“Under that.”
“The unfortunate businessman suffered a severe facial beating and multiple stab wounds. All incurred after his throat was slit. The investigators believe the bungled aspect of the break-in was staged after the murder. An hour after time of death, Cobbe visited the bordello using one of the VIP passes the victim often presented to friends or clients, enjoyed the services of two of the ladies employed there and a bottle of Cristal.”
“Bold fucker.”
“And always was. They’ve yet to find how he entered or left the city.”
“It’s still another brick in the wall. I need the name of the primary on it.”
“You’ll have it.”
“Meanwhile Tween’s being booked for conspiracy to murder and murder. Once he’s consulted with his lawyer or lawyers, I’ll have him in the box.”
“Fast work, Lieutenant.”
“You contacted Stefano Modesto.”
“I did. It seemed … appropriate.”
“It was more than appropriate. He and his family appreciated your offer of accommodations while they deal with this loss. His wife knew about the affair, and held her sister-in-law’s confidence. I got it out of her, and it confirms Stowe’s account down the line. Anything, anything at all Tween knows about Cobbe, I’ll have.”
“You’re worrying about me.” After setting his coffee aside, he gripped her shoulders, gave them a light shake. “Stop. You have a job to do.”
“The Marriage Rules clearly require me to worry about you when applicable.”
It made him laugh. So he released her shoulders to take her face in his hands and kiss her. Long, hard, deep.
“Expert consultant, civilian, fraternizing with the primary investigator while said investigator’s on duty is a violation.” Now she took his face in turn. “Might as well do it again.”
And when she had, he held on another moment. “You’re the heart of me.” He drew back. “I wish I could stay and watch you take on this particular asshole, but I’ve already shifted and juggled quite a bit today.”
“I’ll give you the highlights at home.”
“I count on it. I may be a bit late. If more than a bit, I’ll let you know.”
“Same.”
“One day,” he said as he started out, “you might send me a copy of those Marriage Rules.”
As Roarke had, she wandered to the window. An airtram dipped by close enough she could spot the bored faces of locals, the thrilled ones of tourists.
Below, pedestrians and vehicles swarmed the streets and sidewalks. Somewhere out there Cobbe walked or rode or hid while he plotted the death of the man she loved.
She’d find him. There was nothing more important in her work, her life, her world than finding Lorcan Cobbe and locking the cage door behind him.
She’d take down Tween. That was the job, that was duty, that was justice. And she’d use him to help her reach the bigger goal.
She heard Peabody coming, didn’t turn.
“Tween’s booked, and consulting with his lawyers. That’s Milton Barkley and Denise Gotte. Gotte’s criminal defense. She joined Patterson and Franks—now Patterson, Franks, and Gotte—as full partner six months ago. She relocated from Atlanta.”
“Okay. We’re ready when they are.”
7
Just over an hour later, Eve walked into Interview A.
“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective De lia, entering Interview with Tween, Jorge, and his legal representatives on the matter of case number H-32108.”
She sat at the scarred table across from Tween. His lawyers flanked him. “Mr. Tween, you’ve been arrested on charges of the conspiracy to murder and the murder, in the first degree, of your wife, Galla Modesto. Have you been read your rights, and do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”
Gotte answered. She was a sturdily built woman of fifty-three with a short, sleek cap of blond hair and marble-hard blue eyes.
Her voice, as hard as her eyes, held no hint of Atlanta.
“My client has been informed of his rights and understands them perfectly. He denies, absolutely and clearly, any involvement in the tragic and violent death of his wife, and is appalled—as is his counsel—that you would levy these ridiculous charges and add to his grief.”
“Right. Well, his denial is bullshit.”
“We won’t tolerate that sort of abusive language or behavior.”
“You’re going to tolerate a lot more before we’re finished.”
“Lieutenant.” Barkley, a dark-skinned man of sixty with a handsome head of curling hair dashed with silver, held up a hand. “I’ve been Mr. Tween’s attorney for nearly ten years. I knew Galla, and am shocked and saddened by her death, by the violence of it. I ask you to respect the tragedy of this situation.”
“I will always respect the victim, Mr. Barkley. Mr. Tween, when my partner and I notified you last night about your wife’s murder, you stated you had no knowledge of the affair she’d engaged in and subsequently broken off.”
“My client maintains he had no knowledge. Your attempt to use the victim’s transgression as my client’s motive is ludicrous.” Gotte tapped an imperious finger on the table. “My client’s home security discs show he did not leave the house after his arrival home at six-thirty that evening. He—”
“Nobody said he left the house.” Eve opened the file, took out—thank you, Feeney—a copy of a report—with photos—from a private investigator.
“However, on November sixteenth of last year, you hired Oscar Gill Investigations with instructions to shadow your wife. Why did you do that, Mr. Tween?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s exactly my business.” She spread the contents out. “This report is a copy of the report sent to you by Oscar Gill, for which you paid him—through your Modesto Wine and Spirits expense account—eight thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars. Do you consider hiring a private investigator to follow and photograph your wife a business expense?”
“That’s my property. That’s my personal and private business.”
“Accessed through a duly issued and executed warrant.” Eve took out a copy of that, slid it toward Gotte. “You didn’t answer the question, Mr. Tween.”
Gotte held up a finger to keep him silent as she read the warrant, then glanced at the report, at the photos of Galla strolling hand in hand with Stowe, of a shared kiss, an embrace, obviously taken with a long lens through an apartment window.
Gotte leaned toward Tween, spoke in his ear. Face furious, he muttered in hers.
The lawyer’s not happy, Eve observed. She didn’t have a cheery face to begin with, but Eve knew pissed off when she saw it.
Nobody liked being lied to.
“My client denied knowledge of the affair in an attempt to protect his wife’s reputation, to spare her family.”
“So he lied.”
“He had just learned of his wife’s murder. He—”
“Actually, he learned about it approximately twenty minutes after the murder. The warrant also authorizes the police to open any and all locks or safes in the residence. We found your clone ’link, Mr. Tween, which still held a number of messages to and from another clone. The final message to you on this clone also contained a photo. Do you have a copy of that message and photo, Detective Peabody?”