Naked in Death - J. D. Robb [99]
“The media is trying to injure the department,” Simpson began, using the statement meticulously prepared by his senior aide. “With the very visible failure of the investigation into the brutal deaths of three women, the media is attempting to incite a witch-hunt. As chief of police, I’m an obvious target.”
“Chief Simpson.” Not by the flicker of an eyelash did Commander Whitney expose his inner glee. His voice was grave, his eyes somber. His heart was celebrating. “Regardless of the motive, it will be necessary for you to explain the discrepancy in your books.”
Simpson sat frozen while one of his attorneys leaned over and murmured in his ear.
“I have not admitted to any discrepancy. If one exists, I’m unaware of it.”
“Unaware, Chief Simpson, of more than two million dollars?”
“I’ve already contacted my accounting firm. Obviously, if there is a mistake of some nature, it was made by them.”
“Will you confirm or deny that the account numbered four seventy-eight nine one one two seven, four ninety-nine is yours?”
After another brief consultation, Simpson nodded. “I will confirm that.” To lie would only tighten the noose.
Whitney glanced at Eve. They’d agreed the account was an IRS matter. All they’d wanted was for Simpson to confirm.
“Will you explain, Chief Simpson, the withdrawal of one hundred thousand dollars, in twenty-five thousand dollar increments, every three months during the past year?”
Simpson tugged at the knot of his tie. “I see no reason to explain how I spend my money, Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Then perhaps you can explain how it is those same amounts were listed by Sharon DeBlass and accredited to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We have evidence that you paid to Sharon DeBlass one hundred thousand dollars, in twenty-five thousand dollar increments in one year’s period.” Eve waited a beat. “That’s quite a large amount between casual acquaintances.”
“I have nothing to say on the matter.”
“Was she blackmailing you?”
“I have nothing to say.”
“The evidence says it for you,” Eve stated. “She was blackmailing you; you were paying her off. I’m sure you’re aware there are only two ways to stop extortion, Chief Simpson. One, you cut off the supply. Two . . . you eliminate the blackmailer.”
“This is absurd. I didn’t kill Sharon. I was paying her like clockwork. I—”
“Chief Simpson.” The elder of the team of lawyers put a hand on Simpson’s arm, squeezed. He turned his mild gaze to Eve. “My client has no statement to make regarding Sharon DeBlass. Obviously, we will cooperate in any way with the Internal Revenue Service’s investigation into my client’s records. At this time, however, no charges have been made. We’re here only as a courtesy, and to show our goodwill.”
“Were you acquainted with a woman known as Lola Starr?” Eve shot out.
“My client has no comment.”
“Did you know licensed companion, Georgie Castle?”
“Same response,” the lawyer said patiently.
“You’ve done everything you could to roadblock this murder investigation from the beginning. Why?”
“Is that a statement of fact, Lieutenant Dallas?” the lawyer asked. “Or an opinion?”
“I’ll give you facts. You knew Sharon DeBlass, intimately. She was hosing you for a hundred grand a year. She’s dead, and someone is leaking confidential information on the investigation. Two more women are dead. All the victims made their living through legal prostitution—something you oppose.”
“My opposition of prostitution is a political, moral, and a personal stance,” Simpson said tightly. “I will support wholeheartedly any legislation that outlaws it. But I would hardly eliminate the problem by picking off prostitutes one at a time.”
“You own a collection of antique weapons,” Eve persisted.
“I do,” Simpson agreed, ignoring his attorney. “A small, limited collection. All registered, secured, and inventoried. I’ll be more than happy to turn them over to Commander Whitney for testing.”
“I appreciate that,” Whitney