Eve leaned forward. “We’re going to get you cold for money laundering, for tax fraud. You’re going to want to talk to me now, if you want any kind of help with two counts, murder one.”
“I didn’t kill anyone. My God, are you insane?” His hand trembled a little as he pulled off his cap. “I’ve never doctored an account. It’s ludicrous.”
“Your wife states you played cards on the night of the murders until after midnight. And she was extremely tired. She went to bed, giving you more than enough time to get to Natalie Copperfield’s apartment. To break in, to restrain her, torture her, kill her, and take her data unit.”
He wasn’t just pale now, he was gray. “No.”
“From there, to travel to Bick Byson’s loft, struggle with him, stun him, restrain and question him before you killed him and took his data unit. Have you disposed of them already?”
“I’ve never hurt another human being in my life. I never left the house that night. My God, my God, what is happening?”
“So you let Bullock or Chase do the dirty work?”
“This is absurd. Of course not.”
“I’m going to get a warrant for your other files, Mr. Kraus. What you did with one, you did with others.”
“You can get a warrant for whatever you like. You’ll find nothing because I’ve done nothing. You’re mistaken about the Bullock accounts. Natalie must have been mistaken, because there can’t be anything wrong with them. Randall—”
Eve pounced. “What does Randall Sloan have to do with it?”
Kraus rubbed his hands over his face, then signaled to the waiter he’d initially waved away. “Scotch, straight up. A double. My God, my God.”
“What does Randall Sloan have to do with the Bullock account?”
“It’s his account. It’s my name of record, but it’s his account.”
“Why don’t you explain to me how that works?”
“He brought them into the firm, years ago. I had just come on as a junior partner. But his father wouldn’t allow him to head the account. There’d been some question of Randall’s reliability, his—ah—skills and work ethic. He’s better suited in public relations. But he brought the account in, and I was new. He came to me, asked me…It wasn’t precisely asking.”
Kraus took the glass the waiter brought him, downed a quick swallow. “I felt pressured, and to be honest, I thought it was unfair that he wasn’t given the account. So I agreed to keep my name on it, and he would do the actual business. I’d check the bottom line, of course, every quarter. And if there was any problem, any question, I’d take over. But the client was satisfied.”
“I bet they were,” Eve replied.
“She didn’t come to me. I swear to you, Natalie didn’t come to me about any problems, any questions.”
“Who knew that Sloan was doing the books for Bullock?”
“I didn’t think anyone did. He told me it was just a matter of pride, and I believed him. But he’d never hurt Natalie. She was almost like a daughter to him. This has to be some horrible mistake.”
“Does Madeline Bullock normally stay at your home when she and her son come to New York?”
“No. But Madeline was talking to my wife and mentioned that she loved our home, how welcoming it was, how peaceful. One thing led to another, and they agreed to stay with us. I need to see those records. I’m entitled to see them. I’m sure there’s just some misunderstanding.”
“Tell me about Randall Sloan’s lifestyle.”
“Please don’t ask me to speak behind the back of an associate. A friend. The son of my partner.”
Eve said nothing, just waited.
Kraus drank the rest of his scotch, signaled for another. “He gambles. Or he did. And poorly. There were rumors that some time ago—before I came to the firm—he skimmed a bit from one or two clients, and his father had to replace the funds. But he went into a program, for the gambling. There’s been no hint of anything improper for years. His father…Jacob’s a hard man, integrity is a god. His son smeared that. Randall will never be a partner. He accepts it. He prefers the work he does, in any case, to the administration, the accounting.”
“Yet he pressured you into giving him, under the table, we’ll say, a major account.”
“He brought them in,” Kraus repeated, and Eve nodded.
“Yeah, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”