Connections in Death (In Death #48)(67)

As they walked in, Eve noted Cohen looked a lot worse for wear, and the orange jumpsuit didn’t do much for his sallow complexion.

“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering interview with Cohen, Samuel.”

She read off the applicable case files over his as-expected bitching.

Outrageous! Demands to speak to her superior. Threats to have her badge.

“Pipe down!” Peabody snapped, with enough lash in her voice to have Cohen goggling at her

“Who do you think you are?” he managed when he recovered.

“Peabody, Detective Delia.” She sat across from him. “Also known as your worst nightmare.”

Eve might have rolled her eyes, but Peabody coming on strong and pissy left Cohen obviously shaken.

Eve sat, set down the file, and used a flat, cool tone in contrast. “Have you been read your rights, Mr. Cohen?”

“I will not be interrogated by a pair of underlings. I demand to speak to your superior and lodge a formal complaint.”

“Okay then. Samuel Cohen, you have the right to remain silent.”

As she read the Revised Miranda into the record, he talked over and around her. “Do you understand your rights and obligations in these matters?”

“I’ve been harassed, my reputation impinged. I spent the night in a holding cell!”

“Let the record show Mr. Cohen refuses to answer. This interview will be postponed, and the subject returned to holding until such time as a psychiatric evaluation can determine if subject is capable of understanding his constitutional rights.

“We’re backed up on the psych evals, aren’t we, Peabody?”

“Logjammed.” Peabody gave Cohen a ferocious smile. “It’ll be two, three days before they can get to him.”

“I know what game you’re playing,” Cohen said as Eve rose, rattling his restraints as he folded his arms. “I’m not going back to a cell.”

Eve slapped her palms on the table just hard enough to make Cohen jump. “You’re trying to bust my balls over a basic yes-or-no question. Answer or you’ll spend the next seventy-two in a cage, on the wait list for psych.”

“Of course I know my rights and obligations. I’m a lawyer, for God’s sake.”

“And did you give legal advice to Marcus Jones aka Slice and/or any member of the gang known as the Bangers in exchange for financial remunerations, for goods and/or for services?”

He did a decent imitation of an insulted scowl. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are acquainted with Marcus Jones, and, in fact, have a business partnership with him involving several real estate properties?”

He’d obviously had time to work on his outraged and impatient face in holding, Eve thought.

“I’ve already explained the very slight acquaintance with Jones is and has been business. A fact you twisted and used to upset and frighten my fiancée.”

“It’s a considerable financial partnership to form with a ‘slight acquaintance,’ and one even minimal vetting would have revealed as a gang member, and one who’s served time.”

“Forming such a partnership with a questionable character isn’t illegal.”

“No, neither is using money from your—and let me break the news—former fiancée to finance the partnership illegal. Unless, of course, you obtained that money through fraudulent means—which you did. Unless you then created shell companies and underground accounts to then conceal the profits from those ventures, thereby evading the taxes and fees due on same.”

“That’s preposterous. Eldena signed all the agreements and documents.”

“That’s something her lawyer—she’s got one, by the way—will take up with you.” As his mouth opened and closed, she continued, “But she didn’t sign on to those shell companies, to those underground accounts.”

His gaze slid away, pinned itself to the mirrored wall. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You keep really good records,” Peabody said with another ferocious grin. (Somebody else has been practicing, Eve thought.) “Then you add in the stupid by keeping the really good records right on your home-office comp.”

The outrage came back, but this time with the first beads of sweat popping out. “El had no right, no authority, to allow you to compromise my office or the equipment therein. I’ll file a motion to—”

He broke off when Eve opened the file, took out the warrant, pushed it across the table. “Duly authorized. We’ll set aside—for Eldena’s lawyer to pick up—the fraudulent manner in which you bilked a woman who had the poor judgment to trust you. But what I have in here . . .” She began to sift through the papers in the file. “Yeah, multiple accounts set up for the express purpose of tax evasion.”

“Establishing tax shelters is perfectly legal.”

“Not the way you did it—fake names, Sam, fake addresses. You know, tsk. Of course, the feds are going to do more than wag a finger at you over this.”

“There’s absolutely no need to involve the federal authorities.” He patted a hand in the air as if to tell her to slow down. More beads of sweat popped over his top lip. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”