The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [106]
“I don’t doubt that Bonnie wanted to kill herself. But I know more about you than you realize, Mr. Sabatola. Your friend Roxie shared some interesting stories. I know your mother abandoned you. I know you were raised by your stepfather, and that you always felt second-best against your half-brother Alan. I know that while you’re already a rich man, your need for power will always matter more than anything else.”
“I—”
“Speaking of your childhood friends, you must be wondering why Mr. Guest didn’t pick you up at Roxie’s Roost last night.” Roelke began to prowl back and forth. “Did you drive home drunk, or did you actually call a cab? I don’t think Roxie drove you, because she knew that if she left her daughter—a minor—to watch the bar again, she’d be arrested for all kinds of things. Anyway, Mr. Guest is in custody.”
Skeet spoke for the first time. “And is Mr. Guest talking, Officer McKenna?”
“Oh yes,” Roelke said. “Mr. Guest is talking.”
Sabatola licked lips evidently gone dry. “Edwin has always been excitable. He’s jealous of my success. I’m not surprised he’d weave this tale of lies. I think he was half in love with Bonnie himself.”
“Your wife was a beautiful woman,” Roelke conceded. “And I believe she was planning to kill herself that morning.” He leaned over and planted his hands on the arms of Sabatola’s chair. “But you beat her to it. You couldn’t stand the idea of her leaving you. Of having her betray you, abandon you, just like your mother did. So you followed her to the trail.”
Something in Sabatola’s eyes changed. Roelke stepped back just before the other man exploded to his feet. Skeet moved but Roelke made a sharp gesture, warning him back.
“It was perfect!” Roelke said. “I don’t know anyone else who could have pulled it off! You followed Bonnie and you chased her down that trail. Then you held the gun in exactly the spot she would have, and pulled the trigger. You probably grabbed her roughly enough to leave bruises—but with the sudden loss of blood, no bruises formed. It was brilliant.”
“She was going to kill herself anyway.” Sabatola’s face was twisted with anger and contempt. “I could tell, that morning. She’d changed. She was calm. I knew what she was going to do.”
Roelke’s anger scorched his ribs. Not yet, not yet.
“So I followed her. What the fuck difference does it make? All I did was beat her to the trigger.”
Roelke took Sabatola down. He ground the man’s face into the carpet, and had him cuffed so fast Skeet didn’t have time to assist. “There was a chance your wife would have changed her mind,” Roelke growled. “There was always that chance. Simon Sabatola, you are under arrest for the murder of your wife.” He rose to his feet.
“Nobody walks out on me!” Sabatola yelled. “She deserved to die!”
Roelke kicked Sabatola in the ribs. Hard. Sabatola curled into a whimpering ball. Roelke kicked him again.
Skeet grabbed Roelke’s arm, pulling him backward. “Shit, man! Cut it out!”
“How does it feel?” Roelke demanded of Sabatola. “How does it feel to get attacked by someone stronger than you?”
Skeet shoved Roelke away. “Holy Christ, Roelke!” he hissed. “The chief will have your balls in a sling!”
“Do what you gotta do, man,” Roelke muttered, knowing that Skeet would fully describe these last few minutes in his report. “Do what you gotta do.”
Skeet got Sabatola to his feet, and recited his rights. Sabatola gave Roelke a look of scorn. “You can’t convict me of anything without more evidence than my secretary’s wild tales.”
“You’re right,” Roelke agreed. He was back in control again, the fire tamped down. “But we do have evidence. The man you trusted with your deepest secrets didn’t trust you. When you killed your wife, blood splattered all over your clothes. You told Guest to destroy them, but he didn’t. Your fine tailored suit is already on its way to the state crime lab.”
1876
Albrecht knew he’d run out of time. The well was filling with water. And he had not found another pretty topaz to make Clarissa smile.
Charles kept him on another day to haul the