Echoes in Death (In Death #44)(59)

He turned his back, looked through the glass at the curtain of snow.

“I didn’t socialize with Anthony, though we belonged to the same club—stuffy, old-fashioned place I’m fond of here in the city. We had very little in common otherwise. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d said he bullied her—verbally—domineered, pressured her to be and behave in a certain manner. But you’re saying he used violence?”

“I can’t discuss the details.”

“Touché,” he countered. “I only met her a handful of times. Young, fresh, ridiculously lovely. I never expected the marriage to last, frankly. I assumed one or both of them would become bored and walk away from the marriage. But I never, even saying I didn’t like the man, I never suspected he’d be violent with her. I’m not sure what I’d have done about it if I’d known.”

He came back, sat again. “I have a daughter. She’s the second Wythe in the firm. She married about three years ago and is about to give me my first grandson. I think the world of the man she married. Absolutely the world. And if I learned he’d raised his hand to my daughter, I’d break both his arms. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d known Daphne was being abused. No, I’m wrong.”

He sat back, nodded. “I have a son. Our black sheep, as he opted not to follow me as I followed my father, my grandfather into law. Instead, he’s one of you.” Wythe smiled as he said it. “If I’d known, I’d have gone to Nelson, asked him to look into it.”

“Detective Nelson Wythe,” Eve said, “under Lieutenant Mercer. He’s a good cop.”

“That’s my boy.”

“What about the first wife?” Eve asked.

“I didn’t know her well. As I said, I didn’t socialize with Anthony. I didn’t handle the divorce, but passed that to one of our associates. It’s my understanding Anthony’s ex-wife accepted a monetary settlement and moved out of the country.”

“Okay.”

“Tell Daphne that I and this firm are at her disposal, and that I would like to speak with her at the earliest opportunity. As for her medical bills, those can be paid out of the estate. I can work that, and we can and will advance her what she needs for lodging and living expenses.

“Now, unless there’s more, I’d very much like to go home and have a very large whiskey.”

*

“He was pretty okay for a lawyer,” Peabody commented as they left. “And that was a really good latte.”

“Another check mark in the Disliked Strazza column.”

Stepping out into reception, Eve noted the woman still manned the desk. And was currently being charmed up to the eyeballs by Roarke, who leaned casually against the counter.

He turned his head, aimed that killer smile at Eve. “And here’s my cop, and our own Peabody.”

“What’s the deal?” Eve demanded.

“As I was just telling the delightful Donna, we’re closing down most of the operations for the day, and I’m here to hitch a ride with my wife.”

“I’m not going home.”

“I’ll still take the lift, wherever you’re going. You mind your step out there, Donna.”

“Oh, I will. I like the snow.”

Eve moved straight to the elevator, gave Roarke the hard eye when the doors closed. “She’s old enough to be your mother.”

“Your point?”

Eve only shook her head, ordered Level One Garage. “Did you actually track us to Wythe’s office?”

“It was easy enough. How are you, Peabody?”

“I’m all good. I like the snow, too. I’m thinking of hitting the market when I get home, getting the makings for a pot of soup, maybe some beer bread ’cause it’s quick.”

“Beer bread?” Roarke asked, apparently fascinated.

As Peabody explained—God knew why—the details of making beer bread, Eve ignored the conversation, considered what she knew, didn’t know.

And what came next.

“Go home,” Eve said as they reached their level. “Make the soup and bread of beer.”

“Seriously?”

“Write up what you have on the bartender, write up the interview we just had with Wythe. Check with Santiago and Carmichael on the rest of the guest list, and get me that, and for the thorough, confirm Wythe’s alibi for Saturday night through Sunday morning.”

“Can do.”

“I can get a car to drive you home,” Roarke said.

“Thanks. I’d take it, but I can catch a subway a couple minutes from here, and get downtown without the crazy drivers. I can stick, Dallas.”

“I’m going to work from home myself. It’s desk work for now anyway. We’ve covered the field for today.”

“I’ll cover my list. See you tomorrow. Snow day!” she added, almost dancing away.

“You drive,” Eve told Roarke. “I need to check a couple things.”

As Roarke worked through miserable traffic, she checked her incomings, read the lab report.

“All the blood on the DB and the surviving victim was his and hers. No blood from the assailant. None of his blood in the room, so if Strazza got in a shot, he didn’t draw blood, or none ended up on the crime scene.”