“Are you saying that Luna had a rep for being a bad salesperson?”
“Unorthodox, at least,” Sam said. “I ran into her a few weeks later. She offered to buy me lunch. I figured she’d at least put in a mention of Ciphyxa. That was a new pain med on the market. Instead, she wanted to talk about medical ethics. An orthopedic surgeon prescribes a lot of pain meds. The ones that work, as you know, are highly addictive. Luna asked if I would ever consider placebo therapy. She said she had friends who were trying to actually get a placebo pill on the market. She sent me links to a number of studies. I was aware of the efficacy. But the idea that a drug rep would even mention placebo therapy was so insane and…charming. I asked her out. We started dating.”
“How long until you married?” Burns asked.
“A year,” Sam said.
“A man in his mid-forties, first marriage. What made you jump in so fast?”
Sam rubbed his tired eyes and took a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. Partly because being with her was a novel experience. It wasn’t like any other relationship, and that made me think it was right.”
“What was so novel about it?”
“She didn’t care about the things women usually care about.”
Burns focused her gaze at the man and smiled. “What do women care about?” she asked.
Sam often offended people. He could never quite figure out what he was doing wrong. “She didn’t care that I had money or that I was a surgeon. Other women, they cared.”
“How do you know she didn’t care?” Margot asked.
“Not long after we started dating, I got her a bracelet. It had diamonds. I don’t know. It was simple. Expensive. She was polite but firmly suggested I not buy her things in the future. I could also tell by the way she lived. I always got the feeling that she was burdened by objects. Buying stuff didn’t appeal to her.”
“I will refrain from commenting on your narrow view of women and jump to the next question. So, you married her because she was frugal?”
“I married her for many reasons. I loved her. Still do. We never fought about my character. She didn’t mind that I needed to be alone, that I liked quiet. She was the same. She didn’t ask much of me. Every woman I’d previously met wanted the big house and two children. But Luna didn’t give a shit about any of it. And I was tired of dating, I guess.”
“No kids?” said the detective. “So, you never wanted children?”
“I don’t know. I figured I’d have them eventually. But Luna couldn’t. And it seemed easier.”
“She couldn’t—meaning, you had tried?”
“No. She made sure she couldn’t have children,” Sam said.
“That’s unusual, wouldn’t you say?” said Burns.
“I think she thought that—well, you know.”
Sam questioned whether he was giving the cops this information as a good citizen or a retaliatory husband.
“She was worried about having a child like her brother?” Burns asked.
Sam had assumed that they’d learned about Luna’s past. He was grateful to have that detail confirmed. “She never said it outright, but I’m sure that was the reason,” Sam said.
“When did Luna tell you about her brother?”
“Maybe six months in. She’d gotten a letter from the brother of one of Brown’s victims. Luna couldn’t figure out how the guy found her address. She was quite upset and considered moving. I suggested she move in with me. We got married about six months later.”
“Did she get many letters of that nature?”
“No. That’s the only one I can think of. Nothing since we’ve been married. The house and most of the bills are in my name.”
“You and Irene. How did it begin?” the detective asked.
“Irene called the house, looking for Owen. He wasn’t answering his phone. I called Luna and couldn’t reach her. Irene came over. We waited. Started talking and comparing notes. We had a similar sense of being the third wheel in our own marriages. We kept talking and then—it just happened.”
Sam looked at the detective and nodded slightly to convey that he was not elaborating any further.
“So much for the seven-year itch,” Margot said.
“What?”
“You’d been married to Luna for just over a year at that point, right?”
“And?”
“Didn’t take you long, did it?”
“Being both married and lonely is an uncomfortable combination,” said Sam.
“Why were you lonely?”
“I’d—I’d never met a woman who asked so little of me. She never needed to talk. She never burdened me with her problems. The only thing she ever wanted was sex. At first, it seemed perfect.”
“Please don’t tell me she was also a good cook,” said Burns.
“No. Horrible.”
“That’s a relief. But still, she doesn’t sound like any woman—or man, for that matter—I’ve ever met. People need. All of them. There are no exceptions.”
“I agree,” said Burroughs. “Most of her other needs were met by Owen.”
“So, you’re saying that the primary relationship in Owen and Luna’s lives was not with their spouses but with each other.”
Sam nodded. Close enough.
“When was the last time you had sex with Ms. Boucher?” Margot asked.
He lifted his cup of coffee, took a sip, scowled. “The Sunday before,” Sam said.
“Where?”
“Motel 6, across the bridge.”
“Sunday, what time?”
“Afternoon. Two or three.”
“Who paid?”
“I did. Cash.”
“Did you always pay?”
“Yes.”
“What time did you leave your house Monday morning?”
“Six-thirty, maybe.”
“Where’d you go?”
“I drove to Chambliss Medical Center.”
“What time did you arrive?”
“It takes about a half hour.”
“So you would have arrived at the hospital around seven? And then what?”
“I was in my office for a few hours. Then I had a surgery at eleven.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
Sam shrugged. “Before the surgery? I don’t know. I was in my office for a while. Then I did rounds. I probably got a cup of coffee. I don’t know if there were cameras or witnesses. I’ll let you figure that out.”