Forgotten in Death(36)

“I’d like to see that john.”

Jamal blinked at her. “You want to see the toilet?”

Koby elbowed him. “She’s investigating, numbnuts.”

She got the make and model and photo of the toilet, checked with the cousins—no help—and left to do the notification.

“Enterprising, entertaining, and interesting men, the Dell brothers,” Roarke commented. “I’ll wager their mother is a force.”

“I wonder how many dollars she ended up collecting from them over the years. This notification could be messy, especially if you hit the mark, and I think you did, about her still being in love with Delgato.”

“I expect it will be. And I expect, when you dig in, you’ll find that very fine toilet fell off a Singer supply truck—metaphorically.”

“Yeah, he was skimming, helping himself to supplies. And he was helping somebody else do that and more. Enough more it’s worth two dead bodies.”

Once she’d found a parking spot, and they’d walked a block and a half to the townhome, Eve paused again.

“If she gets sloppy, I need you to be Peabody again. You go soft.”

“All right.”

“You lean that way anyhow.”

As do you, he thought as they walked up to the door, or notifications wouldn’t be so hard.

Eve pressed the buzzer.

Angelina had shed her work suit for an oversize tee, leggings, and house skids. She sent Eve a molten glare.

“What now?”

“Could we come in and speak with you?”

“Why? Whatever Carmine’s done has nothing to do with me. You see this?” She tapped on the glass of white wine in her hand. “I’m about to drink this halfway decent glass of chardonnay as a reward for a long day, and have a little dinner and relax. Tell him if he needs bailing out to call his bookie.”

“Ms. Delgato, it’s important we speak with you.”

“Then freaking speak so I can drink my damn wine.”

“It would be better if we came in.”

“Oh for—” She broke off with a hiss, but waved her free arm as she stepped back. “Fine, you’re in.”

“Could we sit down?”

Angelina arched her eyebrows. “Want some hors d’oeuvres while we’re chatting?”

“We’ll try not to keep you long. If we could sit down for a moment.”

She turned on her heel, marched into the sunny living area with the furnishings done in rich corals and tropical blues. She dropped into a chair, waved again at the sofa and its army of fussy pillows.

“Sit, say it. It took me over twenty-five years to accept Carmine wasn’t ever going to change and shut him out of my life. And that’s what I’m going to do the minute you’re out the door again.”

“Ms. Delgato, I regret to inform you Carmine Delgato is dead.”

Angelina froze with the wineglass halfway to her mouth. “What are you talking about? You’re not even real cops, are you? This is one of his ploys to get me to take him back, and it’s just sick.” She lurched to her feet. “Get out.”

“Ms. Delgato. I’m Lieutenant Dallas with the NYPSD.” Eve held up her badge. “You can contact Cop Central and verify my badge number. I know this is difficult, but you’re Mr. Delgato’s next of kin, and it’s my duty to inform you.”

“Why did you come here before if you’re saying he’s dead?”

“We were unaware Mr. Delgato had moved from this address, and wanted to interview him regarding an investigation. When we reached his current address, he did not answer the door, and the building super allowed us entry. Upon entry we found Mr. Delgato hanging from a rope in his apartment.”

“You’re saying he hanged himself?” Her face went dead white, then instantly, furiously red. “I know you’re lying! Carmine would never commit suicide.”

“I didn’t state he had.”

“You just said…” Now, breath hitching, Angelina lowered slowly into the chair. “You’re saying somebody killed him?”

“We haven’t determined self-termination or homicide.”

Angelina closed her eyes, held up a hand to stop Eve from continuing. After an obvious struggle for composure, she opened her eyes. She drank half the wine in one gulp, then set the glass aside. Her eyes shined, but the tears didn’t fall.

“I can determine it. I knew Carmine half my damn life. He’d never kill himself.”

“Why?”

“Because he’d never have what he wanted if he’s dead. Do you think this is the first time I booted him? It’s not. I always caved and took him back. What he didn’t get, would never get, is this time I meant it. I was done. He was never going to change, he’d never keep his promises. But he lived in a place where we’d just circle back, he’d come home, we’d try it all again. He loved me, okay? He loved me, and God knows I loved him. But he loved the horses more. He loved the thrill of betting, of winning, even the punch of losing. Because next time—always a next time with Carmine. No next time when you’re dead.”

She closed her eyes again, held up a hand again. This time a tear slipped down each cheek. “And hanging himself? Not in a million years.”