“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” Greer says. “I made myself stop because I didn’t want to be tired today.”
“So after you finished writing, you went to bed. Say, eleven thirty?”
“Around then, yes.”
Something about Greer Garrison’s answers bothers him. They’re too neat, too crisp. It’s as though she has thought them through in advance. Nick takes a gamble.
“Would you bring me to the computer, please, Ms. Garrison?” he asks.
“I don’t see why that’s necessary.”
“I would like to see it.”
“Well, then, I shall go fetch it for you.”
“No, you misunderstood me,” Nick says. “I would like you to bring me to the computer.”
“That’s an unreasonable request,” Greer says.
I’ve got her, he thinks.
“It’s an unreasonable request for you to bring me to the computer but not for you to bring the computer to me? Because there’s something you want to delete or hide on the computer?”
“Not at all,” Greer says.
“Fine, then bring me to the computer. Please, Ms. Garrison.”
She stares at him for a beat, then she rises.
Nick follows Greer down the hall. They step through an arched doorway into an anteroom—there’s a niche built into the wall that holds an enormous bouquet of hydrangeas and lilies—and Greer opens a door. There’s a sitting room with a sofa, a love seat, antique tables, and a desk that faces out a window. The view out the window is of the side yard—of a fence and the top of the pool house. Through a connecting door, Nick sees the master bedroom. There’s a king bed made up with white sheets and a comforter and an assortment of pillows, all of them neatly arranged. A cashmere blanket embroidered with the word Summerland is draped on the diagonal across the corner of the bed. Nick blinks. Greer found the time to make her bed so artfully after she found out Merritt was dead—or before? But at that moment, a woman pops out of the master bath holding a bucket and a roll of paper towels. The housekeeper.
“You’ll excuse us, please, Elida?” Greer says.
Elida nods and scurries away.
“Does Elida live here?” Nick asks.
“She does not,” Greer says. “She works seven to five. Today she came a bit earlier because of the wedding.”
Nick follows Greer over to a simple mahogany desk, gleaming as though just polished. On the desk are a laptop, a legal pad, three pens, a dictionary, and a thesaurus. There’s a Windsor chair at the desk and Nick takes a seat and turns his attention to the computer. “So this here, A Slayer in Santorini, is the piece you were working on last night?”
“Yes,” Greer says.
“It says you closed it at twelve twenty-two a.m. But you told me eleven fifteen.”
“I stopped writing at eleven fifteen. I closed the document at twelve twenty-two, apparently.”
“But you said you went right to bed. You said you went to bed around eleven thirty.”
“I did go to bed,” Greer says. “But I had difficulty falling asleep, so I had a drink.”
“Of water?”
“No, a drink drink. I had a glass of champagne.”
“So sometime between eleven fifteen and twelve twenty-two a.m. you went to the kitchen for a glass of champagne?”
“Yes.”
“And did you notice any activity then?”
Greer pauses. “I did not.”
“You didn’t see anyone?” Nick says.
“Well, on my way back to my room I saw my daughter-in-law, Abby. She was going to the kitchen for water.”
“She was?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she get water from the bathroom?”
“She wanted ice, is my guess. She’s pregnant. And it was a warm night.”
“Did you and Abby have a conversation?”
