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“Did Jonah always take Wednesdays off to work at home?”
“Yes, except when he was traveling or there was a meeting scheduled he couldn’t miss.”
“Did you routinely have lunch with him on Wednesdays?”
“In the last two, two and a half months, we tried for a late afternoon lunch. I guess it was a routine. We both pretended we weren’t in any sort of routine. Keeping it loose,” she said again, and pressed tears out of her eyes.
“You were intimate?”
“We had sex, routinely.” She nearly managed a smile. “We shied away from words like intimate. But neither one of us was seeing anyone else. Not for weeks now.”
“I know it’s very personal, but could you tell me if Mr. Talbot was in the habit of wearing body ornamentation?”
“A little silver hoop, left ball. Very silly, very sexy.”
At the end of the interview, Dana had drained a second glass of water. When she got to her feet, she swayed, and Eve reached out to take her arm. “Why don’t you sit down until you’re steadier?”
“I’m all right. I really want to go home. I just want to go home.”
“A uniformed officer will take you.”
“I’d rather walk, if it’s allowed. It’s only a few blocks, and I . . . I need to walk.”
“That’s fine. We may have to talk to you again.”
“Just no more today. Please.” She walked to the door, stopped. “I think I might have been falling in love with him. I’ll never know. I’ll just never know now. That makes me so sad. Over this horrible wrench of what happened to Jonah, that makes me so sad.”
Eve sat for a moment, just sat. There was too much going on inside her head, and she needed to streamline. She had a body on its way to the morgue, a killer methodically working his way through a job, two FBI agents who wanted to snag her case. A houseguest she couldn’t quite trust and a husband who could very well be in severe jeopardy and was certa
inly going to cause her considerable trouble.
When Feeney walked in she was still sitting, her eyes half-closed, and her mouth in a grim line. Judging her mood, he pursed his lips, then walked over to sit on the low table in front of her. He pulled out a bag of nuts, offered it.
“You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Start with the bad. Why change the rhythm now?”
“Bad is he walked right in the front door. Guy’s got himself a master and that ain’t good.”
“A police master?”
“That, or a good simulation. We can enhance that sector of the disc back at EDD, see if we can clean it up enough to tell for sure. Point is, Dallas, he walked right up to the door like he belonged here. Slid in a master code, and strolled inside. No question it was Yost, even without the DNA the sweepers’ll pick up. Dressed spiffy—new wig, dark hair long enough to tie back in a stub at the nape. Sort of an arty look. Guess it fits in with the neighborhood.”
“He knows how to blend.”
“Carried a briefcase. Took the time to put the master into an outside pocket, secure it. Knew the house, too, walked right back to the office.”
Eve leaned forward. “Feeney, are you telling me the house cams were activated?”
“Yeah, that’s my good news.” He gave her a fierce smile. “Either Yost didn’t consider that or didn’t give a rat’s ass, but the house cams were up. I gotta figure the victim didn’t remember to shut them down when he got up this morning. We got a lot of him poking around doing usual morning stuff before he settled down to work. Audio, too. It’s a solid system.”
She got to her feet. “He didn’t think of it. Nobody keeps inside security on when they’re working at home. Who wants their every fart and scratch on record? Yost missed a step, Feeney.”
“Yeah, could be he did. We got the murder on disc, Dallas. All of it.”
“Where are you set up? I want to—” She broke off, remembering Roarke. She made some sound that might have been frustration, might have been pity, or a combination of both. “I’ll look at it at Central. Can you set us up in a conference room? I got something to take care of before I head in.”
“Yeah, he’s outside.” Feeney shifted his feet, rattled the bag of nuts, stuffed it in his pocket. “I don’t like to poke my nose in.”
