“Where were you on the night of the 26th?” Allina asked.
The sudden change of topic threw him for a moment. “Home.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“No.”
“What about the night of the 23rd?”
“Home. Alone.”
“And the …”
“Whatever day you're going to ask me about I was home alone. I'm always home alone sincesheleft me.” He threw a look of disgust Joynelle’s way.
“Do you know a Mila Drake?” Matthew asked.
“Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“What about Georgia Lars?”
“Nope.”
“Tillie Schueman? Jeannie Jones?”
“Look, I'm not interested in other women,” Jaden sulked.
That was interesting, perhaps when Joynelle had filed for divorce he had decided to try and find someone who would never leave him. Who would replace her, who would be the woman he felt he deserved.
“Perhaps you met them at a bar?” Allina suggested. If they could find something that definitively linked him to one of the women, they might be able to get a warrant to search his house and hopefully find something incriminating.
“No. I told you, I'm not interested in other women,” Jaden repeated.
The clear implication being he was still interested in his wife. They would have to talk to Joynelle alone because Matthew was concerned about her safety. “And you can't think of anyone who would want to hurt you by destroying your business?”
“I don’t think so. No one springs to mind. I have a few rivals but no one who would kill just to cause me trouble.” Jaden was looking bored now.
“Mrs. Kite, may I see your wrist,” Matthew asked.
Joynelle’s terrified blue eyes darted up to meet his. “Wh-what?” she stammered.
“I'd like to take a look at your wrist.”
She was visibly trembling as she held out her right arm.
“Your left wrist, Mrs. Kite,” he said gently.
Clamping her bottom lip between her teeth, Joynelle tentatively lifted her left arm and held it just above the tabletop.
“May I?” he asked.
When she nodded, Matthew carefully took her hand and eased the shirt sleeve up. Dark black and purple bruises circled her wrist. Fingertip bruises. If he didn't think it might lead to a sexual harassment claim, Matthew would have asked to see her chest, which he thought he would find just as bruised and swollen as her arm. “Who hurt you, Mrs. Kite?”
Her eyes darted all around the room and he could feel the fear rolling off her.
“Mrs. Kite, who did this to you?” he repeated patiently.
Slowly she turned her head to look at Jaden, who had suddenly gone very quiet and very pale, and was looking a little queasy. Her lips parted, her tongue darted out to wet them, then she snapped them closed again. “I-I fell down the stairs,” she said softly, keeping her gaze averted.