“Unfortunately the evidence doesn’t seem to bear that out,” Chase grudgingly admitted. “Which is why we wanted to talk to you again, Mrs. Droba. As we see it, the reason your sister-in-law was killed must be the book she was writing.”
“Oh, so now we’re back to this book, are we?” said Michele, as she took a seat on the cream-colored leather sofa, gracefully crossing her legs and leaning back.
“Isobel must have talked to you about it,” said Odelia. “She must have revealed some of its contents. Is there anything you remember that could be connected to her death?”
“Nothing,” said Michele. “Isobel knew I didn’t approve of her writing that book of hers, and the only times we discussed it was when I told her to stop writing it, and she flatly refused.”
“So she never told you what was in the book?”
“Never.”
“She didn’t tell her publisher? Your boyfriend?”
“You can ask him, but as far as I know they never talked about the content. Chris had given Isobelcarte blanche to write whatever she wanted.”
“Wasn’t that unusual for a publisher to give a writer that much freedom?”
“Unusual, maybe. But it was the only way Isobel agreed to work. If Chris had told her he wanted the editorial prerogative to cut parts of the book, she wouldn’t have signed the contract. She was going to write the book the way she wanted to, whether we liked it or not—and that included her publisher.”
“But there would have been a scandal,” said Chase.
Michele laughed.“Well, that was the whole idea! Publishers thrive on scandal, detective. Scandal sells, and that was what he was hoping for. If anything, he was nervous about the book being too tame. A lot of hullabaloo had been caused when the book was announced, and he hoped the final product would live up to it.”
“That must have been very upsetting for you,” said Odelia.
“Yeah, didn’t that make you angry with Christopher?” asked Chase. “That he would prefer to make a lot of money from Isobel’s book over your desire for discretion and protecting your friends’ privacy?”
A fine smile played about the woman’s lips. “Of course I was upset with Chris, but I also understood where he’s coming from. A publisher is in the business of making money, detective. Otherwise he’s not a very good publisher, is he? And I do admire his ambition to be successful at what he does. And as far as protecting my friends’ privacy, well…” She made an ineffectual gesture. “That ship had sailed, I’m afraid. There was simply no turning back the clock on Isobel’s book.”
“What was the big secret Isobel was revealing about you?” asked Odelia.
“Like I said, I never got to read the book, and neither did Chris. But the only secret I ever revealed to Isobel was that I can’t cook. So I’m sure that would have made its way into her book.”
“You can’t cook?”
“No, I can’t,” said Michele, smoothing her red gingham pants. “I would have liked to give people the impression that I’m some kind of Martha Stewart, but the truth is that I hate cooking. Whenever I throw a party, or organize something like this week, I always bring my housekeeper, who’s an excellent cook. I know it’s a silly thing, but I was hoping Isobel would leave it out of that book of hers. But knowing her, it would probably have been in the opening chapter.”
“As secrets go, that’s not exactly a shocker,” said Odelia kindly.
“I know it doesn’t seem like such a big deal, but when you present yourself as the perfect hostess, and you even run a lifestyle blog, it is embarrassing to admit that you cannot cook. But the fact of the matter is that it wasn’t my own secret I was nervous about being revealed, but those of my friends and family.”
“Can you tell us something about that?” asked Odelia.
Michele offered a fine smile.“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Even if those secrets are what got Isobel killed?”
“Even if I knew some of these so-called secrets, I couldn’t possibly betray a confidence. I’m sorry, but I simply can’t. And besides, it’s not my place to tell.”
“Okay, fine,” said Chase, though he didn’t seem fine with it. “So tell me about your husband.”
Michele frowned.“What do you mean?”
“Your husband Dean and his brother Gavin.”
“I already told you. Dean died and his brother disappeared. But that has nothing to do with Isobel’s murder.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” said Chase, a little nastily, I thought. Clearly he was in a foul mood: his perfect suspect slipping through his fingers, and Michele refusing to play ball were not conducive to softening his demeanor.
Michele sighed.“Okay, so one night seven years ago—”
“Where was this, exactly?”
“At the house—the house where Dean and I lived, and where I still live.”
“So describe the scene for me, please.”
“Dean had just returned home from work and was in his study making some phone calls when Gavin and Isobel dropped by. This must have been around eight or nine o’clock. Gavin was clearly agitated.”
“You saw him? You were there?”
“I opened the door for them and told Gavin where he could find my husband, yes.”
“Go on.”