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Monty pursed his lips, pushing the envelope a tad farther. “Maybe that’s because there’s a possible tie-in here that worries me.”
A flash of emotion—anxiety mixed with hurt and insult—crossed Elyse’s face. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she assumed the tie-in was.
“If this relates to some gossip about Arthur…”
“Arthur?” Monty’s brows rose. “No. It relates to the fact that, on paper, Rachel’s physical description matches Morgan’s. Add last night’s break-in to the mix, and I’m starting to worry that whoever trashed Morgan and Jill’s house and left that ugly warning on Morgan’s bed is going after her more aggressively than I originally thought.”
“Oh.” Elyse blinked in surprise. She quickly recovered, surprise transforming to fright. “By more aggressively…are you saying you think he means to kill her?”
“If he’s the one who killed her parents, he’s certainly capable of it.”
“Oh God.” Elyse sank down in a chair, her coffee mug striking the table with a thud. “What do we do?”
“For one thing, we don’t tell her. She’s at the breaking point as it is. But the extra security your husband wants employed is a good idea. It’ll be taken care of today.”
“What about dropping the investigation? Wouldn’t that make the most sense?” Elyse blurted out. Seeing the startled disbelief on Monty’s face, she rushed on. “I realize how callous that sounds. Maybe I’m being horribly selfish. But I love my family. I need them safe. I loved Lara and Jack, too; they were my dearest friends. And, yes, it sickens me that their murders have to go unpunished. But they’re dead, Detective. Morgan’s alive. Isn’t it our responsibility to make sure she stays that way? Risking her life won’t bring Jack and Lara back. But it could endanger her—and the rest of us, for that matter.”
“Not nearly as much as leaving whoever murdered Lara and Jack out there, free to kill Morgan or someone else.” Monty shook his head. “No. Dropping this investigation’s not an option. I’m finding this killer.” He eyed Elyse speculatively. “To find him, I need to find his motive. Which means digging around where I’m not wanted.”
Elyse went very still as Monty reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the extra set of color prints Lane had made him.
“Take a look at these. They’re from the party your parents threw for Arthur on Christmas Eve, seventeen years ago.”
She glanced down, first uneasily, then with great puzzlement. “I don’t understand. That’s Arthur, or rather, a portion of Arthur.”
“His neck,” Monty supplied. “So tell me, why did your husband change shirts during the party?”
Elyse’s jaw tightened, but she kept it together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look again. Regular collar. Narrow collar. Same party. Different shirts. Why?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he spilled something on himself.”
“Ah, so he was in the habit of bringing along a spare shirt for just those types of emergencies?”
“No, of course not.” Elyse’s voice had gone up, and her pulse had accelerated. Monty could see it fluttering at her throat.
“In my experience, this is a classic indicator of a man having an affair,” he stated flatly. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Silence.
“Let’s try this again. Do you remember your husband leaving the party at some point during the evening? If so, what time and for how long?”
Tears gathered in Elyse’s eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she managed. “Is it giving you some perverse enjoyment, like it does the media?”
“Not in the least. What I’m trying to figure out is why, during the numerous conversations we had after the Winters’ homicides, the congressman never mentioned to me that he left your parents’ party. Why is that?”
“Probably because it had nothing to do with your investigation.”
“Or maybe it slipped his mind. A flash in the pan. Still, I’d appreciate her name. I need to interview every person who interacted—even peripherally—with any of the Winters’ friends, colleagues, or loved ones on the night of the murders.”
“Friends? Loved ones?” Elyse was slowly unraveling. “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on enemies?”
“I’d say a murderer qualifies as an enemy.” A probing, inquisitive look. “Her name—do you recall it?”
Abruptly, Elyse came to her feet. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. Now if you’ll excuse me, Detective, I need to make some phone calls. And you need to meet with my husband about hiring additional security. Please show yourself out.”
KA
