In Death 22 - Memory in Death

Alibis would be checked
    for them, and for the two others she couldn’t reach.
    She got up for coffee, detoured into Roarke’s office. “Any progress?”
    “Continues to dead-end on me.” He shoved back from the desk, obviously annoyed. “Are we sure she had the numbers right?”
    “She was shook, so she may have screwed up. But she said them twice, in the sequence I gave you.
    No hesitation.”
    “I’m getting nothing. I’m going to have the computer run them, in various sequences. See what pops up. What about you?”
    “I’ve got one confirmed blackmail. Lawyer out in California. I don’t like her for the murder, but she claims she shelled out a quarter million over a couple of years before she cut Trudy off. That’s a lot
    from one source, and I’m banking there’s more. I’m also banking Trudy had herself a couple of quiet accounts, the sort she wouldn’t report for taxes.”
    “Now that I can find easily enough.”
    “I’vegot twoaccount numbers from the lawyer where she transferred money to Trudy. But it’s been several years, and maybe Trudy shuffled funds around.”
    “The best way to keep theIRSfrom sniffing. I’ll start with those, find the rest.”
    “When you do, if they were e-transfers, we’d be able to track them to the source.”
    “Child’s play, and it’ll give me a break from this frustration.”
    “Want coffee?”
    “How wifely. I would, yes. Thanks.”
    “I was getting some for me anyway.”
    She heard him laugh as she started out, then she stopped by the board again. If Trudy had income from blackmail, money tucked away, just how much would Bobby inherit now?
    A nice boost to his business, she imagined.
    She thought briefly of the boy who’d snuck a sandwich into her room when she’d been alone and hungry. How he’d done so without a word, with the faintest of smiles and a finger to his lips.
    Then she got coffee, and prepared to find out if he’d killed his own mother.
    [“14”]14
    SHE WAS STANDING IN AROOM, BRILLIANTLY lit, drinking champagne with a group of
    women. She recognized their faces. The California lawyer was drinking right from the bottle and doing
    a hip-swinging dance in high red heels. Carly Tween was sitting on a stool with a tall back, sipping delicately while she rubbed her enormous belly with her free hand.
    The othersthe others who’d been like herwere all chattering the way women do at girl parties.
    She’d never been fluent in the language of fashion and food and men, so she drank the frothy wine
    and let the sounds roll over her.
    Everyone was duded up. She herself was wearing the same outfit she’d donned for the holiday party. Even in the dreameven knowing it was a dreamher feet ached.
    Part of the room was sectioned off, and there the children they’d been sat, watching the party. Hand-me-down clothes, hungry faces, hopeless eyesall closed off from the lights, the music, the laughter by a sheer glass wall.
    Inside it, Bobby served the children sandwiches, and they ate ravenously.
    She didn’t belong here, not really. She wasn’t one of them, not quite. And the others sent her quick, sidelong glances, and whispered behind their hands.
    Still, it was she who walked first to the body that lay on the floor in the middle of the celebration. Blood stained Trudy’s nightgown and congealed on the glossy floor.
    “She’s really not dressed for it,” Maxie said, and smiled as she chugged down more champagne. “All the money she carved out of us, you’d think she could afford a nice outfit. It’s a fricking party, isn’t it?”
    “She didn’t plan to be here.”
    “You know what they say about plans.” She gave Eve an elbow nudge. “Loosen up. We’re all family here, after all.”
    “My family’s not here.” She looked through that sheer glass, into the eyes of children. And wasn’t so
    sure. “I’ve got a job to do.”
    “Suit yourself. Me, I’m going to get this party started.” Maxie turned the bottle over, gripped the neck in both hands, and with a wild laugh smashed it against Trudy’s already shattered head.
    Eve leapt forward, shoved her back, but the others swarmed in. She was knocked down, kicked aside, trampled as they fell on the body like dogs.
    She crawled clear, struggled to stand. And saw the children behind the glass. Cheering.
    Behind them, she saw the shadow, the shape that was her father.
    Told you, didn’t I, little girl? Told you they’d toss you into the pit with the spiders.
    “No.”