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

“First, because we didn’t know for certain the tea was laced, and that possibility came out after she’d already—pretty vehemently—denied having sex with the vic.”

“That’s right.” Peabody pulled her earflaps down more securely. “We’ve got so many women either saying they paid him for sex, or saying they paid him to keep it quiet after tea-induced sex, we’re going to need a spreadsheet. Or a chart.” She brightened a little. “I like making charts. Anyway, if that’s first, what’s second?”

“Second, because it’s just easier to say no, not me.”

“It is. And it’s knee-jerk, too, at least from the women I’ve interviewed.”

“And third, I bet she was weirded knowing she and her sister had slept with the same guy.”

“That would be weird.” Peabody piled in the car. “My sister—the one closest to my age—and I had a serious thing for the same guy when we were teenagers. So we took an oath that neither of us would move on it. We fought about it first, but we took an oath.”

Peabody settled back. “It turned out he’d have rather our brother moved on him, but we didn’t catch that until we’d taken the oath. Zeke didn’t move on him because he’s not into guys that way, but he’d’ve sworn an oath otherwise.

“It’s going to be great seeing them all on Christmas. I wonder what ever happened to . . . What the hell was his name? Stanley, I think. Yeah, Stanley Physter. But he wanted everyone to call him Stefano.”

“And you didn’t get the g*y?”

“Huh. Good point.”

They went back to the brownstone, were admitted by the same domestic droid. As they sat in the living area, Eve pulled out her PPC. “Look stern,” she said to Peabody.

“Okay.”

“Not constipated, stern.”

Peabody relaxed the look fractionally as Quigley came clipping in.

“I’m sorry. I’m just back from a committee meeting, and was on the ’link. Can I order up anything for you?”

“We’re fine.”

“Do you have more questions about Trey?” she asked as she took a seat. “I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

Eve looked up from her PPC, deliberately turned the screen away, but kept it in her hand. “You can start by telling us why you denied having sex with Trey Ziegler.”

“Because I didn’t have sex with him.”

“Peabody, what happens when an individual lies to the police during an investigation?”

“Charges are forthcoming. Obstruction of justice is generally first, but we can follow that with—”

“We’ll just start there,” Eve interrupted. “And here: You have the right to remain silent.”

“Wait. For God’s sake. This is ridiculous.”

“You’re going to want to listen to your rights and obligations, Ms. Quigley,” Eve advised, then recited the rest of the Revised Miranda. “Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

“I’m not an idiot. Of course I do. And I resent being treated like a criminal.”

“You’re going to have cause for even more resentment then when we take this interview down to Central.” Eve rose.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t force me to go anywhere.”

“Peabody?”

“The suspect can voluntarily be questioned. Or we can get a warrant compelling her to submit to questioning. She is, of course, entitled to a legal rep either way, but the second option could include restraints.”

“This is ridiculous.” Color rode high on her cheeks; her hands balled into fists. “It’s outrageous. I’m contacting my lawyer.”

“Please do. He can meet us here, if you speak voluntarily. Or my partner will get the warrant, and your representative can meet us at Central. Your choice.”

“I tell you I didn’t have sex with Trey Ziegler.”

Eve looked down at her PPC, back at Quigley. “You’re lying.”

“What do you have on there? What are you looking at?”

“Peabody, get the warrant.”

“Wait, wait. Just . . . wait.” Quigley dropped down again. “All this, all this insanity over sex. All right, I slept with him. I didn’t want Tella to know. I don’t want JJ—my husband—to know. I don’t see it’s any of your business.”

“Your bedmate was murdered.”

“Well, I didn’t kill him. Why would I? Over sex?” She waved that away with a flash of the emerald on her finger. “It was stupid—no one likes to broadcast stupidity. It’s humiliating to talk about to strangers, to police. My marriage has been a bit fraught for the last few months.”

“Fraught?”

“We’ve been in a rough patch, and we’re working through it. Marriages have rough patches.” She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “In fact, things are getting better. But, well, I have needs like anyone, and Trey made it obvious he was attracted, that he was interested. He was sympathetic when I told him things weren’t good between me and JJ, and that, well, and that we were sleeping in separate rooms. He suggested he come here, when JJ was away, and give me a private massage.”