The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [53]
“Are you back to considering a professional?”
“All the earmarks, none of the vibes. Anyway. See you later.”
“Anything I can do from here?”
“Find me the money,” she said and ended transmission as she watched a sedan draw up behind one of the black-and-whites.
She walked down to meet Avril Icove herself.
Avril was dressed in dove gray, pants and sweater, with a dark red coat thrown stylishly over her shoulders. Soft, heeled boots matched the coat.
She leaped out of the car before her driver could make his way around to open her door. “What’s happened? What’s wrong? Will!”
Eve blocked her path, and with a hand on the woman’s arm, felt the vibration of her body. “Mrs. Icove, I need you to come with me.”
“What is it? What is it?” There was a jump in her voice, and her eyes stayed trained on the door of her home. “Was there an accident?”
“We’re going to go inside and sit down.”
“They called, they called and said I needed to come home right away. No one would tell me why. I tried to call Will, but he doesn’t answer. Is he here?”
There were plenty of gawkers gathered behind the police barricades. Eve merely nudged them aside and steered Avril toward the house. “You left this afternoon.”
“Yes, yes, with the children. Will wanted me and the children away from . . . everything. And he wanted some time alone. I didn’t like to leave him. Where is he? Is he hurt?”
Eve got her inside, drew her away from the steps and into the living area. “Sit down, Mrs. Icove.”
“I need to speak with Will.”
Eve kept her gaze level. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Icove. Your husband’s dead. He was killed.”
Avril’s mouth moved, but no sound came out as she lowered to a chair. Her hands fluttered once, then locked together in her lap. “Will.” Tears shimmered, turning her eyes to liquid amethyst. “An accident.”
“He was murdered.”
“How can that be? But how can that be?” The tears slid down her cheeks now, slowly. “We were only . . . he was going to join us tomorrow. He only wanted some quiet.”
Eve sat. “Mrs. Icove, I’d like to record this, for my report. Do you object?”
“No. No.”
Eve switched on her recorder, fed the salient data into the record. “Mrs. Icove, I’m going to need to verify your whereabouts from five-thirty this afternoon to nine this evening.”
“What?”
“For the record, Mrs. Icove. Can you verify your whereabouts during that time frame?”
“I took the children. I took the children to our house. The Hamptons.” She reached up absently, brushed the coat from her shoulders. It looked like a pool of blood against the quiet colors of the room. “We left . . . we left just after noon.”
“How did you travel?”
“Shuttle. Our personal shuttle. I took them for a walk on the beach. We’d hoped to have a picnic, but it was chilly. We had a swim in the indoor pool, and some lunch. Lissy, our little girl, she loves the water. We went into town and had ice cream, and saw our neighbors up there. They came over. Don and Hester. They came over for drinks.”
“What time was that?”
Her eyes had gone empty during the recital. She blinked now, like a woman coming out of a dream. “Excuse me?”
“What time did your neighbors come over?”
“At six, I think. At around six or a little before, and they stayed, they stayed for dinner. I wanted the company. Will likes to be alone when he’s stressed or upset, but I like company. We had dinner, about seven, and the kids went to bed at nine. We played cards. Three-handed bridge. Don and Hester and myself. Then they called—the woman, I can’t remember her name. She called and said I needed to come home. Hester stayed with the children for me. My children.”
“What was your husband stressed about?”
“His father. His father was murdered. Oh God.” Her arms crossed over her belly. “Oh God.”
“Did your