Postmortem(22)

His voice was trembling very badly now.

“Uh, the smell was sick, unhealthy, as if maybe she was sick and had been in bed all day. Explaining why all the lights were out, why she hadn’t waited up for me.”

Silence.

Marino: “Then what happened, Matt?”

“Then my eyes began to adjust and I didn’t understand what I was seeing. The bed materialized in the dimness. I didn’t understand the covers, the way they were hanging off. And her. Lying on top in this strange position and not having anything on. God. My heart was coming out of my chest before it even registered. And when I flipped on the light, and saw her . . . I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear my own voice. Like I was screaming inside my head. Like my brain was floating out of my skull. I saw the stain on the sheet, the red, the blood coming out of her nose and mouth. Her face. I didn’t think it was her. It wasn’t her. It didn’t even look like her. It was somebody else. A prank, a terrible trick. It wasn’t her.”

Marino: “What did you do next, Matt? Did you touch her or disturb anything inside the bedroom?”

A long pause and the sound of Petersen’s shallow, rapid breathing: “No. I mean, yes. I touched her. I didn’t think. I just touched her. Her shoulder, her arm, I don’t remember. She was warm. But when I started to feel for a pulse, I couldn’t find her wrists. Because she was on top of them, they were behind her back, tied. And I started to touch her neck and saw the cord embedded in her skin. I think I tried to feel her heart beating or hear it but I don’t remember. I knew it. I knew she was dead. The way she looked. She had to be dead. I ran into the kitchen. I don’t remember what I said or even remember dialing the phone. But I know I called the police and then I paced. Just paced. I paced in and out of the bedroom. I leaned against the wall and cried and talked to her. I talked to her. I talked to her until the police got here. I told her not to let it be real. I kept going over to her and backing off and begging her not to let it be real. I kept listening for someone to get here. It seemed to take forever . . .”

Marino: “The electrical cords, the way she was tied. Did you disturb anything, touch the cords or do anything else? Can you remember?”

“No. I mean, I don’t remember if I did. Uh, but I don’t think I did. Something stopped me. I wanted to cover her. But something stopped me. Something told me not to touch anything.”

Marino: “Do you own a knife?”

Silence.

Marino: “A knife, Matt. We found a knife, a survival knife with a whetstone in the sheath and a compass in the handle.”

Confused: “Oh. Uh-huh. I got it several years ago. One of those mail-order knives you could get for five-ninety-five or something. Uh, I used to take it with me when I went hiking. It’s got fishing line, matches inside the handle.”

Marino: “Where did you see it last?”

“On the desk. It’s been on the desk. I think Lori was using it as a letter opener. I don’t know. It’s just been sitting there for months. Maybe it made her feel better to have it out. Being alone at night and all. I told her we could get a dog. But she’s allergic.”

Marino: “If I hear what you’re saying, Matt, you’re telling me the knife was on the desk last time you saw it. That would have been when? Last Saturday, Sunday, when you was home, the weekend when you replaced the screen in the bathroom window?”

No response.

Marino: “You know any reason your wife might’ve had to move the knife, like maybe tuck it in a drawer or something? She ever done that in the past?”

“I don’t think so. It’s been on the desk, near the lamp for months.”

Marino: “Can you explain why we found this knife in the bottom dresser drawer, underneath some sweaters and beside a box of condoms? Your dresser drawer, I’m guessing?”

Silence.

“No. I can’t explain it. That’s where you found it?”

Marino: “Yes.”

“The condoms. They’ve been in there a long time.” A hollow laugh that was almost a gasp. “From before Lori went on the pill.”

Marino: “You sure about that? About the condoms?”

“Of course I’m sure. She went on the pill about three months after we got married. We got married just before we moved here. Less than two years ago.”

Marino: “Now, Matt, I’ve got to ask you several questions of a personal nature, and I want you to understand I’m not picking on you or trying to embarrass you. But I have reasons. There’s things we got to know, for your own good, too. Okay?”

Silence.

I could hear Marino lighting a cigarette. “All right then. The condoms. Did you have any relations outside your marriage, with anybody else, I’m saying?”