In Death 12 - Betrayal in Death

interrupted him. The console was humming discreetly, and there was, a pot of coffee sitting on the refreshment extension.
    "Oh, Lieutenant. I'd forgotten you were coming."
    "I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me."
    "Of course, of course, it's not a problem at all." He gave the suite a distracted look, seemed mildly surprised to find all in place. "I'm afraid I tend to bury myself in work once I begin. Poor Minnie despairs of me. I think she said she was going out to shop, or was it the beauty salon? Did you want to speak to her as well?"
    "I can always arrange for that another time."
    "Let me get you something. The coffee's probably fresh. I think Minnie plunked it down for me before she left."
    "Thanks." She agreed because it would keep things informal, then sat on one of the pretty chairs while he fussed with cups.
    "And for you, Officer?"
    "If it's no trouble."
    "Not at all, not at all. Such a wonderful hotel. Everything you could possibly need or want right at your fingertips. I have to admit, when Magda had the brainstorm to hold the event here, I wasn't happy. I've certainly changed my mind."
    "She was set on it?"
    "Ummm. She wanted the auction in New York. She had her first professional role onstage here. Though she made her true mark in film, she's never forgotten it was Broadway that gave her the first break."
    "You've been together, you and Magda, a long time."
    "Longer than either of us would like to remember."
    "Like family," Eve said, remembering Peabody's statement.
    "Oh yes, very much like family. All the ups and downs and the byways," he said as he brought over the coffee. "We've stood up for each other at weddings, held onto each other at funerals, paced the floors for each other at births. I'm godfather to her son. She's a magnificent woman. I'm honored to be her friend."
    Eve said nothing while he took his seat. "Friends can be protective of friends. Sometimes too protective."
    He gave her a puzzled expression. "I don't follow you."
    "Does she know just how big a financial hole Vincent Lane is in this time?"
    "I don't discuss the personal lives of my friends, Lieutenant. And as Magda's manager, would hardly discuss her finances or those of her son with the police."
    "Even if discussing it might save her considerable grief? I'm not a reporter, Mr. Mince. I'm not here for gossip. I'm concerned with the security of your friend and her belongings."
    "I hardly see what Vince's financial position has to do with security."
    "You've bailed him out before, haven't you? One or the other of you. And you keep bailing him out. He sinks again. Consider this. His main meal ticket, his mother is about to give away upwards of a billion dollars. How does that sit with him?"
    She caught the flicker in his gaze before he looked away. "I hardly see what -- "
    "Mr. Mince. I can get warrants. I can oblige you to come into Interview and ask these questions on the record. I don't want to do that, for a number of reasons. One of those reasons is my husband has a great deal of admiration and affection for your friend. I'm thinking of him, and of her, and what it could mean to both of them if there's any scandal with this auction."
    "Surely you don't think Vince means to cause any trouble? He wouldn't dare."
    "Does she know his current financial situation?"
    Mince seemed to sink in his chair. Worry creased his forehead as he set his coffee aside. "No. I haven't told her this time. She thinks he's turned over a new leaf. She's so thrilled that he's taken such a personal interest in her foundation, in the auction..." He trailed off, looked back at Eve, horrified.
    Then he shook his head. "But no. No. There's nothing he can do at this point to stop the event from going through. It's done, as far as the end result. All the paperwork is filed. The proceeds go to the Foundation. That's locked in. He can't stop it. It doesn't matter that he was against it initially."
    "He tried to stop it?"
    Mince rose, paced the room, his palms pressed together as he tried to think it through. "Yes. Yes, he argued bitterly against it. She was giving away his inheritance, his birthright. They had a terrible row over it. She'd reached the end of her rope with him, told him it was time he worked for a living, and that she would not again sail to his rescue with money to plug the holes he kept digging in his life. She said one of the benefits of the Foundation would be that she couldn't just pass him the money. She was setting it up that way for