"Huh?"
"We thought Kresge was shot because he was pushing a merge with a bigger bank. But O’Dell was going after his job on the basis of stopping the merger."
Swanson said, "Maybe the merger doesn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe they were killed for some bank reason, but nothing to do with the merger."
Lucas said, "I don’t know."
"Whatever happened with the firebomb business?" Swanson asked.
"Nothing. Just fuckin’ nothin’," Lucas said. His mind switched tracks to the firebomb. And Knox, the Caterpillar man, was probably right, he thought. A kid in the neighborhood who liked to watch fires. But not a street action.
Riley pulled a rubber sheet over O’Dell’s body and stood up and turned. People in the hall. Then Wilson McDonald stepped through the door, jerked to a halt when he saw the figure on the floor, and said, "My God, is that her?" Audrey McDonald followed reluctantly, a foot or two behind, and peeked around her husband at the covered body. She reminded Lucas of a small, brown hen.
Swanson was just punching off his cell phone: Sloan was on the way. "Who’re you?" Swanson asked.
"Wilson and Audrey McDonald…" McDonald spotted Lucas emerging from the kitchen hallway. Lucas had taken a quick tour of the apartment after talking to Swanson, but had found nothing that meant anything to him. "Officer Davenport… what happened?"
"Somebody shot O’Dell," Lucas said flatly. He examined McDonald, then his wife, then said, "Where were you tonight at eleven o’clock?"
McDonald flushed: "Are you questioning me?"
"Do you have an answer to the question?"
McDonald looked at his wife, then said, "I was driving home. I’d just left Jim Bone’s place."
"Your wife was here, and you were at Jim Bone’s?"
"Yes. We were trying to put together a deal on the succession to Dan Kresge. We needed to talk to the two of them simultaneously."
Lucas shifted his gaze to Audrey: "And you were driving home as well."
"Yes." She touched her throat. "I was."
Her voice touched a memory celclass="underline" "How long were you here?" Lucas asked. "And what did you decide?"
"We were arranging-" Wilson McDonald started, but Lucas waved him down.
"Please let your wife answer," Lucas said.
McDonald looked down at Audrey, who said, falteringly, "Well, we were arranging… talking about… votes on the board of directors. The board appeared to be split three ways, and if we could arrange an alliance with one or the other of them…" She shrugged.
And Lucas recognized the voice as the woman on the telephone earlier that day. He wasn’t absolutely positive, but he would have bet on it. The timbre of her voice and the pacing of the words were very close.
"Did you see anyone in the hall when you left? Or downstairs?" Swanson asked, swerving off the topic.
"There were some people downstairs, but nobody I recognized," Audrey said. "There wasn’t anybody up here. The hallway is short…" She pointed back to the hall through the open apartment door. "There’re only two apartments."
Lucas pulled them back to the meeting: "What did you decide? Did you get your alliance?"
"Well…" Audrey looked at her husband, whose lips were pressed tight in anger.
"This has nothing to do with who killed Susan O’Dell, does it?" he asked. "You’re trying to screw me so your pal Bone gets the CEO’s job."
"He’s not my pal," Lucas snapped back.
"No? Who handled the money for your IPO and the management buyout? And you were in his office last week talking about me. I haven’t done anything and you’ve been spreading rumors that are killing me."
Lucas shook his head: "Routine…"
"Bullshit. My lawyer used to be a cop, and he says it’s nothing like routine."
"So get your lawyer down here if you want," Lucas said. "But I want an answer: Did you strike a deal with Susan O’Dell?"
Wilson McDonald looked down at his wife, who stared back, then nodded almost imperceptibly. Wilson turned back to Lucas: "Yes, we did. Between the two of us, we had the votes. She becomes president, I become chairman. I work on strategic issues, she works on day-to-day matters."
"How about Bone?"
He shook his head: "Bone is committed to the merger. We couldn’t talk."
"So, if O’Dell hadn’t been shot, you’d have had the job."
"And Bone would have been out," McDonald said. "Why don’t you go ask your pal about that one?"
Swanson stepped in: "Mr. McDonald, we’re gonna ask you to step out into the hallway while we talk to your wife. No big problem, you can take a chair if you wish, but we need a statement from her, a sort of blow-by-blow account of everything that happened."
"I thought she had a right to an attorney," McDonald blustered.
"She does," Swanson said, "And if she wants one, we can wait until you get somebody here. But we’re not accusing her of anything at all. We just want to hear what happened."
"Then why can’t I stay?"
"Because you have a way of answering her questions for her. We’ve been through this before, and we’ve just gotten to the point where we ask the spouse to step outside. An attorney’s fine, if she wants one now, or she can ask for one at any time."
McDonald looked at his wife for a moment, as if weighing the possibility that she would say something strange under questioning, then looked back at Swanson and nodded. "I’ll take a chair." And to Audrey: "The minute they push the wrong button, you come get me, and we’ll have Harrison get up here."
"Okay," she said, swallowing nervously. "Don’t go far away."
When Wilson McDonald had gone, Lucas said, "Detective Swanson is going to talk to you for a few minutes, then Detective Sloan will want to ask a few questions-Detective Sloan has already spoken to your husband…"
"Up at Dan’s cabin-he told me about it," Audrey said. She seemed more assertive when her husband wasn’t around.
"I have to leave in a minute or two, but I’d like to talk to you privately just for a moment, you and I," Lucas said. He looked at Swanson. "I just need to speak to her for a second."
"Sure."
Lucas escorted her into O’Dell’s kitchen, lowered his voice: "I believe I spoke to you earlier today."
"What?" Was she really surprised? he wondered. There was an instant of surprise in her eyes. "I don’t believe so."
"Mrs. McDonald, you have a rather nasty bruise on your leg, just above your ankle: Is that new?"
"I just…" She looked away, groped for a word. "… bumped myself."
"No, you didn’t," he said. "Your husband beat you up last night. Would you like a call from the domestic intervention people?"
"No, no, we only had a little argument."
"If we took you downtown and had one of our policewomen take a look at you, she’d find a lot of bruises, wouldn’t she?"
"That’s illegal. I want to see my husband."
"Okay." Lucas raised his hands. "Like I said, this is just between you and me. If you don’t want to make a complaint, I’m not going to insist on it. But you should. It never gets better, it always gets worse."
"Things will get better. Wilson’s been under a lot of stress. This job…"
"Just a job," Lucas said.
"Oh, no." She was shocked. "This… this is everything."
Before he left, Lucas Took Swanson aside: "Treat her very carefully. Get as much as you can on her- personal history, everything-and tell Sloan that I want her wrung out, but not scared. Don’t push her into getting an attorney."
"Are we trying for anything in particular?" Swanson asked. He turned half sideways to look at Audrey, who was perched on a chair in O’Dell’s home office.
"If we can do it-very gently-it’d be nice to get a wedge between her and her husband. Don’t be obvious, but if the opportunity comes up, it’d be good to let her know that her interests and her husband’s are not necessarily the same."