Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)(44)

“I don’t know that. You gave him details?”

“I thought I was in love with him. I thought he was in love with me. His family . . . they understand business. Jordan’s more interested in the arts—and really that’s not entirely true, either. He’s more interested in women, and how to use them—wealthy women. But I thought he had an interest in my business—a caring interest—and I shared some of my thoughts, plans, hopes with him. He had advice, sometimes it was reasonably good advice. And he listened, he was supportive. And I was an idiot.”

“I don’t think so,” Peabody put in. “You cared for him, and thought he felt the same. You thought of him as a partner, on a personal level.”

“I did. I thought . . . I really thought we had a future together. More fool me.”

“We need to be able to share with our partners,” Peabody continued. “To talk to them, to have them listen. It’s natural and human.”

“I hope I feel that way again someday—when I find someone worthy of trust. But now—I said I despised him, and I don’t say that lightly. But I can’t believe he’d have had any part in what happened. In terrorizing that family, in killing people. I might’ve died, too. We slept together for months, all but lived together.”

“Why did you break it off?” Eve asked her.

She sighed now. “He’d started to ask for money. Just a loan. The first time I didn’t think much of it. Just a few thousand—cash. The second time, those few weeks ago, it bothered me. He’d never paid back the first, and obviously didn’t intend to. I balked, he let it go. But then I found out he’d been cheating. Another woman—wealthy, of course, and married in this case. When I confronted him with it, he shrugged it off. Literally shrugged,” she added, her eyes glittery with temper.

“He’d needed the money I hadn’t been willing to give him, so he’d tapped another source. Really, it was my fault—or so he said.”

“Ballsy,” Eve replied.

“I wish I’d kicked him in them. Still, I did kick him out, then and there. It didn’t seem to bother him a bit. In fact, he said he’d finished with me in any case.”

“Despised seems kind of a wussy word.”

Karson smiled a little at Eve. “It does, doesn’t it? Regardless, he’s not a violent man. A user, an opportunist, a lazy, worthless son of a bitch, but not a man who’d kill.”

“He might have been a man who’d know others who would.”

“Oh, Christ, I don’t know. What time is it? Early.” She answered her own question as she glanced at her wrist unit. “Too early to tag up Juliette. My friend,” she added. “Someone to lean on.”

“Tell me about his friends, his associates.”

“I don’t know many of them well. I liked some of them. Fun, witty, interesting. Others? Well, fun for the short bursts, more biting than witty, and interested more in the next party or adventure. A lot of illegals—and after I made a point about that to Jordan, we didn’t go to many parties. I have a business, a reputation. I wasn’t going to get caught up and have my name and my company splashed over the media by being photographed at some party where Erotica and Buzz are offered like canapés.”

“Gambling?”

“Of course. Legal and, I’d assume, not. Most of these could afford to gamble.”

“Did any of them show an interest in your business, in the merger?”

“Lieutenant, these types—or the ones Jordan liked particularly—don’t worry overmuch about business or working. They party, they travel. I might have had a few casual conversations about Econo, but I honestly don’t remember any particular questions or interest.”

“Did you know Jordan was laundering money through his art gallery?”

Karson let out a long breath. “Was he? Of course he was. It makes perfect sense. How stupid could I possibly be? He wanted me to pay for the art I bought with cash—I wouldn’t. I bought some for the company, through the company—and there are rules. And I bought some for myself, but I wanted the paper trail.

“I told him too much,” she said dully. “I trusted him too much, and he broke that trust in so many ways. He broke it by telling someone what I’d shared in confidence. For his ego or for money, both are the same to him, really. And because of that, people are dead. Because I wanted someone to lean on, and thought I’d found him.”

“You’re not responsible.” Eve spoke briskly. “If Banks was, he paid a price for it, a high one. But you’re not responsible. And you’re very likely not the only one who shared details with someone they trusted. The men responsible found ways to exploit that.”

They left her staring through a forest of flowers to the window and the gray sky beyond.

*

Pearson’s Upper East Side redbrick mansion rose four stories. It stood dignified, its tall windows blank eyes as the sleet turned to rain.

“We’re a little early,” Peabody noted as Eve stepped under the portico over the grand double entrance doors.

“They’ll deal.” She noted the security, discreet but thorough as she pressed the bell.

Good morning. The computer-generated voice carried a pleasant, neutral tone. Due to a death in the family, the Pearson family is not currently receiving visitors.