In the car on the way to the accounting office where they hoped to find the victim's wife, an awkward silence filled the space between Olivia and Elliot.
"Elliot, I want to talk about what happened back there. I just…"
He put his hand up between them to cut her off.
"I don't want to talk about it. I've been talking about this stuff with Huang twice a week for a month now, I don't need you to be my confessor. What is it exactly that you want from me?"
Olivia threw up her own hands.
"I want my old partner back. Tell me, how do I find him?"
The uncomfortable quiet returned. As time had passed over the last month with Elliot out of commission and Olivia gone much of the time, an awkwardness and strange discomfort seemed to have crept into their relationship. Now, all that tension began bubbling to the surface. Olivia desperately wanted to say something, but nothing seemed right. She finally decided to take the safe conversational route; even when everything else was a mess, there was always work.
"So, I'm thinking maybe she had enough. He punches her one too many times, and she kills him, then tries to cover it up. What do you think?"
"Do you really think a person could single-handedly hang a big guy like that? Not without some kicking, and Melinda didn't mention any signs of struggle. We'll see what the tox screen says. Maybe he was drugged first or something. If not, then there had to have been more than one person involved, and I'm betting not the wife. She works at an accounting firm; what would she know about faking an autoerotic asphyxiation scene?"
Elliot took a left faster than he should have, pushing Olivia against her passenger side door before he continued.
"No, I'm not buying the lone wife theory."
Olivia thought she detected a hint of aimless contempt in her partner's voice, and decided against continuing their discussion until a time when his anger wasn't so close to the surface.
----------------------
Entering the clean but unimpressive office building, Elliot and Olivia found their way to the accounting firm where the first person they ran into was a casually-dressed young man gathering books into a backpack.
"Excuse me, can you tell us where to find Martha Mixon?" Olivia asked.
The young man didn't turn around or otherwise acknowledge her question. After a moment's contemplation, Elliot reached up and jerked a wire hanging from the man's ear, getting his attention.
"Oh, sorry." He turned off the MP3 player in his pocket and focused full attention on the detectives. "Can I help you?"
"We're looking for Martha Mixon." Olivia repeated.
"Oh, uh, she's not here today." The young man said, sheepishly apologetic. For an instant he reminded Elliot of Justin.
"Then can you tell us where your boss is? The office manager?"
"Yeah, her office is at the end of the hall here, on the corner." The young man pointed them in the general direction.
After introductions, the office manager invited the detectives to sit in on the other side of her desk. Bailey Miller, a striking-looking woman, settled into her chair and smiled pleasantly.
"How can I help you?"
"Do you have an employee here named Martha Mixon?" Olivia asked.
Bailey clearly became concerned.
"She's dead, isn't she?"
"Why do you say that?" Elliot asked.
The office manager studied the detectives warily.
"That husband of hers." Bailey spat out the words. "Everyone here has been telling her for years that he'd kill her one day. Now he's done it, hasn't he? How did he know where to find her?"
"Actually…" Olivia started slowly, "She's not the one who's dead. It's her husband, Mr. Mixon. He was found this morning in their apartment. We're trying to locate his wife."
The office manager's reaction was oddly similar to that of the building super.
"Well, I don't normally celebrate someone's death, but if anybody had it coming, it was him. I'm just glad it wasn't Martha." Bailey tented her fingers in front of her and continued without encouragement. "Martha is a secretary here, and whenever we have a late night to meet a deadline, or we need someone to put in the extra effort to get something fixed or done, she's the first to volunteer. The sweetest person I've ever known, too. But it seemed like every other month she'd come in here, sometimes with her eyes so swelled up she could barely see. Whenever it gets really bad, she stays with one of us. Right now, she's staying with another secretary who's home with a cold."
Bailey pulled a Post-It off her desk and jotted down an address.
"When was the last time you saw Martha?" Elliot asked.
"It would have been the night of our end-of-tax-season party."
Seeing the detectives' inquisitive stares, she explained, "Every year after we get all our clients' taxes filed, or at least get their due dates extended, we have a party. We always do it on April 16th." That had been a few days earlier.
"And was Martha and her husband at this party?" Olivia asked.
"Martha was there, at least for the beginning. She was tired and left early. I made it clear to Martha a long time ago that she would always be welcome at our office functions, but that her husband was not. Even if he had made an appearance, I would have had him removed from the building immediately."