“Stephanie Sato,” he reiterated.
“Yes,” she said, irritated.
“May I speak with her.”
Becca returned the phone to her ear.“Steph?I’m gonna give the phone to this cop, he wants to talk to you.I’ve no idea.Okay, hang on.”She held it out.
Larkin accepted the phone, tapped Speaker so that Doyle could hear the conversation, and said, “This is Detective Everett Larkin with the NYPD.Am I speaking with the owner of 239 Carroll Street.”
“I’m Stephanie Sato, yes.Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m investigating a homicide, Ms.Sato.”
“Atmyhouse?”
“Yes.”
“But who—” Stephanie sucked in a harsh breath.“Did something happen to Kathy?Where’s my cat?”
That kneejerk reaction to ask after the well-being of hercat sitter, not her supposed wife, was all the clarification Larkin needed to confirm his updated hypothesis was correct.
Larkin asked, “Who’s Kathy.”
“Kathleen Gardner, my cat sitter.”
“I’m sorry to inform you that Ms.Gardner was found deceased in your basement this afternoon.”Larkin thought to add, “We’re unsure of where your cat is at the moment.”
Stephanie gasped.
Becca choked.
“Oh my God!”
Between Stephanie’s distorted speakerphone hyperventilating and Becca coughing up a lung, Larkin was barely able to get an additional word in edgewise.He raised his voice over the commotion.“Where are you, Ms.Sato.”
“I-I’m upstate—at an artist-in-residence.I’ve been here almost four weeks.I’m not supposed to be home for another two.”
“And the name of this location.”
“The Adele Claremont Art Residency.It’s outside Saratoga Springs.”
“I’d like to speak with you in person,” Larkin said.“When are you able to return to the city.”
“She can’t justleave,” Becca protested.
“I can’t justleave,” Stephanie echoed at the same time.Her breathing steadied almost at once, and she said, “Do you know how coveted these positions are?If I leave, I forfeit my studio space.”
“A dead woman was discovered in your home, Ms.Sato,” Larkin reiterated.
Stephanie clapped back aggressively.“This is such typical chauvinistic male behavior.There’s nothing a man hates more than a woman succeeding.My womanhood frightens you, doesn’t it, Mr.Larkin?”
“I fail to understand what your gender has to do with my wanting to interview you.”
“What mygenderhas to do with amurder, you mean?Over ten thousand women in this country are murdered every year, and you have theaudacity—”
“That statistic is grossly incorrect,” Larkin said over her.“A 2017 study put together by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime found that of the approximately 400,000 homicides committed globally, eighty percent of those victims were male.However, the 87,000 murdered women bore the greatest burden of intimate partner- or family-related homicide—fifty-eight percent of all deaths—leading to the continued and accurate usage of the term femicide.But the United States only saw roughly 3,600 of those 87,000 murders, not ten thousand.And it’s Detective Larkin, ma’am.”
Becca started coughing again.
