As it happened, Andrew was in the middle of cleaning a wooden table when we arrived at his small shop. He'd converted part of their garage into his own space. Tidy but cluttered, stacked with old electronics, real wood furniture and a variety of tools, it reeked of the nasty concoction that had killed Thea.
"Katelyn told me you think it was murder." Whoops, I guess I'd failed to mention that to him though, in all fairness, I hadn't had absolute confirmation until after I spoke to him. He wiped aggressively at the surface of the small table he was refinishing, a bottle of rubbing alcohol beside him, pale blue latex gloves protecting his hands.
"We believe she was poisoned," I said, "with that." I gestured at the bottle beside him and he flinched, staring at me with wide eyes as he took in my meaning and the long pause after.
"I didn't kill my wife." Now he was angry, really angry. "I can't believe you'd even think it."