“That’s mean. You make me proud. Go skin your fish.”

Eve didn’t want to keep Ava waiting long. Keep the temper up, those little edges of fear. She walked into Interview carrying plenty of files and attitude. “Mrs. Anders.”

“Lieutenant. I’ve had about enough of your incompetence, and your callousness. I demand to see your chief.”

“We’ll get to that. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in interview with Anders, Ava, regarding case number HA-32003, Anders, Thomas A., and all related events and crimes.” Eve dropped into a chair. “We’ve got a lot to clear up, Ava.”

“Mrs. Anders. I’d like to clear up the way you and this department have handled the media.”

Eve only smiled. “It’s been an interesting couple of days for me. How about you?” At Ava’s stony stare, Eve’s smile widened. “I don’t catch many like these, and I’ve got to hand it to you: You damn near pulled it off. I bet you’re wondering how I’m going to get you for murder.”

“What a hideous thing to say to me! A slanderous thing to say. I didn’t kill Tommy. I loved my husband. I was out of the country when he died, and you know that very well.”

“Save the shiny eyes and tear-choked voice. I know you.” Eve leaned forward. “I knew you the minute I saw you. You’re a grasping, greedy, self-important excuse for a human being. But you’ve got brains, Ava, and you’ve got patience. So what it comes down to is how you want to play this part of it. Let me give you something to think about. Suzanne Custer.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“Think about it. Think about the fact that when we bring her in, we’ll give her a chance to slip and slide. She’ll have the opportunity to wheel and deal. Personally, I think she’s going to grab it like a lifeline.”

“Lieutenant Dallas, I have no idea what you’re trying to do here, unless it’s generate more media frenzy than you’ve already managed. And that you’re somehow blaming me for that, and the fact you’ve been reprimanded for mishandling it. It’s been established, without any doubt, that I was in St. Lucia when my Tommy was killed.”

“You weren’t in St. Lucia when Ned Custer’s throat was slit.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name. What does that have to do with me?”

“Are you going to deny you know Suzanne Custer?”

“I know a great many people.” She paused, offered a considering frown. “Suzanne? Yes, of course. I know her slightly. She’s one of our mothers.”

“The same Suzanne Custer whose husband was murdered in a sex flop in Alphabet City a couple of months ago.”

“How horrible.” Ava pressed a hand to her own throat. “Poor Suzanne. I try not to follow media reports on violence. I’m so terribly sorry to hear about this, but I don’t know what it has to do with me, or with my Tommy.”

“Makes you wonder what Suzanne might say if she gets a chance to address that.”

Peabody entered with a red wig inside an evidence bag. She nodded at Eve, slipped out. “Lookie here. Pretty.” Eve held up the bag. “Familiar?”

“I assume it’s one of mine, as I have one like it. Or did. I atten

d costume galas from time to time. I’d like to know how it came to be in your possession.”

“By duly executed warrant. Let me just mention Ned Custer again, a bar pickup and sex flop. Give you another shot here, Ava. You’re a striking woman. Tall and well-turned-out.” Opening the file, she withdrew a photo she’d had the police artist compose. It appeared dim, even dingy, just as she’d ordered.

“You even turn out pretty well as a cheap redhead in a crappy security cam still. Maybe not suitable for framing,” she added as Ava stared down at it. “But a picture tells a story. Here’s a story I like. You pick up Custer in the bar, take him to the flop, slit his throat, carve off his works, and boogie on. Why? You’re just going to have to help me out there. Why does a woman like you slum it with a man like Custer, and end up killing him?”

“I can hardly help you as there is no why. It’s insane.”

“Maybe things didn’t go the way you figured. He’s not a smoothie like Charles Monroe. Maybe you were trying to get your kicks on, seeing as your husband leaned that way. Help me out here. Gotcha, Ava.” Eve tapped the photo. “I’ve got you in the bar, with Custer. In the flop, with Custer. You can help me, and help yourself, or I let Suzanne pick up the story from here.”

“It’s not what you think. Not at all what you think.”

Trueheart came in with a plastic glass filled with ice and ginger ale. “Excuse me. I’m sorry it took so long.”

Eve waited while Trueheart stepped out, while Ava sipped. Yeah, you think, Eve mused. Think how to play it. Bet I know how you will.

“Suzanne…I felt sorry for her. I wanted to help her.”

“By offing her lousy husband? Man, who couldn’t use a pal like you?”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
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