Part 36 (2/2)
”Doesn't it?”
”I 'm afraid we have some disturbing news,” Eve continued. ”Would you object if I recorded this? And I 'll need to read you your rights. I t's official, a formality, and it would keep the record clean.”
”Not at all.”
”I appreciate that.” Eve engaged her recorder, and noticed Dudley's eyes got just a little brighter. ”Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, in interview with Dudley, Winston, the Fourth, in his home.” She read off the Revised Miranda. ”Mr. Dudley, you employ a Meryle Simpson, correct?”
”Yes, she's our CEO of Marketing. And a family connection ... convolutely. No, don't tell me something's happened to her. I thought she and her family were away for a while.”
”They are. However, her ID, her company credit information, and her home were used in a homicide.”
”This just can't be.” He braced his head in his hand, closed his eyes. ”Not again.”
”I 'm afraid it can be. I t's possible her information was compromised before your recent security checks. I f not, you still have a problem.”
”I t's a nightmare.” He breathed it out, brushed a hand over his white-blond hair. ”I have to a.s.sure you Meryle couldn't be involved. She's not only a trusted member of the Dudley team, but family.”
”We have no reason to believe she's involved. I spoke with her and her husband this morning, and informed them of the incident. Also I advised them there's no need for them to return to New York at this time, but I believe Mr. Frost intends to do so, to rea.s.sure them both their house is in order.”
”Yes, he's a very responsible sort. What a terrible thing.” He aimed a sorrowful look in Eve's direction. ”Their home, you say?”
”That's right. Ms. Simpson's name and information were used to engage the services of a private chef. A Luc Delaflote, from Paris.”
”Delaflote!”
Dudley pressed a spread hand to his heart. Eve wondered if he'd practiced the gesture and the shocked expression in the mirror.
”No. My G.o.d, was he the victim? Is he dead?”
”You know him?”
”Yes, I do. I certainly do. The man's an artist, a genius. We've-myself, friends, family-hired him many times for events, for special occasions.
Why, I dined in his restaurant the last time I was in Paris. How did this happen?”
”I 'm not free to give you the details, as yet. As the employer, and a family connection, and now with your personal acquaintance with the victim, I have to ask for your whereabouts last night between the hours of nine and midnight. Obviously you were entertaining,” Eve continued. ”I f I could have your guest list, even a partial, to verify, it would put that matter aside so we can focus in on viable lines of investigation.”
”Of course, of course. This is such a shock. I 'm going to contact our security, and have this checked yet again.”
”I think that would be wise. Again, we're sorry to disturb you at home, and with such distressing news. Thank you for your time.”
”I 'm more than happy to give you my time under these tragic circ.u.mstances. This is a terrible business.”He chose a grim expression this time, and Eve thought he selected his facial reactions the way a man might pick the correct tie.
”I want to contact Meryle, offer my support and sympathy. That won't be a problem, officially, will it?”
”Not at all. We won't keep you any longer. I f we could have that guest list, or even a handful of names, we'll get out of your way.”
”Let me just tell Mizzy to make you a copy.” He rose, walked to a house 'link.
”Nice shoes,” Eve said with a casual smile. ”The silver accessory gives them some jump, but they look comfortable.”
”Thank you, and they are. Stefani invariably marries comfort and style. Mizzy, would you make a copy of last night's guest list for Lieutenant Dallas? Yes, dear. Thank you.”
He walked back, picked up his coffee again. ”I t won't take a minute. Have you ever dined on Delaflote?” he asked her.
”I couldn't say.”
”Ah, if you had, you could and would say.” He forgot to look grim or sorrowful as delight twinkled over his face. ”I 'm surprised Roarke wouldn't have indulged you.”
”Yeah, it's too bad since we've missed our chance there. Still, I lean toward I talian,” she said, thinking of the pizza she'd shared with Roarke the night before.
Mizzy, yet another red uniform, strode in, brisk on toothpick heels. ”Here you are, Lieutenant. The guest list, with contact data. Is there anything else I can do?”
”This should cover it. Thanks again.” Eve rose, held out a hand to Dudley. ”Shoot, sorry, lost track. Interview end.”
”Mizzy will show you out. Please keep me up to date on these matters.”
”You'll be first in line.”
After they'd walked out, gotten into their vehicle, Eve let her own smirk free. ”You caught the footwear?”
”Oh, yeah, and now we've got them on record, with his murdering feet in them.”
”Murdering feet?”
”Well, he's a murderer and the feet are attached to him. Solid alibi,” Peabody added. ”And the first red-suited bombsh.e.l.l mentioned Moriarity was at the party, so it's looking like he'll have one, too.”
”Easy drive from here to the Simpson place. I clocked it at six minutes. Maybe shave off a minute that time of night, but stick with twelve for the round-trip, ten to do the kill, add another two at most to gloat and pack up the wine.”
Eve gave a last glance at the Dudley house in the rearview as she drove away. ”Big party, drinks flowing, people wandering around outside, in the house. Who's going to notice one guest slipping out for under a half hour?”
”I t's a little squishy. But they're all really rich people, and people of the same type tend to stick together. I bet more than half the people who were there will swear Moriarity was.”
”Then we'd better prove he wasn't, for at least the time needed to skewer Delaflote. Next, there's going to be a past connection between the vic and Dudley. We find it. The vic's got about ten years on him, so they didn't go to school together. We'll search the society and gossip s.h.i.+t first. And we dig into the vic, see what he had in common with Dudley. I f they traveled to the same places, had any common interests.”
She engaged the dash 'link, contacted Feeney.
”Yo,” he said.
”I 've got an image of Dudley in the same f.u.c.king shoes he wore on Coney Island. Can you compare images, get me a match?”
”Bring it in. Amus.e.m.e.nt park's image isn't pristine, but we ought to be able to give you a solid probability.”
”Heading in now. I 'm going to need you and that match later today. I need ammo, and plenty of it, to talk my way into search warrants.”
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