Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“That would be Marshall Cosner.”

“That’s right. Obviously you know we went to school together—but for that last semester. Our families are friendly, and Marsh and I remain friends. We get together when our schedules allow.”

“Funny.” Peabody took out her PPC as if checking data. “Mr. Cosner didn’t mention your name among those he gave us when he told us about his club night.”

“Probably thinking he’d keep me out of all this nonsense.” He waved that off. “No need. We had a couple of drinks, a few laughs, caught up, scoped out the ladies. Neither of us brought a date. I left about midnight, I think, caught a cab home.”

“Alone?” Eve asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Have you stayed in touch with Kendel Hayward?”

“Ah, still a stab to the heart.” He made a mock wince. “No. We were madly in love, of course, at sixteen, seventeen. Then cruelly—I felt at the time—separated. Her parents lowered the boom, it was all so fast. I couldn’t even contact her, as they’d taken her ’link, locked down her comms, and I pined for … two or three weeks?”

He smiled again. “Such is the depth of love at seventeen.”

“You did try to contact her once.” Eve noted the faintest tightening around his jaw. “But she wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t take that well.”

“Seventeen,” he said again. “She broke my heart. Then there were other girls to ease the pain, then college—and other women, and Kendel became a sweet, vague memory. But she’s not in New York, is she? I know I read she got engaged, some political type in East Washington. I admit I felt a twinge. First loves are potent.”

“But not potent enough for you to contact her, or try to, after you graduated. Or since.”

“One must move on. And that’s exactly what I must do now. I can’t help you with your situation. I’m sure this is a tragedy for Dr. Rufty and Mr. Durbin.”

“Duran,” Eve corrected.

“Right. It simply has nothing to do with me, and I can’t spare any more time. If you have any more questions, you can take them up with my lawyer. That would be Lowell Cosner—Marsh’s father.”

He rose. “Best of luck to you.”

“Thanks for your time.”

She could all but hear his smirk as they walked out.

Peabody started to speak when they got in the elevator, but Eve just shook her head. So they rode down in silence with corporate suits and well-heeled clients.

“Now,” Eve said when they stepped outside. “Because he’s the type that might put an underling on the ride to report any chatter.”

“I didn’t think of that, and yeah, he’s the type. I was going to say we now have two lying SOSs.”

“We surely do, Peabody. We surely do.”

“Still, if the alibis check out—”

“I’ve got an idea there. Check the addresses for the club, the restaurant, and the dinner party,” Eve said as they walked back to the lot. “Then compare them with the drop points for both packages. Let’s see what we have.”

“Sure.” Peabody pulled out her PPC.

“Cosner tagged him, you can bet on it, the minute we left his office. He knew we were coming, had the admin set to try to block us. Knew the names we’d bring up, but had to act like, gee, who remembers? Stupid, really. But there’s always some stupid in there, no matter how smart they are. Or think they are.”

“And here’s more stupid. The address for the dinner party, that’s a solid twenty blocks from the first drop, but the restaurant where Whitt took his clients? Under two. And the club where Cosner and Whitt hooked up? Three blocks.”

“They each did a drop. They cover for each other. They never thought we’d get this far, but they think they’ve covered it. Whitt thinks—Cosner’s a follower.”

Eve got behind the wheel. “Let’s go by the restaurant—we’ve got time. I’m going to have Rodriges come in, give a statement. We’ll hit the restaurant, check out the club, see if we can put some more holes in the lying SOSs.”

“I’m for that.”