“That’d make some campaign ad,” said Rook.
The commish sat down. Detective Heat left her spot by the door. “Alicia, I want to thank you for coming.”
“Like I had a choice when your detective and those other two showed up at my hotel this morning.” She indicated the policewomen whose backs were visible through the glass as they stood sentry outside.
“Legally, you could have refused,” said Gilbert. It sounded like parental disapproval wrapped in a scold.
“Yeah? Well maybe I’m glad I’m here.”
Perfect, thought Heat. Just what she’d counted on. Animosity, still raw and smarting. Once she knew Delamater had hidden the gun, Nikki hoped Alicia would still be pissed enough to give up her old flame as Beauvais’s shooter. Especially in exchange for dropping charges on illegal possession of a firearm. Get ’em while they’re hot, thought Nikki. She set a clear plastic evidence bag containing the Ruger on the table. Both Gilbert and Delamater went a shade paler.
Alicia whispered an “Oh my God.…”
“Where’d you find that?” said Gilbert as he cleared some phlegm. “Certainly not at my house.” So this is how bad it gets when it goes bad, thought Heat. If there had been a bus in that room, Ms. Delamater would be wearing tread marks. But then, Nikki — and everyone — got a surprise. Everyone, that is, except Keith Gilbert.
“Oh.…” Alicia’s mouth quivered as she lost her words.
Gilbert tried to shut her up. “Alicia. Stop. Right there.” To Nikki’s dismay, the lost woman responded to being directed, and began to consider his instructions. She might have just done that, stopped and asked for a lawyer. Except Keith had to add one more thing. “I’m serious, bitch. You’ve fucked up enough already.”
Alicia reacted with a small jolt, as if slapped by an invisible hand. Then a resolve came over her and she rotated her head to Heat. “I was there that night.”
“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?”
“Jesus fucking Christ. It was all to protect me, don’t you get it?”
“You egotistical son of a bitch!” blurted Alicia. “I wasn’t trying to protect you. I was trying to kill you.” Heat had certainly figured Delamater to have been part of the incident in that marina parking lot. But as an eyewitness, at best; an accessory, at worst. Shooting the gun, and not just hiding it, was bombshell enough. But this. This was a twist even Heat had not seen coming. From his face, neither had Keith Gilbert.
“Fuck it. If I’m getting arrested for shooting at someone, at least it’s going to be for the right person.” Alicia continued to rail, imploring Heat to understand, “Keith and I reconciled after the restraining order. At least I thought we had. But then he cut me off when he officially decided to run for senator. Then he called me that thing again.” Nikki silently pronounced the words as Delamater said them aloud. “A political liability.”
“Leesh,” said Gilbert in a bedroom voice, “we don’t need to—”
“Suddenly, I’m fucking off the boat.” Alicia clapped her hands together. “Just like that.”
Rook jumped into the conversation. “So you used the payoff as a setup to kill Keith and make it look like Beauvais did it?” He turned to Nikki. “Sorry, I just kinda got caught up in this.”
Heat said, “Was that the idea, Alicia?” And when she nodded, Nikki asked, “And you wounded Fabian by accident, or were you going to kill him, too?”
“I didn’t need to kill him. Who’d believe him? I mean, come on.” The ugliness of the statement matched the actions.
“Alicia, Goddamn it, I helped you.”
“You helped yourself, as usual. You weren’t protecting me. You kept quiet because if it ever got out what happened, all the questions would hurt your stupid campaign. So don’t fucking insult me.”
Stunning as it was, this version worked for Heat. She could even picture how Alicia got the Ruger. Back when Detective Aguinaldo responded to the prowler call at Cosmo, and Gilbert had his gun out, Delamater was there. Which made it feasible that she not only knew he kept the .38 locked in a desk, but she saw him get the key from the cabinet. Sneaking onto the property weeks later to get it would have been no problem. Even Topper the guard dog wouldn’t stop Alicia because he knew her.