Festive in Death (In Death #39)(109)

“Forget the lawyer. I want to know what Natasha said.”

“Are you waiving your right to have your legal representative present during interview?”

“Fine, yes. What did she say to you?”

“Let the record show Mr. Copley has voluntarily waived said right. What did she say?” Eve turned straight around to face him, smiled. “She said the son of a bitch tried to kill me. Lock him up and toss the key.”

“You’re lying. You’re a lying bitch.”

“Now, JJ, you’ve got to expect her to be a little upset when you bash her in the head, when she’s spending her Christmas in the hospital.”

“I never touched her. I never hit her. I was upstairs. I’ve already told you. I was upstairs. I had the game on. I fell asleep.”

“Fell asleep? That’s a new one. Are you going to keep doing these add-ons? Because I can tell you, the story’s not getting better.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Dallas.” Peabody bopped her shoulders. “You’ve got to give him a little credit for trying to add some texture to the overall bullshit.”

“I drifted off.” He set his jaw. “I played eighteen holes, shot a sixty-eight. That’s four under par.”

“Wow. Aren’t you special?” Peabody commented.

“Just shut your mouth, you ignorant twat.”

“Aw, Dallas, he called me a twat. How come you get to be a bitch, but I only get to be a twat.”

“It’s the rank,” Eve told her. “You’ll make bitch one day.”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

“I’ll make you both sorry. I’ll make you both pay.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Eve levered back, smirked at him. “Do you want to brag about your golf game, exchange insults, or add more texture to your bullshit story? It’s all the same to us.”

“Goddamn it, I was upstairs. I heard her scream. It took me a minute, maybe a couple minutes, because I thought maybe it was a dream. I was asleep, a little groggy. I got up, and I called for her, and I ran out. I ran downstairs.”

“Why downstairs?”

“Because that’s where the scream came from.”

“If you were asleep, how do you know where it came from?”

“I just knew.” He slapped both fists on the table. “I ran in, and I saw her on the floor, and I saw the other one—Tella’s girl.”

“Tella’s girl?”

“That’s right. And I heard something.” His eyes flickered away. “Like somebody running maybe. Maybe a door closing.”

“Seriously? Now there’s running footsteps and closing doors?”

“That’s some rich bullshit texture,” Peabody put in. “You’ve got to admire it.”

Eve snorted out a laugh for form. “Right. So, JJ, why didn’t you mention these mysterious running footsteps and closing doors to the responding officer? To me in previous interview? Or, to any f**king body before this moment?”

He swiped beads of sweat from his forehead, more from his upper lip. “I didn’t think about it at the time because I could only think about my wife. I had to help Tash.”

“How? Not by calling for help.”

“I didn’t have time! I was in shock, and then the police were at the door, and everything happened so fast. I was upstairs when somebody killed that woman and hurt Tash. I want to talk to my wife, goddamn it. She’s confused and scared, and she has to be worried about me.”

“Her worry? That you’ll try to kill her again. She’s done with you, JJ. She’s done, Felicity’s done. You’ve got nothing and no one.”

“You leave Felicity out of it.” To Eve’s shock, tears swam into his eyes. “You told her lies about me, didn’t you? She left me! You told her lies, and she left me. I love her!”

“Who? Your wife or Felicity.”

“I . . .” He pulled himself in. “Both. In different ways.”

“The different ways where you tell your wife you’ve broken it off, and you tell Felicity your wife doesn’t understand you?”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“Christ, JJ, do you think we haven’t had your type in here before? How many times, Peabody?”

“Couldn’t count them.” Peabody cast her dark eyes to the ceiling, shook her head. “But they all think they’re originals.”

“They’re so damn simple. Here’s how it went. You bragged to Ziegler about the hot dancer you had on the side. He blackmailed you. You finally had enough, even though you’d been paying him off with money you extorted from your wife.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“We found the other accounts, JJ. Offshore, shell corporations. You’re an amateur. Ziegler kept a book. Your name’s in it. The money you paid him is on record.”

Eve pushed up. “You went to his apartment to tell him you were done, to show him who was boss. He worked in a gym, for God’s sake. Who did he think he was? But he wouldn’t let you off the hook. You lost your temper—you’re good at it. You picked up the trophy and you struck him, struck him again.”

“No panic attack that time,” Peabody added. “Not when you’d finally solved the problem. It felt good. It felt like something you should have done a lot sooner. Without him in the way, you were free and clear.”