“At Conscience Point?” Nikki gave her a sympathetic face to counter Gilbert’s bullying. “It’s OK, let it out, Alicia.” Rook offered a handkerchief from his pocket, which Delamater took without noticing, and dabbed her eyes.
“Yes. I was there for his meeting—”
“Alicia.”
“No, I want to say this.” Her stance was so firm, it went beyond plea bargains or concerns about hiding a gun. “I was at Conscience Point for his meeting with Fabian.”
“Beauvais?” asked Nikki for the record.
“Right. Keith told me about the blackmail. I didn’t know what it was about, just that Fabian was putting the screws to him about some shit he’d dug up, and he wanted hush money.”
Heat gave Gilbert a preemptive glance and said to her, “You’re doing fine, keep going. You followed him in your car?”
“No.” Nikki, Rook, and the other detectives flicked eyes at one another. This was veering from the scenario they had painted. “I was already there. Waiting.”
“Alicia, I’m pleading with you, you don’t have to do this.”
“Mr. Gilbert, let her speak.” Heat went back to her. “Alicia, why were you there waiting?”
“Because I had the gun.”
That surprise sent more furtive looks around the table. “You brought the gun for Mr. Gilbert?” asked Heat.
“No, he didn’t even know I’d be there.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what happened.”
Delamater nodded. Done with tears, a resolve had come to her as if this was her pivotal moment to say what she needed to, or regret it every eternal dawn of her life. “I knew he was meeting Fabian, so I got there early. I parked on the lawn behind the marina offices so they wouldn’t see my car and waited in the dark under the stairs.
“Fabian got there first, about a half hour before he said. He sat across the parking lot on the steps of the rec center like he told Keith he would.” She tilted her head Gilbert’s way. “When Keith pulled up and got out with the money, ten thousand, I think it was, and Fabian came forward…I stepped out and fired.”
“Oh, Alicia, don’t,” moaned Gilbert.
Heat asked, “How many shots?”
“Two. It was dark. I was nervous, and I missed. Fabian ran. Keith yelled at me.” She mimicked him disparagingly, “‘What the fuck did you do?’ then he drove off to catch him. But he got away.” That made sense to Heat, and would explain the second car the Conscience Point resident had heard speeding off. It was Alicia Delamater’s.
A troubled silence hung in the room. Even the hardened prisoners at the other end of the table seemed riveted. But the same way something noisy refuses to get ground in the garbage disposal, elements of this story felt way off to Heat. It was out of whack enough that she wondered if this was some fabrication the two had cooked up. Didn’t Beauvais say Gilbert shot him? But then again, Heat could understand how darkness and surprise might have led him to that assumption. She’d known seasoned cops to get it wrong in the fog of war. Nikki wished she had more time to reflect, but concern that Delamater would lose her impulse to unload her soul forced her to take a leap and trust her instincts.
“There’s something I don’t understand,” said Nikki. “Why in the world would you do something as drastic as that?”
Gilbert jumped in. “Are you listening? The guy was shaking me down.”
Heat ignored him and persisted. “Killing someone—with such premeditation. That is big. You would have to have a very strong reason.” She avoided the word motive. No sense sobering her with legalities. Alicia didn’t answer, just panted as if steeling herself for the next round.
In that interval, another piece of story grit rejected itself, and Nikki addressed it. “Also, can you help me with this? If you did go there with the intent to kill Fabian Beauvais, why didn’t you just do it when he got there early?”