Faithless in Death: An Eve Dallas Thriller (Book 52) Page 7

  “That’s why you’re ace investigators.”

  “You got it.” Carmichael tossed back her hair. Not in the sexy way, but in the get-out-of-my-eyes way Eve understood. “She goes up, cleans herself up—and stuffs her bloody strip-joint dress and wig in her kitchen recycler. How would we ever find them!”

  “Criminals are mostly dumb-asses.”

  “It sure helps when they are. Anyway, we brought her in, broke her down. She’s in Booking. Murder in the first. She’ll tag a lawyer, and they’ll probably deal it down to second. We’re fine with that. The guy was a dog.”

  “Dog, dumb-ass, or not, good work. What did she do with the blade?”

  “Oh, that.” Carmichael showed her teeth in a wicked smile. “She left that in his crotch.”

  “Ouch.” She spotted Huffman getting off the elevator. “Here’s my dumb-ass.”

  “Go get her, Loo.”

  Back to the ponytail and minimal makeup, Eve noted. But now she wore light green cropped pants in a kind of shimmery fabric with a matching jacket over a bright white tee.

  No heels, but Eve imagined the sandals with their thick wedges were fashionable.

  She’d changed the red toenails for green.

  She twirled her sunshades in her hand as she looked around. When she spotted Eve, she worked up a trembling smile.

  “Lieutenant Dallas. I’m so glad—that’s not the right word. Relieved, I’m so relieved your detective contacted me. She said you’re making progress.”

  “I believe we are. We appreciate you taking the time to come in.”

  “Anything I can do to help—for Ariel.”

  “Understood. Actually, we can use this room right down here. I’ll get you settled, get my partner and the paperwork. We don’t want to keep you longer than necessary. You look like you’re going out.”

  “Oh, no. I did have lunch with friends earlier. I just couldn’t stay in my apartment, in my head.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “It’s a relief, again, to do something.”

  “Absolutely. Excuse me, one minute. These officers have something for me.”

  Because she stood next to Gwen, Eve felt the jolt when Gwen saw Shelby.

  “Thanks, officers. I’ll take that.” Eve reached for the packet Officer Carmichael carried.

  “Jan? Good lord, I can’t believe it! Jan Shelby.” With a bright laugh, Gwen stepped forward, threw her arms around Shelby, who stood stiffly, her eyes on Eve’s.

  “Jan, it’s Gwen!”

  “Yeah, I know.” Shelby eased back. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I could say the same. You’re a policewoman!”

  “That’s right. Sorry, I’m on duty, and I have to get back.”

  “But we have to get together, catch up. It’s been forever. You look amazing. I just love your hair.”

  “Thanks. I have to get back,” she repeated.

  “Wow.” Gwen let out the laugh again. “I think that’s what they call a blast from the past.”

  “Do they?” Eve asked.

  “Jan and I were summer friends—vacation friends—years and years ago. We were twelve, thirteen. It’s such a nice surprise to see her again. She works for you?”

  “She works for the City of New York.”

  Eve opened the door to Interview B.

  “Oh!” The green toenails stopped at the threshold. “This looks so … official. And dire.”

  “Private and handy. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “I’d love a sparkling water, if it’s no trouble.”

  “No trouble. Have a seat. I’ll get what we need and we’ll get this done.”

  She hurried back to the bullpen. “Peabody, Huffman’s in B. Get her a sparkling water—a small one. I’ll be two minutes.” She moved straight back to Shelby’s cube.

  She looked at Officer Carmichael, got a slight nod.

  Good, Shelby had told him.

  “Officer Shelby.”

  “Sir.”

  “Would you like to observe this interview?”

  “I … Yes, sir, I would.”

  “Look for tells, inconsistencies, fabrications. Note them down, write them up for me. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir, Lieutenant, I can.”

  “Good. Officer Carmichael, I’d like you and Shelby in Observation asap. I’ll be ready to start in two minutes.”

  “Get on your horse, girl,” Carmichael said quietly when Eve strode away. “Our LT’s counting on you.”

  Eve got what she needed from her office, then walked down to meet Peabody outside Interview B.

  “I’m having Shelby observe. Carmichael will be with her.”

  “Does he know?”

  “Yeah. Now let’s break this lying bitch down.”

  Eve opened the door, put on her I’m very distracted face. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Huffman, Gwendolyn, in the matter of case file H-5872.”

  “Official,” Gwen said again, with suspicion in her eyes. “Dire.”

  “Just official,” Eve assured her. “You’re here voluntarily as a witness, in the matter of Ariel Byrd’s murder. We need everything on record. I’m going to have you read over your statement from this morning—and you can make any corrections or additions—then initial and date each page, sign and date the last.”

  “All right.”

  “Before I do, I’m going to read you your rights, for the record.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The lieutenant does like to cross all the t’s,” Peabody said cheerfully. “Sometimes when it gets to court, or just to the lawyers, a witness will recant, or claim they didn’t mean what they said or that the cops twisted their words and/or meaning. Dallas likes to cross those t’s, have everything by the book and on the record.”

  For Gwen’s benefit, Peabody gave Eve the side-eye. “Even though it takes longer.”

  “Saves time and trouble in the long run. So. Gwendolyn Huffman, you have the right to remain silent.”

  Eve read off the Revised Miranda in pleasant, casual tones.

  “Okay—see, not much time. Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

  “I do, of course.”

  “Great.” Eve started to draw papers out of a file, stopped. “Before you sign off, you mentioned to Peabody that Ariel Byrd told you she’d noticed someone hanging out in the neighborhood, someone out of place? Can you tell us about that? We can put it on record.”

  “Of course. Honestly, it just occurred to me when Detective Peabody mentioned you were looking for someone like that. Ariel commented, a couple of times over the last few weeks, she’d noticed some guy hanging out, walking up and down the street, and she didn’t like the look of him.”

  “Did she describe him?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “But she indicated male.”

  “She did.” Eyes clear and direct, Gwen gave a decisive nod. “A guy. Not all that clean, she said, and walking around, studying the buildings. She even said, like, he was casing the apartments, the shops. I’m sorry to say I fluffed it off, joked about it. People walk in New York.”

  Gwen looked away, worked up a tear shine in her eyes. “The idea that she was right, it haunts me.”

  “Did he ever approach her, try to panhandle or connect with her?”

  “She never said so, and I think she would have. Or … I don’t know, since I joked about it.” She worked up more shine so tears just trembled but didn’t fall. “God, maybe he did, and she didn’t tell me because she thought I’d make fun of her again.”

  As if to give Gwen time to compose herself, Eve paused.

  Peabody picked up the cue. “Why don’t I get you another water, Ms. Huffman?”

  “Would you? Thank you. This is all so upsetting.”

  Peabody took the empty tube. “Peabody exiting Interview.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for not taking that comm
ent seriously.”

  “It’s hard not to. If I could just have a minute?”

  Eve lifted her hands. “All the time you need.”

  Gwen took a pack of tissues out of her purse, dabbed at her eyes. The door opened again.

  “Peabody reentering Interview.”

  Gwen picked up the fresh tube, sipped delicately.

  “You never noticed him, this man Ariel mentioned?”

  “No. But I didn’t go to her apartment that often.”

  “Really?” Eve leaned back. “Yet you purchased flowers at Fruit and Flower a block and a half from her apartment numerous times, and wine at the Wine Cave two blocks from her apartment.”

  “I often buy wine and flowers. I may have patronized those shops on occasion when downtown. What difference does it make?”

  “Here’s where it makes a difference. You purchased flowers—flowers that the victim had on her dining table—and wine—the wine in the victim’s kitchen—on the evening of her murder.”

  “That’s impossible, as I wasn’t downtown. I’ve clearly stated where I was last evening.”

  “Peabody, cue it up and run it. Both those vendors have security cams, and both those cams are date and time stamped. And both?” Eve pointed to the split screen that showed Gwen purchasing the flowers, the wine. “Both clearly show you. And show you wearing the dress, the shoes you wore when you were on the hallway, elevator, and lobby cam of your apartment.

  “Peabody?”

  Peabody made a business of looking at her notes. “You walked two blocks, hailed Rapid Cab number 982, rode downtown to the Wine Cave, where you paid cash for a very nice Shiraz before walking the half block to buy the flowers, again for cash.”

  “Those things, those cameras, can be manipulated.”

  “Sure, sure, House Royale, the flower place, the wine place, they all manipulated their security feeds just for kicks. Time to cut the crap, Gwen. You left the damn wineglasses in the bedroom.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  No tear shine now, Eve noted, but a hard gleam.

  “I want to contact Merit.”

  “You want your lawyer? Sure, that’s your right. I wonder what your fiancé’s reaction will be when we tell him your DNA, your pubic hair were found in the dead woman’s bed. Your DNA and prints on the wineglass beside the bed. Should be interesting.”

  Eve rose. “We’ll step out so you can contact your lawyer.”

  “You just wait a minute.”

  “Can’t continue once you say lawyer. Peabody, let’s step out.”

  “I said wait a minute! I’m not contacting Merit yet. We’ll just straighten this out. I don’t want him upset by all this.”

  Eve stood, hand on the door. “So you don’t want a lawyer at this time?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Eve stepped back, sat again. “The record shows you waive legal representation at this time.”

  “And I know this without a lawyer.” Gwen’s lips curved, smugly. “My fingerprints and my DNA are not on file, and you can’t compel me to give them to you without charging me. If you spied on me with my apartment security, you know I was in my apartment when Ariel was killed.”

  “But you were in her apartment between approximately six-forty-four to nine-forty-six last night. The second cab picked you up right outside her building, dropped you off half a block from your apartment.”

  Eve offered a smug smile of her own.

  “Paying cash doesn’t mean we can’t track you.”

  “I never said I was in her apartment, and you’re implying we had intimate relations. I’m engaged to be married, and I don’t have intimate relations with other women. You can’t claim I was or did, as you don’t have my prints or DNA.”

  At the knock on the door, Peabody popped up. “They were set to rush it, but wow.” She went to the door, took the file.

  Sitting again, she opened it, grinned, then slid it to Eve.

  “We do now. The prints you left on the tube of water match the prints on the wineglass—left side of the bed—the wine bottle, various other areas in the victim’s apartment, and her attached studio. The DNA you left on the bed matches the DNA you left in the water bottle.

  “Spit back happens to everybody.”

  “That’s illegally obtained.” Fear now, the first traces, ran over Gwen’s face. “That’s illegal.”

  “Nope, not even a little bit.”

  Eve rolled her eyes, kicked back in her chair when Gwen began to weep. “Oh, knock it off.”

  “I don’t want to be here. I don’t have to be here. I came in voluntarily, and I’m leaving!”

  “Get out of that chair, and I charge you.”

  “With what? I didn’t do anything!”

  “We can start with lying to police officers, on the record, during a murder investigation, we can add fleeing a crime scene, and top it all off with murder.”

  “I didn’t kill Ariel! I didn’t.”

  “Who did?”

  “I don’t know! How would I know?”

  “You were there, in her apartment. You had a sexual relationship with her, and had one for months.”

  “No, no! It was just the one time. I had too much to drink. I’m not even sure what—”

  “Did you have too much to drink on May second?” Eve flipped open her file, read dates off the calendar. “Too much to drink on April twenty-eighth, on April twenty-first?” She looked up at Gwen’s shocked face. “I can go on, all the way back to last fall. She kept a calendar.”

  “Gwen.” Voice soft, eyes all sympathy, Peabody leaned in. “We’re not going to be able to help you if you keep lying. We’re not judging you for having an affair. Planning a wedding, a marriage, is stressful. You needed an outlet, a friend. But we can’t help you if you don’t tell us the truth.”

  Gwen turned to Peabody like salvation. “You don’t understand, you just don’t understand. You’ll ruin my life. I didn’t kill Ariel. What does the rest matter to anyone but me? It’s my private business.”

  “Ariel’s dead, Gwen. It all matters. We need to know what happened,” Peabody continued, gentle as a patient mother. “For Ariel.”

  “What does it matter to her? She’s dead. It’s my life now. And you’ll destroy it by saying these things. If Merit finds out, if my parents find out, I’ll lose everything. I didn’t kill her, so that should be enough.”

  “It’s not,” Eve said flatly. “You gave a false report, you were in the victim’s apartment on the night of her murder. You returned to the scene of the crime, then fled it. Cough up the truth now, or we charge you.”

  “You can’t charge me with her murder. I was in my apartment. You know that.”

  Letting her disgust show, Eve leaned back. “Here’s what I know. I know the chances of you stalking out of her place after an argument and someone completely unconnected going in and beating her skull in with a hammer about an hour later are zip.”

  “But that’s what happened!”

  “If it is, you shouldn’t have any problem telling the fucking truth, starting now. Last chance, Gwen, or we charge you and let the lawyers hash it out.”

  “You have to respect my privacy.” When she crossed her hands over her heart, her engagement ring shot light. “You have to keep what I tell you private. You have to promise me.”

  “I don’t have to promise you squat.”

  Both hands flew up—dramatically—to cup her own face. “How can you be so cruel!”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I just spoke with the widowed mother of the woman currently on a slab in the morgue. I’m done with you. Gwendolyn Huffman, you’re under arrest for—”

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Gwen covered her face with her hands. “All right. I was there, yes. I lied because I was afraid, and I was shocked, and I didn’t know what else to do. But she was alive when I left. You know that.”

  “You’d been seeing each other romantically, sexually, for several months.”


  “It didn’t start out that way. It was what I told you. I admired her work, and we became friends. She—she was so open, and free, so different from anyone I knew. She seduced me. I don’t have much experience, and I’d never been with a woman. I got caught up, I admit it. I convinced myself it wasn’t hurting anyone. It was just a fling, just a kind of interlude before I got married.

  “She wanted more. I came to see that. She wanted more than I could give her, than I wanted to give her. I love Merit. I want to spend my life with Merit, and she knew that, but …”

  “She threatened to tell him.”

  “I don’t know what happened. We had wine. I arranged the flowers I’d brought her, then we … we were together. After, we were just talking, having more wine and talking. Merit texted me. I shouldn’t have answered—I realize it hurt her feelings, made her angry, but I answered. She said I had to call off the wedding. We argued, and she became angrier, furious. I’d never seen her like that. She said she was tired of being some embarrassing secret, and if I didn’t tell Merit, she would.”

  She paused to drink more water, then bowed her head. “We had a terrible fight about it. I said awful things to her, and she said awful things to me. She threw on some clothes, said she was going to work, and I’d better think about how I wanted this to end.

  “We kept arguing while I dressed, then I stormed out. I was so upset. She knew I was going to marry Merit, she knew what we had was separate. I barely slept, and I started to think about the ugly things we’d said to each other. I didn’t want it to end that way. She meant something to me. I decided to go back and talk to her, face-to-face, when we were both calm, calm and sober. I knew we couldn’t be together, not anymore, but I’d hoped we could erase those awful words, be kind to each other again.”

  “And you wanted to persuade her not to tell your fiancé about the affair.”

  Eve noted the calculation, lightning fast. “All right, yes. I didn’t want what had been a positive experience for me, a personal exploration, to upend the rest of my life. I’d hoped in the light of day we could both be calm, reasonable adults and part as friends. And the rest, the terrible rest, is what I’ve already told you.”

  “No, it’s not.” Just like, Eve thought, her latest version mixed truth and lies. “The door wasn’t unsecured when you got there. You let yourself in this morning. Where’s the key card Ariel gave you?”