Forgotten in Death(97)

“I’ll show you out.” Marvinia rose, walked them to the door. “I’m so sorry I can’t be more help. I’ve never taken an interest in the business. But I’ll do what I can to nudge J.B.’s memory.”

“And your mother-in-law’s?”

“Well, Elinor remembers what she chooses and how she chooses. But the company’s reputation is everything to her. She’ll do whatever she can to end this and move on from it.”

“I’m sure she will. Thanks again.”

As they walked to the car, Peabody glanced back at the house. “It must be hard.”

Eve got behind the wheel, took one last look herself. “What’s that?”

“I’m guessing in a house this size, they each have their own wing, but still, it must be hard to live in the same house as your mother-in-law when you really don’t like her.”

“And knowing the person you really don’t like is top of the food chain.” Eve did a three-point turn to head out. “They travel a lot, have a couple other homes in other places, but they use this as home base. Why do you figure?”

“Well, Elinor might have had her skin stretched so tight you could bounce a five-dollar credit off her cheek, but she’s still over the century mark. That’s one.”

“That’s one, but my take is it’s mostly habit. J.B. was never really head of the company, and didn’t want to be. All that shows in his background. She’s ruled right along. And when he took on a project, he was mostly crap at it. She let him be. That’s indulgence. He married money and status, so points in his favor. But Marvinia has her own life and interests.”

“I looked into her foundation a little, and they do good work.”

“Good work, and she’s not just a figurehead. She’s involved—and not involved in the Singer family business. Probably points for her on Elinor’s scale. So they maintain a polite if cool relationship because they both indulge J.B.”

Eve made a turn, following the computer’s prompts for the Bardov estate. “Even though he’s weak, spoiled, and a liar.”

“I felt like he was lying, but I couldn’t catch it.”

“Taps his foot—right foot—when he’s lying. Looks you straight in the eye, doesn’t evade or hesitate, but that foot tapping? Major tell.”

“I missed that! I hate when I miss stuff like that.”

“His mother’s a better liar. No tells there. Just icy contempt. Anyway, they knew the victim was down there, so they didn’t sell off that section of the property. I’m wondering now if Bolton Singer sold it to Roarke before they could stop him.”

“Or maybe they thought, after all this time, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe. Whether they walled her up or not, that’s for us to find out. But what I know is they walled her right out of their minds. She didn’t matter. Forget her, move on.”

“If they killed her or had her killed…”

“That’s an if, but one way or the other, they knew. I don’t care how much chaos or corruption was going on, Elinor Bolton Singer damn well knew if a freaking truckload of bricks went missing. And she knew a wall of high-quality bricks went up in a cheap build. I’m saying she knew why. She knew.”

Peabody shifted as Eve pulled up to another gate, gleaming black in the opening of the stone walls.

“Young, pregnant woman—pretty woman. J.B. has a little roll there, and oops. She decides to have the baby. Maybe he tries to pay her off, but as it gets closer to the time, she wants more. More support, acknowledgment. Maybe she loved him, or he promised the usual. Leave my wife, and all that bullshit.”

As her thoughts had run the same, Eve nodded. “Makes her a threat. He lures her up there. Maybe he planned to scare her, or threaten her back, or offer her more money. Whatever, it didn’t end well. He panics, or loses his temper, or he planned to get rid of her all along.”

“He gets the brick. It would be easy for him. I guess he could build a wall. I mean he grew up around construction.”

“Sloppy build. Solid enough, but sloppy. Yeah, he could’ve done it. Then he tells Mother all—or he tells her before and she tells him how to handle it. That works for me because they knew. They knew her face when they saw the sketch. They knew she was down there.”

She rolled down the window.

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody to see Mr. Bardov.”

Instead of a computer-generated response, Eve watched a man—big and burly—walk to the gate.

She got out of the car, approached from her side.

“You’re not expected.”

“No.” But she expected he had a weapon under his suit coat. “We conducted an interview in the area and hoped Mr. Bardov would be available to speak with us. A follow-up to our conversation yesterday.”

“Wait.”

When he walked away, Eve took the time to study the view through the gate.

Trees, green and leafy with early summer. A winding drive, a green lawn with groupings of flowering shrubs, some sort of stone structure where water tumbled.

All dominated by the big house of dusky blue with its generous terraces, glass rails, tall windows, and wide, covered porch where flowering vines wound up thick columns.

No strict and stern here, she thought. Inhabited by a mobster, yes, guarded by armed security, no doubt, but with a facade, at least, of welcome.