by J. D. Robb
“Dollars and cents are a tried and true motive for murder.”
“She wasn’t even in the country. Now you’re asking for files on staff and volunteers, on women with kids in the programs. Good God.”
Eve eased down on the corner of her desk. “You’re pretty passionate in her defense.”
“I’m the only family, the only close family she has left.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if pain lived there. “Uncle Tommy would expect me to take care of her, to support her, and damn right to defend her.”
“I got the impression you and Ava weren’t particularly close. Before.”
“As I said—” Both his voice and his handsome hazel eyes chilled. “I’m the family she has left.”
“And between you, you own all but a fistful of Anders Worldwide. I guess something like that brings people closer.”
Coldness flipped so quickly, so completely into shock, it surprised Eve the man didn’t physically revolve with it. “That—that’s a despicable thing to say.”
“You’re a healthy single man. She’s an attractive woman.”
“She’s my uncle’s wife. His widow. God, is this how you have to think? Do you make everything ugly and obscene?”
“Murder does, Mr. Forrest. Both you and Ava have tight, solid alibis. That’s interesting, that both of you should be so solidly alibied.”
“Interesting that she was away on a long-planned trip and that I got lucky? What’s wrong with you? If you want to take shots at me, fine. But I can’t have you taking them at her. Not with what she’s going through.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“No. As if I’d tell her what you’re doing, add to her stress.”
“Good. Now, take a step back. Take one back and describe your relationship with Ava before your uncle was killed.” She lifted a hand before he could speak. “Don’t bullshit me, Ben. Every lie I have to unknot wastes time. You want your uncle’s killer caught and justice served?”
“Of course I do. Jesus, Jesus, I can hardly think of anything else. Of course I do.”
“Tell me how you and Ava got along before Tuesday morning.”
“All right, all right.” He pressed his hand to his temple, then dropped into her visitor’s chair. “We weren’t particularly close. Not at odds or anything, not exactly.”
“What, exactly?”
“We just…I guess we didn’t have anything in common. Except for Uncle Tommy, and maybe we didn’t always see eye-to-eye on how the programs were run or handled. But—”
“Don’t but, don’t qualify. Give me a picture.”
He blew out a breath. “Maybe it felt, in a weird way, as if we were in competition for him. That sounds so stupid. You could say I felt the longer they were married, the less she wanted me around. Maybe the less I wanted to be around her. We just…But she loved him, and that’s what matters. She loved Uncle Tommy. She was always buying him little gifts, or arranging for him to take a golf trip or a ski weekend, whatever.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, maybe it would gripe me, a little, that she wouldn’t always tell me until the last minute if she was planning something, then she’d blame it on Leo. Say she told Leo to tell me. That just didn’t wash. Leo forgets nothing. So we’d get together, Uncle Tommy and I, at the club or the course or the game. I didn’t go around the house that much. It didn’t feel like his house much in the last couple years anyway.”
“Why is that?”
“All that redecorating. God, you saw the place. Nowhere for a guy to put his feet up and watch some screen. He didn’t mind it,” Ben continued. “He said she put up with his foolishness, and he put up with hers.”
He sat silent a moment, brooded. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s different now.”
“Yeah, it is. Now tell me this. If your uncle had died of natural causes, or say in a skiing accident, would you feel this strongly, this protective of Ava?”
“How can I know something like that?”
“All she’s been through, you said. You weren’t just talking about his death, but about the circumstances of it. And the scandal, the embarrassment to her. So think a minute, factor that out.”
“I don’t know what difference it makes to—”
“Humor me,” Eve interrupted.
“Well, I guess, maybe I wouldn’t feel as if she needed me the way she does. What I mean to say is Ava’s not generally the kind of woman who needs care.” His handsome face set itself into stubborn lines. “But the circumstances are what the circumstances are.”
“The circumstances are that you’re sitting there feeling disloyal and crappy because you made a few minor complaints about her.” A nice guy, Roarke had termed him. Eve knew some couldn’t help being a nice guy, even after being kicked repeatedly in the teeth. “How’d she get along with her father-in-law?”
“With…fine. Great, in fact. My uncle used to joke that it was a good thing he saw her first, or she’d have hooked up with Granddad. I don’t see what that—”
“Just wondering. Didn’t I hear they had a little trouble shortly before his death?”
“I don’t remember…Oh, that. Yeah, there was something, probably my fault. As I said I don’t—and didn’t—always like how she handles the programs. I complained to Granddad about Ava hitting the program budget for what I felt were personal expenses. He got a little hot over it, but he and Ava worked it out. Lieutenant, I understand you’re doing your job, and I understand you’re good at your job. But it feels wrong, just wrong, for you to look at, to think about, Ava this way. I don’t want whoever killed Uncle Tommy to get away with it.”
“Neither do I. I have a lot of looking at and thinking about to do, about a lot of people. Right now I’m going to ask you to put your uncle first. Don’t say anything to anyone else about this conversation.” She pushed off her desk. Understanding the signal, Ben rose.
“All right. I’ll let you get back to work. Lieutenant, no one who knew him, really knew him, could have hurt him. It had to be a stranger. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
She didn’t disagree.
A couple of years, she thought as she sat back down. A couple of years ago, Anders’s father died. A couple of years ago, Ava redecorated. A couple of years ago she launched her mommy programs. Short pause, and she hired Charles. Laying the groundwork, Eve mused. She thinks ahead. But, Eve wondered, just how far ahead. She called up all data on Reginald Thomas Anders.
She read official data, bios, society page squibs, interviews. He struck Eve as a tough-minded businessman who’d enjoyed his retirement, his pursuit of leisure activities. He’d suffered from and was being treated for hypertension. Slipped in the shower of his son’s weekend home in the Hamptons. Reaches for something, maybe he’s dizzy or just off-balance, then whoops, fractured skull when his head slams into the Italian marble.
Son, daughter-in-law, grandson, and several houseguests in residence at the time.
What if? Eve considered, then printed out Reginald Anders’s ID photo and data to add to her murder board. Back at her desk, she made a call to the Hampton investigator.
An hour later, her boots planted on her desk, she continued to study the board when Peabody came in.
“I think she did the old man,” Eve said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“No, the older old man. Reginald T. Anders. Maybe it was just a happy accident, one that inspired her, kicked off the rest, but she’s a schemer. Petty, too, as Leo said. The older old man slapped her back for padding her expense account. She wouldn’t like that one bit. And you know, I bet she already had the decorator lined up before he took his header in the shower, bumping her up to the wife of the head guy.”
“What?”
Eve shook her head. “The old man had essentially retired, turning the reins over, but he still held controlling interest. That seems to be a pattern with the Anders men. Shift the controls, but hold on to the power. He dies, Tommy inherits controlling interest, at
which time he transfers a little bit to his devoted wife. I bet she asked for it, too. ‘Tommy, I hope it’s not too much to ask, but you know how I loved Reggie. If I could have just a few shares of the company, just a reminder of him, it would mean so much to me.’ Yeah, she could work that. Little sliver of the pie, just a taste while she waits for the bigger slice.”
“If she wanted a big slice, why didn’t she go after the old man? I mean, if she’d been able to work marrying him, she’d have cut out the middle man.”
“Bet she considered it,” Eve replied. “But he went for younger. About a decade younger than Ava would’ve been when she hooked Tommy.”
“Eeuuw.”
“And the eeuuw would be reason two. A man in his eighties marries a much younger woman, then croaks, who does everybody give the fish-eye to first?”
“The younger woman.”
“Which is exactly what the investigator did, though it looked accidental. He still took a hard look at the twenty-six-year-old aspiring actress who’d been sharing the old man’s bed for a few months. He did a skim over Tommy and Ben, the main beneficiaries. He never took more than a cursory glance at Ava.”
Peabody rolled it over. “If it’s playing accidental anyway, she wouldn’t pop out.”
“I bet the party, the house party, was her idea. Yeah, I bet it was. Perfect cover. Who’s going to notice if the busy hostess slips away for ten minutes? Less if she prepped it, and you can bet your ass she did.”
Simple, Eve thought. Quick and easy. “All she has to do is go in, strip down. Needs to strip down so she doesn’t get her clothes wet. Dad-in-law’s singing in the shower. Step in, give him a shove. Step out, towel off, get dressed. Take the towel with you to your own bath. Freshen your hair and makeup, join your guests. It wouldn’t take more than ten.”
She dropped her feet, swiveled, sent Peabody a hard smile. “And guess who noticed first that the old man was missing. Gee, where in the world is Reggie? He’s missing all the fun. Tommy, be a darling and go up and tell your father I’m making him the perfect martini.”
“Cold.”
“And smart. Can’t do the husband the same way, not even close to the same way. People might turn that fish-eye on you. Just might. Not a household or routine accident this time, too many accidents in the Anders family. And unfortunately, I can’t turn the eaten-by-a-shark incident on her.”
“Switch to murder,” Peabody said. “Juicy sensational murder that shines a big spotlight on it. Who’s going to try to connect a bathroom accident two years ago with a sex crime now? Except you.”
“It was supposed to look like kink gone wrong. An accident, technically, but yeah, a big, juicy, sensational accident. Or failing that, a sex crime. Partner gets pissed, doesn’t stop at the safe word. Either way, it works for her. It makes Anders responsible for his own death. Empty house this time, with her tucked in with pals thousands of miles away. She’s damn good at this. I need to…why are you in here?”
“Oh, I forgot with all the singing in the shower. Bronx checked in. They enjoyed spaghetti Bolognese and manicotti, respectively, while sending intimidating looks toward Petrelli in the open kitchen. She left midway through her shift. Their waitress told them she screwed up two orders, then told the owner she was feeling ill. They’d be happy to go back tomorrow, try the stuffed eggplant and lasagna.”
“The sacrifices cops make. I don’t think it’s going to take that long. We’ll keep them on tap, but meanwhile I have to review the rest of this data on the old man, write up a report, the notes, get them to Mira for her take. I’ve still got the Nadine interviews to watch, and I want to dig up the old man’s girl toy, the rest of the houseguests, and reinterview. Then…you know, it was a lot easier when you were the aide and I could just dump the grunt work on you.”
“Aw. Besides, you still dump grunt work on me.”
“It’s not the same. Wait a minute. Wait.” Eve bolted up in her chair. “Every-fucking-body’s got aides and admins and personal assistants.”
“Except you.”
“And Ava. Where’s Ava’s? Study and review the reports and data on the Reginald Anders death, write up notes on the new theory we just discussed. Run the list of names of houseguests, start setting up interviews.”
“Not that I do any grunt work.”
“Out.” Eve reached for her ’link, contacted Leopold. “Who does Ava use as an aide or PA?” she asked. “I don’t have a name.”
“Because there isn’t one, officially. If she had a PA, his or her salary and benefits would come out of her pocket.”
Not the Ava Eve knew. “Are you telling me she did all the drone and grunt work personally, made all the contacts, read all the files and so on?”
“No, I’m going to tell you she tapped volunteers, other staff routinely. For just quick, little favors. She used several of the mothers over the life of the program, claiming it gave them pride and training for job opportunities. She never paid any of them. Gifts, now and then.” He offered a sour smile. “She likes giving gifts.”
“Do you have names, specific names for people she tapped?”
“There’s no list. It’s unofficial, as I said. But I can probably put something together for you. I’ll need to ask around, as I wasn’t privy to all of who did what for her.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Lieutenant, I know Ben came to see you. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything to him, even though you said—”
“It’s no problem.”
“It got in my craw, that’s all I can say. It got in, and it stuck, the way she’s slathering it on. Grunt and drone work? That would be his job now. She—” He cut himself off. “Obviously, it’s still in my craw. I’ll start putting a list together for you.”
“Thanks.”
She bet Petrelli was on the list. She just bet—“What!” she demanded when her in-office ’link signaled.
“Dallas, guess who’s here?”
“Guess how long it’s going to take me to tie your tongue into a square knot?”
“Jeez.” Peabody folded said tongue safely inside her mouth. “Bebe Petrelli. And she is pissed!”
“Excellent, book an interview room, put her there.”
Eve kicked back in her chair—the better to let the pissed Bebe stew a bit—and looked at the murder board. “It’s starting to break, Ava. Can you feel it? Do you feel it cracking under your stylish and tasteful shoes? I’m looking forward to watching you drop through the hole. I can’t quite figure out why I’m looking forward to it quite so much. But hey, I’ve got to get my kicks somewhere.”
Eve gave it another ten minutes, then strolled out to take on Bebe in Interview.
This is crap. This is harassment.”
Eve shrugged, dropped into the chair across the little table from the very pissed-off Bebe. “Call a lawyer, file a complaint. But you don’t want to do that, Bebe, so let’s not waste time pretending you do. You have the right to remain silent,” Eve began, and recited the Revised Miranda while Bebe gaped at her.
“You’re charging me?”
“I didn’t say anything about charges—yet. I asked if you understood your rights and obligations in this matter. Do you understand them?”
“Yes, I understand them, goddamn it. I don’t understand why I have any obligations. I didn’t do anything.”
“Did Ava Anders ask you to?”
“No.” Bebe folded her arms tight at her waist.
“Really? She never asked you to make ’link calls for her, or maybe whip up some cannolis for a party? Run errands, take care of a little office work?”
“I thought you meant about…” Her arms relaxed. “Sure I helped out some. Volunteered. Anders was giving my boys a lot, and giving me a lot. So I was happy to pay Mrs. Anders back. It made it feel less like charity.”
“Gave you some pride. So first, let’s say, she asks you to do some little thing, then next time it’s a little bit bigger thing, then bigger yet. Would you say that�
��s the way it was, Bebe?”
“I said I helped out. I was happy to.”
“Did you confide in her? Open up? You got to be tight, right? With you doing these little jobs for her. With her trusting you to do them. And you hanging out with her some at these retreats she took you on. Did you tell her how you missed your husband, how hard it was sometimes to raise your boys on your own? What your hopes and dreams for them were?”
Bebe’s lips quivered before she clamped them tight. “Why shouldn’t I? Part of the reason for the retreats was to share, to network and support. Why shouldn’t I? There’s no shame in it.”
“And she was sympathetic, even intimate.” To close off some of Bebe’s space, Eve leaned in. “Did she open up to you, Bebe? Did she share, so you’d know even a woman in her position, with her resources had it tough?”
“It’s personal. It’s none of your damn business.”
“It’s my damn business when her husband’s dead!” The rapid change of Eve’s tone, from mild, even cajoling to hard and mean had Bebe jolting. “It’s all my business now, so don’t fuck with me. It was tit for tat, was that how she made it seem? I’ll do this for you, if you do me this little favor? I can play that.”
Leaning back, Eve took a casual sip from the bottle of water she’d brought in with her, and throttled down again. “You tell me what I need to know, and I’ll see to it that your husband’s case is reopened, reopened, Bebe, and assigned to the best available in the Bronx Homicide Division.”
“They don’t care about me, they don’t care about Luca.”
“I’ll make sure they do. Peabody, can and will I make sure the Bronx cares about Luca Petrelli, and bringing his killers to justice?”
“Yes, sir, you can and will if you choose to. Bebe,” Peabody added, “the lieutenant doesn’t bullshit about murder. You should’ve figured that out by now. And after your lunch visit, you should figure she’s got some pull in the Bronx.”
“I’m telling you, Bebe—look at me! I’ll make sure they reopen Luca’s case. I’ll make sure they care. I’m telling you that on record. Now. Do you want the case reopened?”
Tears shimmered and swam. Then spilled. “Yes.”
