by J. D. Robb
“Mavis, was Leonardo here?”
“Leonardo?” Dulled with shock, her eyes scanned the room. “No, I don’t think so. I called out, because I saw there was such a mess. Nobody answered. And there—there was blood. I saw blood. So much blood. I was afraid, Dallas, afraid that maybe he’d killed himself or something crazy, and so I ran back into . . . back. I saw her. I think . . . I went over. I think I did because I was kneeling beside her and I was trying to scream. I couldn’t scream. It was all in my head that I was screaming, and I couldn’t stop. And then I think something hit me. I think . . .” Vaguely she touched her fingers to the back of her head. “It hurts. But everything was the same when I woke up. She was still there, and the blood was still there. And I called you.”
“Okay. Did you touch her, Mavis? Did you touch anything?”
“I don’t remember. I don’t think so.”
“Who did that to your face?”
“Pandora.”
A quick spurt of fear. “Honey, you told me she was dead when you got here.”
“It was before. Earlier tonight. I went to her house.”
Eve took a careful breath to counteract the twisting in her stomach. “You went to her house tonight. When?”
“I don’t know exactly. About eleven maybe. I wanted to tell her I’d stay away from Leonardo, to make her promise not to ruin everything for him.”
“You fought with her?”
“She was jazzed up on something. There were some people there, like a small party. She was nasty, said things. I said things back. We got into it a little. She smacked me, scratched me.” Mavis tugged back her hair to reveal other wounds along her neck. “A couple of the people there broke it up, and I left.”
“Where did you go?”
“A couple of bars.” She smiled weakly. “A lot of bars, I think. Feeling sorry for myself. Just hanging. Then I got the idea to talk to Leonardo.”
“When did you get here? Do you know what time?”
“No, late, real late. Three, four o’clock.”
“Do you know where Leonardo is?”
“No. He wasn’t here. I wanted him to be here, but she . . . What’s going to happen?”
“I’m going to take care of it. I have to call this in, Mavis. If I don’t do it soon, it’s going to look bad. I’m going to have to put all of this on record, and I’m going to have to take you into Interview.”
“Into—into . . . You don’t think I—”
“Of course I don’t.” It was important to keep her voice brisk, to disguise her own fears. “But we’re going to clear it all up as quick as we can, as clean as we can. Let me do the worrying right now. Okay?”
“I can’t feel much of anything.”
“You just sit here while I start things rolling. I want you to try to remember details. Who you talked to tonight, where you were, what you saw. Everything you can remember. We’ll go over it all again in a little while.”
“Dallas.” With a little shudder, Mavis sat back. “Leonardo. He’d never do that to anyone.”
“Let me do the worrying,” Eve repeated. She glanced at Roarke, and understanding the signal, he moved over to sit with Mavis. Eve pulled out her communicator and turned away.
“Dallas. I have a homicide.”
Eve’s life had never been easy. In her career as a cop she had seen and done too many nightmarish things to count them all. But nothing had ever been more difficult for her than taking Mavis into Interview.
“Are you feeling okay? You don’t have to do this now.”
“No, the MTs gave me a local.” Mavis reached up, touched the lump on the back of her head. “Numbed it good. They fiddled around with some other stuff, kind of snapped me back into focus.”
Eve took a long study of Mavis’s eyes, her color. Everything looked normal, but it didn’t ease her dread. “Listen, it wouldn’t hurt for you to check in to health center for a day or two.”
“You’re just putting it off. I’d rather get it over with. Leonardo.” She swallowed hard. “Has anyone found Leonardo?”
“Not yet. Mavis, you can have an attorney or representative here.”
“I don’t have anything to hide. I didn’t kill her, Dallas.”
Eve flicked a glance at the recorder. It could wait just another minute. “Mavis, I have to do this by the ropes. Exactly. They can bump me off the case if I don’t. If I’m not primary, I can’t be as much help to you.”
Mavis licked her lips, her tongue quick and thirsty. “It’s going to be hard.”
“It could be really, really hard. You’re going to have to handle it.”
Mavis tried for a smile, nearly managed it. “Hey, nothing can be worse than walking in and finding Pandora. Nothing.”
Oh, yes, it could, Eve thought, but she nodded. She engaged the recorder, recited her name, ID, and officially gave Mavis her rights. Carefully, she took Mavis over the same ground she had covered on the scene, pinning down times as much as possible.
“When you went to the victim’s home to talk to her, other people were present.”
“A few. It looked like a small party. Justin Young was there. You know, the actor. Jerry Fitzgerald, the model. And another guy I didn’t recognize. Looked like a suit. You know, an exec.”
“The victim attacked you?”
“She popped me one,” Mavis said ruefully, fingering the bruise on her cheek. “She started out just being bitchy. The way her eyes were wheeling around in her head, I figured she was pumped.”
“You believe she was using illegals.”
“Big time. I mean her eyes were like crystal wheels, and that punch. I tangled with her before, you saw it,” Mavis went on while Eve winced. “She didn’t have that kind of power before.”
“You hit her back?”
“I think I got one in, at least one. She scratched me—those damn nails of hers. I went for her hair. I think it was Justin Young and the suit that pulled us apart.”
“And then?”
“I guess we spit at each other for a couple of minutes, then I left. Went bar crawling.”
“Where did you go? How long did you stay?”
“I went a couple of places. I think I hit the ZigZag first, the joint over on Sixty-first and Lex.”
“Did you speak to anyone?”
“I didn’t want to talk to anyone. My face hurt, and I was feeling lousy. I ordered a Triple Zombie and sulked.”
“How’d you pay for it?”
“I think . . . Yeah, I think I just entered my credit account on screen.”
Good. There’d be a record, time, place. “From there, where did you go?”
“I walked around, bumped into another couple of dives. I was pretty blitzed.”
“Were you still ordering drinks?”
“I must have been. I was pretty drunk when I thought about going over to Leonardo’s.”
“How’d you get downtown?”
“I walked. I needed to sober up a little, so I walked. Took a glide a couple of times, but mostly hoofed.”
Hoping to spark some memory, Eve repeated all the information Mavis had just given. “When you left the ZigZag, which direction did you walk?”
“I’d just had two Triple Zombies. I wasn’t walking, I was stumbling. I don’t know which way. Dallas, I don’t know the name of the other joints I went into, what else I drank. It’s all a blur. Music, people laughing . . . a table dancer.”
“Male or female?”
“A guy. Hung, with a tattoo, I think. Could have been paint. Pretty sure it was a snake, maybe a lizard.”
“What did he look like, the table dancer?”
“Shit, Dallas, I never looked above the waist.”
“Did you talk to him?”
Mavis put her head in her hands and struggled to bring it back. Holding onto the memory was like trying to hold a fistful of water. “I just don’t know. I was seriously impaired. I remember walking and walking. Getting to Leonardo’s, thinking it was the last time I was goin
g to see him. I didn’t want to be drunk when I did, so I took some Sober Up before I went in. Then I found her, and it was a lot worse than being drunk.”
“What was the first thing you saw when you walked in?”
“Blood. Lots of blood. Things knocked over, ripped, more blood. I was so afraid that Leonardo had hurt himself, and I ran back to his work area, and saw her.” This was a memory she could bring back with perfect clarity. “I saw her. I recognized her because of the hair, and because she was wearing the same outfit as she’d had on earlier. But her face . . . it really wasn’t even there at all. I couldn’t scream. I knelt down beside her. I don’t know what I thought I could do, but I had to do something. Then something hit me, and when I woke up, I called you.”
“Did you see anyone as you were going into the building, on the street outside?”
“No. It was late.”
“Tell me about the security camera.”
“It was broken. Sometimes street punks get a charge out of bashing them. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“How did you get into the apartment?”
“The door wasn’t locked. I just walked in.”
“And Pandora was dead when you got there? You didn’t speak with her, argue?”
“No, I told you. She was lying there.”
“You’d fought with her earlier, twice. Did you fight with her tonight in Leonardo’s apartment?”
“No. She was dead. Dallas—”
“Why did you fight with her on the previous occasions?”
“She threatened to ruin Leonardo’s career.” Emotions flickered over Mavis’s bruised face. Hurt, fear, grief. “She wouldn’t let him go. We were in love, but she wouldn’t let him go. You saw the way she was, Dallas.”
“Leonardo and his career are very important to you.”
“I love him,” Mavis said quietly.
“You’d do anything to protect him, to see that he wasn’t harmed, personally or professionally.”
“I’d decided to get out of his life,” Mavis stated with a dignity that warmed Eve. “She’d have hurt him otherwise, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“She couldn’t hurt him, or you, if she was dead.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“You went to her home, argued, she hit you and you fought. You left and got drunk. You made your way to Leonardo’s apartment, found her there. Maybe you argued again, maybe she attacked you again. You defended yourself, and things got out of hand.”
Mavis’s big, tired eyes registered puzzlement first, then hurt. “Why are you saying that? You know it’s not true.”
Eyes flat, Eve leaned forward. “She was making your life hell, threatening the man you love. She hurt you, physically. She was stronger than you. When she saw you come into Leonardo’s she went for you again. She knocked you down, you hit your head. Then you were afraid, you grabbed the closest thing at hand. To protect yourself. You hit her with it, to protect yourself. Maybe she kept coming at you, so you hit her again. To protect yourself. Then you lost control, and kept hitting her, and kept hitting her, until you realized she was dead.”
Mavis’s breath sobbed through her lips. She shook her head, kept shaking it while her body trembled violently. “I didn’t. I didn’t kill her. She was already dead. For God’s sake, Dallas, how can you think I could do that to anybody?”
“Maybe you didn’t.” Push, Eve ordered herself as her heart bled. Push hard, for the record. “Maybe Leonardo did, and you’re protecting him. Did you see him lose control, Mavis? Did he pick up the walking stick and hit her?”
“No, no, no!”
“Or did you get there after he had done it, after he was standing over her body. Panicked. You wanted to help him cover it up, so you got him out; called it in.”
“No. It wasn’t like that.” She lunged up from her chair, cheeks white, eyes wild. “He wasn’t even there. I didn’t see anyone. He could never do that. Why aren’t you listening to me?”
“I am listening to you, Mavis. Sit down. Sit down,” Eve repeated more gently. “We’re almost done here. Is there anything you wish to add to your statement, or any change you wish to make in its content at this time?”
“No,” Mavis murmured and stared blindly over Eve’s shoulder.
“This concludes Interview One, Mavis Freestone, Homicide file, Pandora. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.” She noted the date and time, disengaged the recorder, took a leveling breath. “I’m sorry, Mavis. I’m so sorry.”
“How could you do that? How could you say those things to me?”
“I have to say those things to you. I have to ask those questions, and you have to answer them.” She put a firm hand over Mavis’s. “I may have to ask them again, and you’ll have to answer them again. Look at me, Mavis.” She waited until Mavis shifted her gaze. “I don’t know what the sweepers will pull in, what the lab reports will say. But if we don’t get real lucky, you’re going to need a lawyer.”
The color faded from Mavis’s face, even her lips, until she resembled a corpse with hurting eyes. “You’re going to arrest me?”
“I don’t know if it’s going to come to that, but I want you to be prepared. Now, I want you to go home with Roarke, and get some sleep. I want you to try hard, real hard, to remember times and places and people. If you remember anything, you’re going to record it for me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do my job. I’m damn good at my job, Mavis. You remember that, too, and trust me to clear this up.”
“Clear this up,” Mavis repeated, bitterness in her voice. “Clear me, you mean. I thought it was ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ ”
“That’s just one of the bigger lies we live by.” Standing, Eve ushered Mavis into the corridor. “I’ll do my best to close the case quickly. That’s all I can tell you.”
“You could tell me you believe me.”
“I can tell you that, too.” She just couldn’t let it get in the way.
There was always paperwork and procedure. Within an hour she had Mavis signed out and under voluntary holding at Roarke’s. Officially, Mavis Freestone was listed as a witness. Unofficially, Eve knew, she was the prime suspect. Intending to begin amending that immediately, she walked into her office.
“Okay, what’s this shit about Mavis whacking some fancy-faced model?”
“Feeney.” Eve could have kissed every rumpled inch of him. He sat at her desk, his ubiquitous bag of sugared nuts in his lap, and a scowl on his wrinkled face. “Word travels.”
“It was the first thing I heard when I made my stop at the eatery. One of our top cop’s pals gets collared, it makes a buzz.”
“She hasn’t been collared. She’s a witness. For now.”
“Media’s picked it up already. They don’t have Mavis’s name yet, but they’ve got the victim’s face splashed all over the screen. The wife dragged me out of the shower to hear about it. Pandora was a BFD.”
“Big fucking deal, alive or dead.” Weary, Eve eased a hip onto the corner of her desk. “Want a rundown of Mavis’s statement?”
“What do you think I’m here for, the ambience?”
She gave it to him in the cop shorthand they both understood, and left him frowning. “Damn, Dallas, it doesn’t look good for her. You saw them going at it yourself.”
“Alive and in person. Why the hell she got it into her mind to confront Pandora again . . .” Rising, she paced the room. “It makes it worse. I’m hoping the lab comes back with something, anything. But I can’t count on it. What’s your caseload like, Feeney?”
“Don’t ask.” He waved that away. “What do you need?”
“I need a run on her credit account. The first place she remembers going into is ZigZag. If we can place her there, or at one of the other joints at time of death, she’s clear.”
“I can handle that for you, but . . . We got somebody hanging around the murder scene, bopping Mavis on the head. Chances are there won’t be much of a tim
e lag.”
“I know. I’ve got to cover all the bases. I’m going to track down the people Mavis recognized at the victim’s house, get statements. I’ve got to find a table dancer with a big dick and a tattoo.”
“The fun never ends.”
She nearly smiled. “I need to find people who can testify she was really ripped. Even with a dose of Sober Up, she couldn’t have been clean enough to have taken out Pandora if she’d been drinking her way downtown.”
“She claims Pandora was using.”
“Something else I have to check out. Then there’s the elusive Leonardo. Where the fuck was he? And where is he now?”
chapter five
Leonardo was sprawled in the middle of Mavis’s living room floor, where he had fallen hours before in a drunken stupor brought on by a full bottle of synthetic whiskey and a boatload of self-pity.
He was surfacing groggily and feared he’d lost half of his face sometime during the miserable night. When he lifted a cautious hand to it, he was relieved to find his entire face in the usual place, only numbed from being mashed into Mavis’s floor.
He couldn’t remember much. It was one of the reasons he rarely drank and never permitted himself to overindulge. He was prone to blackouts and blank spaces whenever he chugged down a few too many.
He thought he remembered staggering into Mavis’s apartment building, using the key code she’d given him when they realized they were not just lovers but in love.
But she hadn’t been there. He was almost sure of that. He had a vague picture of himself lurching across town, glugging from the bottle he’d bought—stolen? Hell. Blearily he tried to sit up and pry his pasty eyes open. All he knew for certain was that he’d had the damn bottle in his hand and the whiskey in his gut.
He must have passed out. Which disgusted him. How could he expect to make Mavis see reason if he came weaving into her apartment, babbling drunk?
He could only be grateful she hadn’t been there.