Memory in Death (In Death #22)(45)

"Anyone else she didn't get along with?"

"Well, I guess Mama wasn't what you'd call a people person."

"How about people she did get along with, people she was close to?"

"Me and Zana. Always used to tell me she didn't need anybody but me, but she made room for Zana.

She raised me on her own, you know. That was hard. She had to give up a lot to make sure I had a good home. I came first. She always told me I came first."

"I know this is hard. How about her assets? She had the house, right?"

"It's a good place. Can't have a son in the business and not have a good property. She was pretty well set. Worked hard all her life, was careful with her money. Frugal."

"You inherit."

He looked blank. "I guess. We never talked about it."

"How'd she get along with Zana?"

"Good. Things were a little rough at first. Mama—I was all she had, and she wasn't real happy about Zana right off. You know how mothers are." He caught himself, colored. "Sorry, that was stupid."

"No problem. She had a problem with you marrying Zana?"

"Just me getting married, I'd say. But Zana won her over. They get—got along fine."

"Bobby, were you aware that your mother went to see my husband on Friday afternoon?"

"Your husband? What for?"

"She wanted money. A lot of money."

He simply stared, shook his head slowly side to side. "That can't be right."

He didn't look shocked, she noted. He simply looked baffled. "Do you know who I'm married to?"

"Yeah, sure. There were all those media reports after the cloning scandal. I couldn't believe it was you, right up on the screen. I didn't even remember you at first. It's been a long time. But Mama did. She—"

"Bobby, your mother came to New York for a reason. She wanted to contact me again because I happen to be married to a man who has a lot of money. She wanted some of it."

His face remained blank, his voice slow and careful. "That's just not true. That's just not."

"It is true, and it's very likely she had an associate, and that associate killed her when there was no money given. Bet you could use a couple million dollars, Bobby."

"A couple million... You think I did that to Mama?" He got shakily to his feet. "That I'd hurt my own mother? A couple million dollars." His hands went to the sides of his head, squeezed. "This is crazy talk.

I don't know why you'd say things like that. Somebody broke in, came in through the window, and killed my mother. He left her lying on the floor in there. You think I could do that to my own blood? To my own mother?"

She stayed where she was, kept her tone just as brisk, just as firm. "I don't think anyone broke in, Bobby. I think they came in. I think she knew them. She had other injuries, injuries she sustained hours before her death."

"What are you talking about?"

"The facial wounds, bruising elsewhere on her person, all were inflicted sometime Friday night. Injuries you claim you knew nothing about."

"I didn't. It can't be." The words hitched and jumped out of his mouth. "She'd have told me if she was hurt. She'd have told me if somebody hurt her. For God's sake, this is just crazy."

"Someone did hurt her. Several hours after she left my husband's office, where she attempted to shake him down for two million. She left empty-handed. That tells me she was working with someone, and that someone was seriously pissed off. She walked into Roarke's office and wanted two million to go back to Texas and leave me alone. It's on record, Bobby."

There was no color left in his face. "Maybe... maybe she asked for a loan. Maybe she wanted to help me out, with the business. Zana and I are talking about maybe starting a family. Maybe Mama... I don't understand any of this. You're making it sound like Mama was— was—

"I'm giving you the facts, Bobby." Cruelly, she thought, but the cruelty could take him off the suspect list. "I'm asking who she trusted enough, cared for enough to work with on this. The only ones you're coming up with are you and your wife."

"Me and Zana? You think one of us could've killed her? Could've left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room? Over money? Over money that wasn't even there? Over anything?" he said and sank back onto the side of the bed.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because someone left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room, Bobby. And I think it was over money."

"Maybe your husband did it." His head shot up, and his eyes were fierce now. "Maybe he killed my mother."

"Do you think I'd be telling you any of this if there was a chance of that? If I wasn't absolutely sure, if the facts weren't rock solid on his side, what do you think I'd do? Open window, escape platform. Unknown intruder, botched break-in. Sorry for your loss, and that's that. Look at me."

She waited until he took a good long look at her face. "I could do that, Bobby. I'm a cop. I've got rank, I've got respect. I could close the door on this so nobody'd look back. But what I'm going to do is find out who killed your mother and left her lying on that floor. You can count on it."