Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(117)

“So you kept tabs on her, all this time. You knew the Realignment was bullshit, worse, torture—you’re an educated woman—and you knew Gwen continued to have relationships outside the rules of the order. But you bided your time there. Money and power on the line. You wanted her to meet the terms of her trust as much as she did. You’re the one who pointed her toward Caine.”

“It was going so well, too.” Peabody picked up the rhythm. “He falls for her, they’re engaged. And then she screws it all up with this artist. You need her to get that money—marry the rich guy, have a kid, get the big pot of money. Then you can blackmail her.”

“A nice side income. Sure, she can play her game out, divorce him for cause, move on, but she’ll pay, she’ll keep shelling out to keep you quiet.”

“You can’t prove any of this. It’s nothing but wild speculation.”

“Sure we can. Have proven the bulk of it, and the rest follows.” Eve kicked back. “You plan things out, Mirium, you organize, arrange the steps. But that temper messes you up. You should have waited Ariel out, but you beat her skull in because she would dare, dare to threaten your payoff. You’d have Gwen and her money—or her family’s money—on the hook forever. You know her well enough to be sure she’d pay to protect her image, her status, her fortune.”

“We’ve only known her for a few days,” Peabody added, “and we know she’s a shallow diva who only worries about herself. Golly.” Peabody blinked her eyes. “She’s a lot like you.”

“Yeah, they’re sisters under the skin,” Eve agreed.

“We’re nothing alike.” Mirium hissed it out.

“Well, you’re some smarter, and get some jollies over violence, but otherwise … You’d handle Gwen, right, Mirium, pull in that steady income? Then all you have to do is deal with your father. He’s getting older, he’s vulnerable—too many risky predilections now—and you know where all the bodies are buried. You’ve made sure of it. Your brothers? You can take care of them the same way. You take over, give it a little time. Maybe enough time for the Huffmans to have a fatal accident.”

Eve touched a finger to Ariel’s photo. “All that planning, all that investment, all that patience, that time, all blown to shit because Ariel Byrd fell in love with your pigeon.

“Oh yeah.” Eve held up a finger. “You didn’t have time to get your bloody shirt to the cleaners. Should’ve gotten rid of that, too, but I guess you really liked it. Shoving it in a laundry bag doesn’t take care of the blood. Ariel’s blood. So play victim all you want if that blows up your skirt, but you’re going down for murder, for her murder and all the rest. And Natural Order is finished.”

Now Mirium leaned forward. “Do you think I give one small fuck about the order? A means to an end, nothing more. I had to listen to those rules, that rhetoric, that insulting crap all my life. Born female, I was less, always less. Good for nothing but running a household, pushing brats out of me. He set a deadline. I had less than two years before he married me off to the highest bidder. What do you think about that?”

“I think you should have made other choices. You could’ve walked out.”

“And into what?” Visibly incensed, Mirium threw up her hands. “I was entitled to my inheritance, entitled to be in charge. Jesus Christ, two of my brothers are morons and the half-bastard’s gay. I’m smarter than all of them, and I’m relegated to making sure the furniture’s dusted.”

Eve went with a hunch. “So you asked to recruit.”

“I showed him what I could do, how much I could bring in. God knows we needed it the way these idiot men spend and buy and squander. And still, after all that, he tells me it’s time to do my duty as a woman. I convinced him to give me time, but it was running out.”

“And you already had the Huffman plan in your pocket.”

“Sex is Gwen’s drug of choice. I saved her sorry ass from exposure countless times. I got sick of it. Who wouldn’t? I was so close, and that slut of an artist thought she could ruin things.”

“You showed her,” Peabody murmured.

“You’re damn right I did. I protected myself. And I protected Gwen. Again. When I headed over to that loft, I thought about talking her down. I’d done that with others. I thought about paying her off. I’d done that with others. And I decided the hell with it. I’m sick of it. I heard the music, knew she was up there, and had all those tools up there with her. Just end it, and maybe when Gwen hears about it, she’ll get scared enough to behave herself until she’s married and pregnant.”

“You used the copy of the swipe. You’d gotten it from Gwen’s purse, made a copy.”

“The same time I bugged her ’link. I went in, went up, picked up the hammer, and did what I had to do. I’ve waited my whole life to take what I’m entitled to. Waited, hearing how I’m to serve, to be weak and fertile and obedient. I’m entitled to be who I really am.”

“Yeah, I’d say you crossed that line awhile back.”

“I’m willing to deal.” Mirium folded her hands again. “I want immunity.”

“I want a big glass of dry red wine and twelve hours of sleep.” Eve shrugged. “I’ll get mine eventually. You don’t have a prayer on yours.”