In Death 02 - Glory in Death

problems that you know of, in that or any other of your family holdings?"
    "No, none at all."
    It was time to try a different tack. "Was your mother aware of Randall Slade's gambling debts?"
    For the first time Mirina showed a spark of life, and the life was anger, flashing in the pale eyes. She seemed to snap awake. "Randall's debts were not my mother's concern, but his, and mine. We're dealing with them."
    "You didn't tell her?"
    "There was no reason to worry her about something that was being handled. Randall has a problem with gambling, but he's gotten help. He doesn't wager anymore."
    "The debts are considerable?"
    "They're being paid," Mirina said hollowly. "Arrangements have been made."
    "Your mother was a wealthy woman in her own right. You'll inherit a large portion of her estate."
    Either the tranqs or grief dulled Mirina's wits. She seemed oblivious to the implication. "Yes, but I won't have my mother, will I? I won't have Mama. When I marry Randall, she won't be there. She won't be there," she repeated, and began to weep quietly.
    David Angelini wasn't fragile. His emotions showed themselves in stiff impatience with undercurrents of chained rage. For all appearances, this was a man insulted at the very idea that he would be expected to speak to a cop.
    When Eve sat across from him in Whitney's office, he answered her questions briefly in a clipped, cultured voice.
    "Obviously it was some maniac she'd prosecuted who did this to her," he stated. "Her work brought her entirely too close to violence."
    "Did you object to her work?"
    "I didn't understand why she loved it. Why she needed it." He lifted the glass he'd brought with him and drank. "But she did, and in the end, it killed her."
    "When did you see her last?"
    "On March eighteenth. My birthday."
    "Did you have contact with her since then?"
    "I spoke with her about a week before she died. Just a family call. We never went more than a week without speaking."
    "How would you describe her mood?"
    "Obsessed -- with Mirina's wedding. My mother never did things by halves. She was planning the wedding as meticulously as she did any of her criminal cases. She was hoping it would rub off on me."
    "What would?"
    "The wedding fever. My mother was a romantic woman under the prosecutor's armor. She hoped I would find the right mate and make a family. I told her I'd leave that to Mirina and Randy and stay married to business awhile."
    "You're actively involved in Angelini Exports. You'd be aware of the financial difficulties."
    His face tightened. "They're blips, Lieutenant. Bumps. Nothing more."
    "My information indicates there are more serious difficulties than blips and bumps."
    "Angelini is solid. There's simply a need for some reorganization, some diversification, which is being done." He flicked a hand, elegant fingers, a sparkle of gold. "A few key people have made unfortunate mistakes that can and will be rectified. And that has nothing to do with my mother's case."
    "It's my job to explore all angles, Mr. Angelini. Your mother's estate is substantial. Your father will come into a number of holdings, as will you."
    David got to his feet. "You're speaking of my mother. If you suspect that anyone in the family would cause her harm, then Commander Whitney has made a monstrous error in judgment putting you in charge of the investigation."
    "You're entitled to your opinion. Do you gamble, Mr. Angelini?"
    "What business is that of yours?"
    Since he was going to stand, Eve rose to face him. "It's a simple question."
    "Yes, I gamble on occasion, as do countless others. I find it relaxing. "
    "How much do you owe?"
    His fingers tightened on the glass. "I believe at this point, my mother would have advised me to consult counsel."
    "That's certainly your right. I'm not accusing you of anything, Mr. Angelini. I'm fully aware that you were in Paris on the night of your mother's death." Just as she was fully aware that shuttles skimmed across the Atlantic hourly. "It's my job to get a clear picture, a full and clear picture. You're under no obligation to answer my question. But I can, with very little trouble, access that information."
    The muscles in his jaw worked a moment. "Eight hundred thousand, give or take a few dollars."
    "Are you unable to settle the debt?"
    "I am neither a welsher nor a pauper, Lieutenant Dallas," he said stiffly. "It can and will be settled shortly."
    "Was your mother aware of it?"
    "Neither am I a child, Lieutenant, who needs to run to his