Page 20 of Code 6

“Two years ago, at the low point of our marriage, my wife dialednine-one-one and said I’d threatened her. That was a lie. It was a revenge call that she would never have made if she weren’t an alcoholic.”

“You told me that the night she died. It’s in my notes.”

“Right. I didn’t come here to repeat myself. But there’s something more I want to share with you. Something that only my daughter and I know.”

The detective seemed intrigued, but said nothing.

“Elizabeth thought I was having an affair,” said Gamble, and then he paused again before saying what he’d come to say. “She thought I was having an affair with Sandra Levy.”

The detective smiled, not because Gamble had said something funny, but because of how delicious it all was. “You were sleeping with an ‘executive coach’ who was caught red-handed trying to steal top-secret technology for a foreign government?”

Gamble was getting beyond irritated, but he checked his anger. “I said my wifethoughtI was having an affair. I wasn’t.”

“And you want me to take your word for it.”

“No. I want you to look at the evidence. When Sandra Levy was charged with espionage, the FBI examined every text message, every email, every communication of every kind between her and me. I would ask you to reach out and talk to them. They know I was not having an affair with her.”

“Just because you weren’t having an affair doesn’t mean you didn’t threaten your wife, like she said on the nine-one-one call.”

Gamble’s lawyer had made the same observation before the meeting.

“Not directly,” he conceded. “But here’s my point. My wife was drinking way too much when she made that nine-one-one call. She was imagining things that weren’t happening. She was paranoid and making accusations that simply weren’t true. There was no affair. There was no abuse.”

The detective didn’t respond right away, and Gamble was beginning to think that his plea had fallen on deaf ears. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m a reasonable man,” said Anderson. “I’m not trying to ruin your life with accusations of spouse abuse. And I’m not trying to ruin your company with rumors that its CEO is vulnerable to extortion.”

“I appreciate that,” said Gamble.

“As I see it, part of my job is to keep you informed of important developments into the investigation of your wife’s death. You came here in good faith and shared something I didn’t know. Let me reciprocate.”

Gamble glanced at his lawyer. She seemed surprised that her client was getting more than a simple “thank you for coming, and have a nice day.”

“I checked with Mrs. Gamble’s florist, like you told me to,” said the detective.

“I assume he confirmed what I said.”

“He did. Fresh-cut flowers delivered every morning, no vase. All the water vials were filled with vodka.”

“I hate that son of a bitch,” said Gamble, meaning the florist.

“Here’s what’s interesting,” said the detective. “We checked the calla lilies that were delivered to the penthouse that morning. The vials were still on the stems. And the vodka was still in them.”

“She didn’t drink any of it?”

“No.”

“I suppose it’s possible she had another stash somewhere in the apartment.”

The detective tightened his gaze from across the table. “Or maybe your wife was stone-cold sober when she went over the balcony rail.”

Gamble glanced at his lawyer, then back at Anderson. “I guess we’ll know for sure when the toxicology report comes back.”

“True. But if she was sober, here’s what troubles me. Mrs. Gamble knew her daughter was coming to see her, right?”

“Yes. Kate was one of the winners of a playwriting contest and was presenting her play. It was a big deal. She had dinner plans with her mother afterward.”

“So ask yourself. Or better yet, ask your daughter. If Mrs. Gamble weren’t drunk out of her mind, would a mother really do something like this knowing that her daughter was on her way over to see her?”