“I’m going to set the record.” Eve read off the time, the date, the names of those in the room, the case file, then recited the Revised Miranda. “Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”
“Yes. Boy, I’m a little nervous.”
“Relax, it won’t take long. You are married to Bobby Lombard, the son of the victim, Trudy Lombard. Correct?”
“Yes. We’ve been married nearly seven months.”
“You were well acquainted with the victim.”
“Oh, yes. I worked for Bobby and his partner before Bobby and I got married. I got to know Mama Tru. That’s what I called her. Um, well, after Bobby and I got married, that’s what I called her.”
“And your relationship with her was friendly.”
“Yes, it was. Am I doing this right?” she added in a whisper.
“You’re doing fine. The victim was, according to your previous statements and statements on record from others, a difficult woman.”
“Well… she could be, I guess you could call it demanding, but I didn’t mind so much. I lost my own mother, so Mama Tru and Bobby are my only family.” She stared at the wall, blinked her eyes. “It’s just me and Bobby now.”
“You’ve stated you moved to Copper Cove, Texas, looking for employment, sometime after the death of your mother.”
“And after I finished business school. I wanted a fresh start.” Her lips curved. “And I found my Bobby.”
“You had never met the victim or her son before that time.”
“No. I guess it was fate. You know how you see somebody, and you just know?”
Eve thought of Roarke, of the way their eyes had met at a funeral. “Yeah, I do.”
“It was like that for me and Bobby. D.K., um, Densil K. Easton, Bobby’s partner, used to say every time we talked to each other, little hearts flew out of our mouths.”
“Sweet. Whose idea was it to come to New York at this time?”
“Um, well, Mama Tru’s. She wanted to talk to you. She’d seen you on media reports, about that cloning business, and recognized you.”
“Who selected the hotel where you were staying at the time of her death?”
“She did. I guess that’s just awful when you think about it. She picked the place where she died.”
“We could call that ironic, too. At the time of the murder, you and Bobby were in the room across the hall and three doors down from the victim’s.”
“Um, gee. I know we were across the hall. I don’t remember how many doors down, but that sounds right.”
“And at the time of the murder, you and Bobby were in your room.”
“Yes. We’d gone out to dinner, Mama Tru said she wasn’t up for it. And we got a bottle of wine. After we got back, we…” She blushed prettily. “Well, we stayed in the room all night. I went down in the morning, to her room, because she wasn’t answering the ‘link. I thought maybe she was sick, or a little irritated with us for going out on the town. Then you came, and—and you found her.”
She lowered her eyes again, worked up a few tears, Eve noted. “It was awful, just so awful. She was lying there, and the blood… You went in. I don’t know how you can do that. It must be so hard, being a policewoman.”
“Has its moments.” Eve opened her file, pushed through some hard copies as if checking facts. “I’ve got my time line here. I’m just going to read through it, on record, and see if you concur.”
While she did, Zana got busy biting her lip. “That sounds right.”
“Good, good, now let’s see what else we need to go over. Nice sweater, by the way.”
Zana preened, looked down. “Thanks. I just liked the color so much.”
“Goes with your eyes, doesn’t it? Trudy’s were green. Wouldn’t have looked nearly as good on her.”