Chapter 49
Lisa regained her composure. "Yes, of course. Now I remember. When she was at the house, she pulled out a baggie of something. I assumed it was cocaine, but I wouldn’t know the difference between cocaine, heroin, fentanyl, or anything else kids do these days,” she said in the most innocent voice she could muster.
Something told me she was no stranger to the Bolivian marching powder.
Lisa continued, “Eden set it right on the butcher block in the kitchen and acted like she was going to do a line.
I snatched the baggie and dangled it in front of her face and told her she wasn't going to do that shit in my house. I threw it back in her face. She stuffed it back into her purse and stormed out of the kitchen.”
I gave her a doubtful look.
I had to hand it to her—she recovered well and was quick on her feet. Sociopaths are good like that. They have increased verbal ability and can spin lies at the drop of a dime.
Lisa was good at lying.
“You know what I think?”
She leaned in and smirked. “No, but I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”
"I think you got your bodyguard to take you out to Eden’s boat.
You figured you'd scare her. She was on the verge of financial ruin.
You gave her the fentanyl, hoping she'd relapse and OD. An end to your embarrassment problem. But Eden threw it back at you. She’d quit.
You got frustrated, and you had your flunky do your dirty work.
He shot Eden in the head and staged the suicide.
You didn't have the guts to do it yourself. "
Lisa glared at me.
“I think you’re going down for conspiracy to commit murder.”
“That’s an interesting theory, deputy. Eden was such a little pain in the ass. She was destroying everything we’d built.”
“Everything your husband built.”
She scowled at me. “Am I glad she’s gone? Yes, I am. Did I kill her? No, I didn’t. If I had, I would have pulled the trigger myself.”
By the venom in her eyes, I believed her. She didn't like my little jab. She didn't like anyone else getting the credit for what she had done. I got the impression her bodyguard might have been with her, but she did the dirty work herself.
Proving it was going to be a different story entirely.
She wised up and asked for an attorney.
That was the end of the interview.
I pushed away from the table and stepped into the hallway. The sheriff joined me.
“This isn’t going to stick,” I said.
“I know,” he said with a frown.
“But I’ve got a plan,” I said, the logistics percolating. “Keep her away from a phone as long as possible.”
I sent Isabella a text and asked her to look at the location history for Lisa’s phone. It was late, and I didn't expect to hear back from her until the morning.
In the meantime, I grabbed a picture of Lisa’s mugshot from the county server, then headed over to Stingray Bay to speak with her bodyguard. He lived in the guest house behind the main house.
I parked my sportbike at the curb, pulled off my helmet and gloves, and hurried up the walkway to the front porch. I’d gotten the bike back from the shop, and there was no trace of the damage. They’d done good work.
I rang the video doorbell.
There was no response.
I didn’t expect one.
I hustled around the house and up the driveway to the back gate. A pedestrian gate secured the path to the guesthouse. I rang the video doorbell and waited for a response.
After a few moments of nothing, I rang the bell again.
Finally, a groggy voice crackled through the speaker. "What do you want?"
"Coconut County,” I said, flashing my badge to the lens. “I just have a few questions for you.”
"It's 4:00 AM. Can't this wait until the morning?”
"Sun is going to be up soon. Might as well get this over with now. Mrs. Scott is in jail.”
He was silent for a moment. "I'll be right there.”
A few minutes later, the door to the guesthouse cracked open, and Eddie Marshall stepped out.
He wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned.
He was a big guy with short dark hair, dark eyes, and a muscular physique.
He had the kind of shoulders and traps that can only come from a cycle of steroids.
His neck disappeared into his shoulders.
He had a thick, muscular jaw to go with it.
Eddie wore a T-shirt that hugged his physique and a pair of sweatpants. His bare feet slapped the concrete path as he strolled to the gate. He pulled it open. "You say Mrs. Scott is in jail?”
I nodded.
"What for?" Eddie’s eyes filled with concern.
"A few things," I said in an ominous tone.
His jaw tightened.
"We have evidence that implicates Mrs. Scott in the death of her stepdaughter, Eden Saint.”
His eyes flared with recognition for an instant, then he covered. "That's hard to believe."
"It was hard for her to believe, too. She never thought she'd get caught. I'm sure you know Lisa better than I do, but she's not the type that's cut out for prison.”
Eddie took a deep breath and tried to stifle a cringe.
"I want you to think carefully about how you answer this next series of questions. It will affect the rest of your life."
"Maybe I should have an attorney.”
"I can tell you right now, if you play hardball with me, it's not gonna work out in your favor.” I showed him a picture of Lisa's mug shot, so there’d be no doubt she was in jail.
Another momentary flash of panic filled his eyes. He knew where this was going.
"Lisa has made a sworn affidavit that you were with her at the time of Eden’s death.”
His whole body stiffened.
“She claims you pulled the trigger.”
Anger filled his eyes, and the muscles in his jaw flexed.