Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“Suck it up.”

And she rolled her shoulders, imagining the pleasure of prying up floorboards.

* * *

By nine Eve sat in her office with Reo, going over the evidence gathered. Reo sat back in Eve’s desk chair, enjoyed the very fine coffee.

“I don’t believe the PA’s office will be inclined to offer any sort of deal to Mr. Whitt, and in fact will push, and push hard, for the maximum on all charges.”

“I should fucking hope so.”

Reo only smiled. “He’s got three high-powered criminal attorneys just waiting to tear the arrest to shreds. They’ve already filed to have the charges dismissed, and filed for false arrest. They’ll be pulling strings while we’re in Interview. That’ll be Kobast, Broward Kobast, in Interview. I’m going to join you and Peabody, and I’m going to enjoy— No,” she corrected. “Let me say I’m going to relish being part of knocking them down, several pegs.”

“Gone up against them before?”

“Two of the three. You win some, you lose some.” Reo shrugged. “This one’s a win.”

Peabody came to the door. “Whitt and his attorney are in Interview A. His other attorney’s up with the commander. I don’t know where number three is.”

“She’s probably arguing for the dismissal.” Reo rose, faked dusting off her navy suit. “Let’s go disappoint all of them.”

Eve hauled the evidence box off her desk and led the way.

Peabody opened the door to Interview A.

“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, Reo, APA Cher, entering Interview with Stephen Whitt and his designated legal representative Broward Kobast. This interview is re charges against Mr. Whitt stemming from case numbers H-4945-1, H-4952-1, H-4963-1.”

“My client will exercise his right to silence, so you will speak to me. He also, of course, disputes all of these injurious charges. We’ve filed for their immediate dismissal, and have filed charges of harassment and false arrest against the NYPSD and you personally, Lieutenant.”

Kobast looked like an elder statesman, with his shock of white hair, his trim white beard, the contrasting slash of black brows over crystal blue eyes.

Eve said, “Okay,” and took her seat. “Maybe your client would like to state his whereabouts last night from eight to ten P.M.”

“He doesn’t have to, as I can verify them myself, as I attended the same event. The Whitt Group dinner at the New York Grand Hotel. Stephen was the dinner speaker.”

Eve nodded as if that was news to her. “And at what time did he speak?”

“It would have been about eight.” With a small, smug smile, Kobast nodded back. “He was quite informative and entertaining.”

“I bet. And how long did he speak?”

“Perhaps twenty minutes.”

“Until about eight-twenty. That doesn’t cover the full time period in question.”

Now Kobash sighed. “Lieutenant, dozens of people will verify Stephen was at the Grand, in their main ballroom. If one of your ludicrous charges hinges on this—”

“It does. Yes, it does, as Marshall Cosner’s time of death was twenty after nine.”

“Marsh?” Whitt sucked in his breath, jerked as if slapped. He did both well, but couldn’t quite bring the horror into his eyes. It couldn’t penetrate the slight sneer. “Marsh is—is dead? How— What happened to him?”

“He succumbed to the same nerve agent you and he hired Lucas Sanchez to cook up so you could punish some old enemies.”

Making an effort to look shaken, Whitt turned to his attorney, gripped Kobast’s arm. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, Broward. My God, Marsh was one of my oldest friends.”

“Quiet now, Stephen. My client couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“He didn’t have to be. Peabody.”