club, treated him to golf and drinks and all that. Even though Ziegler’s so obviously socially and financially inferior. He did him favors, and what does he get? Blackmailed. It’s gone on long enough, time to take charge, time to show this asshole who’s top dog. He loses his temper, which is also pattern, grabs the weapon, because he’s not the type who goes into a fight fair. Now look what Ziegler made him do. But it’s not enough. Ziegler humiliated him, so he’ll return the favor.”
“Smarter, wouldn’t it have been, to toss the place a bit?” Sitting back, Roarke lingered over coffee, as comfortable with cop and murder talk as he was with business and finance. “Take some of the valuables, make it appear to have been a burglary or a confrontation with someone who’d take some profit from it.”
“He’s not smart, that’s the thing. Cagey maybe, but that’s different. And he needed to get the knife in—literally, figuratively—to boost his own ego.”
She circled the board. “Then again . . . Charles mentioned something last night when I talked through this with him. Knife in the heart. Maybe it’s a stretch, but it could mean a romantic connection.”
“Back to the girlfriends?” McNab speculated.
“I don’t see it, just don’t, but I’d like you to look a little closer there if Feeney can spare you. Sima’s covered. She was with several people in a public place when Ziegler was killed, but you could pry the lid off Alla Coburn, and take a pass at some of the women who paid him for sex.”
“There’s always time to take a pass at women,” McNab said and got Peabody’s elbow in his side for his trouble.
“If it was sex—just sex—the symbolism would’ve been knife in the balls, so if we play that tune, it’s romance, emotion, not just sex. Peabody, you and I are going to play both angles today. Enraged husband and/or blackmail vic, infatuated married female. And the third angle of undermining the married females enough to spill on the enraged husband. If it applies.”
“Natasha Quigley, Martella Schubert.”
“Yeah, we’re going to split it, save time—and alter the approach. You take Schubert. She’s softer, more vulnerable, more naive. She’ll respond to your gentle, sympathetic approach. You tell her how you once had romantic feelings for an LC.”
“I didn’t! Not exactly. Just . . . I just . . .”
“Play it,” Eve insisted, “if playing it gets you in. You’re going to talk to her on your day off, just to get a clear picture because your partner’s pushing the angle her husband found out there’d been sex, and moved on Ziegler even before it came out the sex hadn’t been consensual due to drugging. If that’s not the approach, you’ll find another.”
“Maybe, if it seems playable, I can hint around that I think Copley’s more likely. The just-between-us bit, and it looks like Copley was paying Ziegler blackmail money. The sisters seemed pretty tight, so if she thinks her sister’s husband could be a killer, she might open up more, to protect the sister.”
“That’s not bad.” Eve paused, studied Martella Schubert’s face on her board. “That’s not bad. If she has any dirt on Copley she’s more likely to give it to you. Give it a try. Let’s see if we can bring this to a head.”
“And you’ll take Quigley.”
“She’s not naive, not soft. I can go in harder, shove it at her. She used the illusion of romance as an excuse to pay Ziegler for sex, so I can hammer on that. And I can push how she’s so worried Copley will find out. Maybe he has, what then? And I might be able to play the same angle as you—your sister’s husband is on my short list. Like you, I’ll play it so I get in, go from there.”
“Is it okay if I take McNab? We’re a couple, and I can use that. I get what it’s like to be in love, and all that. I have a sister, too, all the common-ground business.”
“Maybe I can talk her into letting me wire up the house ’link, her personal ’link,” McNab speculated. “Put it out there like it’s for her protection, her sister’s protection.”
“If she bites on that she’s more naive than I figured, but throw it in. If she bites, make damn sure you get her to officially sign off. I don’t want it coming around to kick us in the ass later.”
“Solid,” McNab promised. “I’ll take some toys with me,