Best Laid Plans(100)
“I need her to know that I know she’s a liar. I don’t want to do it on the record. You can listen in.”
Tia frowned. “I think I missed something.”
Barry said, “We have a recording of her and James Everett, the john she was with after Worthington, and her tone and demeanor suggest that was having fun.”
Tia grew angry. “Prostitutes are great actresses.”
“What he means,” Lucy said, “is that less than an hour after she left Harper Worthington dead—and forensics prove that he was dead before she left the room—she was cheerful and almost giddy while playing sex games with another john. And she had the wherewithal to record it. There’s something going on with her, and I want her to think about it on the drive over to detention. There’s more to it than her being afraid of whoever hired her.”
“When I wanted you to play bad cop, Lucy, I wasn’t expecting you to be such a hard-ass.”
Lucy tried to ignore the comment, but it bothered her. “A man was murdered, humiliated in his death, and she won’t tell us who hired her—even when we gave her all the ways she could play the victim card. She needs to understand that we are serious. She tells us the truth, or she goes to jail.”
Tia frowned and looked like she wanted to argue, then her phone rang. “It’s the lab. I have to take it.” She stepped away.
“I guess you really are ready,” Barry said.
“I know how to do the job,” she said coolly.
“Lucy, I didn’t mean anything by the conversation earlier—”
She looked him in the eye. “Yes, you did. You don’t trust me and you called a friend to check me out. And then, you wanted to make sure I knew about it. That’s manipulative. I think you’re a good cop, Barry. A really good cop and I’ve learned a lot working with you this past week. And I’m sincerely sorry that my diligence wasn’t good enough for you.”
He wanted to respond, but couldn’t because Tia came back almost immediately. “That was Stu at the crime lab,” she said. “The paper in Elise’s pocket, the one with the instructions on where to meet, is special order.” She looked from Barry to Lucy. “It’s ordered in bulk by the House of Representatives for all district and capitol offices.”
“Adeline Reyes-Worthington,” Lucy said.
“One sheet of paper? Anyone could have taken it from her office. A staff member. A constituent. Or it was scrapped. There could be a half dozen explanations. There was no letterhead on it, no other identifying marks to say it came from her office. Which her attorney will shove down our throat. We need more.”
“Her husband is dead. That should be enough to talk to the woman.”
“Get Elise to tell us who hired her, and we go from there,” Barry said. He ran his hand through his perfect hair, and it fell right back into place. “While you interview her, I’ll call Juan. He needs to know about Everett, and about the paper.”
Lucy and Tia went upstairs to Elise’s room. She was sitting on the edge of her bed in clothes that weren’t hers. She had on no makeup, and her bleached blond hair was brushed and pulled back with a rubber band, making her mousy brown roots stand out. She looked very young and very innocent. And sad. Lucy wondered if she was wrong about Elise. Maybe she’d been so victimized that she didn’t even understand the seriousness of what she now faced.
Tia said, “Elise, we’ll be bringing you down to SAPD headquarters for a formal questioning process, then you’ll be transported to juvenile detention.”
Elise frowned, her posture both defensive and defiant. “Why?”
“To keep you safe.”
“They’ll get to me anywhere.” She sounded forlorn.
Tia said, “I’m going to wait downstairs for the van. I’ll call you when it’s here, Lucy, and you can escort Elise down.” She caught Lucy’s eye, almost as if to say, Go easy. But she’d tacitly agreed with Lucy’s plan. Tia trusted her, and Lucy wasn’t going to blow this opportunity.
Lucy closed the door. “Elise, I heard the sex tape you made with James Everett. It was sent to him as a precursor to blackmail. That makes you an accessory to blackmail. A very serious charge.”
Elise tilted her chin up. “I didn’t send it to him.”
“But you recorded him without his consent. That tape was made an hour after you killed Harper Worthington.”
“I told you, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t mean to kill him. It was an accident!”
“I don’t know what to believe, Elise. I have a hard time reconciling what happened that night. I know how curare kills. He would have been alive, but completely immobile, for ten to thirty minutes. Yet, while he was suffering—or already dead—you pulled down his pants and sucked his penis.”
Elise turned away. “I didn’t.” She had no anger in her voice.
“Then, you got a ride from someone—I think it was Mona Hill who took you to a much nicer hotel, where you went up to James Everett’s room and gleefully played sex games, giggling and acting like a schoolgirl. Everett is a sick bastard, and I’m not giving him a pass on his disgusting behavior. But it takes a uniquely cold person to leave a dead man half-naked, then screw another john. You had thousands of dollars on you when you were shot. You can’t tell me you needed the money. You’re not even from San Antonio. My guess? You’re originally from Nevada. I will find your parents, I will find out what happened to you there, who started you down this road where you now allow people who don’t give a damn about you to use you like a pawn. You might think that you have the power because men want your body and will pay for it, but that’s not power. That’s hopelessness. The person who hired you—who gave you the poison to kill Harper Worthington—is the person who wanted you dead two nights ago. Why? Because you’re a witness.