"What business is that of yours?"
Since he was going to stand, Eve rose to face him. "It's a simple question."
"Yes, I gamble on occasion, as do countless others. I find it relaxing. "
"How much do you owe?"
His fingers tightened on the glass. "I believe at this point, my mother would have advised me to consult counsel."
"That's certainly your right. I'm not accusing you of anything, Mr. Angelini. I'm fully aware that you were in Paris on the night of your mother's death." Just as she was fully aware that shuttles skimmed across the Atlantic hourly. "It's my job to get a clear picture, a full and clear picture. You're under no obligation to answer my question. But I can, with very little trouble, access that information."
The muscles in his jaw worked a moment. "Eight hundred thousand, give or take a few dollars."
"Are you unable to settle the debt?"
"I am neither a welsher nor a pauper, Lieutenant Dallas," he said stiffly. "It can and will be settled shortly."
"Was your mother aware of it?"
"Neither am I a child, Lieutenant, who needs to run to his mother for help whenever he skins a knuckle."
"You and Randall Slade gambled together?"
"We did. My sister disapproves, so Randy has given up the hobby."
"Not before he incurred debts of his own."
His eyes, very like his father's, chilled. "I wouldn't know about that, nor would I discuss his business with you."
Oh yes, you would, Eve thought, but let it slide for the moment. "And the trouble in Sector 38 a few years ago? You were there?"
"Sector 38?" He looked convincingly blank.
"A gambling satellite."
"I often go to Vegas II for a quick weekend, but I don't recall patronizing a casino in that sector. I don't know what trouble you're referring to."
"Do you play roulette?"
"No, it's a fool's game. Randy's fond of it. I prefer blackjack."
Randall Slade didn't look like a fool. He looked to Eve like a man who could knock anything out of his path without breaking stride. Nor was he her image of a fashion designer. He dressed simply, his black suit unadorned by any of the studs or braids currently in fashion. And his wide hands had the look of a laborer rather than an artist.
"I hope you'll be brief," he said in the tone of a man used to giving orders. "Mirina is upstairs lying down. I don't want to leave her for long."
"Then I'll be brief." Eve didn't object when he took out a gold case containing ten slim black cigarettes. Technically, she could have, but she waited until he'd lighted one. "What was your relationship with Prosecutor Towers?"
"We were friendly. She was soon to become my mother-in-law. We shared a deep love for Mirina."
"She approved of you."
"I have no reason to believe otherwise."
"Your career has benefited quite a lot through your association with Angelini Exports."
"True." He blew out smoke that smelled lightly of lemon mint. "I like to think Angelini has also benefited quite a lot through their association with me." He surveyed Eve's gray suit. "That cut and color are both incredibly unflattering. You might want to take a look at my on-the-rack line here in New York."
"I'll keep it in mind, thanks."
"I dislike seeing attractive women in unattractive clothes." He smiled and surprised Eve with a flare of charm. "You should wear bolder colors, sleeker lines. A woman with your build would carry them well."
"So I'm told," she muttered, thinking of Roarke. "You're about to marry a very wealthy woman."
"I'm about to marry the woman I love."
"It's a happy coincidence that she's wealthy."
"It is."
"And money is something you have a need for."
"Don't we all?" Smooth, unoffended, again amused.
"You have debts, Mr. Slade. Large, outstanding debts in an area that can cause considerable pain in the collecting process."
"That's accurate." He drew smoke in again. "I'm a gambling addict, Lieutenant. Recovering. With Mirina's help and support, I've undergone treatment. I haven't made a wager in two months, five days."
"Roulette, wasn't it?"
"I'm afraid so."
"And the amount you owe, in round figures?"
"Five hundred thousand."
"And the amount of your fiancee's inheritance?"
"Probably triple that, in round figures. More, considering the stocks and holdings that wouldn't be converted into credit or cash. Killing my fiancee's mother would certainly have been one way to solve my financial difficulties." He stubbed his cigarette out thoughtfully. "Then again, so would the contract I've just signed for my fall line. Money isn't important enough to me to kill for it."
"But gambling was important enough?"
"Gambling was like a beautiful woman. Desirable, exciting, capricious. I had a choice between her and Mirina. There was nothing I wouldn't do to keep Mirina."
"Nothing?"
He understood, and inclined his head. "Nothing at all."
"Does she know about the scandal in Sector 38?"
His amused, faintly smug expression froze, and he paled. "That was nearly ten years ago. That has nothing to do with Mirina. Nothing to do with anything."
"You haven't told her."
"I didn't know her. I was young, foolish, and I paid for my mistake."
"Why don't you explain to me, Mr. Slade, how you came to make that mistake?"
"It has nothing to do with this."
"Indulge me."
"Damn it, it was one night out of my life. One night. I'd had too much to drink, was stupid enough to mix the liquor with chemicals. The woman killed herself. It was proven the overdose was self-inflicted."
Interesting, Eve thought. "But you were there," she hazarded.
"I was zoned. I'd lost more heavily than I could afford at roulette, and between us we made a scene. I told you I was young. I blamed my bad luck on her. Maybe I did threaten her. I just don't remember. Yes, we argued publicly, she struck me, and I struck her back. I'm not proud of it. Then I just don't remember."
"Don't remember, Mr. Slade?"
"As I testified, the next thing I remember is waking up in some filthy little room. We were in bed, naked. And she was dead. I was still groggy. Security came in. I must have called them. They took pictures. I was assured the pictures were destroyed after the case was closed and I was exonerated. I barely knew the woman," he continued, heating up. "I'd picked her up in the bar – or thought I had. My attorney discovered she was a professional companion, unlicensed, working the casinos."
He closed his eyes. "Do you think I want Mirina to know that I was, however briefly, accused of murdering an unlicensed whore?"
"No," Eve said quietly. "I don't imagine you do. And as you said, Mr. Slade, you'd do anything to keep her. Anything at all."
Hammett was waiting for her the moment she stepped out of the commander's office. The hollows in his cheeks seemed deeper, his skin grayer. "I'd hoped to have a moment, Lieutenant – Eve."
She gestured behind her, let him slip into the room first, then closed the door on the murmurs of conversation.
"This is a difficult day for you, George."
"Yes, very difficult. I wanted to ask, needed to know… Is there anything more? Anything at all?"
"The investigation's proceeding. There's nothing I can tell you that you wouldn't have heard through the media."
"There must be more." His voice rose before he could control it. "Something."
She could feel pity, even when there was suspicion. "Everything that can be done is being done."
"You've interviewed Marco, her children, even Randy. If there is anything they knew, anything they told you that might help, I have a right to be told."
Nerves? she wondered. Or grief? "No," she said quietly, "you don't. I can't give you any information acquired during an interview or through investigative procedure."
"We're talking about the murder of the woman I loved!" He exploded with it, his pale face flushing dark. "We might have been married."