Forgotten in Death(37)

“Do you know anyone who’d want to harm him?”

She let out a sharp laugh, inhaled a sob. “I told you before, didn’t I, he’d get the snot beat out of him now and then. A good ten years ago—after I took him back again—I took control of the money in this household. He got an allowance. That was the deal, one he tried and tried to weasel out of, but I held firm.”

She picked up the wine for another, smaller sip.

“A few years later, we go around again. This time I have the house account, but I open my own personal account, I put the investments and this house in my name. Just mine, all of it. That was what he agreed to five years ago to come back. So he’d find people to float him loans. Sometimes he won, plenty he didn’t. He’d work side jobs to pay them off, but he got smacked around if he didn’t pay them off fast enough.

“He denied all that, but I knew.”

“Do you have names?”

She shook her head. Her hand trembled a little as she picked up the wineglass again. “I know his bookie’s name’s Ralph, but I never met him.”

“Has anyone else come here looking for him since you separated?”

She shook her head again. “No one ever came around here. He’d meet them at one of his OTB places, or the track. Or, I don’t know, but he knew if that type came around here, it was over.”

“He didn’t have a computer in his apartment. Did he have a home office here?”

“No. I kept the books, paid the bills. I ran the house. And I kept my office door locked.” Two more tears spilled out. “I knew I had to break that cycle, for good. You can’t live a good life with a man you can’t trust not to steal from you.”

She pressed one hand to her mouth; in the other, the wineglass started to tip.

Roarke rose quickly, took it from her. “Ms. Delgato, could I get you a glass of water?”

“Yes. Yes, thank you. It’s—”

“I’ll find it. Would you like us to contact your children? Would you want your children here with you?”

Now she spread her fingers so her hand covered her face. And just nodded.

When Roarke slipped out, Angelina pressed that hand to her heart. “Where is he? I’m his wife. Whatever he did, I’m his wife. I need to see him.”

“He’s with the medical examiner. I’ll make arrangements for you to see him as soon as possible.”

“Because they have to … they have to … Oh God, Carmine.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss. I know this is difficult, but I need to ask a few more questions.”

“I don’t know who’d do this. Nobody gets paid if you’re dead. And he always paid the loans eventually. I’d tell you if I knew. I loved him. I couldn’t respect the son of a bitch. I couldn’t trust him, but I loved him. I couldn’t help it.”

“Was he a violent man?”

“Carmine?” She let out that laugh again. “Absolutely not. He was a liar. His addiction made him a liar, an asshole, and worse, but he was gentle and kind. I never knew him to raise his hand to anyone. He couldn’t even bring himself to give one of our kids a swat on the butt when they’d earned it.”

With her hand over her mouth again, she muffled a sob. “I loved that about him. I loved that sweet, kind, gentle part of him. Hardly ever raised his voice, even when I was shouting at him hard enough to blow the roof off. He didn’t have violence in him. No meanness in him. Just that terrible sickness that ate away at everything good.”

“You said you couldn’t trust him not to steal from you. Would he have stolen from someone else?”

“Not from someone who’d suffer for it, but if he thought, if he’d convinced himself they could afford it, or not miss it? Sure. Because he’d know, you see, he’d just know, that next bet, that next tip on a hot horse? It would bring the rain.”

When Roarke brought her water, she sipped it slowly. “I can’t do this anymore right now. I was rude to you, and I apologize, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t, it’s not necessary.” Eve got to her feet. “Is there anything else we can do for you? Anyone else you want us to contact?”

“No, no. I just want my kids.”

“I spoke with your oldest,” Roarke told her. “They’ll all be here as soon as possible.”

“I’m going to leave my card.” Eve dug for one. “If you think of anything, please contact me. We’ll let you know when you can see him. We’ll see ourselves out.”





8





When they got back to the car, Roarke laid his hands on Eve’s shoulders. “Would you like me to drive?”

“No, I’ve got it. I still want to talk to Singer.” But when they got in, she sat a moment. “It would have been easier, I think, if she’d lost it, just fallen apart, than watching her fight to maintain.”

She drew in, let out a breath. “Anyway. She was helpful. Here’s what I think.”

“Shall I tell you what you think?”

She shot him a look, then bulled out into traffic. “Okay, smart guy, what do I think?”

“You’re thinking Delgato didn’t kill Alva Quirk, but most likely witnessed the murder. Witnessed it because he was stealing from his employer. Or for his employer—that’s to be determined. But stealing, you believe he was, and the one with him—one he was stealing for or who helped him steal—killed her.”