“So what? No crime.”
“But it wasn’t free. No free lunch from Max. Not for anyone. But then, it had to be a pleasure for you to find a way to stick it to your brother.”
“Half.”
“The half that got all the attention, all the bennies all those years. The son. Men are so freaking high on having sons.”
“Depends on the son.”
“Rod Sandy was easy to mold. He was so jealous of Alex. You just had to plant the seeds, show him the opportunity and the rewards.”
“Can’t prove it because, oh yeah, that’s right. He’s dead.”
“Got your stiletto, Cleo.”
“I’m a collector. I’m licensed.” She yawned deliberately. “I’d lawyer but this is too entertaining.”
“We’ve accessed your bank box. We have Coltraine’s ring. That was stupid. A cop taking a trophy that can tie her to a murder.”
Cleo merely jerked a shoulder and looked bored. “She lent it to me, a couple of days before she died. I put it in there out of respect.”
“Yeah, that’ll fly. You think it’ll fly, Peabody?”
“Not even in a world where pink fairies sing and dance.” Shaking her head, Peabody boosted up to sit on the conference table. “I bet Max told her to get rid of it, along with everything else. But it’s a really pretty ring.” She smiled at Cleo. “I guess you just wanted it.”
“She lent it to me. You can’t prove otherwise.”
“You think Max is going to fix all this for you?” Eve allowed a quick chuckle to rise through the question. “That he has the power, the means, the connections to fix this? Maybe he does. But he’d have to care. He doesn’t.”
Cleo pulled against the restraints again, and in her eyes Eve recognized the desire for blood. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know he used you. You used each other to get what you wanted. To hurt Alex. And if Coltraine had to die to really screw with him, she meant nothing. Means to an end. How many other times have you killed for him?”
“You tell me. You’ve got circumstantial, you’ve got speculation. Bitch, you’ve got nothing.”
“I’ve got plenty.” Eve rose. “He loves nothing, Cleo, puts nothing over himself. You were interesting, and useful to him for a time. But your value to him just bottomed out. He’ll cut you out like a tumor.”
“You’ve got nothing,” Cleo said between her teeth. “You know nothing.”
“Okay. Why not get it right from the source.” She signaled Roarke. “You can watch on-screen, Cleo. I’ll say hi to your father for you.”
It was strange to be in the conference room, to know she remained there, yet see her image form on the wall screen. To know she remained in place, and to look around and see the cold concrete cage. To see the man on the thin, narrow cot inside the unadorned gray box.
He hadn’t weathered prison well, she noted. His hair was going, his body had begun to sag, his skin to sallow. But his eyes, she thought, they were as vital and vicious as ever.
“Hello, Max.”
He sat up slowly. She saw the tremors—shock, excitement, fear? She couldn’t be sure. “Lieutenant Dallas.” His teeth showed in a ferocious smile as he sprang.
He passed through the holographic image, and scraped his hands on the wall when he threw them up to stop his forward motion.
“Yeah, nice to see you again, too. Why don’t you sit down? We’ll chat.”
He came back, stood so their faces nearly touched. Though she knew better, she almost felt his breath on her skin. “I’m under no obligation to speak to you. Your holo-presence is interfering with my rights.”
“I think you’re going to want to talk to me. Regarding rights, let’s refresh your Miranda.” Once she had, she smiled. “Gotcha again, Max. Conspiracy to murder a police officer. We know you ordered the hit on Coltraine. We’ve got a lock on it. Chapter and verse. I wanted to be the one to tell you about it, to let you know, personally, you’ll be charged and convicted, and given another life sentence.”
He did sit, laid his hands on his knees. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if I did, do you think it matters to me? Bitch is dead, isn’t she?”