“Ms. Bullock is prepared to make a statement,” one of the lawyers said.
“Not dictating this load of crap, Madeline? Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I don’t expect you to understand my terror, my grief, my guilt.” Madeline pressed a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her lips. “My son… how can I not blame myself? He came from me. But something… twisted in him. Such violence, such rage. I’ve lived in fear of him for so long.”
“Please. You’re not afraid of anything but losing your grip on the foundation – its money and prestige and the operation you’ve been running through it almost since your husband died.”
“You can’t possibly understand. He’s forced me to… it’s unspeakable.”
“Have sex with him? See, it’s speakable. And that’s more crap. You’ve been abusing your son sexually most of his life.”
“What a horrible thing to say.” Madeline seemed to break down, and for a moment buried her face in the handkerchief. “Win is sick, and nothing I could do – ”
“He came from you,” Eve said, feeling the rage rise up, seeing herself trapped in a cold room with the man she’d come from, the man who’d raped her repeatedly. “And you exploited and abused him. You made him exactly what he is.”
“You can’t possibly know the horrors I’ve lived through.”
“You don’t want to talk to me about horrors. I’ve got statements from your son, from Walter Cavendish, from Ellyn Bruberry, all naming you as the one in control, the one who made the decisions and gave the orders. You think because you didn’t get your hands dirty with murder, you’re walking away clean?”
“I did whatever Win told me. He might have killed me otherwise.”
Madeline reached across the table to grip Eve’s hands, and Eve allowed it though her skin felt tainted.You’re good, she thought,you’re damn good at this, Madeline.
“I appeal to you, woman to woman. I beg you to protect me. There’s a monster inside my son. I’m so afraid.”
“Ms. Bullock has been virtually a prisoner of her son’s sickness,” one of the lawyers began. “A victim of physical and emotional abuse. He used her – ”
“He used you?” Eve interrupted, wrenching her hands free as she looked into Madeline’s face, and saw her father’s. “That’s just crap, Madeline. No one uses you. And I can’t think of anything more weak, more pitiful, than a mother who’d roll on her own son to try to save her ass. You’re done, you get that? You’ve got no way out.”
I want you to sweat, Eve thought. I want you to tremble, and suffer and fucking wail. “We’ve got the playback from the medical droid’s memory. You’re on there. The British authorities have picked up your Doctor Brownburn – who has already confessed, already stated that she took her orders straight from you. Nobody’s going to buy the weak, frightened little mother act, Madeline. You’re the power. More, you’re a fucking spider, a bloodsucker, and it shows.”
“I have nothing more to say to this person,” Madeline snapped. “I want to speak with the British consulate. I’ll be speaking to your President, who is a personal friend, and the Prime Minister.”
“Toss in the King of England, it’s fine with me.” Eve leaned forward. “They’re going to scramble back from you so fast they’ll get whiplash. And just wait until Global starts talking to the women whose babies you bought, the people who bought them. We’ve got the list, Madeline. We’ve got the names, the locations, and the international media’s going to do a tango when this hits.”
“That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?” Madeline sucked air through her nose. “Media attention. My name, the reputation of the Bullock Foundation, will stand against anything you manufacture against me. You’ll be crushed.”
“You think so?” Eve looked Madeline dead in the eyes, and she smiled. She kept smiling until she saw the first true glitter of fear. “They’ll crucify you while thousands cheer. And when I’m done with you here, you’ll have to answer to the Italian authorities for Sophia Belego – Chase told us where they’ll find her remains. You were with him, in Rome, when she went missing. You’ve got a home there, too, and they’ll find evidence she was held there.”
“My son is mentally ill. He needs professional help.”
“If he is, you made him that way, twisting his view of sex, of women, of himself so you could get your jollies.”
“Lieutenant.” The lawyer spoke up while Madeline simply stared at Eve with those arctic eyes. “Ms. Bullock has already stated that Mr. Chase was the aggressor.”
“Ms. Bullock is a liar and a pervert and a coward. You shouldn’t discuss plans for murder and kidnapping in front of the servants, Madeline. Even droids, especially droids, as they keep records.”
Eve flipped open a file. “Got a voice-print match right here, with you telling Win to kill Natalie Copperfield.”
“That’s impossible. We were alone when I – ”
“When you gave him the orders,” Eve finished when Madeline cut herself off. “You know, people like you are oblivious to servants. You probably thought you were alone.” She closed the file.
“I’ve got Randall Sloan’s records – your boy messed up there and didn’t find the second safe. I’ve got multiple corroborating statements, and Tandy’s firsthand account. I’ve got ’link transmissions you didn’t have time to delete before your arrest that add further weight to the mountain of evidence. Give it up, Madeline. At least your son had enough pride to take credit for what he considered his work. Work you assigned him.”
“I have nothing more to say.”
“Okay.” Eve rose. “I’ve got you for conspiracy to murder, multiple counts. That’s going to put you in an off-planet facility, several life terms. And that’s before the Feds, Global, the Brits, the Italians weigh in. How long do you think she’ll keep those classy looks in an off-planet cage, Peabody?”
“Six months, outside.”
“I’ll go with that. You won’t be getting bail, and your lawyers will tell you the same – no matter how they try to sweet-talk the judge. You’re a prime flight risk. You’re going to want to deal after another day or two in The Tombs, but when I walk out of this room, there will be no deal.”
She headed for the door.
“Lieutenant.” It was one of the lawyers who called out, then leaned in to murmur in Madeline’s ear.
“I certainly will not consider it.” She tossed her head. “She’s bluffing. She doesn’t have half what she claims. She’s bluffing.”
Eve smiled as she opened the door, then spared one last look back. “No, I’m not.”
“You didn’t want her to deal,” Peabody said when they walked away.
“No, I didn’t. She’s worse than her son could ever be. She created him, she corrupted him and used him. She’s worse and I want to imagine her living the next fifty years or so in a concrete cage. Go home, Peabody. You did good.”
“I go when you go.”
Eve sighed. “Then let’s get this damn thing written up, and get the hell out of here.”
She might have been walking in the door by six, but Eve was ready to admit she was dragging her ass to do it. She wanted a long soak in the jet tub, and an entire bottle of wine followed by lazy sex with her husband before sleeping for ten hours straight.
She wanted the image of Madeline Bullock stroking the body of her son out of her head.
Because she heard the music coming out of the parlor, and Mavis’s voice piping through it, Eve knew she might have to wait just a little longer before soaking, sex, and sleep.
Mavis was sitting back in a chair, her feet on a hassock while Summerset passed her a cup of tea – which explained why he hadn’t been looming in the foyer. Leonardo sat beaming at her, while Roarke sipped at wine with an indulgent look in his eye.
“I feel so pampered. Not that you don’t take mag care of me, sugar lips,” she said to Leonardo. “But today’s been like a little vacation or something. Summerset, you should come live with us.”