Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(96)

“If I hadn’t come, you wouldn’t be pissed off at me, but then I wouldn’t be here to punch.”

“Don’t try to logic me right now. They had a really big night, splashy party, with their private entertainment on the side. Figured on using that party, and each other, for alibis—with the bonus of having a lure for Jonas. One slips out, skewers the chef, then later, the other slips out, hangs the facilitator. And they cover each other.

“You didn’t tell me you owned the building.”

“The majority share, but that wasn’t on my mind when you gave me the address. I knew her a little. Adrianne.”

“Were you a client?”

“No.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, wandered the room. “I can facilitate for myself. And if I don’t have the time, or don’t want to spend the time, I have Caro and Summerset. But she had a sterling rep.”

He touched the frame of a photo where both Adrianne and Wallace smiled, arms around each other’s waist.

“A lovely woman with a lot of style and charm,” he added, “and a talent for fluid thinking. I do know several people who were clients, and worked with her, or with her through Bonita—Wallace,” he added at Eve’s blank look. “How did they get her into the park?”

She ran it by him as she scanned the hard copy of the e-mails.

“This guy, Wasinski, won’t know squat about this. I’ll have to check him out, but he’s the same as the others. Just the dupe—the difference being unlike the others he knew the vic.”

“Adding more connections,” Roarke said.

“Yeah, upping the stakes every time now. Look here, right in his e-mail to her it asks her not to contact him via ’link as he’s in meetings most of the day. Not to leave voice mail, as he wants this to be a surprise and his wife might check his messages, blah blah. Just to use this e-mail account he’s set up—not his regular account—to keep it on the down-low until they check it all out.”

“And she didn’t question it.”

“He’s a client, one she’s known awhile. He uses his daughter’s name, his wife’s name, works in just enough personal stuff. He even mentions he knows she’s been invited to Dudley’s garden party. Why would she question it? It’s probably not the weirdest request she ever got.”

Eve sat on the desk, began to scroll through the most recent correspondence. “Since you’re here and I’m not punching you, maybe you could check out the desk ’link.”

“I’ll do that, on one condition. You stop blaming yourself, right here, right now.”

“I’m not doing that. Exactly.”

She looked at the photo, and noted she’d been right. Adrianne Jonas had been a very pretty woman in life.

“I feel like I’m lagging behind in this contest, and because I am two people are dead. But I also know the contest is rigged. It’s set up so I can’t know who’s a target, and so I have to spend time checking out their dupes and alibis.”

“Why spend the time when you know they’re dupes, and you know the alibis are bollocks?”

“Because I can’t play by their rules. I have to show a judge, and eventually a judge and jury, that I investigated and verified and eliminated. That I compiled the evidence. Maybe this Darrin Wasinski got a wild hair, was carrying on an affair, or wanted to, with the vic. Maybe he decided to try to do a copycat and killed her because she wouldn’t run off to Mozambique, or because she threatened to tell his wife they did the dirty in Mozambique when he was supposed to be in Albuquerque on business.”

“None of which you believe for an instant.”

“Not a nanosecond, but it has to be checked out, verified, eliminated. When I take the dupe out of the picture, leave no wiggle room there, it goes back to the pattern. It goes back to establishing enough probable cause and circumstantial for a search warrant, for me to bring them into the box.”

And, God, she thought, she wanted them there. Wanted those smug, smirking faces in her house.

“These bastards think they’re so f**king smart, so goddamn clever, and more—they think they’re insulated because they’re rich and important, and because I have to play by the rules. But it’s the rules that’ll tie them up and choke them at the end.

“Computer, attempt reply to account on-screen, no message.”

One moment please . . . the account has been terminated. Do you wish to use an alternate?

“No. Cancel. First step—the account he set up for this lure is now closed, and you can bet it was closed by remote. We can work with that.”

“We can.” The steps and time factor of her rules might frustrate him, but he could admit mitering those corners rather than cutting them did the job. “Very good. Anyone in EDD can find you the location of the computer used to set up, then close the account. And they’d certainly know that.”

“So they used another dupe’s comp, or a public with false ID. But it leaves a trail. So far they’re ahead on the trail, but they’re leaving a lot of cookie crumbs to follow.”

He had to smile as he brushed a hand over her hair. “That’s bread crumbs.”

“I’d rather have a cookie. And I pick up enough crumbs I can make a damn cookie. But you’re right about EDD. I’ll get them in here to deal with this.”