Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)

“Do you want more water?” Eve asked her.

“No, I’m fine. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.” But she took a deep breath. “I waited. It took weeks. I had to search when he was out of the house, when I knew I’d have plenty of time. But eventually I found the disc. I made a copy, which I still have. Which he knows I still have. I confronted him, and I suppose—technically—I blackmailed him. I got one hell of a settlement in the divorce.” She breathed again, sat back. “I suppose that was cold and mercenary.”

“Personally, I think it was fucking smart.”

That spectacular smile shone again. “Thanks. I’ve never told anyone. Not even my husband—my third—whom I do love, very much. I married a second time before I was over what had happened, and that was a mistake. But Quentin and I have a good marriage, a good life, and I’d rather, even now, he didn’t know. But Felicity thought it was important, vital even, that you understand who these men are.”

“It is. Very. Excuse me a minute.” Eve rose, pulled out her communicator and stepping away contacted Peabody. “My partner’s going to bring in some pictures for you to look at. Is that okay?”

“Yes, all right.” Her fingers closed over her chains again, twisted them, untwisted them. “Should I get out of town?”

“I don’t think there’s a problem for you, but I understand you often travel in the same circles—same place, different times. I’d keep to those different times.”

“That’s easy enough.”

“Are they usually together—in that same place, same time?”

“Often, from what I read, what I hear. They like to gamble and compete, and preen. Well, we all preen, it’s part of what we do. I do see them a bit here and there, and make it a point—it’s pride—to speak to him when I do. But it’s show. We don’t really socialize, we don’t have mutual friends who are actual friends. I think you understand.”

“Yeah.”

“Oddly, I’ve never been afraid of either one of them until now. I figured I had the upper hand, and it was all so long ago. It hardly seems real. Then Felicity called today, and suddenly it was very real, and I’m afraid.”

“Do you want protection, Pat?”

“I can get my own, and I think I will, but thank you. Do you really believe they’ve killed two people?”

Eve kept her gaze steady so Patrice could see the truth in them. “At this point Moriarity and Dudley are persons of interest in my investigation. I have no evidence against either of them at this point.” She waited a beat. “Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand perfectly.”

When Peabody walked in, Eve gestured her over. “This is Detective Peabody. Patrice Delaughter.”

“Thanks for coming in, Ms. Delaughter.”

She smiled, but it lacked some of the earlier brilliance. “It’s been an experience.”

“I’d like you to look at these pictures.” Eve opened the folder, began to spread out the shots. “Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

“Her.” Eve had barely set out the ID photos when Patrice laid a finger on Ava Crampton’s. “That’s the pro Sly hired. She’s older, of course, but I know her.”

“This is the licensed companion Sylvester Moriarity hired when you were married, and who subsequently spoke to you regarding the night you were her clients?”

“Yes. There’s no question about it. She’s stunning, isn’t she? A face that’s hard to forget. She did me a very good turn. I remember her.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Wait.” Patrice grabbed Eve’s wrist. “Felicity said there’d been two murders. Is she one of them?”

“Yes. Here’s what I want you to do. Stay out of his way, off his radar. He’s got no reason to think about you, and we’ll keep it that way. I may need you down the line, but I’ll try to keep the information you gave me out of it.”

“He killed her.”

“I can only tell you she’s dead.”

Patrice closed her eyes. “I’m going to ask my husband to come to New York. I’m going to tell him everything. If you need to use what I’ve told you, use it. She helped me, and she didn’t have to. If he’s responsible for her death, it must go back to that night, mustn’t it?”

“I’d say so. Where’s your husband?”

“Right now he’s in London on business.”

“Leave me your contact information and go there. You’ll feel safer. I can have a couple of officers escort you where you need to go, to stay with you until you’re on your way.”

“Do I look that shaky?”

“You did what was right. Why should you look shaky?”

“I’m going to give you my card. I’m going to take your officers and I’m going to take your advice. And I’m going to contact Felicity and ask that she and her family join us in London.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Peabody.”

“I’ll take care of it. You can wait right here, Ms. Delaughter.”

“I’ve always thought of myself as intrepid,” Patrice murmured. “Now I’m going to ask if you could stay here with me until this is arranged.”

“No problem. Do you know if either Moriarity or Dudley owns a crossbow?”

“I don’t, sorry. I do know they both have an interest in weaponry and war. We have some mutual acquaintances that have been on hunting parties with them, or have gone on the same sort of safaris. Quentin and I aren’t really interested in that sort of thing. I could ask around.”

Eve considered. “When you’re in London, maybe you could contact someone you know who’s been out with them. Without mentioning them specifically.”

“Just asking about the experience,” Patrice said with a nod. “Quentin and I are thinking about trying a safari or a hunting trip. What’s it like, what do you do, any gossip, any stories? Yes, I can do that.”

She leaned forward, looked hard into Eve’s eyes. “I think you know the answer to this, and I think I need to know it. Why her and not me? Why kill her, a hired pro from so long ago?”

“She was the best,” Eve said simply. “You were just his wife, and then you weren’t. But she’d become the best in her field, and the former connection made it—I think—irresistible.”

“Just his wife.” Patrice let out a weak laugh. “Well, thank God I didn’t matter.”

“You will. When this is done, you’ll matter. And, to my way of thinking, that’s the kind of payback money can’t buy.”

Eve rose when Peabody came in with two officers.





15



CONNECTIONS, EVE THOUGHT AS SHE WATCHED Patrice walk away flanked by two burly uniforms.

“You picked big males so she’d feel safer.”

“I thought it would add to it,” Peabody admitted. “She nailed Crampton’s photo. It’s been better than twelve years, but she nailed it.”

“Some faces stay with you.” Her own father’s, Eve thought, over hers in the dark while he pushed himself inside her. She understood, too well, how some faces, some moments, some nightmares never quite faded away.

“So Crampton wasn’t random.”

Eve shook her head, gave a come-ahead gesture as she started back toward her office. “What she was, was unlucky. And your instinct that there were some links in the whole mix was on target.”

“Yay, me. Even if I couldn’t find what I thought should be there.”

“It wasn’t going to show, and that’s something they counted on. The odds of us talking to any of their exes had to be long from their perspective. And if we did, neither of them would consider the women would talk, relive old humiliations.”

“We got lucky.”

“No,” Eve corrected. “We worked the case and got lucky. Ava Crampton’s not only a connection, but probably a sore spot for Moriarity at last. And that added a little bonus to the contest. The random isn’t altogether random, and that’s where I’ve been off, and you were on.”

“Again, yay me. Woot! Sorry, just needed the moment.”

“And the moment’s gone.”

“Okay. So contest structure demands there be some connection between killer and vics. And maybe in both cases, it’s back a ways, and that’s why it’s unlikely the vics recognized their killer.”