Mirina looked at Slade, bit her lip. “Yes, of course.” She cleared her throat when Eve took out her recorder and set it on the table between them. “You know about the . . . difficulties Randy had several years ago in Sector 38.”
“I know,” Eve confirmed. “I was told you didn’t.”
“Randy told me yesterday.” Mirina reached up blindly, and his hand was there. “You’re a strong, confident woman, Lieutenant. It may be difficult for you to understand those of us who aren’t so strong. Randy didn’t tell me before because he was afraid I wouldn’t handle it well. My nerves.” She moved her thin shoulders. “Business crises energize me. Personal crises devastate me. The doctors call it an avoidance tendency. I’d rather not face trouble.”
“You’re delicate,” Slade stated, squeezing her hand. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“In any case, this is something I have to face. You were there,” she said to Roarke, “during the incident.”
“I was on the station, probably in the casino.”
“And the security at the hotel, the security Randy called, they were yours.”
“That’s right. Everyone has private security. Criminal cases are transferred to the magistrate—unless they can be dealt with privately.”
“You mean through bribes.”
“Naturally.”
“Randy could have bribed security. He didn’t.”
“Mirina.” He hushed her with another squeeze of his hand. “I didn’t bribe them because I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to bribe them. If I had, there wouldn’t have been a record, and we wouldn’t be discussing it now.”
“The heavy charges were dropped,” Eve pointed out. “You were given the minimum penalty for the ones that stood.”
“And I was assured that the entire matter would remain buried. It didn’t. I prefer something stronger than tea. Roarke?”
“Whiskey if you have it, two fingers.”
“Tell them, Randy,” Mirina whispered while he programmed two whiskeys from the recessed bar.
He nodded, brought Roarke his glass, then knocked back the contents of his own. “Cicely called me on the night she was murdered.”
Eve’s head jerked up like a hound scenting blood. “There was no record of that on her ’link. No record of an outgoing call.”
“She called from a public phone. I don’t know where. It was just after midnight, your time. She was agitated, angry.”
“Mr. Slade, you told me in our official interview that you had not had contact with Prosecutor Towers on that night.”
“I lied. I was afraid.”
“You now choose to recant your earlier statement.”
“I wish to revise it. Without benefit of counsel, Lieutenant, and fully aware of the penalty for giving a false statement during a police investigation. I’m telling you now that she contacted me shortly before she was killed. That, of course, gives me an alibi, if you like. It would have been very close to impossible for me to have traveled cross-country and killed her in the amount of time I had. You can, of course, check my transmission records.”
“Be sure that I will. What did she want?”
“She asked me if it was true. Just that, at first. I was distracted, working. It took me a moment to realize how upset she was, and then when she was more definite, to understand she was referring to Sector 38. I panicked, made some
excuses. But you couldn’t lie to Cicely. She pinned me to the wall. I was angry, too, and we argued.”
He paused, his eyes going to Mirina. He watched her, Eve thought, as if he waited for her to shatter like glass.
“You argued, Mr. Slade?” Eve prompted.
“Yes. About what had happened, why. I wanted to know how she had found out about it, but she cut me off. Lieutenant, she was furious. She told me she was going to deal with it for her daughter’s sake. Then she would deal with me. She ended transmission abruptly, and I settled down to brood and to drink.”
He walked back to Mirina, laid a hand on her shoulder, stroked. “It was early in the morning, just before dawn, when I heard the news report and knew she was dead.”