Vanessa on the other side of the phone paused, quickly changed her tone and questioned me harshly, "How could you be the one answering the phone?

I asked in return, amused, "He's my husband. What's wrong with a wife answering the phone for her husband?"

"You!"

Vanessa was so angry with me that she couldn't speak. I could imagine how ugly her twisted face was at this moment.

I warned her, "Don't call my husband again, and sometime you might want to think about how to explain to the police why something of yours was left there at the scene of Cindy's murder."

I hung up the phone and got...