Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)
“He was a hero.”
Eve turned toward the woman in the archway. “My grandmother never married again. Darla Pettigrew,” she said as she walked in, offered her hand. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I wasn’t dressed for the day.”
She was now, Eve thought, in black pants and a light gray sweater. She’d clipped her brown hair back from her face so it hung somewhat limply down her back. Though she’d slapped some makeup on, she still looked a little pale, a little tired.
“No problem. Lieutenant Dallas. My partner, Detective Peabody.”
“Yes, I know very well. My grandmother’s going to be disappointed she missed you. The Icove Agenda was her favorite vid from last year. She’d hoped to attend the awards, but she hasn’t been well. Please, sit and tell me what— Oh thank God.”
She let out a rusty little laugh as the droid came in with a tray.
“Coffee. Thank you, Ariel, just set it down. I know you both drink coffee, as I’ve seen the vid myself. More than once,” she added as she sat and began to pour the coffee, “since I spend a lot of time with Grand. She contracted pneumonia over the winter, and it’s been a long recovery. She’s still weak and needs considerable rest.”
“I hope she’s fully recovered soon,” Peabody put in. “I admire her work, on all fronts. In fact my own grandmother marched with her at the first Stand Up protest in East Washington. Well, I think it was still D.C. then.”
“Is that right? She’ll be delighted to hear it.” Darla handed Eve black coffee, doctored Peabody’s, then added a splash of cream to her own. “Now. Ariel said you needed to speak to me about an investigation. I have to admit I’m nervous and curious. Am I in some sort of trouble?”
Rather than answer, Eve pushed straight in. “You were married to Thaddeus Pettigrew.”
A quick flicker of what might have been pain, a tightening of the lips. “Yes, I was. We divorced two years ago.”
“Amiably?”
“Not really. Is there truly such a thing as an amiable divorce? We were married eleven years, together for thirteen. Unlucky thirteen, I suppose.”
“He wanted to end the marriage?”
“Yes. It’s an uncomfortable subject for me, Lieutenant, and a private one.” Her mouth, her eyes, her voice all tightened. “I can’t imagine why you’d ask me about it.”
“Mr. Pettigrew’s dead.”
“What?” Darla’s face went blank, as if swiped clean of all expression. “That can’t— What?”
“He was killed in the early hours of this morning. Can you verify your whereabouts between nine last night and four A.M. this morning?”
“I— What?” The coffee cup shook so violently in her hand Peabody reached over to take it from her.
“If you could verify where you were between nine last night and four this morning.”
“Thaddeus.” She pressed both hands over her mouth, began to rock. “Thaddeus. Are you sure? No, no, it’s not possible. It must be a mistake.”
“It’s not a mistake.”
“But how? No, no. How can he be dead?”
“He was murdered.”
Her hands dropped, gripped the edge of the chair seat. “Oh my God. Oh my God. That woman. Was it that woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one he left me for, of course.” She started to push to her feet, swayed, sat again, pale as death. “Marcella Horowitz.”
“Ms. Horowitz was out of town, that’s verified, at the time of his death. I’d like to verify your whereabouts, Ms. Pettigrew.”
“You think I’d hurt him, kill him? I loved him.” Now she pressed a hand to her heart. “Despite everything, I loved him. He’s the love of my life.”
Eyes brimming, she looked up at the portrait. “I’m like Grand that way. We love forever. How did it happen? How did this terrible thing happen to Thaddeus?”