“I was surprised because the lights were on inside the house,” Mrs. Barry was saying. “Molly’s suitcase was in the foyer, so I knew she was back from the Cape.”

“Mrs. Barry, please describe the layout of the first floor of the house.”

“The foyer is large-it’s really more of a reception area. When they had large parties they would serve cocktails there before dinner. The living room is directly beyond the foyer and faces the front door. The dining room is to the left, down a wide hallway and past a service bar. The kitchen and family room are in that wing as well, while the library and Dr. Lasch’s study are in the wing to the right of the entrance.”

I got home early, Molly thought. There hadn’t been much traffic on I-95, and I was earlier than I’d expected to be. I only had one bag with me, and I brought it in and put it down. Then I locked the door and called Gary ’s name. I went directly to the study to look for him.

“I went into the kitchen,” Mrs. Barry told the prosecutor. “There were wine glasses and a tray of leftover cheese and crackers on the counter.”

“Was there anything unusual about that?”

“Yes. Molly always tidied up when they had company.”

“What about Dr. Lasch?” the prosecutor asked. Edna Barry smiled indulgently. “Well, you know men. He wasn’t much for picking up after himself.” She paused and frowned. “But that was when I knew something was wrong. I thought that Molly must have come and gone.”

“Why would she have done that?”

Molly saw the hesitance in Mrs. Barry’s face as once again she looked over at her. Mother was always a little annoyed that Mrs. Barry called me Molly and I called her Mrs. Barry. But I didn’t care, she thought. She’s known me since I was a child.

“Molly hadn’t been home when I went in on Friday. The Monday before that, while I was there, she’d left for the Cape. She seemed terribly upset.”

“Upset, how?”

The question came quickly and abruptly. Molly was aware of the hostility the prosecutor felt for her, but for some reason it didn’t worry her.

“She was crying as she packed her bag, and I could see that she was very angry. Molly’s an easygoing person. It takes a lot to ruffle her. In all the years I’d worked there, I’d never once seen her so upset. She kept saying, ‘How could he? How could he?’ I asked her if there was anything I could do.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘You can kill my husband.’ ”

“ ‘You can kill my husband!’ ”

“I knew she didn’t mean it. I just thought they’d probably had an argument, and I figured she was leaving for the Cape to cool down.”

“Did she often go off like that? Just pack up and leave?”

“Well, Molly likes the Cape; says she can clear her head there. But this was different-I’d never seen her leave like this, so upset.” She looked at Molly, sympathy in her eyes.

“All right, Mrs. Barry, let’s go back to that Monday morning, April 9th. What did you do after you’d seen the condition of the kitchen?”

“I went to see if Dr. Lasch was in the study. The door was closed. I knocked, and there was no answer. I turned the knob and noticed it felt sticky. Then I pushed open the door and saw him.” Edna Barry’s voice quivered. “He was slumped over in his chair at the desk. His head was caked with dried blood. There was blood all over him and the desk and the chair and the carpet. I knew right away he was dead.”

Listening to the housekeeper’s testimony, Molly thought back to that Sunday night. I came home, let myself in, locked the front door, and went down to the study. I was sure Gary would be there. The door was closed. I opened it… I don’t remember what happened after that.

“What did you do then, Mrs. Barry?” the prosecutor asked.

“I dialed 9-1-1 right away. Then I thought about Molly, that maybe she was hurt. I ran upstairs to her bedroom. When I saw her in there, on the bed, I thought she was dead too.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Because her face was crusted with blood. But then she opened her eyes and smiled and said, ‘Hi, Mrs. Barry, I guess I overslept.’ ”

I looked up, Molly thought as she sat at the defense table, and then realized I still had my clothes on. For a moment I thought I’d been in an accident. My clothes were soiled, and my hands felt all sticky. I felt groggy and disoriented and wondered if maybe I was in a hospital instead of my own room. I remember wondering if Gary had been hurt too. Then there was a pounding at the door downstairs, and the police were there.

All about her, people were talking, but the voices of the witnesses were blurring again. Molly was vaguely aware of the days of the trial passing, of going in and out of the courtroom, of watching people coming and going on the witness stand.

She heard Cal and Peter Black and then Jenna testify. Cal and Peter told how on Sunday afternoon they had called Gary and said they were coming over, that they knew something was wrong.

They said they found Gary terribly upset because Molly had learned he was having an affair with Annamarie Scalli.

Cal said that Gary told him that Molly had been at their home in Cape Cod all week and wouldn’t talk to him when he called, that she slammed down the phone when she heard his voice.

The prosecutor ased, “What was your reaction to Dr. Lasch’s confession of this affair?”

Cal said they were deeply concerned, both for their friends’ marriage and also for the potential damage to the hospital of a scandal involving Dr. Lasch and a young nurse. Gary had assured them there would be no scandal. Annamarie was leaving town. She was planning to give up the baby for adoption. His lawyer had arranged a $75,000 settlement and confidentiality statement that she had already signed.

Annamarie Scalli, Molly thought, that pretty, dark-haired, sexy-looking young nurse. She remembered meeting her at the hospital. Had Gary been in love with her, or was it just a casual affair that got out of hand when Annamarie became pregnant? Now she’d never know. There were so many unanswered questions. Did Gary really love me? she wondered. Or was our life together a sham? She shook her head. No. It hurt too much to think like that.

Then Jenna had taken the stand. I know it hurts her to testify, Molly thought, but the prosecutor had subpoened her, and she had no choice.

“Yes,” Jenna had acknowledged, her voice low and halting, “I did call Molly at the Cape on the day that Gary died. She told me that he had been involved with Annamarie and that Annamarie was pregnant. Molly was totally devastated.” Vaguely she heard what they were saying. The prosecutor asking if Molly was angry. Jenna saying Molly was hurt. Jenna finally admitted that Molly was very angry with Gary.

“Molly, get up. The judge is leaving.”

Philip Matthews, her lawyer, was holding her elbow, urging her to stand. He kept his hand under her arm, steadying her as they exited the courtroom. Outside, flashbulbs exploded in her face. He made her hurry through the crowd, propelling her into a waiting car. “We’ll meet your mother and father at the house,” he said as they drove away.

Her parents had come up from Florida to be with her. They wanted her to move, to get out of the house where Gary had died, but she couldn’t do that. It was her grandmother’s present to her and she loved it. At her father’s insistence, she had agreed to at least redecorate the study. All the furniture was given away, and the room was redone from top to bottom. The heavy mahogany paneling had been stripped off, and Gary ’s treasured collection of early-American furniture and art had been removed. His paintings, sculptures, carpets, oil lamps, and Wells Fargo desk along with his maroon leather couch and chairs had been replaced with a brightly patterned chintz sofa and matching love seat and bleached oak tables. Even then, the door to the study was always kept closed.