“Was it a planned evening?”
“The dinner was; the rest evolved. Like I said, Jack’s social. I’d figured dinner, then home in my pj’s. Marriage is work,” she repeated with a shaky smile. “I guess everyone says this, but I didn’t kill him. Why would I? He was a mistake, but it was my mistake.”
Peabody noted down names and contacts to verify the alibis. They left Asha sitting in her visitor’s chair.
“My impression is she alibied herself and her husband,” Peabody said before Eve could ask.
“Yeah, she did. We’re going to verify, and we’re going to check out the husband, but everything she said rang the truth bell for me. Unless we feel differently after looking at the husband, my sense is if he wanted payback, he’d have killed or attempted to kill the senator way before this.”
They got back in the car. “We’ll take the next.”
“Lauren Canford.”
“Her. Run the husband on the way.”
While Eve bitched about parking in the madness of downtown, and finally resigned herself to the kick-your-ass price of a slot in an underground lot, Peabody reported.
“Family law attorney, does the pro bono thing every Friday in a legal aid clinic. First marriage for him, and no criminal.”
“I’m keeping them on the list.” Eve hiked to the grimy elevator. “But they currently hold last place. What floor is Canford on?”
“Eighteen.”
Eve debated, very briefly, then used her master to bypass the lobby.
“Woo!”
“Tired of dicking around.”
They got off on eighteen to much shinier, and worked their way down to Lauren Canford’s offices.
No casual dress here, Eve noted, and no cheerful noise in the small, glossy outer office.
Eve stepped up to reception and the man in his twenties with a bold blue tie precisely knotted at the base of his really long neck.
“Lauren Canford.”
He didn’t bother to glance up, but continued to work on his screen. “Your name?”
Eve put her badge on the counter. He glanced at it, briefly.
“I’ll also need your name.”
“It’s on the badge, right there with NYPSD. My partner and I need to speak with Lauren Canford.”
“Mrs. Canford’s in meetings all day.”
“Kid?”
He did look up at her now, all bored resentment. “One of those meetings is going to be with me, unless you want to be the one to inform Mrs. Canford that we’ll have that meeting at Central at the end of her workday. I can arrange to have it in one of our Interview rooms.”
“I don’t believe you have the authority to—”
“Law school, right? You want to test my authority, Junior?” She leaned in close. “Try it.”
Resentment went to sulk as he tapped his earpiece, swiveled around to give her his back. He muttered, but she caught police, threatened, bitch.
She found those three words very satisfying.
“Through those doors, straight back to the end of the hall. Mrs. Canford can give you ten minutes.”
“Good choice, all around.”
“And my name’s not Kid or Junior,” he called after her. “It’s Mylo.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Most of the office doors that lined the area stood closed. She did see a man, suit jacket off, tie loosened, sweating over his ’link.
“You want to be reasonable about this, Barry.”
From the look in his eye, Eve judged the guy didn’t figure Barry for reasonable.
Lauren Canford’s office stood open. Pausing at the doorway, Eve saw the woman, black suit sharp as a blade, raven hair in an equally sharp wedge around a sternly attractive face.
A man—pinstripes, paisley tie—stood beside her desk.
“Your identification, please,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Curtis Flack, the head of this organization. I’m also a lawyer, and will represent Mrs. Canford’s interests here. Your identification.”
Eve took out her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Detective Peabody.”
“And the nature of this visit?”
“You both know the nature of this visit, so let’s cut the bull. Since you’re using your right to an attorney, I have to figure you need one. We’ll do this on the record, and I’ll read you your rights.”
Eve did the dance.
“You had an affair with Edward Mira,” she began.
“Mrs. Canford has a prepared statement on this matter.”
“Is that so?” Eve smiled, very, very pleasantly. “All prepared.”
“I believe in being prepared.” Canford spoke for the first time. “I asked Curtis to come in, and wrote this statement, as soon as I heard the media report.”
She angled just a little, to read off her screen.
“‘Senator Mira and I have been acquainted, professionally, for approximately ten years. In the summer of 2060, for between five and six weeks, we engaged in an affair. When said affair ran its course, we agreed to end it. The decisions to begin and end this area of our relationship were mutual. Senator Mira and I continued our professional relationship and casual friendship, as we share many of the same political and world views. I’m deeply saddened to learn of his death, and must hope the authorities identify the person responsible quickly.’”
Lauren folded her hands. “Is there anything else?”
“Yeah, a few things. Senator Mira was married, as you are.”
“That’s correct.”
“How does your spouse feel about the affair?”
“My husband and I, like the senator and his wife, have an understanding.”
“Your husband understands you cheat on him?”
Before the lawyer could interrupt, Lauren held up a hand. “It’s all right, Curtis. My husband and I understand a sexual affair is nothing more than that. Sex. If you feel the need to speak with my husband, he will also have counsel present.”
“Noted. So you and the senator just rolled off each other one day and said, Hey, this was fun, but let’s call it quits.”
“If you persist in being crude,” Flack put in, “this meeting is over.”
“Okay. You and Ed finished up a spirited round of cards one night, and agreed to fold them.”
Canford inclined her head. “Basically, yes. With the understanding that should we both wish to reconnect, the door was open.”
“Did you? Reconnect?”
“No, and now we never will. If that’s all—”
“I need your whereabouts yesterday, between four and six in the afternoon.”
“I was here until five. My assistant can certainly verify that, as can my driver. I met Congresswoman Lowell for drinks at the Taj. I would appreciate it if you’d verify that with the lounge rather than disturb the congresswoman. My driver picked me back up and took me home. I believe I was home by six-fifteen. The house droid would have that on record, if necessary.”
“How about last night between midnight and four.”
“My husband and I attended a dinner party at the home of Martin and Selina Wendell. It began at eight-thirty. We left there around one, I believe, and returned home. Again the house droid can verify our return. We were in for the rest of the night.”
“Okay. Thanks for your time.”
“If you have any further questions for Mrs. Canford, or for her husband, please contact me.” Flack offered his card.
“No problem. Record off.”
Peabody held it in until the elevator, then spewed on the ride down. “She’s just hateful. That’s the exact word for her. Hateful. And she sent off bells all over the place. She could kill, oh yeah, she could. Then she’d go get a fricking manicure.”
“You’re right, and that’s why she hits rock bottom on the list.”
Peabody literally danced in place. “Come on!”
“If we could break her afternoon alibi, and if she’d been in that house, Mr. Mira would be dead. She’s not the type to leave a loose end.”
“Oh but . . . Damn it!” Wound up, Peabody stalked off the elevator. “What if she wasn’t there for that—she sent minions. I bet she has minions. But then . . . big dinner party. But she could fudge the time. She could.”