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“I figured as much,” Kit said. “Although we are talking a murder charge, so…”
Adler’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. “I did not kill anyone.”
“Archie,” his lawyer said quietly. “Say nothing. We agreed.”
Kit recognized Adler’s defense attorney. She’d tangled with him before. He was smart and didn’t seem as sleazy as some she’d met. “Mr. Adler, where were you Saturday night between six thirty and nine o’clock?”
Adler paled. “Why?”
She smiled. “Just answer the question, please.”
The attorney stepped in. “My client was on his boat all day Saturday. He left Friday evening at five, dropped anchor about five miles out in the Pacific, and slept on board. He spent Saturday on the water, then returned Sunday afternoon.”
“Who can verify this, Archie?” Kit asked. “Did you have anyone with you?”
Archie swallowed. “I was alone.”
Kit had expected this. Dominic Stanza and his girlfriend had said the same thing, that Archie had gone out alone, and Roger—Archie’s apartment neighbor—had said that his mother had witnessed Dominic and Archie together on Sunday evening. So that all fit together.
“That’s really too bad,” she said with a heavy sigh. “That means you have no one to verify your alibi for midnight to eight a.m. on Saturday, either. Do you know the significance of these times, Mr. Adler?”
Archie said nothing. Kit cleared her throat, the signal for Connor to do his thing.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Connor snarled, playing the bad cop with gusto. He opened his folder and spilled photos on the table—photos of both Frankie Flynn’s and Kent Crawford’s bodies. “Don’t give me your lame excuses. We have two dead bodies, and you not only have no alibi, you have motive and opportunity.”
Archie looked green. “Stop,” he said hoarsely, pushing the photos away. “I didn’t kill anyone. And Crawford killed himself. I read it online.”
“Well, Frankie Flynn didn’t kill himself,” Kit said, tapping the photo. “And we don’t think Crawford did, either. How did you find out that Crawford was stealing money from Shady Oaks?”
Archie’s lawyer turned the photos facedown, patting Archie’s shoulder. “We want a deal.”
Kit shrugged. “Depends on what he tells us. I can put together a lot of the pieces myself. Like…Archie became suspicious when he noticed that Crawford was driving a nice car, nicer than he should’ve been able to afford. Archie had broken into the personnel files, so he knew Crawford’s salary and realized that Crawford was embezzling.”
“You can’t know that,” the lawyer said.
Kit smiled. “I can.”
“How?” Archie demanded.
“You were overheard on the phone one night about two years ago telling a friend that you needed to hire Crawford’s investment guy. But then you wondered how Crawford had money to invest, considering his pay.”
Archie’s eyes had widened. “How did you—”
“Archie,” his attorney interrupted, but it was too late.
Got you, you little bastard. “Did you know that your mother’s house was searched last night? Totally legit, the officers had a warrant and everything.” Navarro himself had presided over that search, emptying out the boxes Archie had stored in his mother’s garage. “We found evidence of your offshore accounts. In the same bank that Crawford used, interestingly enough.”
“Having an offshore account is not a crime,” the lawyer interjected, but Archie had grown even paler.
“No,” Kit agreed, “but stealing from old people and depositing it in that offshore account is a crime. You’re a grad student, Archie. And, according to your advisor, not a very good one. You skip classes and TA sessions. You’re flunking out, which is a shame because Professor Chen says you have a brilliant mind. Too bad you use it so selfishly. Where did you get your money, Archie, if you didn’t steal it? You have a lot for a twenty-five-year-old fuckup.”
Archie flinched. “I’m not a fuckup.”
“No, you’re a criminal mastermind,” Kit said sarcastically.
Connor pulled a chair away from the table and straddled it. “We have your mother in custody.” It was a lie, but Archie didn’t know that.
Archie’s color rose and he started to rise from his chair. “No. She had nothing to do—”
