Cora blinked, then gave a heavy sigh. “Liam, it’s my job to know when people are lying, and you’re hiding something about what happened to you this weekend, but whatever. That’s fine. Keep your secrets. Just don’t treat me like I’m some amateur sleuth eating Scooby Snacks in the back of the Mystery Machine, all right? I’ve been around the block a few dozen times. It’s the nature of this job. If you have something going on in your life you don’t want me to know about, I’d rather you just say so. It’s insulting to be lied to, especially from someone who’s supposed to be on my side.”
“I don’t think you’re an amateur, Cora,” he said solemnly. “It was never my intention to treat you like any kind of snack.”
Her forehead crinkled, and she looked at him like he was hopeless. “You’re so weird sometimes. You know that, right?”
“I—”
“And ditching me with Finn at the gala was not cool, but it’s over. We have more important things to focus on. Like a murder investigation. So, let’s just acknowledge, and move on, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“So, everything’s good between us?” he asked hopefully.
“Meh,” she said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Let me make it right. I’ll mow the lawn every week.”
“You already agreed to do that when you moved in,” she said, crossing her arms. “And you still haven’t done it.”
“I’ll do it right after work today,” he said quickly. “And I’ll do all your laundry for a month.”
“Oh, hard pass,” Cora said, with feeling. “I saw you washing your shirt in the kitchen sink the other day.”
He frowned. “Well, those machines are complicated and—”
“Weirdo.” She tried to look stern, but her expression softened, and Liam didn’t miss the way her rosebud mouth curved up at the corner. “Just forget it, Liam.” She started to reach for the handle again.
“There has to be something I can do,” he insisted. He wanted her to smile at him again, and he’d do whatever it took to get back into her good graces.
Cora paused. “Actually, now that you mention it, there is something you can do to make it up to me.”
“Anything,” he said quickly, though the calculating look on her face made him want to brace for impact. “What do you want?”
For the first time since Saturday evening, she gave him a genuine smile. “I’ll tell you later. Now, can we get back to the job?”
He followed her into the interrogation room with a sense of relief, but one glance at Margaret Brady’s face meant his troubles weren’t over. She looked nothing like the poised, polished woman she normally was. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her clothes were rumpled, and her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed for a couple of days. A heavy cloak of grief and regret clung to her slumped shoulders. Liam recognized it because he’d worn it before, himself. Margaret looked both exhausted and nervous when she glanced at him. There was a fragileness about her he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. For the first time since he drove her home on Sunday, he wondered if she’d be able to stick to her alibi.
Cora and Liam took seats across from her at the metal table.
“Mrs. Brady, thank you for coming in today,” Cora began, arranging her notebook on the table.
“I already told you people everything.” Margaret’s voice was hoarse enough to pull a carriage. “I don’t know why you’re making me say it all again.”
“Sometimes it helps to go over things after you’ve had some time to process,” Cora said. “You may remember things differently than you initially did.”
Margaret twisted the handkerchief in her hand, not making eye contact. “Are you saying I’m a liar?”
“No, not at all, Mrs. Brady,” Cora assured her. “I know this is difficult for you, but we are determined to find your husband’s murderer, and we want justice just as much as you do. If there’s anything else you can tell us about that night—anything at all, no matter how small—it could help.”
Margaret rubbed a hand over her face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t know why this happened. John wasn’t even supposed to be home this weekend. He was supposed to be on a business trip. I’ve racked my brains trying to think of anyone who could have done this, but there’s nobody. Everyone loved him. He was a truly kind person, unlike so many other men who are all about themselves.” She didn’t look at him, but Liam felt her accusation like a slap in the face. “John didn’t play games. He was straightforward and honest. He was good at everything he did. Successful. Well respected in the community. He was the kind of man I was proud to call my husband.” She paused and her face softened as if she was recalling a fond memory. “He made me truly happy.”
Something sharp and clawlike twisted in Liam’s chest. A snaking tendril of jealousy. This was a side of Margaret he’d never seen. In his old life, Margaret had hated her husband. John Brady had been a cold, mentally abusive man who’d treated her like something he owned. He’d neglected her for years, keeping her in that fancy house like a bird in a gilded cage, which was why it was so easy for her to fall into a relationship with Liam. She’d always said Liam was the one who made her happy. For a dirt-poor farmer with ragged clothes and not a penny to his name, he’d enjoyed the idea. And now, hearing her admit otherwise...it chafed. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him, but male pride and reason did not often mix.
“Were you satisfied in your marriage?” Cora asked.
“Of course,” Margaret said with conviction. “John was a wonderful husband.”
Liam snorted.
Margaret’s dark brows snapped together. “It’s true. I was very happy with John. I’ve never known another man who could compare to him.” This time she looked straight at Liam. “Not any man.”