She should have been transported to the hospital. Gotten an all-over check, not only to make sure she’s okay and none of the blood on her skin belongs to her, but also to document what wounds may be hidden within the crimson stain.
If she’s our killer, and William woke to her attack, then she’s bound to have her own injuries. Defensive marks. Scratches, maybe.
“You’re saying she could have stuffed peanuts down his throat?” Minka questions, almost… dare I say, giddy, at the thought of her bet victory being so easy. “But you still wanna pin her for twenty-nine stab wounds?”
“I’m not trying to pin her for anything.” Stopping in front of the Alves’ home, still an easy thirty feet from the cruiser Adrianna leans against, I glance across and study the woman. She still wears her nightclothes. Little shorts that fit askew. A stretched shirt with small holes in the old fabric. Her hair is messy. Her light skin, garish in the middle of the day sunlight. “I’m trying to solve a homicide, Chief. I have one victim, who likes to beat on his wife. And I have the wife, with motive, means, and opportunity. If it was her, then I need to close the case. And if it wasn’t her, then I need to figure out who the fuck it was, because right now, they’ve committed murder and have successfully made it look like someone else is guilty.”
“You’re just worried you’re gonna lose the bet.” Minka’s lips curl into a smug smile. I see, in my mind, how her angular face brightens and the dimple in her cheek pops. “A week in a bikini, Archer. A week where we don’t have to talk to anyone else.” She happily sighs. “The latter is my favorite part.”
“I’m solving this homicide, Chief. Can you confirm the peanut thing?”
“Can I confirm if he was allergic?” she questions. “Or if he died of anaphylaxis? I doubt the second is your C.O.D., considering all those knife wounds we counted. Twenty-nine, Detective. Plus defensive wounds. That’s what got him.”
“Are you trying to make this case more difficult for the investigating officers, Chief Mayet? Or are you flirting with me?”
She chokes out a small laugh. “I’m just having a good day. Besides, I carry no sympathy for men who beat their wives for fun. Maybe she did it. Maybe she didn’t. But I assure you, if William Alves had a deadly peanut allergy, and Adrianna Alves decided to kill him using a knife, then I find myself disappointed she passed up such an easy opportunity.”
