The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [222]
Eve contacted Iowa. The woman who came on-screen looked exhausted. Banging and crashing sounded in the background. “Happy holidays. God help me. Wayne, please, will you keep it down for five minutes? Sorry.”
“No problem. Carly Tween?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Lieutenant Dallas, with New York City Police and Security.”
“New York. I’ve got to sit down.” There was a huge sigh, and the screen tipped just enough for Eve to get a glimpse of an enormously pregnant belly. Another down, she decided, but followed through.
“What’s this about?”
“Trudy Lombard. Ring a bell?”
Her face changed, tightened. “Yes. She was my foster mother for several months when I was a child.”
“Could you tell me the last time you had contact with her?”
“Why? Wayne. I mean it. Why?” she repeated.
“Ms. Lombard was murdered. I’m investigating.”
“Murdered? Wait, just wait, I have to move to somewhere else. I can’t hear with all this noise.” There was a lot of huffing before the woman gained her feet, and the screen swayed as she waddled across what Eve saw was a family living area into a small office space. She shut the door.
“She was murdered? How?”
“Mrs. Tween, I’d like to know the last time you spoke with or had contact with Ms. Lombard.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“The fact that you’re not answering a routine question makes me wonder.”
“I was twelve,” Carly snapped. “I was under her care for eight months. My aunt was able to get custody and I went to live with her. Matter closed.”
“Then why are you angry?”
“Because a New York cop is calling my home and asking me questions about a murder. I have a family. I’m eight months pregnant, for God’s sake. I’m a teacher.”
“And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I have nothing to say about this or her. Nothing. Not without a lawyer, so leave me alone.”
The screen went black. “That went well,” Eve commented.
While she didn’t see Carly Tween waddling her way to New York to bash Trudy’s brains in, she kept her on the list.
On the next call she was switched to voice mail—two faces, two voices, both of them glowing to the point Eve wished for sunshades.
Hi! This is Pru!
And this is Alex!
We can’t talk to you right now because we’re on our honeymoon in Aruba!
They turned to each other, giggling insanely. Catch you when we come back. If we come back.
Apparently someone was taking advantage of those low rates to the islands, Eve thought. If Pru and Alex had tied the knot, they’d done so recently enough that the data hadn’t caught up.
She confirmed with vital records in Novi, Michigan. Pru and Alex had indeed applied for a marriage license, and had put it to use the previous Saturday.
She doubted they’d detoured to New York to commit murder on their way to sun, surf, and sex.
“All right, Maxie Grant, of New L.A., let’s see what you’re up to. A lawyer, huh? And with your own firm. Must be doing pretty well. I’d bet Trudy would’ve liked a piece of that.”
Factoring the time difference, she tried Maxie Grant’s office number first.
It was answered on the second beep, in brisk tones, by a woman with a great deal of curly red hair around a sharply defined face. Her mossy green eyes fixed on Eve’s. “Maxie Grant, what can I do for you?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.”
“New York? You keep late hours, Lieutenant.”
“You answer your own ’link, Ms. Grant.”
“Entirely too often. What can I do for New York?”
“Trudy Lombard.”
The smile that curved across Maxie’s face was anything but friendly. “Tell me you’re Homicide, and the bitch is on a slab.”
“That’s just what I’m going to tell you.”
“No shit? Well, strike up the band and hand me a tuba. How’d she buy it?”
“I take it you weren’t a fan.”
“I hated her guts. I hated the atoms that made up her guts. If you’ve got who did her under wraps, I’d like to shake his hand.”
“Why don’t you tell me your whereabouts from this past Saturday through Monday.”
“Sure. I was right here. On the coast, I mean.