Rapture in Death (In Death #4)(33)

“Ms. Bastwick threw herself at Mr. Fitzhugh?” Eve lifted her brows. “That must have ticked you off, Arthur. Knowing that your spouse had no sexual preference between women or men, knowing they were together hours every day during the work week, having her come by, flaunt herself in front of him in your own home. No wonder you were angry. I’d have wanted to deck her.”

“He thought it was amusing,” Foxx blurted out. “He was actually flattered to have someone so much younger and so attractive playing for him. He laughed when I complained about her.”

“He laughed at you?” Eve knew how to play the game. Sympathy dripped in her voice. “That must have infuriated you. It did, didn’t it? It ate at you, didn’t it, Arthur, imagining them together, him touching her, and laughing at you.”

“I could have murdered her.” Foxx exploded with it, batting away his lawyer’s restraining hands as fury spurted color into his face. “She thought she could lure him away from me, make him want her. She didn’t give a damn that we were married, that we were committed to each other. All she wanted to do was win. Fucking lawyer.”

“You don’t care much for lawyers, do you?”

His breath was shuddering. He caught it, let it shudder out until it was even again. “No, as a rule, I don’t. I didn’t think of Fitz as a lawyer. I thought of him as my spouse. And if I’d been disposed to committing murder that night or any other, Lieutenant, I would have murdered Leanore.”

He unfisted his hands, folded them together. “Now, I have nothing more to say.”

Gauging it to be enough for the time being, Eve terminated the interview, rose. “We’ll be talking again, Mr. Foxx.”

“I’d like to know when you’re going to release Fitz’s body,” he said, getting stiffly to his feet. “I’ve decided not to postpone the service today, though it feels unseemly to go on with it with his body still being held.”

“That’s the decision of the medical examiner. His tests are still incomplete.”

“Isn’t it enough that he’s dead?” Foxx’s voice trembled. “Isn’t it enough that he killed himself without you dragging it out, pulling out the small and sordid personal details of our lives?”

“No.” She walked to the door, released the code. “No, it’s not.” She hesitated, decided to take a stab in the dark. “I imagine Mr. Fitzhugh was very shocked and very upset by the recent suicide of Senator Pearly.”

Foxx only jerked his head in a formal nod. “He was shocked, certainly, though they barely knew each other.” Then a muscle jerked in his cheek. “If you’re implying that Fitz took his own life because he was influenced by Pearly, it’s ridiculous. They had no more than a slight acquaintance. They rarely communicated.”

“I see. Thank you for your time.” She ushered them out, glanced down the corridor to the adjoining interview room. Leanore should certainly be inside by now, waiting.

Taking her time, Eve strolled down the corridor to a vending unit, contemplated her choices, jingled loose credits in her pocket. She settled on a Chewy Bar and a half tube of Pepsi. The unit delivered the goods, droned out the standard request to recycle, and offered the consumer a mild warning on sugar intake.

“Mind your own business,” Eve suggested. Leaning back against the wall, she lingered over her snack, dumped the trash into the recycle chute, then walked leisurely down the hall.

She’d estimated the twenty-minute wait would steam Leanore. She was right on target.

The woman was pacing like a cat, elegant legs eating up the worn flooring with quick steps. The minute Eve opened the door, she whirled.

“Lieutenant Dallas, my time is extremely valuable, even if yours is not.”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Eve said easily. “I don’t get to log in billable hours at two K a pop.”

Peabody cleared her throat. “For the record, Lieutenant Eve Dallas has entered Interview Room C to conduct the remainder of the proceedings. The subject has been informed of all rights and has chosen self-representation during this interview. All data has been logged in record.”

“Fine.” Eve sat, indicated the chair across from her. “Whenever you’ve finished prowling, Ms. Bastwick, we can get started.”

“I was ready to begin this procedure at the appropriate time.” Leanore sat, crossed her satiny legs. “With you, Lieutenant, not your subordinate.”

“Hear that, Peabody, you’re my subordinate.”

“Duly recorded, sir,” Peabody said dryly.

“Though I consider it insulting and unnecessary.” Leanore brushed at the cuffs of her trim black suit. “I’m attending Fitz’s memorial in a few hours.”

“You wouldn’t be here, being unnecessarily insulted, if you hadn’t lied in your previous statement.”

Leanore’s eyes went glacial. “I assume you can substantiate that accusation, Lieutenant.”

“You stated for the record that you had gone to the deceased’s residence last evening on a professional matter. That you remained, discussing a case, for twenty to thirty minutes.”

“More or less,” Leanore said, her voice frosty around the edges.

“Tell me, Ms. Bastwick, do you always take a bottle of vintage wine to a business meeting and groom yourself for said meeting in the elevator like a prom queen?”