Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(36)

“It’s all right, Julia. It’s just some sort of mix-up. Julia and I spent the evening together.” His color came up again. “I, ah, picked her up about seven-forty-five. We had an eight o’clock at Paulo’s. Then we, ah, came back here. I don’t remember the time.”

“It was a little after ten,” Julia supplied. “We’ve been in since. What’s happened?”

He walked to her, ran a hand down her arm. “Someone’s been killed.”

“Oh, no! Who?”

“I don’t know her, but there’s some confusion about the use of my company card. I need to straighten it out. I can’t think straight,” he added. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

“I’ll do it. No, I’ll do it, Foster. You sit down. Would you like coffee?” she said to Eve and Peabody.

“That’d be great,” Eve answered.

“Foster, sit down with the police. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sorry,” he said when Julia went out. “Sit down. This has just thrown me off. I don’t know how my company account could’ve been used. We change the code every couple of weeks.”

Eve took the ID photo out of her bag. “Do you recognize her?”

He took a good look at the picture, then scooped back his untidy hair and took another, longer study before he shook his head. “No. And I don’t think that’s a face I’d forget. She’s beautiful. Coney Island, you said,” he added when he handed the photo back.

“Yes. You’ve been there.”

He smiled. “I’ve taken my daughter there several times since it reopened. She’s going to be nine next month. I’m divorced,” he said quickly. “Her mother and I have been divorced for several months.”

“Understood. Do you know an Augustus Sweet?”

“I don’t think so. It’s not a familiar name. I meet a lot of people, Officer—”

“Lieutenant.”

“Sorry, yes, Lieutenant Dallas. In my work . . . You already know what I do, where I work. You’d have checked.”

“Yes. Who’d have access to your account information?”

“My admin. Della McLaughlin. She’s worked with me for over fifteen years. She wouldn’t be involved in this. Her assistant, Christian Gavin, would also have the information, but I have to say the same. He’s been with us nearly eight years. Julia.” He smiled again when she came back with a tray, and rose to take it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She stood as he set down the tray. “Should I go?”

“No, please. Lieutenant, I need to go put a block on that account, and initiate a search for use. I may be able to tell you who used it once I do.”

“Go ahead.”

He grabbed coffee, dumped creamer into it. “I’ll only be a couple minutes.”

Julia sat, tugged on her robe. “This is strange and . . . just strange.”

“Can I ask how long you and Mr. Urich have been involved?”

“Involved? I guess about a month, but we’ve known each other for three years. Since our daughters became friends. They’re at camp together. Kelsey’s father and I divorced several years ago. Since Foster and Gemma divorced, Foster and I . . . Well, we spent some time together with the girls, playdates and parks and that kind of thing. And we’d talk. He needed someone to talk to who’d been there. Then . . . it sort of evolved. This is actually the first time we’ve . . . Anyway, I don’t suppose any of that’s relevant.”

You’d be surprised, Eve thought.

“Difficult divorce for Mr. Urich?” Peabody asked, picking up the theme.

“They’re all difficult. But it was civilized. They both love their daughter very much. Gemma just wanted something else. I think that’s what was hardest for Foster to understand. It wasn’t any one thing. She just didn’t want what they had.”

“Is she involved with someone else?”

“I don’t think so. That’s part of the something else. She just didn’t want a relationship. Not now anyway. She didn’t leave for someone else, if that’s what you mean. She’s a very decent person.”

Urich came back, stood on the other side of the coffee table. “It’s my code. Whoever reserved the transportation knew my code, my password. I don’t know how that could be. I’ve ordered a sweep and sniff, to confirm we were hacked. It’s the only explanation I have.”

“Can you think of anyone who’d want to cause you trouble?” Eve asked. “Want the cops at your door at three in the morning?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but frowned into the distance. “When you hold a position with a company like Intelicore as I do, you do generate some resentment, some anger, some hard feelings. People get fired or transferred, or written up. I can imagine there are some who wouldn’t mind seeing me hassled or inconvenienced. There are probably some who’d enjoy hearing I’d been questioned by the police. But this is more than that. This is using my name in connection with murder. No, I can’t think of anyone who’d do that.”

“I’m going to send e-detectives to your office and your home to do their own check of your equipment. Any problem with that?”