Forgotten in Death(113)

“Yeah. Reo’s talking to the PA. She’s using your office.”

“I figure we’ll take the Singers—him first—in the morning. They’re lawyering, as expected, and given the time, her age, blah blah, they’re going to want to wait.”

“Copy that.”

“But I want to talk to Marvinia, get anything we can. Then release her. She’s not in this.”

“Yeah, I got that, too.”

“Here.” She started to take off the topper, winced. “Fuck, shit, bitch! Okay. Take this back, will you, and ask Reo to join us. Damn, and bring in some water.”

“No, don’t toss the pack. Keep it on. It’s not like she’s a suspect you have to intimidate. She saw what happened, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Okay.”

She kept the pack, walked back to the interview room. “My partner’s bringing you water. She and the APA will join us. Roarke, if you’d like to wait in my office.”

“Can he stay? He’s someone I know, at least a little. Is it all right? Would you stay?”

“Sure, he can stay.” She buzzed Peabody. “We need another chair.”

“She—she shot you. With a gun. I saw…”

“I’m wearing protective gear.”

“I’ve never seen anyone shot. It was horrible. They, they shot that poor girl. You said she was … was Bolt’s girl.”

“I think he should tell you the details there.”

“Does he know what happened now?”

“Yes.”

Tears began to slide. “He may never want to see me again. How could I blame him?”

“That’s not at all true.” Roarke spoke up, soothing, kind. “Your daughter-in-law, nearly the first thing she said when they learned what happened is you’d never be a part of it.”

“I wouldn’t. I swear to you, I didn’t know. She was pregnant. My grandchild.” She took a breath. “She didn’t meet Elinor Singer’s standards, did she?”

“I don’t believe so. Ms.… Kincade,” Eve remembered. “You met Detective Peabody. This is Cher Reo with the prosecutor’s office.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Peabody said, and Marvinia burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This isn’t helping. Tell me how I can help. I need to help.”

“If you could think back, probably late August, early September of 2024.”

“That’s when it happened? Yes, I remember that time very well because J.B. and I had separated, had been separated several months. I was seriously considering divorce. We’d been fighting all the time, over Bolt, mostly, and what he was doing with his life. I wanted him to be happy, to do what he loved. They—or Elinor—wanted him back in New York, in the company. His duty, his legacy, all of that. We argued about Bolt, we argued about his mother. Even when we traveled, he spoke to her every single day. And when we came back, it was to that house.”

She cracked the seal on the water, drank.

“I hate that house. Hated it from the first moment I saw it. We fought about how J.B. lived his life. He wasn’t responsible back then. Or ever,” she added after a moment. “Charming, sweet, romantic, but never responsible. Even when he took over Singer, Elinor ran it, or covered his irresponsibility, his mistakes.”

With a murmured thanks, she took tissues Peabody offered, then mopped at her face.

“It’s not love with her. It’s the Bolton-Singer name, it’s how it’s perceived. And it’s bloodline.

“I was going to ask for a divorce, try to mend fences with Bolt, and J.B. came to me, he asked me for another chance. He seemed so contrite, so eager to try to make our marriage work again. We’d take a long trip—no partying, just the two of us. We’d reconnect. I loved him, so after some time, I gave in.”

She closed her eyes. “And now I see he came to me after they’d done this. He wanted me back, that cushion, wanted to get away from what he’d done. Just bury it. I let him.”

“You didn’t know,” Eve said.

“No, but I wanted everything he said to me then to be true, so I made it true. He even promised we’d leave Bolt alone, let him try to make a go of it with his music. At least another year.”

“Can J.B. lay brick?” Reo asked.

Marvinia pressed a hand to her mouth and nodded. “Certainly not very well, but his father would have insisted he learn the basics. But they spoiled him, you see. Her especially, and his father died so young really, so it was all her. That doesn’t excuse him, and I won’t excuse him, but she dominates him. In the last ten years or so, I’ve let her dominate me far too much and too often. She’s a hundred and five years old. I could justify living in that house for duty. My husband’s mother, my son’s grandmother.”

Eve took out Johara’s photo. “Did you ever see her?”

“Oh, oh, is this her? Oh, she’s lovely. Lovely. Bolt never told me about her.”

“He will now. He told Lilith everything before they got married.”

“Good, that’s good.” Gently, very gently, Marvinia brushed her fingertips over the face in the photo. “They have a strong marriage, they have a strong family. Wonderful children. I would have had another grandchild.