Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(71)

“He slipped you something.”

“He gave me Whore and a chaser of Rabbit. My husband did that to me.” She pressed her lips together for a moment, gripped the chains around her neck as if they were an anchor keeping her in place. “I like sex. I like a lot of sex, but this wasn’t voluntary. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I thought, when I surfaced, we’ll say, that I’d just overdone it with the alcohol and drugs, with the experiment. Physically I felt sore and sick and blurry for days, enough that Sly had the house droid keep me in bed and bring me soups and teas until it passed. But worse, I had flashes for months after, where I swore I saw Winnie’s face over mine, heard his voice, felt his body. Sly never asked me to repeat the experiment, and told me I imagined things, so I let it go. But part of me knew, from the way Winnie looked at me, I hadn’t imagined it.”

When Patrice lapsed into silence, Eve leaned forward so their eyes met. “Do you need a break?”

“No. No, let’s just get it done. One day I was waiting for a friend at Chi-Chi’s. We were going to have lunch and do some shopping, and the pro slipped into the chair across from me. I was surprised, to say the least. She said there were lines, and my husband had crossed them, but she would deny ever having spoken to me if I told him. She told me he’d given me drugs, and he’d let his friend have me when I was under them.”

Her voice faltered, but she took a long drink of water and came back stronger.

“Maybe I didn’t care, and that was my business. She could lose her license if she engaged with a client who used illegals, so she would deny that, too, if it ever became an issue. But I had a right to know he’d abused me. She told me they’d recorded it. Recorded taking turns with me. That she’d said and done nothing because she was afraid of them, because she was new, because my husband was her client. And she left before I spoke a word, before I could think of a word to speak. I knew she told me the truth.”

“Do you want more water?” Eve asked her.

“No, I’m fine. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.” But she took a deep breath. “I waited. It took weeks. I had to search when he was out of the house, when I knew I’d have plenty of time. But eventually I found the disc. I made a copy, which I still have. Which he knows I still have. I confronted him, and I suppose—technically—I blackmailed him. I got one hell of a settlement in the divorce.” She breathed again, sat back. “I suppose that was cold and mercenary.”

“Personally, I think it was fucking smart.”

That spectacular smile shone again. “Thanks. I’ve never told anyone. Not even my husband—my third—whom I do love, very much. I married a second time before I was over what had happened, and that was a mistake. But Quentin and I have a good marriage, a good life, and I’d rather, even now, he didn’t know. But Felicity thought it was important, vital even, that you understand who these men are.”

“It is. Very. Excuse me a minute.” Eve rose, pulled out her communicator and stepping away contacted Peabody. “My partner’s going to bring in some pictures for you to look at. Is that okay?”

“Yes, all right.” Her fingers closed over her chains again, twisted them, untwisted them. “Should I get out of town?”

“I don’t think there’s a problem for you, but I understand you often travel in the same circles—same place, different times. I’d keep to those different times.”

“That’s easy enough.”

“Are they usually together—in that same place, same time?”

“Often, from what I read, what I hear. They like to gamble and compete, and preen. Well, we all preen, it’s part of what we do. I do see them a bit here and there, and make it a point—it’s pride—to speak to him when I do. But it’s show. We don’t really socialize, we don’t have mutual friends who are actual friends. I think you understand.”

“Yeah.”

“Oddly, I’ve never been afraid of either one of them until now. I figured I had the upper hand, and it was all so long ago. It hardly seems real. Then Felicity called today, and suddenly it was very real, and I’m afraid.”

“Do you want protection, Pat?”

“I can get my own, and I think I will, but thank you. Do you really believe they’ve killed two people?”

Eve kept her gaze steady so Patrice could see the truth in them. “At this point Moriarity and Dudley are persons of interest in my investigation. I have no evidence against either of them at this point.” She waited a beat. “Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand perfectly.”

When Peabody walked in, Eve gestured her over. “This is Detective Peabody. Patrice Delaughter.”

“Thanks for coming in, Ms. Delaughter.”

She smiled, but it lacked some of the earlier brilliance. “It’s been an experience.”

“I’d like you to look at these pictures.” Eve opened the folder, began to spread out the shots. “Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

“Her.” Eve had barely set out the ID photos when Patrice laid a finger on Ava Crampton’s. “That’s the pro Sly hired. She’s older, of course, but I know her.”

“This is the licensed companion Sylvester Moriarity hired when you were married, and who subsequently spoke to you regarding the night you were her clients?”