Strangers in Death (In Death #26)(112)

“You’re going to say some spouses sneak in something like that—the decorating crap,” Eve said, anticipating Reo. “Why would she? Every statement we’ve taken on their marriage, on Anders, describes him as indulgent. He wouldn’t have given a shit about that.”

“Then why wait to tell him?” Reo asked. “Picky, I know, but defense attorneys are, as a rule.”

“It was her congratulations present to herself. She didn’t bring it out until after she’d done the old man. Until that was behind her. Weeks after that, she hires Charles Monroe, telling one of her friends—out of the goddamn blue—that she and her husband are sexually incompatible. She revs up the mommy retreat program, and starts to scope. Here, she approaches Petrelli, whose family has ties to organized crime. She suggests Petrelli might find a way to dispose of Anders, who she claims is a pervert. That craps out. She approaches Gordon, an LC who is also in the program, and asks for details about kink. And finally, she finds her mark here, with Custer.”

“Suzanne was prime bait,” Baxter put in.

“Detective Yancy executed a composite of Ava with the style and color of hair witnesses reported re Ned Custer,” Eve added. “We’re going to find somebody who’ll put her in the bar, in the flop.”

“Do it, because I’d love to bring her down.” Reo closed her notebook. “Can you get me a confession?”

“That’s the plan. I need to get her out of the house so we can go in and cop the wig without her being aware. Feeney, I need you to mock me up a disposable ’link exactly like that one. We’ve got her statements on record. I want to hear her voice come out of it. Baxter, talk to Suzanne again, make sure she’s clear on exactly what Ava said the morning Anders was murdered. Peabody, put a couple of the men in soft clothes on the sleazy side. Roarke, see if your acquaintance will come down. He’s not going to have to say a thing. Reo will give him immunity and I’ll authorize two bills.”

“What am I giving immunity for?”

“We’ll get to that. I want Petrelli and Gordon in here, and the night clerk from the flop. Trueheart I’m going to be sending you to bring Ava in.”

He blinked as if something had flown into his eyes. “Sending me?”

“You won’t worry her. You’re too young and pretty, and you’re going to apologize. If she cries lawyer, she cries lawyer, but I don’t think she will. Not right off. Take another uniform. A young, green one. I’ll tell you when to go, and how to handle her. What are you smiling at?” she asked Roarke.

“It’s such an interesting show you’re planning.”

“Yeah, so let’s work out the song and the dance.”

It wasn’t a stretch for Trueheart to appear apologetic and accommodating. Even with seasoning a la Baxter, he remained a sweet-natured, happy-to-help kind of guy. Young and fresh, and—to the careless or cynical eye—not all that smart. What Ava saw were two young, handsome, somewhat bumbling cops who seemed embarrassed with their current duty.

“I’m awfully sorry, ma’am.” Trueheart added a pained smile. “I know it’s an inconvenience, especially at such a difficult time, but the lieutenant—”

“Yes, it’s very inconvenient, and a very difficult time. I fail to see why I should have to go downtown. Why doesn’t the lieutenant come to me?”

“Um, she would, ma’am, but she’s in this meeting with the commander and the chief, about the, ah…the, ah, media problem in regards to the case.”

“Taking some licks for it.” The second uniform delivered his first scripted line on cue.

“Come on.” Trueheart frowned him down. “And I believe Chief Tibble would like to personally apologize to you about the media stuff. So we were sent to transport you down to Central.”

“Young man, I understand you’re just following orders, but you can’t possibly expect to bundle me in the back of a police car, to add that kind of mortification on top of everything else.”

“Ah, well, um…” Trueheart glanced at his companion, who only shrugged helplessly. “If you wanted to call a cab, I guess—I don’t know. Maybe I could call in and ask—”

“Nonsense, that’s just nonsense. I’ll take my own car. I’m free to come and go as I please, aren’t I? I’m not under arrest, am I?”

“Oh gosh, no, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am on the first part. We could follow you in. I’m sure that’s okay, and I could arrange a parking permit in the VIP visitor lot. Would that be all right?”

“I’d think it’s the least you could do, and thank you. Now, I’ll have to ask you to wait outside while I—”

“You didn’t do the RM.” The second cop delivered his next line, and Trueheart flushed and shifted his feet.

“I don’t know that we’re supposed to—”

“My sergeant kicked my ass—pardon me, ma’am—for not just yesterday. I don’t want to screw up again.”

“Okay, okay. I’m awful sorry, Mrs. Anders, but we’re just going to read you the Revised Miranda before we go, since you’re going to be talking to the lieutenant about the investigation. A formality thing.” Trueheart added an earnest, and nervous smile. “Is that all right with you?”