In Death 22 - Memory in Death

“Yes. She was my foster mother for several months when I was a child.”
    “Could you tell me the last time you had contact with her?”
    “Why?Wayne. I mean it. Why?” she repeated.
    “Ms. Lombard was murdered. I’m investigating.”
    “Murdered? Wait, just wait, I have to move to somewhere else. I can’t hear with all this noise.” There was a lot of huffing before the woman gained her feet, and the screen swayed as she waddled across
    what Eve saw was a family living area into a small office space. She shut the door.
    “She was murdered? How?”
    “Mrs. Tween, I’d like to know the last time you spoke with or had contact with Ms. Lombard.”
    “Am I a suspect?”
    “The fact that you’re not answering a routine question makes me wonder.”
    “I was twelve,” Carly snapped. “I was under her care for eight months. My aunt was able to get custody and I went to live with her. Matter closed.”
    “Then why are you angry?”
    “Because a New York cop is calling my home and asking me questions about a murder. I have a family. I’m eight months pregnant, for God’s sake. I’m a teacher.”
    “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
    “I have nothing to say about this or her. Nothing. Not without a lawyer, so leave me alone.”
    The screen went black. “That went well,” Eve commented.
    While she didn’t see Carly Tween waddling her way to New York to bash Trudy’s brains in, she kept
    her on the list.
    On the next call she was switched to voice mailtwo faces, two voices, both of them glowing to the
    point Eve wished for sunshades.
    Hi! This is Pru!
    And this is Alex!
    We can’t talk to you right now because we’re on ourhoneymoonin Aruba!
    They turned to each other, giggling insanely.Catch you when we comeback. If we come back.
    Apparently someone was taking advantage of those low rates to the islands, Eve thought. If Pru and
    Alex had tied the knot, they’d done so recently enough that the data hadn’t caught up.
    She confirmed with vital records in Novi, Michigan. Pru and Alex had indeed applied for a marriage license, and had put it to use the previous Saturday.
    She doubted they’d detoured to New York to commit murder on their way to sun, surf, and sex.
    “All right, MaxieGrant, of New L.A., let’s see what you’re up to. A lawyer, huh? And with your own firm. Must be doing pretty well. I’d bet Trudy would’ve liked a piece of that.”
    Factoring the time difference, she tried Maxie Grant’s office number first.
    It was answered on the second beep, in brisk tones, by a woman with a great deal of curly red hair around a sharply defined face. Her mossy green eyes fixed on Eve’s. “Maxie Grant, what can I do for you?”
    “Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.”
    “New York? You keep late hours, Lieutenant.”
    “You answer your own ‘link, Ms. Grant.”
    “Entirely too often. What can I do for New York?”
    “Trudy Lombard.”
    The smile that curved across Maxie’s face was anything but friendly. “Tell me you’re Homicide, and the bitch is on a slab.”
    “That’s just what I’m going to tell you.”
    “No shit? Well, strike up the band and hand me a tuba. How’d she buy it?”
    “I take it you weren’t a fan.”
    “I hated her guts. I hated the atoms that made up her guts. If you’ve got who did her under wraps,
    I’d like to shake his hand.”
    “Why don’t you tell me your whereabouts from this past Saturday through Monday.”
    “Sure. I was right here. On the coast, I mean. Even I don’t spend every minute in this office.” She eased back in the chair, pursed her lips in consideration. “Okay, Saturday, eight to noon, I was volunteering at St. Agnes’s. I coach girls’ volleyball. Get you a list of names to verify if you want them. Did some Christmas shopping after, with a pal. Spent too much, but hell, it’s Christmas. Got the pal’s name, and
    my receipts. Party Saturday night. Didn’t get home ‘til after two, and didn’t come home alone. Sex and breakfast in bed Sunday morning. Went to the gym, hung around the house. Did some work from home Sunday night. How about some details. Did she suffer? Please tell me she suffered.”
    “Why don’t you tell me why you’d enjoy that?”
    “She made my life hell for nine months. Unless you’re a total fuckupand you don’t look like oneyou’ve got my file right there. Went into the system when I was eight, after my old man finally
    beat my mother to death and got his sorry ass locked up.