perhaps you can explain how you’ve come to be almost a million dollars in debt.” Only because she was watching so closely did she see Royce tighten the grip he had on his wife’s shoulder.
“A series of bad investments,” Hamilton said through gritted teeth.
“What kind of investments?”
“Two horses that didn’t live up to their potential, and a land deal that’s tied up in litigation.”
“We’re handling it,” Lizbeth said.
“By mortgaging your house?”
“Among other things,” Lizbeth said, her tone icy.
“What other things?”
“We’re considering a number of options,” Royce said, adding reluctantly, “including bankruptcy.”
“You expect us to believe the daughter of a multi-millionaire is on the verge of bankruptcy?”
“This has nothing to do with my father, Sergeant,” Lizbeth snarled. “It’s our problem, and we’re handling it.”
“Are your children the heirs to your brother’s estate?”
Lizbeth gasped. “You think…” Her face flushed, and her eyes filled. “You’re insinuating that we had something to do with what happened to John?”
“What I’m asking,” Sam said, “is if your children are his heirs.”
“I have no idea,” Lizbeth said. “We weren’t privy to the terms of his will.”
“But he was close to your children?”
“He adored them, and they him. They’re heartbroken by his death. And you think we would’ve done that to them—to him —over money? ”
Sam shrugged. “He had it, you needed it.”
Shaking with rage, Lizbeth moved out of her husband’s embrace and stepped toward Sam. Speaking in a low, fury-driven tone, she said, “I had only to ask, and he’d have given me anything. Anything . There would’ve been no need for me—or Royce—to kill him for it.”
“So why didn’t you? Why didn’t you ask him for help?”
“Because it was our problem, our business. Other than my husband and children, there was no one in this world I loved more than John. If you think my husband or I killed him, I encourage you to prove it. Now, if there isn’t anything else, I need to take care of my parents.”
“Stay available,” she said to their retreating backs.
After they were gone, Sam turned to Freddie. “Impressions?”
“Pride goeth before the fall.”
“My thoughts exactly. They’d rather declare bankruptcy than let her family know they’re in trouble.”
The door opened, and the chief stepped into the room. “What was that about with the son-in-law?”
“Nothing,” Sam said, deciding it was just that. “Tying up a loose end.”
“You know Nick Cappuano?” the chief asked.
Sam cleared her throat. “Technically, yes. I met him once, six years ago. I hadn’t seen him since until yesterday. He’s been a tremendous asset to the investigation.”
“That was quite a show of support from someone you hardly know.”
She shrugged. “It seemed to be what the senator needed to hear.”
“Indeed.” The chief’s shrewd eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Is there anything else you want to tell me, Sergeant?”
He was handing her the opportunity to come clean. But if she told him she’d slept with Nick, had feelings for him—then and now—she’d be off the case and maybe off the force. It was too much to risk. “No, sir,” she said without blinking an eye.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“We’re waiting on a warrant to search Billings’s car and apartment. If you could exert some muscle to speed that up, we’d appreciate it.”
“Consider it done.” He started to leave, but turned back. “Get me an arrest, Sergeant. Soon.”
“I’m doing my best, sir.”
Chapter 12
Sam spent two hours with Freddie and the other detectives assigned to the case going over everything they had so far. While she was with the O’Connors, the lab came back with the report from John’s apartment—nothing was found in the sheets, the drain, or elsewhere in the apartment that didn’t belong to the
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