Strangers in Death (37 page)

“You’re going to get a lot of she said/she said here, Dallas,” Reo commented.

“Yeah, so we’ll need to make what Custer said stick. We need those echoes cleared, Feeney. Custer did not, as Anders instructed, dispose of the ’link, the remote, the discs. Anders lied about her husband’s sexual proclivities.”

“Prove it,” Reo demanded.

“Your job. But, she told both Custer and one Petrelli, Bebe, that Thomas Anders was a sexual deviate, and a pedophile. She indicated same to a Gordon, Cassie. There is no evidence this was true. In fact, there is weighty evidence it was not. Ava engaged a licensed companion for several months. There is no evidence Thomas Anders used LCs or engaged in extra-marital affairs, as Ava claims. Let
her
prove it,” Eve added.

“After receiving the news that her husband was dead,” Eve continued, “Ava ordered a tasty breakfast, ate same, dressed, and groomed meticulously. She didn’t wake her friends, but took a shuttle home alone.”

“I just don’t like her.” Reo examined her nails. “I don’t like Ava one little bit.”

“Get in line. Rewind two months. Custer, Ned, was last seen with a tall woman, a redhead, taken to be a pro. She went from a bar to a flop with the victim, and did not exit by the door. Ava told Suzanne that after slitting Custer’s throat, and whacking him off in a permanent manner, she exited via the fire escape. She owns several red wigs.”

“Get me something physical,” Reo insisted. “It’s a good circumstantial case, but—”

“The vehicle registered to Ava Anders was parked eight blocks north and one east of the Custer murder scene,” Roarke put in without looking up. “The vehicle had reserved parking for that slot, in that lot, for a period of two weeks. It was used three times, the last on the night of the murder, clocking in at 10:12P.M. , clocking out at 2:08A.M. ”

“Okay, that’s interesting.” Something lit in Reo’s eyes. “How do we prove she drove it there?”

“Because she fucking did,” Eve snapped. “Because on that night and the ten days prior, Thomas Anders was out of town, and she could come and go as she pleased. Look at the time line. She kills her father-in-law, and that’s the turn.”

“Reginald Anders’s death was deemed accidental.” Reo tossed up a hand. “Don’t bite my head off, that’s the fact. You’ve got the case reopened, and I’m inclined to agree she killed him because I don’t like her. But at this point, we’ve got an old man slipping in the shower.”

“We won’t end with that. She hired a decorator the week before Reginald Anders took the fall. Shortly after it’s reported, she and the old man had a private talk in his office about her charging personal expenses to program budgets. She didn’t walk out happy. And according to the housekeeper, decorating talk began two weeks after the father-in-law’s death, though she’d already contracted with one.

“You’re going to say some spouses sneak in something like that—the decorating crap,” Eve said, anticipating Reo. “Why would she? Every statement we’ve taken on their marriage, on Anders, describes him as indulgent. He wouldn’t have given a shit about that.”

“Then why wait to tell him?” Reo asked. “Picky, I know, but defense attorneys are, as a rule.”

“It was her congratulations present to herself. She didn’t bring it out until after she’d done the old man. Until that was behind her. Weeks after that, she hires Charles Monroe, telling one of her friends—out of the goddamn blue—that she and her husband are sexually incompatible. She revs up the mommy retreat program, and starts to scope. Here, she approaches Petrelli, whose family has ties to organized crime. She
suggests
Petrelli might find a way to dispose of Anders, who she claims is a pervert. That craps out. She approaches Gordon, an LC who is also in the program, and asks for details about kink. And finally, she finds her mark here, with Custer.”

“Suzanne was prime bait,” Baxter put in.

“Detective Yancy executed a composite of Ava with the style and color of hair witnesses reported re Ned Custer,” Eve added. “We’re going to find somebody who’ll put her in the bar, in the flop.”

“Do it, because I’d love to bring her down.” Reo closed her notebook. “Can you get me a confession?”

“That’s the plan. I need to get her out of the house so we can go in and cop the wig without her being aware. Feeney, I need you to mock me up a disposable ’link exactly like that one. We’ve got her statements on record. I want to hear her voice come out of it. Baxter, talk to Suzanne again, make sure she’s clear on exactly what Ava said the morning Anders was murdered. Peabody, put a couple of the men in soft clothes on the sleazy side. Roarke, see if your
acquaintance
will come down. He’s not going to have to say a thing. Reo will give him immunity and I’ll authorize two bills.”

“What am I giving immunity for?”

“We’ll get to that. I want Petrelli and Gordon in here, and the night clerk from the flop. Trueheart I’m going to be sending you to bring Ava in.”

He blinked as if something had flown into his eyes. “Sending me?”

“You won’t worry her. You’re too young and pretty, and you’re going to apologize. If she cries lawyer, she cries lawyer, but I don’t think she will. Not right off. Take another uniform. A young, green one. I’ll tell you when to go, and how to handle her. What are you smiling at?” she asked Roarke.

“It’s such an interesting show you’re planning.”

“Yeah, so let’s work out the song and the dance.”

I
t wasn’t a stretch for Trueheart to appear apologetic and accommodating. Even with seasoning a la Baxter, he remained a sweet-natured, happy-to-help kind of guy. Young and fresh, and—to the careless or cynical eye—not all that smart. What Ava saw were two young, handsome, somewhat bumbling cops who seemed embarrassed with their current duty.

“I’m awfully sorry, ma’am.” Trueheart added a pained smile. “I know it’s an inconvenience, especially at such a difficult time, but the lieutenant—”

“Yes, it’s very inconvenient, and a very difficult time. I fail to see why I should have to go downtown. Why doesn’t the lieutenant come to me?”

“Um, she would, ma’am, but she’s in this meeting with the commander and the chief, about the, ah…the, ah, media problem in regards to the case.”

“Taking some licks for it.” The second uniform delivered his first scripted line on cue.

“Come on.” Trueheart frowned him down. “And I believe Chief Tibble would like to personally apologize to you about the media stuff. So we were sent to transport you down to Central.”

“Young man, I understand you’re just following orders, but you can’t possibly expect to bundle me in the back of a police car, to add that kind of mortification on top of everything else.”

“Ah, well, um…” Trueheart glanced at his companion, who only shrugged helplessly. “If you wanted to call a cab, I guess—I don’t know. Maybe I could call in and ask—”

“Nonsense, that’s just nonsense. I’ll take my own car. I’m free to come and go as I please, aren’t I? I’m not under arrest, am I?”

“Oh gosh, no, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am on the first part. We could follow you in. I’m sure that’s okay, and I could arrange a parking permit in the VIP visitor lot. Would that be all right?”

“I’d think it’s the least you could do, and thank you. Now, I’ll have to ask you to wait outside while I—”

“You didn’t do the RM.” The second cop delivered his next line, and Trueheart flushed and shifted his feet.

“I don’t know that we’re supposed to—”

“My sergeant kicked my ass—pardon me, ma’am—for not just yesterday. I don’t want to screw up again.”

“Okay, okay. I’m awful sorry, Mrs. Anders, but we’re just going to read you the Revised Miranda before we go, since you’re going to be talking to the lieutenant about the investigation. A formality thing.” Trueheart added an earnest, and nervous smile. “Is that all right with you?”

“Fine, fine, fine.” Ava waved him on. “Hurry it up. I don’t want a police car outside my house all afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am. Well. You have the right to remain silent.” To add to the picture, Trueheart pulled out a small card with the warning printed on it, and read it with intense concentration. He hoped it wasn’t overplayed. “Um. Do you understand your—”

“Am I an idiot?” Ava snapped. “Of course I understand. Now, shoo, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” After the door shut in his face, Trueheart walked back to the police car with his companion. “Dallas is a solid genius,” he stated, then engaged his communicator. “It’s Trueheart, Lieutenant.”

A
t Central, Eve fueled up on coffee. “Trueheart’s following her in. I want the sweepers on that car the minute it’s parked.”

“You, like, read her mind,” Peabody said. “You knew she’d drive in.”

“She wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to have the Chief of Police grovel to her, and lord it over me. And she wouldn’t get in a black-and-white unless she was cuffed and carried. Besides, if she left the car at home, the sweepers could process it there. Reo’s warrant covers us. I want this to run like clockwork. Everyone in place.” Even as she went over the details in her head, Eve turned to her partner. “I need to take her one-on-one, Peabody. You get that?”

“Yeah. And I know my cue. We’ve got two men in place to swing in, execute the warrant on the house and bring in the wigs. It’s like a sting, isn’t it, and nearly as juicy as a battering-ram-slamming, blaster-bursting takedown. Without the potential for fatal injuries. It’s all:
Psyche!
”

“We twist her, and we twist her. We twist her right, and she snaps.” Eve stared at her murder board. The steps and stages, the bits and pieces. Now it was time to put them all together.

“Lieutenant.” Roarke studied her from the doorway.

“I’ll go check on stuff,” Peabody said and eased out.

“She’s on her way. Bringing the car in.”

“You called that one. Your diverse cast of characters appears to be in place. You know you’re risking those big, fat lawyers with this stage you’ve set.”

“Yeah. She’s smart enough to lawyer, but I’m betting she’s too arrogant to squeal for one right off. At the end she will. At the end she’ll be screaming for a lawyer.” And for once, Eve admitted, the sound of that would be like music to her ears. “But first she’ll be shaken, shaken enough to
have
to put me in my place.”

“As Magdelana tried to.”

There was no point denying it. “To her eventual disappointment…and fat lip. I’m not hanging on to that, if that’s worrying you.” When he stepped in, those blue eyes level on hers, and traced a fingertip along the shallow dent in her chin, she sighed, then shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little. But I’m not pissed at you about that, about her.”

He leaned down, kissed her very softly.

“Much. You didn’t see her, at least not until what she was doing was shoved in your face. Must be a guy thing when it comes to a certain kind of female. Thomas Anders didn’t see it in Ava, for years and years. He lived with her, and he didn’t see her. Not who she really is. I’m not pissed at him about it. He loved her. I’m pissed she used that, and him. Used anyone who came to hand, with absolutely no conscience. For game and profit. She killed him for that. For game and profit.”

“And you imagine, if I hadn’t had certain things shoved in my face, hadn’t seen, if some circumstances had been different, Maggie would have eventually done for me.”

“Why share the majority of the known universe if you can have it all for yourself?”

“Right you are. And, yes, she would have tried to end me at some point. Fortunately, I’m married to the top bitch cop in the city, and well-protected.”

“Fortunately, you can take care of yourself. Tommy Anders couldn’t.” She turned back to the board, to the ID photo of Anders’s smiling, easygoing face.

“It hits me. Some of them do, and it hits me because he was a nice man who loved his wife and used his money and position to do good things. He’s dead, lives are ruined or at best forever changed, all because she wanted all the marbles. So…I’m going to squash her like the ugly spider she is.”

“Lieutenant.” Peabody poked in. “She’s just pulled into the lot.”

“Curtain up,” Roarke said.

23

TO ROARKE’S MIND, COP SHOPS TENDED TOWARD the loud, the confused, and the crowded. One such as Cop Central twisted and twined, rose and fell, in a serpentine labyrinth where cops, suspects, victims, lawyers, techs all bumped and burrowed amid constant clatter and movement.

And still, through all that, the choreography Eve had staged moved seamlessly. Perhaps as so many of the players were unaware of their role, their actions and reactions fell as natural as rainwater.

He watched on screens in an observation room with Feeney and the director herself as Trueheart and his fellow uniform—both looking as wholesome and harmless as apple pie—escorted Ava onto the elevator, then off again.

“It’ll be quicker and less crowded,” Trueheart explained in his polite tone, “if we take the glides from here, Mrs. Anders.”

As they rode up, others rode down. On the down, a man in a stained T-shirt and dingy dreads who Roarke would have made for a cop at six blocks, swiveled, pointed. “Hey, hey! That’s the one there. That’s the broad left with Cuss. Hey!”

Ava angled away toward Trueheart’s agreeable face. “Sorry,” he said. “We get all kinds through here.”

He led her off the glide, across a short span of floor, just as a female officer walked Bebe Petrelli toward the down. The reaction of both civilians struck Roarke as priceless. Shock on both faces, distress following on Petrelli’s, fury darkening Ava’s, even as the cop quickly hustled Petrelli to the left and away.

Little fissures in the mask, Roarke noted. And up the next glide they went. This time Baxter brought Cassie Gordon on just below. Cassie’s gaze tracked up, latched. “Well, hey. Hey, Ava!” A sharp and deadly amusement colored Cassie’s voice. “What’re you doing here?”

Ava glanced back, skimmed her cold eyes over Cassie. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Sure, but then I’m just one of the horde. How’s it going?”

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’m pressed for time. Can we get this done?” she demanded of Trueheart.