The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [98]
After a moment of silence during which everyone seemed to be digesting Hancock’s theory, Del Monaco spoke up. “But it doesn’t exactly match Dead Eyes. If she was staging the scene, she’d want to follow it to the letter. So there’d be no doubt.”
Hancock blew a plume out the side of his mouth. “She can’t control herself. Rage takes over. Overkill, because of the personal connection.”
Del Monaco bobbed his head about, as if to say he couldn’t completely rule out Hancock’s assertions. Robby remembered reading about overkill in the binders Vail had given him: it was a term used to describe excessive violence found at a crime scene, usually as a result of a soured personal relationship between the assailant and his victim.
“And she’s got no alibi,” Hancock added.
Robby stepped forward, stopping a few strides from Hancock’s feet. He rested his hands on his hips and looked down at Hancock. “Neither do you. And you could’ve staged the scene just as well as Karen could’ve.”
“Yeah, but here’s the thing, Mr. Roberto Enrique Humperto Hernandez, or whatever the hell your names are.” He looked up and blew some smoke in Robby’s face. “I don’t have a motive.”
Robby swatted it away and looked at Sinclair. It was a look that begged him to intervene before Robby slugged him in the face and caved in his skull.
“Robby, honey,” Manette said, taking the hint. “Let’s chat over here for a moment.” She stepped forward and grabbed him by the crook of his elbow. She pulled him close and he reluctantly craned his neck down to her level. “We don’t know what happened yet. So he may be a suspect, but he’s our only witness, too. Let’s not piss him off before we get a chance to ask him some questions.”
Robby knew she was right, but his hand was still curled into a fist. And he was ready to use it. “Fine. Ask your questions. I’m going out for some air.”
ROBBY JOINED BLEDSOE in the middle of the circular drive. Bledsoe hung up his phone and stood there, nodding his head slowly.
Vail, coming up from behind him, acknowledged Robby. “So are they raking me over the coals?”
“Just Hancock.”
“Well,” Bledsoe said, “I think we’ve got something on Mr. GQ.”
Robby and Vail looked at him, anticipation raising their brows.
“That was the chief. Gave me something he thought we could use. Seems that Linwood was helping herself to some dessert on the side.”
“An affair?” Vail asked. “With Hancock?”
Robby turned toward the front door. “Now that I can use.”
“Hold on,” Bledsoe said. “We have to decide how to use this. We need to poke around a little bit, get our ducks in a row.”
“Asshole is trying to pin this on Karen, smug on account that she had a motive and he didn’t. Now we know he might have one. Scorned lover. She wants to call it off, he refuses.”
“Husband needs to be looked at,” Vail said. “We sure he’s overseas?”
“It’s being checked, but they reached him at his hotel in Hong Kong, so I think his alibi is pretty damn strong.”
“Unless it was a contract job,” Robby said. “Hubby wants her out of the picture, hires someone to take her out.”
Vail shook her head. “Contract jobs are impersonal. Bullet to the head and it’s over. None of this bloody mess to the face and breasts.” She turned to Bledsoe. “Maybe forensics will give us something. I say we wait on nailing Hancock to the chair until at least tomorrow. We might get something else to use on him.”
Bledsoe nodded. “I’ll ask the lab to put a rush on trace. Meantime, we wait. Okay?”
Robby curled his mouth into a frown. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Go home, get some rest. I’ll post a uniform, make sure no one goes in or out of the place when we leave. Including Hancock.”
“Especially Hancock,” Robby said.
BLEDSOE WALKED BACK IN, Vail at his side. His brow was furrowed and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his overcoat. He stopped beside Hancock, took a seat on the couch. “I know this is a tough time for you. I’m sorry you had to be