Drayco and Sarg had earlier agreed they’d let Sarg take the lead in questioning Edwin in a move to placate Halabi. The detective, true to his word, hovered in a corner of the interrogation room, watching and listening. Sarg sat across from Edwin at the table while Drayco stood in an opposite corner from Halabi.
They’d learned from Halabi that Edwin didn’t have an attorney and hadn’t asked for one, despite being read his rights. But as they entered and he saw Drayco, he said, “I was told I could get a court-appointed attorney.”
Sarg replied, “I understand you don’t have an attorney yourself, sir.”
“At six hundred an hour? You kidding? Can’t even afford bail.”
“You can request a public defender at your arraignment.”
Edwin slumped in his seat. “Probably shouldn’t talk to you without one. Guess I’m saying that a bit late, aren’t I?”
“That depends, Mr. Zamorra. In the face of overwhelming guilt, cooperating can mean the difference between a lighter jail sentence and a harsh one.”
Edwin closed his eyes for a moment then sat up straighter. “As I told the detective over there, I never meant to hurt anyone. And I don’t think I did. My elderly customers are addicted to those damned pain pills doctors throw at them. A lot easier for the docs, right? Just push the pills, shut them up?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They shouldn’t be addicted like that. I was just helping them.”
“Didn’t it ever occur to you, sir, that some of those same people could die sooner rather than later thanks to your ‘intervention’?”
Edwin balled up his fists. “I didn’t water down the cancer drugs. Never those.”
Sarg stared at him. “Did you sell the extra painkillers on the market?”
In reply, Edwin looked down at the table. That’s one question he hadn’t answered for Halabi, and apparently, he wasn’t about to start implicating himself that deeply. Not that it would matter when Halabi, the FDA, and the FBI tracked all his phone and paper records. If he’d done it, they’d find it.
“Did your brother know about your scheme, sir?”
“Jerold?” Edwin stared at Sarg. “I never told him.”
“But he figured it out?”
“He never said so.”
Sarg exchanged a glance with Drayco, who knew what he was thinking. Edwin was dancing around in circles to avoid a straight answer.
Time for a different tactic. Drayco piped up, “Edwin, when you told me you loved Ophelia, you never said whether she loved you in return.”
Edwin’s head whipped up in confusion as he gaped at Drayco. He blinked his eyes as he replied, “She told me she did. And I believed her.”
“Why didn’t the two of you ever get together?”
“She was Catholic, which meant no divorce. But she was also a free spirit, and I always wondered if that divorce thing was just an excuse. To answer your question, I don’t know.”
“When I asked you if Jerold requested a paternity test, you said no. But you didn’t seem surprised by the question. Is Ashley your daughter?”
Edwin bit his lip. More silence, but in this case, his silence spoke volumes. Maybe he didn’t know for certain, but he suspected.
Sarg said, “That must be hard. Watching another man raise your daughter with the woman you love?”
Edwin processed that slowly. Then, his face hardened when he realized Sarg’s implication that he hated his own brother enough to murder him. “On second thought, anything else is going to have to wait for that attorney, whoever it is.”
As Edwin was led away, Halabi said, “That bit about his daughter. Good motive for murder. And his refusal to answer directly whether Jerold knew about his drug scheme ... intriguing, I’ll grant you.”
Halabi pointed his next comments at Drayco, “We’re grateful for the tip, but we’ll take it from here.”
Outside the detention facility, Sarg put his hand on Drayco’s shoulder. “What was all that about, the Jerold-and-lottery-fraud angle you mentioned to Halabi?”
“Imogen Layford. She said she gave Jerold an envelope from the lottery scam to investigate for her. She never heard back from him—did he really not have time or was he involved in some way? And then there’s those framed lottery tickets on his wall. A possible in-joke.”
Sarg asked quietly, “You think that was his big scheme? And your mother was his partner?”
“Iago hinted Maura might be partners with Jerold in something not-quite-aboveboard. Maybe she’s not a murderer. Maybe she’s just a criminal of another stripe.”
Edwin’s arrest might make it appear to some that Maura was less likely to be Jerold’s killer. To Drayco, it seemed more likely. Were his instincts wrong? Was he blinded by his desire to have her punished somehow?
Sarg, ever the mind reader, said, “You know you’ll have to spill the beans about Iago Pryce and Alistair Brisbane sooner or later, right?” He left unspoken the warning that Sarg himself might be forced to bring it up. Withholding information like that, even on an unofficial case, wouldn’t do Sarg’s career any favors.
Drayco slapped him on the back in reply. “I got cheated out of one of Maida’s culinary masterpieces. Got any ideas how we can make it up to me?”
“Ever had bulgogi?”
“Please don’t tell me it’s fried bull testicles.”
“I’ve heard about those—they call them Rocky Mountain Oysters out west. But no, just normal Korean barbecue. Add a little samjang and some saengchae and you’ll want to change your name to something like Min-jun.”
“And here I was thinking you’d want to try some Chinese fare in honor of Gogo.”
“Next time. Come on, my treat.”
§ § §
Drayco and his Starfire followed Sarg and his Range Rover to a strip mall in Annandale and a restaurant with a sign that said Life Is Food. As they stood outside the storefront, Drayco pointed at the sign. “Doesn’t sound very Korean to me.”
“Guess they didn’t want to scare off the less adventurous diner with a more exotic name. I mean, ‘life is food’ and barbecue in the same sentence? Who wouldn’t go for that?”
Despite the unassuming hole-in-the-wall exterior, the dining room had clean, modern decor interchangeable with any high-end eatery in the District. Or New York, for that matter. They were promptly seated at a sleek, shiny ebony table and booth, and after taking one look at the menu, Drayco said, “You order.”
Sarg rattled off a few dish names to the waiter who nodded and disappeared through a set of windowless double doors. Drayco said, “No bull testicles, right?”
“Better. You’ll see.”
After they started chowing down on a spicy pork bulgogi appetizer, Drayco nodded. “Outstanding.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
Drayco eyed the last piece of bulgogi, which was the odd man out from the seven-piece order. Sarg cut it in half and pushed the plate over. Drayco made quick work of it before asking, “How’s the family? I haven’t seen Elaine or Tara since dinner at your place last month.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Tara’s got several offers from colleges with forensic science programs. With full scholarships.”
Drayco smiled. Hardly surprising, but he was happy to hear the news, all the same.
“Michael isn’t happy with his accounting job. Thinking of joining the Army. Maybe gun for the Ranger program.” Sarg’s face was beaming so brightly that it almost outshone the light from the glass chandelier bouncing off the ebony table.
“And Elaine?”
“She’s taken up Russian.”
“Learning another language is good. Why Russian?”
“Likes the way it sounds. And she wanted to learn a new alphabet. Cyrillic fills the bill. Maybe you can help her out sometime? If she needs a little nudge in the right direction?”
“My Russian’s a little rusty.”
“Better than my no Russian.”
The waiter brought something that looked like slabs of indistinguishable mystery meat, which Sarg explained was their signature barbecue beef ribs kalbi. Drayco took a few tentative bites and sighed happily. Oh my, where have you been all my life?
They munched in companionable silence for a few minutes until Sarg spoke up. “You believe Edwin killed his own brother?”
“My first thought is that it’s too pat. And that bit about Ashley being his daughter—yeah, he’d be upset, but why strike now?”
“Because Jerold squandered all Ashley’s inheritance. And if Edwin felt protective about Ashley, his real daughter, that could do it.”
“But why frame Maura?”
“She was handy.”
“Not exactly. The mystery ‘witness’ who disguised his voice, assuming it was the real killer or an accomplice, had to choreograph everything carefully in advance. People don’t usually carry around voice disguisers with them. Edwin doesn’t strike me as being that detailed a criminal mastermind. If he were, he’d have never scammed so many customers at the same address.”
“It’s always the quiet ones, right?”
“Of all our suspects, that should put Lauralee at the top.”
“Motive?”
“Maybe that sexual harassment thing of Jerold’s didn’t just extend to Rena. Maybe he tried it on Lauralee.”
“Yeah, but would she have stayed in the quartet afterward?”
“She desperately needed the money.” Drayco filled Sarg in on Lauralee’s violin sales side business he’d discovered after tailing her.
“Maybe Gogo and his knives make more sense. I mean, if he found out Jerold had pushed his unwanted advances on Ashley ...”
Drayco drummed his fingers on the table. “Both Lauralee and Ashley seemed uncomfortable when I brought up the subject. But they didn’t have the usual demeanor of women who were sexual assault victims. Not like those I saw at the shelter where Ashley works.”
Sarg nodded and chewed on his kalbi, deep in thought. “I hate to ask, but what if it was Edwin and Maura who were having an affair and were partners in crime? Then killed Jerold over finding out?”
“Why would Maura stick around while Edwin vamoosed? And let herself be the one found holding the knife?”
“I hadn’t had a chance to tell you yet. Got a call from one of my PD sources this morning. Said the forensic techs returned to the scene of the crime. They found minute traces of human blood on the bricks at Jerold’s condo.”
“Outside?”
“Yep.”
Drayco stopped drumming his fingers. “Possibly Jerold’s and possibly left by the killer. Certainly bolsters Maura’s story. It would make no sense for her to kill Jerold, go outside, then go back inside.”
“You know what makes sense?” Sarg signaled the waiter. “Ordering some hotteok for dessert.”
Drayco took one bite of the nutty pancake topped with caramelized bananas. Every course of the meal had been better than the last. He wolfed it down in record time, which made Sarg grin. “Need to bring you here more often. Fatten you up.”
“Why is everyone always trying to fatten me up?”
“Six-four and one-seventy-five. Granted, it’s one-seventy-five of mostly muscle and gristle. I doubt you have an ounce of fat. Me, on the other hand,” Sarg grabbed the shirt around his middle. “Don’t think I’d pass the Ranger physical today.”
Drayco seriously doubted that. Just as he was beginning to doubt he’d ever understand his mother. He had another appointment with Brody McGregor later, so maybe he’d get more of his answers. Or maybe Maura was a puzzle he’d never solve.