Eve shrugged. “Not really important though, since you’ve admitted—on record—that you were there.”

“And I told you why, and that the man was alive when I left. What possible reason would I have to kill him? To-to mutilate him afterward? I didn’t even know him.”

“You’ve already said why. If Custer hadn’t been killed, Tommy would be alive. See this?” She tapped the ’link. “Piece of crap, as I said. Most people think these crappy disposables can’t hold transmission history. But those EDD geeks? They’re freaking magicians.”

Eve leaned forward, smiled brilliantly. “Good girl. Do you remember saying that to Suzanne—from the balmy shores of St. Lucia, when she reported she’d done the job? Wanna hear for yourself?” Eve pressed a button on the link, and Ava’s voice buzzed out.

Good girl.

“They’ll clean that up some, but I wanted you to hear it as soon as it was ready. Nice of you to give Suzanne that little pat on the head.”

“This is ridiculous, and you’re pathet

ic. It’s obvious Suzanne killed her husband and mine. She must be horribly sick. As far as that ’link goes, I spoke with her any number of times over the last months.”

“From St. Lucia? They triangulate these transmissions really well.”

“I don’t recall. I might have.”

And more tingles, Eve thought, as she saw the pulse in Ava’s throat start to pound. “Previous statement: You haven’t spoken or had contact with Suzanne Custer since the night her husband was murdered.”

“I might have been mistaken about that.”

“No, you lied about that. It’s the lies that tripped you up. It was a pretty solid plan, I’ll give that to you. But you couldn’t keep it simple. You had to elaborate, make yourself more of a stoic, loyal, and loving wife by painting your husband as so much less than he was. You had to make him pay for all those years you played the loving wife. He never hired LCs, never had affairs, never demanded kink from you.”

“You can’t prove or disprove what happens between people in the privacy of their bedroom.”

“Yeah, that was your thinking on it. It’s not bad. But I can prove no one who ever knew him or had business with him can corroborate your claim. I can prove you substituted a sleep aid for his nightly vitamin the morning before you left for St. Lucia. I can prove you conspired with Suzanne Custer in a scheme where each of you agreed to murder the other’s spouse. I can prove you approached at least two other women, fishing the idea before you settled on Suzanne.”

“It means nothing, none of it means—”

“Not done,” Eve commented. “I can prove your father-in-law—whose murder I’m also going to hang on you given a little more time—was annoyed with the way you were allocating funds earmarked for the program.”

“Ridiculous.” But her body jumped. “Insane.”

“You keep thinking that,” Eve invited. “Reginald Anders’s murder opened the door to your long-term plans. I can prove you not only spoke with, not only contacted Suzanne after Custer’s murder, but drove to a lot several blocks from her home—reserved slot again—and met her on the street where you were seen by witnesses. Black coat, fur trim. We’ve got that in evidence now, too. I can prove you drove her to a rest stop off the Turnpike, where you were seen by witnesses.”

“She was blackmailing me.”

“Oh please.”

“After she killed her husband, she blackmailed me. She said she’d call the police, that she’d tell them I was having an affair with her husband, and that she knew he was meeting me that night. I was terrified. I met her that day, outside her building, to give her the last payment. I drove out of the city to that rest area, and I gave her the last payment. I told her it had to be the last, and she was angry. That must be why she killed Tommy.”

“How much she sting you for? Quick, quick,” Eve said when Ava hesitated. “How much?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“See, you should’ve lowballed it. That’s too much for her to hide, too much for you to skim without leaving crumbs.”

“I sold some jewelry.”

“No, Ava, no.” Heaving a sigh, Eve leaned in. “Now you’re disappointing me. I gave you more credit. We can check that. First, going back, Suzanne doesn’t have the brains or the balls to blackmail anyone. Going further back, not only wasn’t she in the room when Ned bought it, but she’s too short to have executed the killing blow. This is basic forensics, and juries are pretty savvy there. Got you cold on that one. Witnesses, forensics, your own statement putting you there.”

“She didn’t come. She didn’t come as arranged, and he attacked me.”

“Who? Let’s be specific since we’ve got such a winding road here.”

Ava picked up her cup again, drank. “Suzanne’s husband.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net