Now You See Her Linda Howard(65)

"Why?" Aquino asked curiously. "Why give her the gallery? With your prenup, you didn't have to give her anything."

Richard shrugged and said simply, "So she would have the means to live."

"Mr. Worth…" Ritenour tapped his pen on the desk, his brow furrowed as he framed his question. "I know you've been separated a long time, but would you know any of the men she's been with lately?

The housekeeper didn't know any names. She said when Mrs. Worth had company, she tried to stay out of the way and do her job as quietly as possible."

Richard didn't make any comment on Candra's sexual habits. "How far back do you want to go?"

They looked at each other. Aquino shrugged. "Since you separated."

"My attorney has a list." Seeing their surprise, he said, "I made it a point to know, in case I needed the information."

They both perked up. "Did you have her watched?" An investigator's report could be an invaluable aid, telling them where she went and when, whom she saw.



"Yes, but I don't think it will help. There wasn't anyone she saw more than any of the others. Candra didn't have long-term affairs. Her attractions were of the moment, and more concerned with satisfying her own appetite than with her partner. Kai, her assistant at the gallery, was probably her most frequent partner, but only because he was convenient."

There was another perking of investigative ears. "How do you spell that name?" Ritenour asked.

"K-a-i. Last name Stengel, as in Casey."

"Was he in love with her, do you think?"

"Kai doesn't love anyone but himself. I can't see him killing her, because it wouldn't be in his best interest. I gave Candra a free hand with the gallery and she hired whom she pleased, but her death before the divorce was final means the gallery remains mine, and Kai would know he was out of a job in that event."

"Because of his involvement with your wife?"

Richard shook his head. "Because he's an alley cat."

"Mr. Worth, pardon me for asking," Detective Aquino said, "but a man like you—How did you stand it, knowing your wife had all these affairs?"

Richard's eyes were cold. "After the first time, I didn't give a damn what she did."

"But you stayed married to her."

"I took vows." And he had taken them seriously. He would have remained married to her, making the best of a bad situation, if she hadn't had the abortion. He had taken her for better or for worse, but

"worse" didn't include aborting his child.

He called Gavin and had the entire investigator's report faxed to the precinct station. Gavin offered to come down in case Richard needed his legal protection, but Richard told him there was no need. He had put in an electronic buy order with his broker just before he disconnected last night, his entry coded with his password, and his Internet provider could also verify the time he was on-line, so he was covered in case the detectives had any lingering doubt. He had no motive or opportunity, and he had cooperated with them to the fullest extent.

The next time he checked the clock, the hands had ticked past seven-thirty. He was tired and hungry having refused their offer of stale cookies or peanut-butter crackers from a vending machine. The detectives looked more tired than he felt, but they doggedly kept at it. He appreciated their persistence, but the need to reassure himself Sweeney was all right was growing more urgent with every passing minute.

He had been containing his emotions all day, until he felt like a pressure cooker with the release valve stuck in the closed position. Candra's murder had stirred a cauldron of emotions; first he had been shocked by the violent death. Next came a cold fury, one so strong he could feel it surging inside him, demanding action. He had been intimate with violence, but his military missions had been against other militaries or terrorist groups, people who signed on knowing what the risks were and were armed and ready to kill him if they had the chance. Candra had been a noncombatant, unarmed, untrained, unaware. She hadn't had a prayer, and the unfairness of the attack revolted him.

He didn't resent being questioned. He did resent, bitterly, not being able to see Sweeney, or at least contact her. The choice was his own, an effort to protect her from this same sort of suspicion and questioning, but that didn't make him resent any less the necessity of making that choice. If the detectives saw that painting, they might even arrest her, and he would do whatever he could to prevent that.

Because he was growing desperate to see her, he locked himself down even tighter. If he revealed any hint of what he was feeling, the detectives' suspicions would be refueled and this would drag on longer.

At last, a little after eight, Detective Aquino stretched tiredly and said, "You've been a lot of help, Mr.

Worth. Thanks for your patience. Most people would have gotten upset, but we had to ask the questions."

"I know the statistics," Richard said. "I understood. I assume I'm no longer a suspect?"

"Everything you told us checked out. Your Internet server verified the times you were on-line last night at the crucial time—and thank you for giving them permission to give us that information without having to get papers on it. That saved us a lot of time."

"She didn't deserve what happened," Richard said. "No matter what our differences were, she didn't deserve that." He stood and stretched his tired back muscles. "I'll be at home if you have any more questions."