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“She’s trying to make it like I murdered Al!” Robin blurted in a loud, choked voice. Her face was red and tears were streaming down. Lindsey slowly moved to her, stood next to her and stroked her hair. “He gave it to me! He gave it to me…”
“You’ve been advised of your rights, Miss Deller,” Vare said.
“Deller?” I said.
“Keep quiet, Robin,” Lindsey said, and stroked her head. Robin lolled her head against Lindsey’s hip, like a child. Lindsey looked at me intently, and I knew at least one message she was telegraphing was, I thought Robin’s last name was Bryson.
Robin said quietly, “David, help me.”
Vare went outside with me, reluctantly.
I wheeled on her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“My job.”
“This isn’t your job. This woman is Lindsey’s sister. She works as an art curator in Paradise Valley. She’s been living with us for the past two months. She’s got nothing to do with a homicide.”
“Do you have feelings for her, Mapstone? None of my business, I guess.” Kate’s expression was unreadable. “Some of what you said may be true. But she was Alan Cordesman’s girlfriend at the time he was killed.”
“She was living with some guy named Edward.”
“So she had another man on the side. The only one I care about is Cordesman. Two people down at Paisley Violin identified her with him late on the night of February 11, the night before the Willo home tour.”
Now that cold feeling in my chest was deep winter.
“That was five months ago, Kate. Why didn’t you show up with an arrest warrant five months ago?”
Her mouth narrowed. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Mapstone. Let’s just say I did a more thorough job than the detectives back in February.”
“This is bullshit.”
Vare crossed her arms smugly. “Your sister-in-law has a rap sheet. Did you know that? Not good for the image of the sheriff’s office. Petty theft. Bad checks. Possession. That last one sent her away for six months in Colorado. This was before tough drug sentencing, lucky for her. I make her out for some kind of addict and con.”
“Did you find drugs?” I demanded.
I saw Vare’s teeth flash like a predator’s. “No. I found better. I found this.”
She dangled a small plastic evidence envelope. I took it reluctantly.
“That ring matches the photos from Cordesman’s insurance records. It was his mother’s wedding ring.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Mapstone,” she cut me off. “That ring was the only thing missing from Alan Cordesman’s house the day somebody rammed an ice pick into his brain.”
“Now wait…”
“I found that ring in your sister-in-law’s room, in your garage apartment.”
I said, “Kate, this is nuts. I can’t explain everything about Robin, but we’re working on something that’s going to tie up Cordesman and…”
“Look, you son of a bitch,” she hissed. “I think that somebody who rammed an ice pick into Alan Cordesman’s brain was Robin, and I’ve got the evidence to make a case. It’s only a matter of time before we find why she would have done the same thing to the old man in the casino. She’s going downtown as a material witness while we talk to the county attorney. And you—you’re lucky we don’t toss your whole house, and take you both into custody for harboring a fugitive. I bet you knew, you son of a bitch…”
I moved out of her way. “Thanks for the professional courtesy, sergeant.”
“Out of professional courtesy,” she said, “you and Lindsey aren’t going downtown, too.”
30
