Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(16)

“Great.”

She saw Shelby’s eyes track to her board—not surprising. What surprised her was the way Shelby’s eyes widened.

“Problem, Shelby?”

“I—no, sir, Lieutenant. It’s just … I know her.”

“You knew my victim?”

“No, sir, I don’t believe so. I know—knew—Gwen. Gwendolyn Huffman. You have her boarded as prime suspect.”

“How do you know her?”

“I …”

Eve had picked Shelby for Homicide because she’d judged her as solid. Nothing until now had changed that opinion. Before Eve could speak again, she watched Shelby square herself.

“Knew her is more accurate than know, sir. I haven’t had any contact with her since we were, um, fifteen. I was fifteen. I think she was, or maybe sixteen. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I’m sorry, sir, I’m a little thrown off.”

Clearly, Eve decided, and gestured Shelby inside.

“How did you know her?”

“My uncle has a beach house in the Hamptons. He won the lottery.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, sir, Lieutenant.” A smile came and went. “Sixty-five million. Back when I was about eleven or twelve. He opened a restaurant there, too, and still works as chef. That’s what he did—does—he’s a chef, but he has his own place now. He has us up every summer, the whole family. For two weeks, or as long as we can manage. Gwen’s family has a house there, too, and spent most of the summer there. So we met when I was about thirteen, I guess.”

Shelby cleared her throat, looked back at the board. “Our brothers hung out. My brother was a couple years younger than hers, but they both played guitar, so they hung out, tried writing songs together. I know her brother plays clubs and sessions in Vegas because he’s still in touch with mine.”

“But you’re no longer in touch with the sister.”

“No, sir.”

“Because?”

Shelby blew out a breath. “The summer I was fifteen, Gwen and I got to be more than friendly.”

“Okay.” Eve rose, moved around Shelby to close the door. “Have a seat. Watch your ass, that chair bites. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black is fine. Black is good. I appreciate it, sir.”

Eve programmed coffee, considered her officer.

Shelby sat very straight. She’d done something with her hair—dashed blond through the brown. People were always doing things like that. She wore it short, shorter than Eve’s own, and it suited her young, pretty face. Not a face so earnest and green as Trueheart’s had been when Eve had brought him into Homicide.

No, Shelby had more edge to her.

Eve handed her the coffee, took her own back to her desk. Sat.

“Your private life is your own, Shelby. But any insight you can give me into Gwendolyn Huffman will aid our investigation. The victim, an artist, a sculptor, had the back of her head caved in with one of her own mallets. This occurred shortly after, evidence shows, she and Gwen had sex in the victim’s bed. Further evidence leads us to believe they had an argument.”

“I never knew Gwen to be violent, sir, not like that. Bitchy, demanding, um, manipulative, yeah.”

“She called nine-one-one from her apartment on the Upper East Side. We have her statement, and the evidence supports that she traveled down to the victim’s apartment-slash-studio this morning, very early. She claims she had an eight o’clock sitting for a statue, for her future husband. She arrived considerably before eight, claimed the victim’s door was unsecured, and she went inside, found the body, then, due to shock, left, went back uptown before she gathered herself to call it in. More than an hour after she found the body.”

Shelby took a moment, sipped at her coffee. “I think her statement is probably inaccurate on several points.”

“Hey, me, too.”

“Her brother’s estranged from her and his parents, but he still gets bits now and then, and tells my brother, who tells me. I knew she was engaged. A lawyer, wealthy family. Unless she’s dramatically changed, money and social status are very important to her. She wouldn’t want her other relationship to come out. Her parents are very strict and conservative. It’s more than that.”

Shelby paused, drank more coffee. “Unless that’s changed, too, they belong to a group called Natural Order.”

Now Eve sat up straight. “Those people are crazy.”

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant. I completely agree. It’s not what you’d call a church, though they managed to get that status, but they sure do preach. No mixed or same-sex marriages—or relationships. Outlaw licensed companions, take women’s reproductive rights back a couple centuries. No method of birth control but abstinence, and absolutely no premarital sex.”

“Didn’t they buy their own country or something?”

“Sort of. An island. People, rich ones like the Huffmans, helped finance that. Gwen’s parents? If they knew she was seeing another woman?”

Shelby shook her head, drank more coffee.

“When I was fifteen, sir, I knew my orientation. My parents, my brother, my sister, my family, they all knew. It was just who I was, no issue. Gwen’s, on the other hand, were of a different mindset.”