“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“I haven’t seen her, face-to-face, in four years.”
“Face-to-face?”
She took another sip, slowly. “I’m a lawyer, good enough to know I should have representation. I shouldn’t be talking to you. But I’m so damn happy she’s dead, I’m going to walk on the wild side. Four years ago, I was working for a high-powered firm. Junior partner. I was engaged to a guy who had a solid shot at the Senate. I was pulling in a big salary, one I worked my ass off for. She shows up at my office. Where I worked, for God’s sake. She’s all smiles, and look at you, aren’t you something. Made me sick.”
Maxie took one more slug of water, then slapped the bottle down again. “I should’ve kicked her out, but she caught me off guard. Then she hits me with it: She’s got copies of my record, all of it. The illegals, the cage time, the assaults, the thefts. It wouldn’t do, would it, for that to come out? Not with me in this cushy job, in this important firm. Not with me planning my wedding to a man favored to head to East Washington.”
“She blackmailed you.”
“I let her. So stupid. I gave her fifty thousand. In three months, she was back for more. That’s the way it works. I’m not green, I knew better. But I paid her again. Even when my relationship went down the sewer. My fault, I was so stressed, so determined not to let him know, that I torched it.”
She broke off a moment, and her tone changed, softened. “I’m sorry for that. Still sorry for that. So, I paid her for two years. To the tune of a quarter mil. And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I quit my job. And the next time she contacted me, I told her to go ahead. Go ahead, you bitch, do your worst. I’ve got nothing to lose now. Already lost it,” she said quietly.
“How’d she take it?”
“She was steamed. At least I had that. She screamed and carried on like I was jabbing hot sticks in her eyes. Nice moment for me. I’d get disbarred, she said. And that’s bull, of course. No firm would ever hire me again. And there she might’ve had something. I didn’t give a cold shit. I stuck, and she went away. And now, thank the gods, she won’t be back.”
“You should’ve gone to the cops.”
“Maybe. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. I played my hand. I got my own firm now, such as it is. I’m happy. I didn’t kill her, but I’ll offer my services pro bono to whoever did. She made me bathe in cold water, every night. Said it was good for me. Cooled hot blood.”
Eve shuddered before she could stop herself. She remembered the cold baths.
“I’m going to want the names of the people who can verify your whereabouts, Maxie.”
“No problem. Tell me how she bought it.”
“Fractured skull, blunt instrument.”
“Oh. I was hoping for something more exotic. Guess that’ll have to do.”
Cold, Eve thought later. Cold and brutally frank. She had to respect that.
Even better, she had her first step toward a pattern of blackmail.
She found two more. Though they didn’t confirm it, she saw it in their eyes. Alibis would be checked for them, and for the two others she couldn’t reach.
She got up for coffee, detoured into Roarke’s office. “Any progress?”
“Continues to dead-end on me.” He shoved back from the desk, obviously annoyed. “Are we sure she had the numbers right?”
“She was shook, so she may have screwed up. But she said them twice, in the sequence I gave you. No hesitation.”
“I’m getting nothing. I’m going to have the computer run them, in various sequences. See what pops up. What about you?”
“I’ve got one confirmed blackmail. Lawyer out in California. I don’t like her for the murder, but she claims she shelled out a quarter million over a couple of years before she cut Trudy off. That’s a lot from one source, and I’m banking there’s more. I’m also banking Trudy had herself a couple of quiet accounts, the sort she wouldn’t report for taxes.”
“Now that I can find easily enough.”
“I’ve got two account numbers from the lawyer where she transferred money to Trudy. But it’s been several years, and maybe Trudy shuffled funds around.”
“The best way to keep the IRS from sniffing. I’ll start with those, find the rest.”
“When you do, if they were e-transfers, we’d be able to track them to the source.”
“Child’s play, and it’ll give me a break from this frustration.”
“Want coffee?”
“How wifely. I would, yes. Thanks.”
“I was getting some for me anyway.”
She heard him laugh as she started out, then she stopped by the board again. If Trudy had income from blackmail, money tucked away, just how much would Bobby inherit now?
A nice boost to his business, she imagined.
She thought briefly of the boy who’d snuck a sandwich into her room when she’d been alone and hungry. How he’d done so without a word, with the faintest of smiles and a finger to his lips.
Then she got coffee, and prepared to find out if he’d killed his own mother.
Chapter 14
SHE WAS STANDING IN A ROOM, BRILLIANTLY lit, drinking champagne with a group of women. She recognized their faces. The California lawyer was drinking right from the bottle and doing a hip-swinging dance in high red heels. Carly Tween was sitting on a stool with a tall back, sipping delicately while she rubbed her enormous belly with her free hand.
The others—the others who’d been like her—were all chattering the way women do at girl parties. She’d never been fluent in the language of fashion and food and men, so she drank the frothy wine and let the sounds roll over her.
Everyone was duded up. She herself was wearing the same outfit she’d donned for the holiday party. Even in the dream—even knowing it was a dream—her feet ached.
Part of the room was sectioned off, and there the children they’d been sat, watching the party. Hand-me-down clothes, hungry faces, hopeless eyes—all closed off from the lights, the music, the laughter by a sheer glass wall.
Inside it, Bobby served the children sandwiches, and they ate ravenously.
She didn’t belong here, not really. She wasn’t one of them, not quite. And the others sent her quick, sidelong glances, and whispered behind their hands.
Still, it was she who walked first to the body that lay on the floor in the middle of the celebration. Blood stained Trudy’s nightgown and congealed on the glossy floor.
“She’s really not dressed for it,” Maxie said, and smiled as she chugged down more champagne. “All the money she carved out of us, you’d think she could afford a nice outfit. It’s a fricking party, isn’t it?”
“She didn’t plan to be here.”
“You know what they say about plans.” She gave Eve an elbow nudge. “Loosen up. We’re all family here, after all.”
“My family’s not here.” She looked through that sheer glass, into the eyes of children. And wasn’t so sure. “I’ve got a job to do.”
“Suit yourself. Me, I’m going to get this party started.” Maxie turned the bottle over, gripped the neck in both hands, and with a wild laugh smashed it against Trudy’s already shattered head.
Eve leapt forward, shoved her back, but the others swarmed in. She was knocked down, kicked aside, trampled as they fell on the body like dogs.
She crawled clear, struggled to stand. And saw the children behind the glass. Cheering.
Behind them, she saw the shadow, the shape that was her father.
Told you, didn’t I, little girl? Told you they’d toss you into the pit with the spiders.
“No.” She jerked, struck out when someone lifted her.
“Easy now,” Roarke murmured. “I’ve got you.”
“What? What?” With her heart skittering, she shook herself awake in his arms. “What is it?”
“You fell asleep at your desk. Small wonder as it’s nearly two in the morning. You were having a nightmare.”
“It wasn’t…” She took a moment to steady herself. “It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. It was just weird. Just a weird dream. I can walk.”