The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [539]
“Are you crazy? Boyd would never—he’s incapable. You can’t possibly believe he had anything to do with . . . with what happened. He wasn’t even there.”
“An out-of-town business trip’s a smart alibi.” Peabody eased back in her chair, nodded wisely. “Did you ever wonder if he’d suspected his wife was sleeping around? The letters were right there. The signs were all around him. He could have stewed about it for days, weeks, until he bubbled over. Until he paid someone to come in while he was gone, hit her over the head, and dump her body in the tub. Then he comes home and plays the grieving husband.”
“I won’t have you say that. I won’t sit here and listen to you say such things.” She pushed back from the table with enough force to knock over the water glass. “Boyd would never have hurt her. He’d never hurt anyone. He’s a gentle man. A decent man.”
“A decent man is capable of a great deal when he finds out the woman he loves is screwing another man in his bed.”
“He wouldn’t lay a hand on Marsha, or allow anyone else to.”
“A moment of rage when he found the letters.”
“How could he find them when they weren’t there?”
She was wild-eyed and panting. Peabody felt a cool control settle over her.
“No, the letters weren’t there, because you wrote them and you put them in her drawer after you killed her. You killed Marsha Stibbs because she was your obstacle to Boyd—a man you wanted and she didn’t prize him enough to suit you. You wanted Marsha’s husband and her life and her marriage, so you took them.”
“No.” Maureen pressed her hands to her cheeks, shook her head. “No. No.”
“She didn’t deserve him.” Peabody had the hammer now and used it to coldly shatter Maureen with fast, hard strokes. “But you did. He needed you, someone like you to tend to him the way she wouldn’t. She didn’t love him, not the way you did.”
“She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone.”
“Did you confront her when Boyd was out of town? Did you tell her she wasn’t good enough for him? He deserved better, didn’t he? He deserved you.”
“No. I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to go home.”
“Did she argue with you, or did she just laugh? Didn’t take you seriously, and neither would Boyd until she was out of the picture. He wouldn’t see you until she was out of the way. You had to kill her so you could really live. Isn’t that right, Maureen?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Fat, fast tears poured down her cheeks. She held out both hands, clasped together as if in prayer. “You have to believe me.”
“Tell me what it was like. Tell me what happened the night you went into Marsha’s apartment.”
“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.” Sobbing now, she collapsed in the chair, laid her head on the table and covered it with her arms. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean it. I’ve done everything right since. I’ve done everything to make it up to him. I love him. I’ve always loved him.”
In observation, McNab grinned like a madman. “She did it! She broke her down. Closed a cold case. I gotta . . . jeez, I gotta go get her flowers or something.” He started to dash out, turned. “Dallas, she did good.”
“Yeah.” Eve continued to look through the glass, look into the pity she saw stir in Peabody’s eyes. “She did good.”
By the time she sent Maureen Stibbs down to Booking, Peabody was drained. She felt as if her insides had been put through some huge mechanical wringer that squeezed all the juices out.
When she headed back toward the bull pen, her parents rose from a bench and walked to her.
“What are you guys doing here? We’re not supposed to meet up until we have that fancy dinner we had to postpone last night.”
“We’re so proud of you.” Her mother cupped her face, laid a soft, warm kiss on her forehead. “Very proud of you.”
“Okay . . . why?”
“Eve called us in.” She bent down, brushed her