Again sounding tough.

"It's okay," Hardy said, meaning the language, the loss of control.

"Nothing's okay."

Hardy sat back in the hard chair. She was right. And he believed her.

Eventually she came up with something.

"I guess maybe they thought it was the insurance, but it wasn't-"

"How much insurance?"

"Well, Larry… he was a doctor, and you know… maybe you don't, but doctors are crazy about insurance. They have to be, with malpractice and all. Anyway, Larry was insured for two-and-a-half-million dollars."

Hardy took that in. "Double for violent or accidental death?"

Jennifer nodded. "Larry wanted to be sure that… if he died he could have the house paid off and give me and Matt security. It didn't seem too much when we got it and Larry could afford it. But now they think I killed" – she paused, fought it again – "killed for the money which is ridiculous. We had enough money. I mean, Larry made six figures."

"But you'd have more if he wasn't in the picture?" Testing. He felt he had to.

"Yes, but…" She reached out to touch his sleeve. "I guess that's the other thing. We were fighting."

She shrugged. Her mouth parted, closed again. "I'd been seeing a psychiatrist, and Larry… anyway, we'd had some fights but we hadn't even gotten to talking about a separation. Neither of us wanted that. We had Matt."

"How long had you been married?"

"Eight years."

Hardy had taken out his pad but mostly he was listening, waiting for a false note. Now he stopped her, realizing they'd been avoiding the main issue. "They didn't arrest you because you had a couple of fights with your husband, Mrs. Witt. There has to be something tying you more directly to the crime or there's no case. They tell you what that might be?"