Reunion in Death (In Death #14)(43)

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Mouton?"

Obviously lost in thought, he picked up the coffee, sipped absently while he stared out at the traffic, listened to his notes.

"No, I've everything I need, Miss..."

"Drake," she said pleasantly, her gaze ice-cold as she watched him sip again. "Janet Drake."

"Yes, well, good luck on your first day, Miss Drake. Just leave the door open when you go out."

"Yes, sir."

She stepped outside the office, and waited. She heard him begin to choke, that shocked, desperate attempt to draw air. Her face held a terrible beauty when she stepped back in to watch him die.

She liked to watch, when the opportunity presented itself.

His face was beet red, his eyes bulging. He'd knocked what was left of the coffee on the floor as he thrashed, and the brown seeped in to stain the stone gray carpet.

He stared at her, the pain and fear alive in the room as he died.

"Go down the wrong pipe?" she said cheerfully, and strolled over as he fell to the floor. "There's been a little change in routine today, Henry." She angled her head, her expression fascinated as his body convulsed. "You get to die."

It was, Julianna thought, the most incredible sensation to witness death come, and know it marched in at the direction of your own hand.

It was a wonder to her more people didn't try it.

When it was finished, she blew him a sassy kiss, and sauntering out, closed the door behind her. A pity it was too early for the shops to be open, she thought as she picked up her handbag and strolled to the elevator. She felt like a nice splurge.

...

Crouched over the body of Henry Mouton, Eve felt anger, frustration, and guilt. None of those emotions would help, so she did her best to clamp down on them.

"This is her work," Eve stated. "How the hell does she just walk in, through building security, and get this guy to drink poisoned coffee? Blending. She blends. Who do I need to be, and that's who I'll be. She had to know he'd be here, alone. This wasn't a lucky shot. And I'm off chasing f**king sheep."

"Lieutenant. Mouton is sheep in French." Peabody held out her PPC. "I looked it up."

"Great, fine. Loopy comes through. A lot of good it did him." Annoyed with herself, she straightened up. "Have him tagged and bagged and turned over to the ME. I need building security discs, the witness who found him, ah... office manager. Data on next-of-kin."

"Yes, sir. Dallas?" Peabody hesitated, then spoke her mind. "You couldn't have stopped this."

"Sure I could have. Turn the right key in the right lock. But I didn't, so we go from here."

When Peabody moved out, Eve took out her notebook and began to plug in data.

"Excuse me. Lieutenant Dallas?"

She glanced back, saw the smartly dressed woman with jet-black hair in perfectly styled waves. "I have to ask you to keep clear of this room."

"Yes, I understand. They told me you were in charge. I'm Olivia Fitch, one of Henry's partners. And his second wife." When her gaze wandered to the body, her lips trembled. But she pressed them together, and her voice stayed steady. "I was hoping you could tell me... something. Anything."

"Is there somewhere we can talk, Ms. Fitch?"

"Yes, of course. My office? I want to be able to tell the staff something," she began as she led the way. "And I need, for myself, to be able to think about this in some rational way."

She opened the door to another corner office. It was similar in size to Mouton's, faced east instead of north, and had a bit more flair and less spartan regimentation.

"This is a difficult time for you."

"Yes, very." Rather than move to the desk or the sitting area, Olivia walked to the wall of windows. "Henry and I were divorced four, no five years ago. He's remarried and this will be a devastating blow for Ashley. His death would have been difficult enough, but murder. I've never known anyone who's been murdered." She turned back. "It shakes me down to the bone."

"Do you know anyone who'd wish Mr. Mouton harm?"

"We're lawyers," Olivia returned with a shrug. "Who doesn't wish us harm? But no, I honestly can't think of anyone who'd do this to Henry. He's an irritating man, impossible to live with in my viewpoint. He's-he was so linear, so absolutely fixated on maintaining his routines, so absolutely set in his ways. You might want to kick him in the ass occasionally, but you wouldn't want to kill him for it."

"Not many people who'd been married would remain business partners."

"Another one of Henry's annoying traits." Tears shimmered, but she held them back. "He was a logical bastard. Why should we have an upheaval in the firm because the marriage was over? Worked together fine before, didn't we? In this case, we were in agreement. The fact is we made better business partners than lovers. I don't know if we were friends. I should probably be asking for my own lawyer by now." She sighed. "I can't work up the energy for it."

"Why would he have been here before office hours?"

"Henry sat down at his desk every blessed morning at seven a.m. Rain, shine, flood, or famine. Whatever else could be said about him, his work ethic was golden. He cared about this firm, about his work, about the law."