“Stupid? We’ll see who’s stupid at the end of the day, you bitch. Nobody’s going to believe any of this. I have friends. Powerful friends and between us we’ll eat you and your ridiculous interview to bits.”
“Lady, you’ve got no one. You did have. You had a good, decent man who loved you.”
“What do you know about it? What do you know? Sixteen years of my life invested in a man who obsessed about golf and box scores, and children that weren’t his own. I earned everything I have.”
“Marrying it isn’t earning it.”
“You married money. Who are you to talk?”
“I married a man. The man. You’ll never get that. Your kind isn’t capable of it. On the door.”
When it opened, she passed out the files and bags to the officer outside, then turned back. “Ava Anders, you’re under arrest for the murder of Ned Custer, and for conspiracy to murder Thomas A. Anders. Other charges include—”
“Get me a fucking lawyer. Get the Prosecuting Attorney in here. Now, goddamn it. He’ll make a deal for my testimony against that twit.”
“You can have the lawyer, but the PA already made a deal with Suzanne Custer this morning.” Eve grinned. “Psych.”
She saw it coming. God, she’d been praying for it all through the interview. Anticipating it so that the cop on the door, and those in Observation stayed back, as she’d ordered, when Ava charged her.
She turned away from the nail swipe so those long, pretty nails barely broke the skin under her jaw. And she took the first shove that bashed her into the wall.
The rest would look better on the record that way. Eve stomped on Ava’s instep, plowed an elbow into her gut, then finished with a solid uppercut.
She studied the woman sprawled unconscious at her feet. “Guess we’ll get into those other charges when you wake up. On the door.” Eve stepped over Ava. “You and another officer take her down through Booking when she regains consciousness. She wants a lawyer, see that she’s allowed to contact one.”
“Yes, sir
. Lieutenant, you’re bleeding some.”
“Yeah.” Eve brushed her fingertips over the nail marks. “All in a day’s. Interview end.”
Reo was the first out of Observation. “Good enough for you?” Eve asked her.
“And then some. I’m going to make her lawyers cry like babies. Fun for me now. You’ve had yours.”
“Showed?”
“To those of us who know and love you. You should’ve decked her before she scratched you.”
Eve angled her head, tapped just below the marks. “Jury’s going to love it, if it goes that far. Wrap her up, Reo. I want to take a moment out of my day now and then to think about her rotting in a cement cage off-planet.”
“Anything for a pal. I’d better get to it.”
“Peabody, get the paperwork on this, will you?”
“Sure, it was fun to watch, so writing it up’s fair as the price of admission.”
She started by, but Baxter stepped in her path. And held out a hand. A bit baffled she took it, shook. “It’s a good day,” he said, and she nodded.
“Yeah, it’s a good day. You’re back off the roll until Monday.”
“I’ll see this through, then I’m off.”
She cut through to her office for a quick boost of coffee. Thinking of Tibble—and more important, his wife—she decided she’d contact Commander Whitney, give her oral. And let him pass it on. Just in case.
“Sit,” Roarke ordered as he walked in with a small first-aid kit.
“Look Nurse Studly—”