In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

“We’re obliged to wait until your representative meets with you before we take any statements or continue this interview. We’ll hold you at Central prior to that, and prior to booking you on the pending charges.”
    “Arresting me? You’re arresting me? Wait. Just wait.” He didn’t sweat like Roland, but his hand trembled as he pushed it through his glossy mane of hair. “We’ll hold on the lawyer; we’ll keep this here.”
    “That’s your choice.”
    “Martinis!” Taija announced in a bright singsong as she preceded Derby into the room. “Let’s all sit down and have a nice drink. Oh, honey, look at you! All red in the face.” She walked over, patted his cheeks. “Derby, pour the drinks. Mr. DuVaugne needs a little pick-me-up.”
    “Give me that.” DuVaugne grabbed the oversized shaker, dumped the contents into a glass to the rim. Then downed it.
    “Oops! You forgot the olives. Derby, pour our guests drinks.”
    “We’re not allowed to drink on duty, Mrs. DuVaugne, but thanks.”
    Taija’s mouth turned down in a sympathetic frown. “Geezy, that doesn’t seem fair.”
    “Taija, go upstairs. I have business to discuss here.”
    “Oh.” After shooting her husband a hurt glance, she turned to Eve and Peabody. “It was nice meeting you.”
    “Nice meeting you, too.”
    “Derby, leave us alone.” DuVaugne sat, rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “I didn’t have anything to do with Minnock’s murder. I was at my office until four. My driver brought me home. I didn’t leave the house again until seven. You can check all this.”
    “Can and will. But when a man pays someone to steal for him, it’s a short step up to paying someone to kill for him.”
    DuVaugne dropped his hands. “I don’t know what this Dubrosky character’s told you, but he’s a thief and a liar. He’s not to be trusted.”
    “You trusted him with about a hundred and fifty thousand,” Eve pointed out.
    “That’s business, just the price of doing business.” He waved that away, then settled his hands on his knees. “And he came to me. He said he wanted to develop a game, and was working on some new technology, but needed backing. Normally, I’d have dismissed him, but he was persuasive, and the idea was interesting, so I gave him a few thousand to continue the work. And a bit more shortly after as I confess I was caught up. I should know better, of course, but poor judgment’s no crime. Then, after I’d invested considerable time and money, he told me he’d stolen the data from U-Play.”
    On a huff of breath, DuVaugne poured a second martini—and
    remembered the olives. “I was shocked, outraged, threatened to turn him in, but he blackmailed me. I’d paid him, you see, so it would look as if I’d hired him to access the information. I continued to pay him. I didn’t know what else to do.”
    Eve sat for a moment. “Do you buy any of that, Peabody?”
    “No, sir. Not a word.”
    Obviously stunned, he lowered the glass. “You’d believe a common criminal over me?”
    “In this case,” Eve considered, “oh yeah. You’re not naive, DuVaugne. Not like your very nice wife. And you wouldn’t take a big chunk of cash out of your own pocket to help some struggling programmer develop a game. You hired Dubrosky, and you paid him to do exactly what he did—use some silly sap to feed him the data you wanted. You bring the game and the technology to your company, which is downsizing rapidly, you get to be the hero. Your investment pays off several hundred times. The only hitch to pulling it off? Bart Minnock.”
    “I’m not a murderer!” DuVaugne downed half the second martini before slapping the glass down. “If Dubrosky killed that man, he did it on his own. I had nothing to do with it.”
    “You just paid him to steal?”
    “It’s business,” DuVaugne insisted. “It’s just business. My company’s in some trouble, that’s true. We need an infusion, some fresh ideas, a boost in the market. When information comes my way, I use it. That’s good business. It’s the way of the industry. It’s very competitive.”
    “When you pay someone to steal and/or transfer proprietary information it’s called theft. And guess what? You go to jail. And if that theft is linked to murder you get the bonus prize of accessory thereto.”
    “This is insane. I’m a businessman doing my job. I’d never hurt anyone or have a part in it.”
    “Stealing the results of someone else’s sweat hurts, and