“Violent ex-husband,” Roarke surmised. “Still worried there, I’d say. Just the standards on Fassley’s, so either she can’t afford the extras, or she isn’t worried about someone forcing his way in.”

“I’m betting on the second.” Eve pressed the buzzer on Ruzaki’s door.

It only took a moment for the cautious voice to come through the intercom. “Yes?”

“Lieutenant Dallas and civilian consultant, NYPSD.” She held up her badge. “We’d like to speak with Una Ruzaki.”

“About what?”

“Ms. Ruzaki?”

“Yes.”

“It would be easier if we came in to speak with you.”

“Would you hold your badge a little higher? I’m going to contact the police and verify it.”

“Sure. Contact Cop Central.”

While they waited, Eve heard the murmur of entertainment screens, occasional kid squeals. Then the locks opened.

“I’m sorry. It’s better to be careful.”

“No problem.”

A quiet-looking brunette, Eve thought, mixed race, about five-three, on the thin side. She was dressed in what looked like plaid pajama pants, a white T-shirt, and bright red house skids.

“What’s this about? Sorry, come in.”

The living area was decorated in quiet colors like the woman, except for an area sectioned off in a kind of playroom. That held brightly colored blocks and toys in a bin. Another section held a small table and chairs. The tablet, the glass of something fizzy indicated Una had been sitting there when they arrived.

“Your name’s come up during the course of an investigation. We believe you might be able to provide additional information.”

Her fingers twisted together to match the nervous expression on her face. “What kind of investigation?”

“I’m Homicide.”

“Oh. God. Wait.” She hustled down a short hallway, peeked in a room, then quietly closed the door. “My son. He’s only three. I don’t want him to wake up and hear … I don’t know anything about a murder. Is it someone I know?”

When her lips pressed together, Eve read both hope and dread on her face.

“Do you know Nigel McEnroy or Thaddeus Pettigrew?”

“No, I … wait, I heard about that killing uptown. The McEnroy person. I heard about that. I don’t know … I know someone named Pettigrew, but she’s a woman.”

“Darla Pettigrew. Thaddeus Pettigrew was her ex-husband. You may have missed the reports that he was also murdered.”

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I didn’t know either of these men.”

“You knew women connected to them, women in your support group.”

She went very stiff. “I go to a support group for women, it’s confidential. It’s anonymous. We only use first names.”

“I’m aware of that. I’ve spoken to Natalia Zula, who formed the group. I’ve spoken to three other members, ones connected to the victims.”

“But I’m not. I didn’t know them.” Stress spiked through her voice. “I don’t know anything.”

“Would you like your drink, Ms. Ruzaki?” Though Roarke spoke gently, quietly, she jerked. “Let me get it for you.”

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