up anyone who saw her along her usual running route that night, either.”
“You’re thinking maybe she wasn’t there?” I said.
“It’s a possibility we have to consider.”
“I don’t get it. Why say she was if she wasn’t?”
“Search me,” Mabel said. “On the other hand, maybe she was there, but didn’t want to be seen, so she said she was there just in case she was spotted.”
I shook my head. Someone, maybe Greg Matthias or Mabel, had once told me that the first rule of police work was to keep it simple, that the most obvious explanation for something was usually the right one. “No one saw Bobbi, either, right?”
“Yeah,” Mabel said. “Look, Tom, I know you. You’re inclined to always think the best of people, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but how has it worked out for you?”
“It hasn’t always been good for my insurance rates,” I agreed.
“Cops, particularly detectives, but street cops, too, have a tendency to be more realistic, pessimistic, even.”
“No,” I said, with mock incredulity.
“You said Anna Waverley was intelligent …”
“Yes,” I said.
“While your average crook isn’t all that bright, some are brighter than others. The smartest ones stick as close to the truth as possible, even if it means admitting to something that might be construed as circumstantially incriminating. A robbery suspect admitting to being in the vicinity of a robbery, for instance. They know it’s not half as damaging as getting caught in an outright lie.”
“So what you’re saying is that Anna Waverley admitted to being at the marina because she’s afraid to be caught in a lie if you do find someone who saw her there?”
“She also admits to having been at a party on the Wonderlust at least once, which would account for her fingerprints, if they’re found. Kovacs doesn’t believe she’s responsible for Bobbi’s beating, but he’s sure she knows more than she’s saying.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t have an opinion,” Mabel replied diplomatically. “I’ve never met her. I should know better than to encourage you, but what do you think? Could she have been involved?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She told me she doesn’t know anything about it.”
“And you’re inclined to believe her?”
“More than just inclined,” I said. “I do believe her …”
“But …”
“I’ve been wrong before …”
“But …” Mabel prompted again, a little more firmly.
“Well …” I said.
“For Pete’s sake, Tom,” Mabel said. “What?”
“I think she might meet with her lover on the Wonderlust,” I said, with a twinge of something that felt like guilt.
Mabel’s eyebrows went up. Baz grunted softly. Neither of them was half as surprised as I was, though. I didn’t like the direction my thoughts were taking me. It felt as though I was being disloyal to her, which was just plain silly; I hardly knew her. Nevertheless, I liked her and didn’t want to believe that she’d had anything to do with Bobbi’s attack.
“You think that maybe Bobbi interrupted them and lover-boy beat the crap out of her and dumped her in False Creek,” Baz said, more than a hint of skepticism in his voice.
“Something like that, I guess.”
“How do you know she even has a lover?” Mabel said.
“She told me her marriage was a sham and that she was having affairs she didn’t want with lovers she didn’t like. She’s had five lovers since she got married, she said, so there’s a good chance she has one now.”
“You work fast, don’t you?” Mabel said. “You knock on the woman’s door and the next thing you know she’s telling you all about her marriage and her lovers. Kovacs isn’t going to like this. He isn’t exactly Mr. Charm, but he’s a good interviewer. All he got out of her in an hour was her running schedule. Why did she spill her guts to you?”
“Well, she did drink almost two full bottles of wine in under three hours,” I said.
Mabel groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
She breathed a sigh. “Sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right. Forget it.”
“You liked her, though.”
“Yes,” I said. “Quite a lot. But I also feel, well, sorry for her. As I said, she’s a very unhappy lady.”
“Kovacs says she’s very attractive. Your track record with attractive women is not great, Tom. Your track record with very attractive women is even worse.”
“Thanks. It’s good to have friends who will tell you exactly like it is. Keeps you humble.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe she was playing me. I don’t like to think so, but …” I shrugged. When I’d left her house the night before, I’d been certain that she hadn’t had anything to do with Bobbi’s assault. Likewise, the following morning. However, it was as if she’d cast some kind of spell on me, but it had finally worn off and I could think clearly again. I still didn’t want to believe she’d lied to me, and maybe she hadn’t, strictly speaking, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d played me like the proverbial fiddle.
“I don’t suppose she told you her lover’s name or anything that might help us identify him.”
“No.”
Mabel jotted something in her notebook. “Was she able to shed any light on who may have impersonated her?”
“No.”
“Or why someone would pose as her to hire you to take photographs of the Wonderlust?”
“No …”
“But …?” Mabel said, drawing the word out to indicate her impatience.
“I asked her if she thought it might have had something to do with her husband or his business. She thought the idea was ridiculous, that her husband is a very dull man in a very dull business. Then she asked me if I liked her kitchen.”
“Like she was trying to change the subject?”
“I didn’t think so at the time, but, yeah, I think that’s exactly what she was doing. She’s very good at it.”
“Okay, so you do think she might know more than she’s telling?” Mabel suggested.
“I don’t know,” I said, then added, “Yes, I think she does.”
“You seem disappointed.”
“I guess I am.” I thought about it for a moment, then said, “Look, what if she did meet her lover at the marina? She’s there often enough. Maybe it’s a regular thing.”
“Are you suggesting that faux Anna Waverley hired you to interrupt real Anna’s little tryst?”
“To hear you say it, it does sound farfetched,” I said. “If faux Anna just wanted someone to interrupt real Anna and her lover, why not just have a pizza delivered?”
“Or call the cops and report a domestic disturbance,” Baz said.
“Besides,”