“Did you see the assistant’s shoes? I bet those were from the hand-painted collection.”
While Peabody enjoyed the view, Eve studied the room. Some framed photos—but none of the married couple together. The art struck her as safe and tasteful, and she didn’t see anything wrong with that. Despite the size of the room, it felt comfortable, at least marginally welcoming.
She turned as the man she recognized as Hugo Markin came down the stairs. He wore a silver-blue sweater to match his eyes and casual, well-tailored black trousers. He wore skids—pricey ones the same color as the sweater. His hair, waves of streaky blond, flowed back from a vid-handsome face.
His smile held buckets of charm. A blue stone ring shot fire from his extended hand.
“Lieutenant Dallas, what a pleasure. I’m an enormous fan. In fact, I’ll be in the Highland Center on Sunday, cheering for your Oscar win.”
“It’s not my Oscar, win or lose.”
“So modest. Ah, Detective Peabody, another pleasure. Let’s sit, have some coffee, and you can tell me what brings you to see me today.”
“We can start with Jordan Banks.”
“Such a shock!” He gestured them to seats by the fire. “Do you know I spoke with him the very night he died? At a party in this building. But then, I’m sure you do know. What can I tell you to help?”
“How well did you know him?”
“Not terribly well, really. We did play golf a few times—in a foursome. And would see each other at parties. Mutual friends and acquaintances. I might see him, now and again, if we were both at one of our casinos—my family’s casinos—at the same time.”
“Did he often frequent your casinos?”
“I couldn’t say, frankly.” In a picture of ease, Markin draped an arm over the low back of the sofa. “I recall seeing him a time or two. I think he enjoyed roulette, but that’s my best recollection only.”
“What time did you leave the party?”
“It must have been around one.”
“Was Banks still there?”
Markin shifted as if thinking, but the gleam in his eye told Eve he was amused by the questioning. “I’m not sure. It’s a large apartment. Not as large as this, you understand, but large enough. And it was a very . . . festive gathering. People spread all over. They have two levels rather than our three, but considerable opportunities to spread out, or enjoy a more intimate tête-à-tête. I believe Jordan indulged in an intimate tête-à-tête with my wife the night he died.
“Ah, here’s our coffee.”
A man in domestic black wheeled in the tray.
“Black for the lieutenant, cream with two sugars for the detective.” Markin smiled again. “I told you I was a fan.”
As the man poured, Delores Larga Markin came down the stairs. Her luxurious red hair spilled over the shoulders of a gray suit, high-necked, military in cut, with a double row of silver buttons down the jacket.
She wore silver booties with needle-thin heels and a line of red braiding up the sides. Square-cut diamond studs flashed at her ears, her only jewelry.
“Ah, here’s my beautiful wife. Come meet Lieutenant Dallas and her stalwart sidekick Detective Peabody. Renaldo, another cup.”
“No, thank you, Renaldo. I have another meeting shortly. I’m sorry I’m so pressed for time today,” she said to Eve.
“Oh, you can always squeeze out a bit more for interesting company. That will be all, Renaldo. Sit, sit, Dello.” He patted the cushion beside him. “I was just telling our guests about you and Jordan. You know, it occurs to me you must be the last woman to give him a ride before he died.”
Delores simply stared at him. Then she sat, keeping at least a foot of space between them. “Would you give me the room, Hugo? I’m sure you can make yourself available to Lieutenant Dallas if she needs to speak to you again. You have so much free time.”
“Why not?”
“Another couple questions before you leave, Mr. Markin. Your whereabouts this weekend. From Friday night through Monday morning.”
“That’s quite a length of time. Wasn’t Jordan killed Monday night, or rather early Tuesday?”
“Can you give us your whereabouts over this past weekend?”
“If I must. Spot-checking our casinos in the south. Mississippi, Georgia, Florida. I barely made it back in time for Thad and Delvinia’s party.”
“You have several relatives in the military, active and retired.”
“Do I?” He sipped his coffee. “I suppose you’re right. After all, we still call my grandfather ‘The General.’”
“You’re not interested in the military yourself?”
“Not in the least. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Isn’t that right, Dello?”
She didn’t spare him a glance. “You’re a man of tactics, Hugo, without a clear strategy to guide them.”
“Still, I have you, don’t I? I’ll just be upstairs if I’m needed. Absolutely thrilling to meet you both.”
As he walked upstairs, Delores crossed her legs, let out a breath.
“You’re here about Jordan.”
“We’ll start there.”
“I’m sorry he’s dead. It would be foolish to deny, since Hugo was so helpful. I had sex with Jordan on Monday night, at the party. Thad Trulane’s and Delvinia Otter’s party.”
“Your husband didn’t seem surprised or overly concerned about your relationship with Jordan Banks.”
“I wouldn’t call a brief sexual encounter a ‘relationship,’ but no, Hugo’s neither surprised nor concerned. Hugo and I haven’t been intimate in over a year. Our marriage is nothing more than a legal contract at this point.”
She sat, her back ruler straight, her face calmly composed. Unless, Eve thought, you looked carefully. Then you saw misery beneath the polish.
“We each go on own way,” she continued. “If you suspect him of killing Jordan out of a jealous fury, that wouldn’t be the case. Frankly, fury’s just too much effort for a man like Hugo. I didn’t particularly like Jordan.”
“But you had sex with him.”
“Yes. I went to the party because I like Delvinia, I wanted to blow off a little steam, and because I didn’t know Hugo would be there. I hadn’t seen him for several days.”
“Is that usual?”
“Yes. We go our own way, as I said, and generally stay out of each other’s way. When I saw him there, it annoyed me. And I had impulsive, if briefly satisfying, sex with Jordan. Then I left, came home.”
“And your husband?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how long he stayed, when he came back, if he came back alone or with someone. That’s how it works for us.”
“Why?” Peabody shifted. “You don’t like your husband. Why are you living with him?”
“My parents are adamantly opposed to divorce. They’d be very disappointed to know I’ve had sexual relations outside of marriage, but divorce would be even more disappointing. Hugo was a mistake, but he’s my mistake. Right now, I’m living with the mistake. He’s well aware why I do.”
She looked away then, toward the expansive, exclusive view of New York. “I think it amuses him.”
“How well did he know Jordan?”
“Well enough. My impression is Jordan set out to seduce me because I was the wife of a friend—however casual a friend. They share some qualities, some interests. Sports, travel, gambling, women.”
“The stock market?”
Puzzlement drew her eyebrows together. “The stock market. I couldn’t tell you about Jordan, but Hugo doesn’t trouble himself with that sort of thing, to my knowledge. He has people who trouble themselves on his behalf.”
“Art?”
“Jordan, of course. Hugo? Not particularly. Oh, Hugo’s educated and can talk art. But he doesn’t have any real interest in it. In anything really but what gives him pleasure. He’s lazy—a cardinal sin in my family, but he hides it well. I can’t give him an alibi for Jordan, but I can say, killing someone? Far too much effort, and he certainly wouldn’t exert that effort on my behalf.”
“Where were you all weekend?”
“Amelia can tell you the details and timing precisely, but on Friday, my mother, sister, and I—and our support staff—traveled to Paris to meet with some accounts. We came back Monday morning.