The room I was brought to looked nothing like the interrogation rooms on television. It was brightly lit and there were windows that looked out onto Main Street. The table that dominated the room wasn't the gun metal gray that I thought it would be; instead, it was a sturdy, butcher block type of table. I had the feeling the whole set had come from a restaurant that had gone out of business.

Detectives Croton and Hastings were in their early thirties, about my age; neither wore a uniform. I moved my chair away from the table so I could cross my legs. Being married for ten years hadn't changed my body too much, and I wanted them to see that. Men generally liked looking at me, and I generally enjoyed the attention.

"Mrs. Barnes," one of them began.

"Call me Clarissa. 'Mrs. Barnes' makes me sound so old."

Detective Croton cleared his throat. "Clarissa, we understand you were supposed to have gone out to the Ames' house on Thursday morning. You were picking up the little girl's bathing suit. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right. Rain stayed overnight Wednesday night, but she forgot her suit. She and Emma had swimming lessons the next day."

"Why didn't you get the suit?"

"She wore one of Emma's. They share their clothes all the time."

"But you'd planned to go out there," Croton pointed out. "In fact, the bathing suit was found on top of the patio table. Mrs. Ames had been expecting you. You never picked it up. Why is that?"

I had no answer. I stared at Croton, trying to recall.

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