In Death 02 - Glory in Death

milieu. I thought I could get away with it, you see. I told her there was trouble with Randy. She didn't know the full problem of his gambling. I did. So, of course, she came."
    "And you slit her throat."
    "Yes." His skin whitened slightly. "It was very quick."
    "What did you do then?"
    "I went home."
    "How?"
    He blinked. "I drove. I'd parked my car a couple of blocks away."
    "What about the blood?" She peered into his eyes, watching his pupils. "There'd have been a lot of it. She'd have gushed all over you."
    The pupils dilated, but his voice remained steady. "I was wearing a top coat, rain resistant. I discarded it along the way." He smiled a little. "I imagine some itinerant found it and made use of it."
    "What did you take from the scene?"
    "The knife, of course."
    "Nothing of hers?" She waited a beat. "Nothing to make it look like a robbery, a mugging?"
    He hesitated. She could almost see his mind working behind his eyes. "I was shaken. I hadn't expected it to be so unpleasant. I had planned to take her bag, the jewelry, but I forgot, and just ran."
    "You ran, taking nothing, but were smart enough to ditch your blood-splattered coat."
    "That's right."
    "Then you went after Metcalf."
    "She was an impulse. I kept dreaming about what it had been like, and I wanted to do it again. She was easy." His breathing leveled and his hands lay still on the table. "She was ambitious and rather naive. I knew David had written a screenplay with her in mind. He was determined to complete this entertainment project -- it was something we disagreed over. It annoyed me, and it would have cost the company resources that are, at the moment, a bit strained. I decided to kill her, and I contacted her. Of course she agreed to meet me."
    "What was she wearing?"
    "Wearing?" He fumbled for a moment. "I didn't pay attention. It wasn't important. She smiled, held out both of her hands as I walked toward her. And I did it."
    "Why are you coming forward now?"
    "As I said, I thought I could get away with it. Perhaps I could have. I never expected my son to be arrested in my place."
    "So, you're protecting him?"
    "I killed them, Lieutenant. What more do you want?"
    "Why did you leave the knife in his drawer, in his room?"
    His eyes slid away, slid back. "As I said, he rarely stays there. I thought it was safe. Then I was contacted about the search warrant. I didn't have time to remove it."
    "You expect me to buy this? You think you're helping him by clouding the case, by coming forward with this lame confession. You think he's guilty." She lowered her voice, bit off each word. "You're so terrified that your son is a murderer that you're willing to take the rap rather than see him face the consequences. Are you going to let another woman die, Angelini? Or two, or three before you swallow reality?"
    His lips trembled once, then firmed. "I've given you my statement."
    "You've given me bullshit." Turning on her heel, Eve left the room. Struggling to calm herself, she stood outside, watched with a jaundiced eye as Angelini pressed his face into his hands.
    She could break him, eventually. But there was always a chance that word would leak and the media would scream that there was a confession from someone other than the prime.
    She looked over at the sound of footsteps, and her body stiffened like steel. "Commander."
    "Lieutenant. Progress?"
    "He's sticking to his story. It's got holes you could drive a shuttle through. I've given him the opening to bring up the souvenirs from the first two hits. He didn't bite."
    "I'd like to talk to him. Privately, Lieutenant, and off the record." Before she could speak, he held up a hand. "I realize it's not procedure. I'm asking you for a favor."
    "And if he incriminates himself or his son?"
    Whitney's jaw tightened. "I'm still a cop, Dallas. Goddamn it."
    "Yes, sir." She unlocked the door, then after only a faint hesitation, darkened the two-way glass and shut off audio. "I'll be in my office."
    "Thank you." He stepped inside. He gave her one last look before shutting the door and turning to the man slumped at the table. "Marco," Whitney said on a long sigh. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
    "Jack." Marco offered a thin smile. "I wondered if you'd be along. We never did make that golf date."
    "Talk to me." Whitney sat down heavily.
    "Hasn't your efficient and dogged lieutenant filled you in?"
    "The recorder's off," Whitney said sharply. "We're alone. Talk to me, Marco. We both know you didn't kill