“I know damn well you’re trying to say Kohli was dirty, that Mills was dirty. You won’t say I am.”
“There have been a number of substantial deposits in your husband’s financial accounts.”
“Goddamn it. I’m calling my rep.” She reached for her ’link, then curled her hand into a fist. The room was silent as Eve watched her battle for control. “I do that, and this goes on record. You’ve got me by the short hairs.”
She took a deep breath, expelled it. “A few months ago I began to suspect my husband was involved with someone else. The signs were there. Distraction, disinterest, late arrivals, missed appointments. I confronted him, he denied. Some men have a talent for turning such an accusation around until you’re at fault. Even when in your gut you know better. Very simply, Lieutenant, my marriage was falling apart, and I found myself unable to stop it. You’re a cop, a woman, married. You know it’s not easy.”
Eve didn’t reply nor did Roth expect her to. “I was upset, edgy, distracted. I told myself it wouldn’t hurt to smooth out the nerves with a drink. Or two. And I ended up in Purgatory. Kohli was working the bar. We both pretended it was no big deal for either of us to be in there. Meanwhile, my marriage was crumbling. I discovered that my husband was not only rolling around on someone else’s sheets but had been steadily transferring funds from our account to one under his own name. Before I could stop it, he’d ruined me financially, had me heading right back into the bottle, and was adversely affecting my work performance.
“About two weeks ago, I pulled myself together. I kicked his lying, lazy ass out and put myself back into rehab. I did not, however, report my counseling, which is a violation of procedure. A minor one, but a violation. Since that time, I have not been back to Purgatory nor had I seen Detective Kohli outside of the job.”
“Captain Roth, I sympathize with your personal difficulties during this period, but I need to know your whereabouts on the night of Kohli’s death.”
“Until midnight I was at an AA meeting in a church basement in Brooklyn.” She smiled thinly. “Not much chance of running into anyone I know there, which was the point. After that, I went out for coffee with several of the other participants. We tell war stories. I returned home, alone, about two, and went to bed. I have no alibi for the time in question.”
Steadier now, Roth looked into Eve’s eyes. “Everything I told you is off record and inadmissible, as I wasn’t Mirandized. If you take me in, Lieutenant, I’m going to make it very hard on you.”
“Captain, if I decide to take you in, I can promise, it’ll be a lot harder on you.”
chapter twelve
She needed time to absorb and access, to let the new pieces shift into patterns. And she needed to consider, carefully, whether she wanted to damage another cop’s career before she was certain that cop had done more than be careless.
But under it she was afraid her own marital strain made her too sympathetic to another’s.
She would have her consult with Mira, input the new data, run probabilities. She would do it all by the book.
When she walked into her home office, she saw Mira sitting in a chair in the now tidy office, while Peabody and McNab worked back-to-back at their individual keyboards.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
“That’s perfectly all right.” Mira set aside a cup of what Eve assumed was tea. “Peabody explained you might be delayed.”
“Do you mind if we take this in another room?”
“Not at all.” Mira rose, elegant as always in a sleek suit of spring leaf green. “I always enjoy seeing parts of your home.”
Though she wasn’t sure if it was strictly appropriate for a consult, Eve led the way to one of the lounging rooms. Mira sighed in appreciation. “What a lovely space,” she murmured, studying the soft colors, the gracious lines of the furniture, the gleam of wood and glass. “My God, Eve, is that a Monet?”
Eve glanced at the painting, something in that same soft pallette that seemed to flow together and form a garden. “I have no idea.”
“It is, of course,” Mira said after she’d walked over to admire the painting. “Oh, I do envy you your art collection.”
“It’s not mine.”
Mira only turned and smiled. “I envy it nonetheless. May I sit?”
“Yeah, sure. Sorry. I’m sorry, too, that I’ve dumped so much data on you in such a short time.”
“We’re both accustomed to working under pressure. These killings have ripples radiating throughout the department. Being in the center of those ripples is a very difficult position.”
“I’m used to that, too.”
“Yes.” Something else here, Mira thought. She knew Eve too well to miss the small signs. But that would wait. “I concur with your analysis that both victims were killed by the same hand. The methodology notwithstanding, there is a pattern. The coins, the victims themselves, the brutality, and the knowledge of security.”
“It’s another cop,” Eve said. “Or someone who used to be.”
“Very likely. Your killer is enraged but controlled enough to protect himself by removing evidence. The rage is personal. I’d go as far as to say intimate. This may substantiate your cop-to-cop profile.”