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“Hey.” He scooted behind her. “Is being a cop a rocking thing?”

“Sometimes it rocks, sometimes it doesn’t.” She climbed the short steps to the Angelini home and identified herself to the cool tones of the greeting scanner.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, there is no one at home. If you would like to leave a message, it will be returned at the first opportunity.”

Eve looked directly at the scanner. “Process this. If there’s no one at home, I’m going to walk back to my car, request an entry and search warrant. That should take about ten minutes.”

She stood her ground and waited less than two before David Angelini opened the door.

“Lieutenant.”

“Mr. Angelini. Here or Cop Central? Your choice.”

“Come in.” He stepped back. “I just arrived in New York last night. I’m still a bit disorganized this morning.”

He led her into a dark-toned, high-ceilinged sitting room and offered her coffee politely, which she declined with equal politeness. He wore the slim, narrow cuffed slacks she’d seen on the streets of Rome with a wide-sleeved silk shirt of the same neutral cream color. His shoes matched the tone and looked soft enough to dent with a fingertip.

But his eyes were restless, and his hands tapped rhythmically on the arms of his chair when he sat.

“You have more information about my mother’s case.”

“You know why I’m here.”

He flicked his tongue over his lips, shifted. Eve thought she understood why he did so poorly at gaming. “Excuse me?”

She set her recorder on the table in full view. “David Angelini, your rights are as follows. You are under no obligation to make a statement. If you do make a statement, it will be logged into record and can and will be used against you in court or any legal proceeding. You have a right to the presence and advice of an attorney or representative.”

She continued the brisk recitation of his rights while his breathing quickened and grew more audible. “The charges?”

“You are not yet charged. Do you understand your rights?”

“Of course I understand them.”

“Do you wish to call your attorney?”

His mouth opened, a breath shuddered out. “Not yet. I assume you’re going to make the purpose of this interrogation clear, Lieutenant.”

“I think it’s going to be crystal. Mr. Angelini, where were you between the hours of eleven P.M., May 31 and twelve A.M., June 1?”

“I told you I’d just gotten into the city. I drove in from the airport and came here.”

“You came here, directly from the airport?”

“That’s right. I had a late meeting, but I—I canceled it.” He flicked open the top hook of his shirt, as if he needed air. “Rescheduled it.”

“What time did you arrive at the airport?”

“My flight got in around ten-thirty, I believe.”

“You came here.”

“I’ve said so.”

“Yes, you did.” Eve angled her head. “And you’re a liar. A bad liar. You sweat when you bluff.”

Aware of the damp line running down his back, he rose. His voice tried for outrage but ended on fear. “I believe I’ll contact my attorney after all, Lieutenant. And your superior. Is it standard police procedure to harass innocent people in their own homes?”

“Whatever works,” she murmured. “Then again, you’re not innocent. Go ahead and call your attorney, and we’ll all go down to Cop Central.”


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