Now You See Her Linda Howard(63)

The news that Candra had agreed to a settlement took away another of their motives. The two detectives looked thoughtful.

"Did you have a key to her new apartment?" Detective Aquino asked, the first words he had spoken since they entered the interrogation room.

Richard shook his head. "No, not likely. I've never been in her apartment."

"Never?"

"Never." Never was an absolute term, difficult to support. Knowing they were now thinking along the lines of fiber samples, he said, "She came to my town house a couple of times to talk, and to collect her belongings, but I never went to her place. "

They hid their disappointment well. Any crosscontamination of fiber samples between the two dwellings now had an explanation. Everything Richard had said was something that could be easily verified, and they knew it.

"Mrs. Worth was a popular woman. Were you jealous of her male friends?"

Richard couldn't help it. He laughed. The sound wasn't particularly humorous. "No."

"When she filed for divorce—"

"She didn't file. I did."

"You did?" Another quick look between them. "Why was that?"

Richard had never told another soul why his break with Candra had been so abrupt and final. Sweeney knew, but only because she had been present during that last argument. He didn't want to say anything against Candra now, especially not anything that would get back to her parents.

"I don't want her family to know," he finally said. "It would hurt them."

"Know what, Mr. Worth?"



"I found out she had an abortion two years ago. She hadn't told me she was pregnant."

Both men sat back, frowning.

"I guess you were upset," Detective Aquino said.

Richard flashed him a disbelieving look. "A little." He couldn't hold back the sarcastic edge. "Our marriage was over right then. I never wanted to see her again. I threw her out, changed the locks on the town house, and filed for divorce the next day."

"Were you still angry with her?"

"Bitter. Regretful."

"Where were you last night, Mr. Worth?"

"I had a business dinner at the Four Seasons." That too would be easily verified.

"What time did you leave?"

"Ten-thirty."

"Where did you go then?"

"Home."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes."

"Did you make any calls, talk to anyone?"

"No. I did some stock analysis on my computer, cleared up E-mail messages, that kind of thing. The time will be on the computer log."

"What time did you stop work?"

"After midnight. Closer to one, I guess." He had no idea what time they thought Candra had been killed, though he had heard someone remark she had still been wearing the dress she wore to a party.

Logically, that would put the time of death close to when she arrived home. Candra had been known to stay until a party died, whether that was midnight or dawn.

"What did you do then?"

"Went to bed."

"Alone?"

"Yes."



Detective Aquino sighed. Detective Ritenour looked tired. Richard knew he was their best bet, and he had taken away all the usual motives. What had probably looked like a fairly simple case had become more complicated.

"We'd like you to stay while we verify a few things," Detective Ritenour said.

"I understand." Richard flashed a level look at them, one that said he was well aware of everything that had been going on. "And I'll take you up on that coffee now, if I'll be allowed near a bathroom."

Rueful smiles flashed across their faces, quickly erased. "Sure thing. How do you want it?"

"Black."

"Not a good choice," Aquino said on his way out. "This stuff needs diluting with something, even if it's paint thinner."

"I'll take my chances." He thought of Sweeney, wondering, fearing, how she had weathered the night.

The painting she had been doing was, he was certain now, of Candra. Had she completed it last night?

Was she in shock? Did she need him?

He wanted to call her. The urge was so powerful he could barely contain it, but he fought it down.

Bringing her to the detectives' notice would only involve her in this. He hadn't been to the death scene, but if Sweeney's painting was in any way accurate in the details, he could see that any detective would find that suspicious. And he wondered if the other face, the killer's, was still blank.

"May I call my office?" he asked. Sweeney would have called there if she needed him.

"Sure. Use the telephone on my desk," Ritenour offered. He would be able to listen to every word Richard said. Their suspicion had eased, but not completely disappeared. It wouldn't until everything Richard told them had been verified.

Richard stood beside the desk and dialed the office number. Tabitha Hamrick, budding financial genius, answered the phone. "Tab, it's Richard. Any messages?"

"Thousands of them." She sighed. "Richard, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, I've notified her family, and I'm giving them their choice in everything. They should be here soon.