Chapter Eighteen #2
“Because I was with her Sunday night when we found out she’d been killed, and Tina was genuinely shocked.
And dismayed, because we all know that with Ginny gone, it becomes that much more difficult to recover any of our money.
We’ll have to deal with her estate and all that.
I doubt any of us will live long enough to see this tangled, twisted mess resolved.
No one knows where the money is. Not even Ken, or so he says. ”
“Do you think he knew what she was doing?”
“Not at the beginning, but later on… I can’t see how he didn’t know. How would she explain the sudden windfall?” He glanced at Sam, seeming hesitant and uncertain. “Are you going to have to make my relationship with Tina public?”
“Not unless one of you had a hand in killing her or knows who did.”
“We didn’t.”
“So you say. But we’ve had people with rock-solid alibis turn out to be murderers. Just happened recently, in fact. So you’ll pardon us for remaining skeptical of everyone who had the kind of motive you did.”
“Investigate me to your heart’s content,” he said with a shrug.
“You won’t find me anywhere but here, with Tina and then at home on Sunday.
All I do is work, and the only pleasure in my life is with Tina.
My marriage is basically over because I made the huge mistake of investing with Ginny.
I’d give anything to be able to have that decision to do over again. Anything at all.”
Sam handed him a card. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, or have any thoughts about who might’ve been angry enough to kill her, call me. My cell number is on there.”
“The list of people angry enough to kill her is long.”
“We’re aware of that. Thank you for your time. Don’t tell Tina we’re coming.”
“Why not?”
“Because I told you not to. We’ll see ourselves out.” On the way to the parking lot, Sam said to Freddie, “For fuck’s sake. What part of ‘don’t tell her we’re coming’ does he not get?”
“The part where he has to do what you tell him.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Men hate being told what to do by women.”
“Just for the record, I don’t mind it.”
“That’s because women rule your life at home and at work.”
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You were good in there with the receptionist. I like to see your assertive side coming out.”
“Thanks. I think…”
When they were back in the car, Sam took a call from Malone. “What’s up?”
“Lawyers for the husband and Realtor are here.”
“All right. We’ll be back soon.”
“The Realtor’s lawyer is making a huge stink about unlawful arrests and the usual nonsense.”
“Nothing unlawful about us detaining a material witness in a homicide investigation.”
“You know that, and I know that…”
“No worries. I’ll take care of her when I get back.”
“Where are you?”
“Bethesda.”
“Oh damn. I’ll let them know it’s going to be a while.”
“I’ve got one more stop to make, and then we’ll be in.”
“Got it.”
Sam closed the phone and started the car, heading for the parking lot exit. “You got me an address for Tina yet?”
Freddie shot her a scathing look. “Of course I do.”
“I had no doubt.”
His GPS directed them to Rockville.
“Thank you for taking care of this before we go back into town.”
“There was no way I was driving way the hell out here again if I could avoid it.” And then she recalled the meeting she had scheduled with Hill. That was going to mess up her entire day.
Tina lived in a modest two-story home in a well-established neighborhood. The house was white with black shutters and mature landscaping.
“When I was a kid, I used to think it would be so cool to live in a place like this,” Freddie said of the tree-lined streets with sidewalks and well-cared-for homes. “I thought people who lived in neighborhoods like these didn’t have any problems.”
“Now you know better. Everyone has problems.”
“Right, and sometimes people with bigger houses have bigger problems. Take this lady, for instance. She had her life figured out. A long marriage with a man she probably still loved until they were taken in by a con, and it all went to crap. Now he’s dead, she’s financially devastated, and inside the beautiful house is a life in ruins. ”
“That’s very profound, young Freddie. And sadly true.”
“It’s so sad. She thought she had it all until an unscrupulous con artist took it from her.” He sighed. “I’d much rather be investigating Calvin Worthington’s murder than Ginny McLeod’s. He’s the kind of innocent victim I wanted to seek justice for when I became a detective.”
“Me, too, but we have to remember that nothing is justification for murder, not even the most despicable acts.”
“Keep reminding me.”
“Will do.” Sam pressed the doorbell and listened to it chime inside the house. “Another scary-ass doorbell.”
“You love them almost as much as you love receptionists.”
“I love them even more.” She peered through the beveled glass beside the front door and rang the bell again. “Here she comes.”
On the other side of the door, a woman said, “Who is it?”
Wary after the gun incident with Clarissa Haverson, Sam called out to her. “Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, MPD.”
They raised their badges to the window next to the door.
A series of locks disengaged before the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman with fading blonde hair, lines around her eyes and her mouth set in a tight, uncompromising expression. “What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to speak with you about the murder of Ginny McLeod,” Sam said.
“I have nothing to say about her.”
“I understand what you’ve been through—”
“No, you don’t. Your young, handsome husband is very much alive. Your life hasn’t been ruined by someone you thought was a friend. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“I’m sorry, I only meant that I understand why you feel the way you do about Ginny, but our job is to figure out who killed her.”
“It’s a waste of taxpayer dollars. Whoever killed her did this world a huge favor. Now she can’t ruin anyone else’s life the way she ruined mine and my husband’s and so many other people’s.”
“While we understand your dislike for her—”
“I don’t dislike her. I hate her. I hate what she did to me and Jack and other people who worked their whole lives for what they had only to have it taken from them—by a supposed friend. I hate her.”
“We’re still required to investigate her murder. We can talk here or at our place. Your choice.”
Glaring at Sam, she stepped back to let them into her house.