Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,128

mistress?”

“I didn’t go through with it. I just … had a weak moment. I was angry. Hurt. These things happen.”

“Mom, you hired a hit man to murder a woman, and you call that a weak moment?”

“You don’t understand! He was my world. My entire world! If he left me … I couldn’t have lived with it. I’m not like you, Evie. I’ve never been like you.”

“What did you do, Mom?” Because I’m still so confused. If she’d tried to kill Katarina, then why was that woman still alive and my father the one who was dead? And where in the hell had my mom found a hired gun? Who in the hell?

“I was upset. I’d read your father’s e-mails and it sounded like he was going to leave me. I became emotional. That woman … she had to go. But I don’t know how to do such things. I don’t even like guns. So I went to a … friend. Explained the situation. He tried to talk me out of it but when he wasn’t looking, I swiped his Rolodex. Discovered what I needed for myself and made the call. Except then your father came home. He’d heard all about my confrontation with Katarina. He assured me he’d never for a moment been tempted to leave our marriage. He loved me and only me. I was the great love of his life. And then … things were good.”

I struggle to grasp what she’s saying. “So Dad plans to leave you, you plan to kill his mistress, but both of you decide you’re perfectly happy together instead?”

“You’ve never known great passion, Evie. It’s the real reason I didn’t like Conrad for you. Oh, he was nice enough. But the way you looked at him … You were playing it safe. Again.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry. My husband didn’t cheat on me and I didn’t try to assassinate the other woman, so clearly we had a boring marriage. I’ll bear that in mind for the future.”

“You don’t have to sound so sarcastic, Evie. I’m merely being honest. Frankly, I’ve never understood where you get all this anxiety from.”

I stare at her empty martini glass and think that’s an ironic statement.

“For a man like your father, with his ability to see what no one else could see …” My mother shrugs. “What are rules for a man whose own intellect exists outside of all preconceived notions? He wasn’t just an extraordinary thinker; he was an extraordinary person. He didn’t accept limits, and he didn’t see how societal norms should apply to him. I loved him for that, just as he loved me. We were made for each other. And you”—she frowns at me slightly—“were our strange, introverted child, who never would’ve even made a friend if I hadn’t forced you.”

“I hated those damn tea parties!”

“Tough love, my dear. Isn’t that what everyone calls it these days?” My mom lifts her martini glass, realizes belatedly that it’s empty.

“Who killed Dad?” I grind out.

“I don’t know. I’d made that silly call. So once your father and I patched things up, I had no choice but to contact the man again and say I’d changed my mind about Katarina. He just laughed at me. Said there was no such thing as a renege clause. Really? All contracts can be voided. It’s just a matter of negotiation. He was rather stubborn on the subject, though, even when I promised him twice the money not to do anything. So that was it. I went back to our … mutual acquaintance, told him what had happened, and made him swear he’d make it right. I assumed that was the end of the matter.”

“Except Katarina Ivanova is very much alive, Mom, and Dad isn’t. Didn’t you think it was strange? Didn’t you wonder at all when you then came home and discovered your own husband shot to death on the kitchen floor!” I’m not asking the questions as much as I’m shouting them. I can’t help myself. All the anger, rage, helplessness.

My mother simply stares at me. “I don’t know what happened,” she states. “I didn’t know then. I don’t know now.”

“Who was your friend? How did you get the contact information for a hired killer?” Except in the next moment, I don’t need her to answer. I know. I’ve always known. He told me so himself. A man with a violent past. Who then went on to represent most of the major criminals in Boston. Oh, the names he would