"Marsha. She was an obstacle."
"I don't know what you mean. What are you saying?"
"A first wife in what was by all accounts a happy marriage. You agree, and have stated for the record in this investigation that Boyd Stibbs loved Marsha and you never observed any dissent or trouble between them."
"Yes, but—"
"And you and others have stated, on record, that Boyd and Marsha were devoted to each other, enjoyed each other's company, had many mutual interests, many mutual friends."
"Yes, but... That was before. Before anything happened."
"Would you state now, Mrs. Stibbs, that Boyd loved his first wife, Marsha Stibbs?"
"Yes." Her throat worked. "Yes."
"And to your personal knowledge, through your personal observations, Marsha Stibbs was committed to Boyd, and to her marriage?"
"She spent a lot of time on her work. She rarely bothered to prepare meals for him. He—he took care of the laundry more often than she did."
"I see." Peabody pursed her lips, nodded. "So you would say she neglected him, and their marriage."
"I didn't say that... I didn't mean that."
"Push," Eve ordered from Observation. "Push now."
"What did you mean, Mrs. Stibbs?"
"Just that she wasn't as perfect as everyone likes to think, to say. She could be very selfish."
"Did Boyd ever complain to you about this neglect?"
"No. Boyd never complains. He's much too good-natured."
"No one's that good-natured." Peabody used a smile now, big and wide, girl to girl. "Surely if he'd known or suspected his wife was seeing someone else, he'd have complained."
"No, no." Eve rocked up on her toes. "Don't circle back, don't give her space to think."
"What?" Alarmed, McNab grabbed Eve's arm. "What did she do wrong?"
"She should keep pressing on the victim, dig out the suspect's buried resentments, get her to voice them. And she needs to keep hitting her with the husband, so she can allude that maybe we're looking at him after all. The suspect's obsessed with Boyd Stibbs and the perfect world she's created around him. You've got to chip at the foundation of that, let her feel it crumbling. She's going off on the other man now, and that gives the suspect the chance to rebuild the fantasy, helps her believe there was another man."
"Is she losing it?"
Eve dragged a hand through her hair. "She lost some ground."
"Maybe you should go in."
"No. She can get it back."
They went well over McNab's fifteen minutes, but Eve didn't order him back to work. She watched Maureen's confidence rebuild and Peabody's falter. At one point, Peabody stared into the glass with such obvious panic, Eve had to imagine her own boots bolted to the floor so she couldn't stride in and take over.
"Got anything to write on?" Eve asked.
"You mean, like paper?" McNab asked. "I'm EDD. We don't use paper. That would just be wrong."
"Give me your e-book." She snatched it from him, coded in a few key phrases. "Go around and knock. Try to look like a cop for a change. Pass this to Trueheart, tell him to pass it to her, then you get out again. Got that?"
"You bet." He scanned the miniscreen as he hurried out.