Mac stood looking through the two way glass into the interrogation room, watching as Stella and Don Flack were questioning Drea. She sat, across the table from them, her back straight, her head held high, wearing her game face.

"Come on, Drea," Stella said, her tone friendly, "You have to know that we wouldn't bring you down here without good cause."

"I didn't kill Frank," she simply said.

Flack stepped up; his tone much calmer than it would be if he were interviewing a normal suspect. "Frank died of an over dose of Inderal. The only fingerprints we found on the bottle of Inderal were yours and Frank's."

"And how do you know that the medication came from that bottle?" she countered.

"The prescription was refilled on Thursday for a thirty day supply and there were only four pills left," Flack replied, "Where else do you think they came from?"

"I don't know, Detective Flack," she countered. "I picked up that bottle for Frank at lunch on Thursday. He took one Friday morning and one Saturday morning, while I watched. I have no idea where the other 24 pills went."

"Let's go over Saturday again, okay?" Stella tried, "What time did you wake up?"

"Around seven thirty."

"And where was Frank when you woke up?"

"I'm not sure but I would guess in the kitchen, as that's where I found him half an hour later after I took a shower."

Stella nodded, "And how were things that morning? Between the two of you?"

"Good," she shrugged, "It was a nice day and he said he was going to sit out on the patio and read his new Clive Cussler novel."

"And what time did you leave the house?"

"Around 11."

Flack continued, "And where did you go?"

"I went shopping," she replied.

"Which stores?"

She thought for a moment, "Let's see….I went to BCBG Max Azria, LaPerla, Nine West, Saks…."

"Quite a shopping spree," Stella smiled. "I'm sure you have credit card receipts?"

"If I spent any money, I would have," was her sheepish reply. "I saw a few things I wanted, but they either didn't have my size or didn't look right when I tried them on."

"And this kept you out of the house until 5?"

"I stopped for lunch, too," she said, "At Isabella's. I had the wild mushroom bisque and a Caesar salad." She looked at Stella, "I paid cash."

"Help us out here, Drea," Flack tried, "You have any proof that you were where you say you were?"

"My word," she replied, then, "But then again, that doesn't count for much in a murder investigation."

"What happened when you got home?"

"I walked into the house, dropped my purse on the sofa, took off my jacket and called out for Frank. He didn't answer. The tv was on in the kitchen, so I figured he was in there watching some old movie or something while he made dinner. I walked in and found him lying on the kitchen floor."

"What did you do then?" Stella asked.

Mac watched as grief etched itself onto Drea's features, "I knelt down next to him and shook him, trying to get him to wake up. I didn't feel a pulse, so I called 911 on my cell and then started trying to resuscitate him."

"Why did you call 911 first?" Flack asked.

She looked at him as if surprised by the question, "I don't know…I guess I thought that the sooner I called the sooner they'd get there? I…" she shrugged, "I don't know."

"How long did it take the EMT's to get there?" Flack continued.

"I didn't track it. It felt like hours, but if I had to guess, maybe ten minutes?"

He looked at the folder on the table and read the top page, "Seven and a half minutes," he said, looking back up at her. "They arrived in seven and a half minutes. Did you do CPR the whole time?"

She nodded, "I thought that if I kept going until they got there, that some how he'd be okay…"

"The pronounced him dead at the scene," Flack concluded.

Drea nodded, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Drea," Stella quietly said, "Were you and Frank having trouble with money?"

"No," Drea answered, sniffing back her earlier tears, "He thought we were, but things were fine."

"Then why didn't you buy anything when you went out shopping?"

"I told you, they either didn't have my size or it looked like hell when I put it on. I'm not going to waste money on things that I won't wear."

Flack studied her for a moment, "I thought you said you weren't having money problems."

"We aren't, but why would I spend money if I didn't have to?"

He nodded. "Why did you spend cash at the restaurant?"

Mac watched as color flared in Drea's cheeks, he could tell she was nearing her breaking point.

"Detective Flack, I wasn't born to a rich family," she said, her voice strained, "My dad was a shop foreman and my mom didn't work. I learned at an early age how to handle my money and have not forgotten it."

"Drea," Stella tried with a smile, "You know how this works, we've got to try every angle."

"I know, Stella, I know," she sniffed, "But you're wasting time with me. I didn't do it."

"Put yourself in our position, Drea," Flack said, "You've got nothing to corroborate your story."

"Yeah, I know," she shrugged, "But I'm telling the truth. I didn't kill Frank."

XXXXX

Mac walked into Stella's office to find her pouring over a file. When she looked up at him, she smiled.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he returned with a nod. "How's it going?"

"Mac," she knowingly said, "You know I can't…"

"I know," he nodded.

"But," she quietly said, "You do need to know something…"

"What?"

"Drea gave us a list of stores she claimed to have shopped at on Saturday. She also said she ate at Isabella's. However, she doesn't appear on any of the security cameras at those stores."

"What about Isabella's?" He asked, hoping his tone didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

"We checked the register receipts at Isabella's – one diner did eat what she claimed to have had for lunch and paid cash," Stella confirmed. "So that puts her on Fifth Avenue at four pm. But the quesiton is, where was she the rest of the day?"