Page 11 of Summer Shivers
“It looks like you mentioned earlier there had been a fight last night. Can you start there?” The female officer interjects.
“I did?” I don’t remember admitting that.
“I have the transcript from the 9-1-1 call right here.” The female officer holds up a sheet of paper.
“Uh, sure.” I collect my thoughts to begin again. “We had a little disagreement before bed—”
“About . . .” The female officer looks at her notepad. “Ty, right?”
“What? No.” I look back and forth between the questioning faces before me.
“No?” she questions.
“Well, yes. Not a disagreement really.”
“What would you call it?”
“More like a discussion?” It comes out sounding more like a question than I’d like.
“You told the 9-1-1 operator that it was a fight. Which is it?”
I’m shocked that I told the 9-1-1 operator that. It’s not usually something I talk about. Ever. Our fights about Ty fall into the proverbial file of things that are never mentioned in order for Harrison and me to put forth the ideal that we have a perfect marriage. It’s just not something we typically talk about. Or, rather, talked about. Everyone we know thinks we have . . . had. . . the perfect marriage. Even our marriage counselor didn’t know about Ty. Harrison forbade it. So, I try to sell the lie instead.
“I must have been in shock. And not my right mind. Talking crazy.” I laugh uncomfortably and twist my finger next to the side of my head as indication of such. “We were debating over where to vacation next.”
“Debating?”
“Yes. Maldives versus a South American rainforest.”
After I say that, I’m not sure why. Lying to the police is stupid, obviously. But I’m so used to lying about Ty’s role in my marriage—or lack thereof—that it’s second nature now. An automatic reflex. Something I wouldn’t know how to stop if I could. Now that it’s out there, all I can do is stick with it.
“And which were you? Maldives or?”
I clear my throat. “Maldives. Harrison wants, er, wanted, to trek through nature, camping and what not. And my idea of camping is no room service.” I chuckle, to show I’m kidding, but I sound awkward, I can hear it.
“Would you say you’re accustomed to a pampered lifestyle, Mrs. Daniels?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that exactly. I was joking. Exaggerating a bit. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“Why are you nervous, Genevieve? May I call you Genevieve?”
“Are you kidding?” I gesture around the table. “I’m here in a police station being questioned about my husband’s death which just happened mere hours ago.” I don’t answer her question about my first name.
“My apologies. Let’s stick to the facts and not exaggeration. That will help all of us in the long run.”
“Of course.” I feel slightly chastised, which is annoying. “Harrison was upset and decided to go for a swim before bed.”
“And what did you do?”
“I went to bed.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t worry when he didn’t return right away?”
“I was asleep.”
