Page 92 of The Night the Lights Went Out
The detective nodded. “We’ve already interviewed Mrs. Blackford, Ms. Dunlap. Her recollections are quite a bit different from yours. I’m sure we’ll get this all straightened out—we’ve just got a few more questions.”
Without looking up from the folder, Detective Kobylt said, “Were you aware that Dr. Blackford was drinking more than usual the night of the gala?”
She took another deep breath, trying to get her heart to slow down. “To be honest, I don’t really know how much he would usually drink. Heather made sure our server kept our wineglasses topped off all through dinner, but I didn’t notice how much he was drinking.”
“Dr. Blackford’s blood-alcohol level was almost two and a half times the legal limit when he died. Surely you noticed that he was intoxicated?”
“To be honest, we all were a bit drunk—except for my date, because he was my designated driver. I didn’t notice Dan specifically, although he certainly wasn’t acting normally. He sat at the dinner table without really contributing to the conversation, which wasn’t like him at all. Maybe that’s how alcohol affected him. I don’t know. I did know he’d started drinking early—way before the party started. His wife had given him a bottle of expensive scotch earlier in the day that he’d already been enjoying when I saw him in the cellar.”
“Where you were holding hands and kissing,” the detective said, reading from the folder again.
She sat very still, afraid to move. “He was my friend. I’ve told you that. He was talking about how all he wanted to do was spend quiet time with his family. The whole party scene wasn’t really... him. He preferred fishing, or watching a movie with his kids. That sort of thing. He was kind of sad when we spoke, so I reached for his hand as a friend would. And the kiss... it was just a misunderstanding.” She winced at the word, at the way she sounded. As if she were guilty of everything they were assuming. Except she wasn’t.
Detective Kobylt studied her without comment, his silent perusal interrupted by the other detective. “Why were you down in the cellar?”
“Heather asked me to go find Dan. She’d sent him down there for wine and he’d been gone longer than expected. She didn’t want to leave the receiving line, so she asked me to go get him.”
“Why didn’t she call or text him?” the detective asked, his neutral voice probably meant to be soothing, but it filled Merilee with terror.
“I have no idea. I don’t remember seeing her purse, so maybe she didn’t have her phone. You should ask her.”
Detective Harrell smiled gently but it did nothing to erase the pit of fear that grew in her stomach. “Ms. Dunlap, why were you at the dock? According to witnesses, you were on the dance floor and then left when the band started packing up and walked toward the dock—even though everybody else was heading up toward the house.”
“I was looking for my shoes—Heather had told someone that my shoes had been spotted on the dock—although I have no idea how they might have gotten there. So I headed that way, and that’s when I heard the dog barking. Look, I already said all this to the Gainesville police...”
“We know. And we appreciate your patience. But there are still a few things that need clarifying.” He reached into the corrugated box again and pulled out a larger clear plastic bag and placed it on the table directly in front of Merilee.
“Is this yours?”
Sitting on the table in front of her, nestled inside the bag, was one of the outrageously expensive evening shoes she’d worn the night of the gala. “Yes. It’s mine. Do you have the other one, too? I thought I’d lost them both at the party.”
“How did you think you lost them?” Detective Kobylt asked, his expression somehow making it clear that he thought she was stringing together lie after lie.
“Because I took them off before heading down to the cellar. The steps were steep and circular, so I took them off so I wouldn’t trip. They’re pretty high, as you can see.”
“And where did you leave them?”
She was confused for a moment, wondering if they were trying to make her stumble on her own words. “On the top step. That’s where I took them off. But somebody must have moved them, because when I climbed back up the steps, they were gone.”
“They were just gone?”
Merilee felt the anger again and was glad. It gave her something besides fear to latch onto. “Yes. At the time, I thought maybe someone thought they were a hazard and stuck them in a closet to get them out of the way—I had no idea. I just knew they were gone. Where were my shoes found?”
The detectives looked at each other for a long moment in a silent understanding, making Merilee want to squirm. But she sat perfectly still.
It was Detective Harrell’s turn to talk. “This one was found on the dock, near where Dr. Blackford’s body was found in the water.”
“And the other one?” It barely sounded like her voice.
“Missing. We haven’t been able to locate it.”
“Do you think it might have fallen in the water?”
“Anything’s possible. We’re sending in a team of divers to see if we can locate it.”
They were both studying her a moment before Detective Harrell turned to her again, his voice still gentle but his words like bullets. “It’s important we find it. Although the official cause of death is drowning, it appears that Dr. Blackford was helped into the water with a blow to the back of his head. According to the coroner’s report, the injury to his head is consistent with the shape of a stiletto heel.”
For a moment she thought she might throw up and could tell that the detectives were thinking the same thing, as they both took a step back.Breathe. Breathe.She never thought she’d be thankful for her previous experience with law enforcement, but she was now. She stood slowly, leaning on the table. “This interview is over. If you’d like to talk with me again, you’ll need to go through my attorney.”
