Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(41)

“Any trouble in your arrangement?” Eve asked.

“No. We’d generally go to the hotel once a week. Sometimes he wanted me to stay the night, sometimes he didn’t. He ran the show, and I didn’t have any complaints.”

“Was he rough with you?”

“What? Oh, no, no.”

Composed, almost coldly so, Charity met Eve’s gaze. “Look, Lieutenant, I knew he was taking an aid to keep it all going. And for a man his age, he was in pretty good shape. But I wasn’t attracted that way. The first time, it was curiosity and the circumstances. After that, it was, just—it was what it was. I didn’t say that to him. I just pretended.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” Peabody asked. “Anybody?”

“No, I don’t, so I figured I wasn’t hurting anyone. It was really clear he did this a lot, so I could justify it as far as his wife went. I don’t know her, so I could pretend that didn’t matter, either. I don’t want anyone at work to know, that’s all. I don’t want the gossip, or the looks. I don’t care if I deserve them, I don’t want it.”

“You seem a lot more concerned about gossip than murder. The man’s dead.”

Defiant, Downing jutted out her chin. “And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m just scared. I’m scared I’ll lose my job. I’m scared somebody knew what I was doing—what we were doing, and killed him.”

“Did you feel threatened? Did you feel watched?”

“No. But, I mean, the staff at the hotel, they had to know. I can’t think why any of them would care, but . . . Hell.” She drank again. “It’s not about that, about me. I didn’t really matter. I’m just scaring myself.”

“Do you know anyone who’d wish him harm?”

“I really don’t, but he’d go on about it sometimes. How a man in his position makes enemies. A powerful man makes powerful enemies. He’d talk and talk about his political views—I stopped really listening. Just pretended to.”

“You’re good at pretending.”

This time a hint of a flush rose in her cheeks. “I guess I am. I had an affair with an old man because he could help my career. I pretended to enjoy the sex when I was mostly thinking I hope he doesn’t want me to stay tonight so I can just go home. I listened to him talk, and didn’t disagree out loud. You want to say I prostituted myself, I can’t say I didn’t. But I’ve sold six paintings in the last six weeks, and I know five of them were directly because of him. I was grateful to him for that.”

She knuckled a tear away. “And I’m sorry he’s dead.”

“Where were you yesterday between four and six?”

“I . . . I don’t know exactly. It was my day off. I met a friend for lunch, and after, we got our nails done, did some shopping. Well, looking. And we had a drink somewhere. We decided to go back to my place, I had some pizza in the AutoChef. We just hung out until, I don’t know, maybe nine or nine-thirty. I’m a suspect. Oh my God.”

“We’ll need your friend’s name and contact information.”

“Oh God. God. Lydia. Lydia Su—that’s S-U. She’s the only one who knows about Edward.” She covered her face, then dropped her hands and gave them the contact numbers. “I wouldn’t kill him. He was helping me. I figured he was starting to get a little bored, and all I had to do was wait for him to tell me it was done. Maybe he’d help me a little more if I didn’t make a fuss. Why would I kill him for helping me?”

“How about between midnight and four last night?”

“I was in bed! I went to bed. I did some sketching after Lydia left, but we’d had wine, and I couldn’t concentrate. I was in bed by like eleven, watched screen until I fell asleep. This can’t be happening.”

“Calm down, Charity,” Peabody told her. “We have to ask, we have to check out the information you’ve given us. It’s part of the routine. When did you last see or speak to him?”

“Ah, God, the day before yesterday. He kept it week to week. He contacted me, asked me to dinner. That’s how it worked. We were supposed to have dinner tonight. Then I heard, on the bulletin. I only saw him once a week, as a rule. I saw him last week. Last Thursday night. What should I do now? What should I do?”

“Go back to work,” Eve said.

—

Here’s what I think. You want to know what I think, right?”

“Peabody, I live to hear what you think in all things.”

Eyes narrowed, Peabody climbed back into the car. “You’re being bitchy now.”

“I’m tired of talking to whiny cheaters. I’d rather grill murdering bastards.”

“Well, sure, but you gotta do what you gotta. Anyway, she was whiny, but killing him’s the whole golden goose deal. You can’t get those shiny eggs if you kill the goose.”

“Why would she want shiny eggs? Why would anybody want shiny eggs?”

“It’s like a metaphor.”

“It’s a stupid one because shiny eggs are probably contaminated, then you die. But we only have her word about the eggs anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy to check out.”

“Which we will. Just like we’re going to check out everything and everybody else on the list from today. And how about this? The old, horny goose is getting ready to move on, so no more eggs soon. She’s not ready to give them up, so she gets pushy. You don’t keep giving me eggs, I’m going to go tell everybody you’ve been putting that old thing in my young parts. Fight, blackmail, murder.”