Sandra Brown - Ricochet

“DNA.”

“He could have kept strands of hair, which Cato Laird would provide to Dothan, saying they came from Elise’s hairbrush. Elise had left the house that night without any jewelry, which was a break for them. Fewer details to worry about.”

“What about her clothing?”

“Elise was wearing a tank top and skirt that the judge had brought home as a gift that night. They procured a matching set. Maybe even had Lucille Jones buy them herself.”

“What if Napoli had pushed Mrs. Laird into the river, or what if she had jumped? Weren’t they afraid two bodies would surface?”

“Laird would claim whichever was found first, so we would close the case on Elise. Then if the second body surfaced, it would in fact be that of prostitute and drug user Lucille Jones. Or Elise would have been an unidentified Jane Doe. In either case, nobody would be looking for Elise Laird, the judge’s wife. She would be dead, positively identified by her husband and dental records, and probably cremated.”

DeeDee gnawed the inside of her cheek, looking at them in turn as she tried to absorb the facts as well as the hypotheses. Homing in on Elise, she said, “You married him in the hope of gathering evidence you could take to the DA and blow the whistle on him and Savich. Is that the gist of it?”

“Yes.”

“So where’s this evidence?”

“If I had any, Cato would already be in prison. None of this would have happened.”

DeeDee looked at her with incredulity. “Are you saying that after almost three years of living with the man, you haven’t gathered one scrap of paper, recorded one conversation, nothing?”

“If I had something, I wouldn’t have stayed with him.”

“Yeah, it’s such a rotten palace he’s set you up in. I can see why you’d hate it there.”

Elise came off the piano bench and bore down on her. “I hate Cato Laird. He had my brother killed with no more thought than he would swat a housefly. And I had to sleep with him. Pretend to make love to him. For years,” she said, her voice quaking. “But I was willing to do it if, at the end of it, Cato would pay.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” DeeDee said. “But one more question. Why did your husband bother with Napoli? If he was too fastidious to kill you himself, why didn’t he just ask his pal Savich to do it?”

“I’ve given that some thought,” Duncan said. “Savich would have been expedient and thorough. But while Elise’s body was still warm, Meyer Napoli would have crawled out of the woodwork waving those photographs of Elise and Savich to every reporter on the East Coast.

“He would have spilled the beans about her relationship with Coleman Greer, about how Cato had hired him to follow her. Cato would have come under scrutiny and would have been made to answer for all that. And so would Savich. But by using Napoli, Cato set himself up to look like the injured party. He got rid of Elise as well as his blackmailer.”

DeeDee came to her feet, massaging her forehead. “All right, I have the big picture, but where does it leave us?”

Duncan nodded toward Elise. “We have an eyewitness to Napoli’s murder.”

“Get real, Duncan. She won’t make a credible witness.”

“We’ve got the certified mail receipt for the envelope Napoli mailed to Savich. That’s a direct connection.”

“Still doesn’t place Savich on the bridge that night. We’ve got even less on Judge Laird. In fact, we’ve got no evidence that he’s guilty of any wrongdoing except falsely identifying a body, which could be chalked up to confusion brought on by abject grief, and a mix-up at the dentist’s office.” Turning to Elise, she asked, “How long do you intend to play dead?”

“Until it’s advantageous for me to reappear.”

“In the meantime,” DeeDee said to Duncan, “are you going to stay here and play house with her?”

Her tone of voice grated on him, but for the sake of time and energy he decided to let it pass. “Elise and I have come up with a dozen plans and rejected them all.”

“You’ve been talking police strategy with her?”

Ignoring the slight, Elise said, “It’s occurred to me that maybe I never found any evidence on Cato because it simply isn’t there.”

“You think Savich keeps their books?” Duncan asked. She raised her shoulder in a shrug. He felt a familiar tingle in his gut that said she might be on to something. Tugging on his lip, he began to pace. “If we get Savich, Laird will topple as a matter of course.”

“How do you figure?” DeeDee asked.

“Yes, Duncan, how do you figure?” Elise said. “Cato isn’t going to ‘topple’ easily. He isn’t going to slip up and make a mistake. He hasn’t in all the time I’ve been married to him, and he’s not going to now.”

“Somehow we’ll get him.”

“Somehow, but how? You didn’t get him for having Chet killed. He got away with it. And if I had died, either in the home study or on the bridge, he would have got away with killing me, too.” She divided a vexed look between him and DeeDee. “Wouldn’t he?”

Neither of them denied that she was more than likely right. “He would have,” she said adamantly. “You know it, and so do I.”

“I’ll figure out something,” he said.

“But what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can.”

“Meanwhile, I’ve got to stay dead?”

“I don’t know, Elise. I’m working it out.”

“He must be brought to justice, Duncan.”

“I agree.” He sliced the air with his hand as though to cut off her next argument. Lowering his volume, he said, “But of the two fish, Savich is bigger. If we can get the judge to help us nail Savich-”

“How are you going to do that?” Suddenly her expression radically changed. Backing away from him, she said, “Please don’t tell me you’re going to offer Cato clemency in exchange for giving up Savich.”

He averted his gaze from her. “I don’t think I’ll have to go that far.”

“He’ll never confess.”

“I’ll twist his arm.” He gave a weak grin, but Elise wasn’t amused. “Look,” he said with diminishing patience, “I’d like to beat a confession out of the son of a bitch. I’ve got more than one reason to lay into him, but-”

“I hope you don’t mean that literally,” DeeDee said.

Whipping around to her, he snapped, “You don’t have to come along.”

“What? This has become personal? It’s no longer about enforcing the law, it’s about her?”

That was the second time she had used the pronoun in reference to Elise, making it sound like a slur both times. “I’m a cop,” he said tightly. “Cato Laird conspired to have a man choked to death on a bar of soap. If he goes to jail, I’ve done my job, and I can sleep nights.”

“In her bed.”

The silence that ensued teemed with anger. No one spoke for several moments, then Elise said, “I don’t think you’ll have to get physical with Cato. When he sees me alive he’ll-”

“You’re staying here.”

She turned to Duncan. “Like hell I am.”

“You’re staying here, Elise. Out of sight, safe, until Cato Laird and Savich are both locked up.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he said stubbornly. “I can’t deal with this and protect you at the same time.”

“I must be there when Cato realizes he’s been caught,” she exclaimed. “I want to see his expression. I’ve waited years to get vengeance for my brother’s murder. I won’t be denied that.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “You’ll have your day in court. I promise. But you’ve got to stay in the background for now and let us take it from here.” She was on the verge of arguing further when he added, “If something happens to you, we’re up shit creek again, and we never get the bastards. You’re crucial to our case against Savich. Equally crucial to the case against Laird for Chet’s murder and everything else. You stay out of sight until the time is right to spring the trap on them. I’m sorry, Elise, but that’s just how it’s gotta be.”