“No.”
Juliet squeezed the juice out of the lime that came with her water, briefly wondering what it would be like to have a normal dinner with Ethan, if that were even possible. “Wendy ran into him yesterday afternoon, before I even knew she was here.” She relayed what her niece had told her, watching him for his reaction. But there was none. Whatever he felt, he kept it under the surface, out of sight, out of her reach—perhaps out of his own. “When you saw Wendy at my building—”
“I didn’t see Tatro.” He picked up his glass and stared at his bourbon, as if it held answers he didn’t have. “I was fucking clueless.”
His emotion—his guilt—caught Juliet off guard. “You weren’t alone.”
“Doesn’t help.”
“Wendy can put Tatro in the area yesterday, but we don’t know he actually overheard her with Juan and learned her name that way.”
“How else?”
“A dozen different possibilities, none of them any more enticing. I’m trying to deal in facts, not speculation.” Except she’d been mired in speculation for hours, frustrating herself, berating herself, getting nowhere. “From where you were standing yesterday, could you hear Wendy give Juan her name?”
He shook his head. “I was too far away. If I’d realized she was your niece, on her own, I’d have stayed put. Hell, I could have followed her to the diner. Either Tatro would have thought better of sitting next to her or I’d have caught him—” He set his glass down, bourbon splashing onto his hand. “A moot point now.”
“I don’t know why Tatro had to kill Juan. He could have just knocked him out cold.” Juliet focused on a young woman, maybe twenty, walking a cocker spaniel. Living a normal life. “Killing him seems extreme.”
“Tatro’s an extreme person.”
Juliet looked away.
“He was put away on a nonviolent charge,” Ethan continued, “but he’s not a nonviolent man.”
“He thinks I broke the rules when I arrested him.” She turned again, facing Ethan. “That’s why he hates me so much. He thinks everyone should follow the rules but him.”
“Is he right? Did you break the rules?”
“No. Not really. I just didn’t run into him at Wal-Mart by accident. I had a source.”
Ethan leaned back in his chair, studying her a moment. “You protected your source.”
“It was an eleven-year-old girl, his girlfriend’s daughter. Carmel. She plays the violin.” Juliet ran a fingertip around the rim of her water glass, remembering the girl’s terrified voice on the other end of the phone. “Tatro got mad at the mother. To punish her, he tortured the family dog.”
“That was the last straw for the girl?”
Juliet nodded. “She begged me not to tell anyone. She’ll be looking over her shoulder her whole life as it is.”
“Eleven years old.”
“I was climbing trees at that age.”
“Tatro’s a sadist. He knows you’ve seen through him, and he can’t stand it.” Ethan sighed, but there was no surprise in his expression—he knew there were people out there who tortured dogs in front of little girls. “Did the dog live?”
“Yes. And last I checked, Carmel was first violin in her high school orchestra.”
“The makings of a happy ending.” But nothing about Ethan looked happy—or finished. “Why did Tatro show up at your apartment when he did? You were at work. If he wanted to get to you, he’d have picked a time when you were more likely to be home.”
“I suppose he could have planned to hide and wait for me—”
“With the dead doorman?”
“Juan was in his office. Given Tatro’s grandiosity, he could have thought he had all the time he needed.” Their meals arrived, steaming, giving off good, homey smells that made Juliet want to turn in her badge, pack up her belongings, move back to Vermont and plant tulips. “Wendy returned to my apartment this morning spontaneously—no way could Tatro have expected her.”
“He could have been hanging around on your street and seized the moment when she showed up.”
“Maybe.”
“But you don’t think so.”
She tried the mac and cheese. It was hot and gooey, but she knew she wouldn’t eat much of it. “He was hanging around yesterday. Could he have followed you?”
Ethan shook his head without hesitation. “No.”
“Well, Tatro’s not talking. He might yet, but we’ve got him for murder—he’ll clam up, use whatever he can to cut himself any kind of deal. It won’t work, but he’s not going to be forthcoming anytime soon.” She set down her fork, the rich food sitting like lead in her stomach.
Ethan dug into his steak with his fork and knife, but Juliet could see he wasn’t any hungrier than she was.
“How big a payday did you spoil for Tatro?” she asked.
“I don’t have a figure.”
“A guess?”
He smiled. “I’m trying to deal only in facts.”