Down the Rabbit Hole

“Berenski says he’ll have the final when he has it—then I played the innocent underling card, said how you were all over my ass, complimented that weird facial hair he’s been growing lately. He said to give it another twenty.”

“Good job. If she wasn’t taking this crap voluntarily, somebody was doing a hell of a number on her. Morris confirms, even without the elements we haven’t nailed down, she’d have been in a euphoric and altered state.”

“Maybe she didn’t know what she was inhaling and ingesting, or maybe whoever mixed all this up told her it was what she needed to communicate with her parents.”

“Either way, whoever gave it to her is responsible for two deaths.”

“Her lawyer’s here—the family lawyer, I mean. I had her taken to the conference room.”

“Let’s go dig out who stood to gain.”

Gia Gregg sat ramrod-straight at the conference table, talking on an ear ’link. She gave Eve a nod and continued her conversation. She wore a black suit, sharp as a scalpel, and her hair in a dark crown of tight curls with shimmering red highlights. It suited her coffee-regular skin and her cool green eyes.

She completed her conversation, then removed the ear ’link and slipped it into a pocket of her jacket.

“I’m sorry. It’s a difficult and busy morning.”

“We appreciate you coming in.”

“Sean Fitzwilliams has arrived in New York. I spoke with him before I came in, and he instructed me to give you my full cooperation. The family is, understandably, devastated. And they want answers, Lieutenant, Detective, because no one who knew Darlene believes she did what the media is gleefully claiming.”

She took out a notebook, set it on the table. “I intend to take careful notes of our conversation, as I and my clients also want answers. Have you any leads?”

“Our investigation is active and ongoing.” Eve sat, took the lawyer’s measure. A solid rep, Roarke had told her, and he would know. Her own research indicated Gia Gregg had represented the rich and richer with a steady hand for more than three decades.

“At approximately eight thirty last evening, Darlene Fitzwilliams entered her brother’s apartment. Within minutes she stabbed him three times in the chest with a pair of nine-inch shears and immediately walked out to the apartment’s terrace and jumped to her death.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s fact. However,” she added before Gia could protest, “our investigation leads us to believe Miss Fitzwilliams was under the influence of a hallucinogenic cocktail.”

“Darli— Miss Fitzwilliams did not use. In fact, part of her work in the Fitzwilliams Foundation supported rehabilitation and education centers for illegals abuse.”

“The final toxicology report is still forthcoming, however, the preliminary has already identified several substances in her system, including valerian, diazepam, peyote, phencyclidine, and cannabis.”

Gregg’s eyes widened at the length of the list. “Then someone dosed her without her knowledge or consent.”

“That may be. If she consented, it’s highly probable she did so in the belief the substances would aid her in communicating with her parents. Were you aware she’d been seeking the help of psychics and mediums for that purpose?”

“Not until this morning. I’ve also spoken with Henry, her fiancé. He told me what you found in her closet, and about the bank account, the withdrawals. Someone used her grief, someone did this to her and Marcus.”

“At this point, with the evidence we have, I agree with you.”

Gia’s shoulders relaxed for an instant. “We need to issue a media release. Darlene’s reputation is being—”

“We’re not going to do that. Her reputation isn’t my concern. Finding whoever provided her with illegals, whoever convinced her to take them or gave them to her without her consent is. Who stands to gain by their deaths?”

“Both Darlene and Marcus leave a considerable estate in their own rights, and have numerous beneficiaries. The foundation itself would be the largest for both.”

“Who gets the biggest piece of the pie?”

“Before their parents’ death, we had a meeting—the four of them—regarding updating their estate plans, beneficiaries. Darlene chose to leave ten million to Henry on the event of her death, as well as her share of the home they purchased.”

“Funny he didn’t mention that.”

“He doesn’t know. Darlene was also firm on that stipulation. He’s a proud man. He was raised by a single mother who worked very hard to support him and his sister. He was able to go to college and grad school because of her hard work, and his own. Scholarships, interning. He made his own. And you can trust that when it became apparent he and Darlene were serious, her parents did a thorough background check on him.” Gia sighed. “He’s a good man. I’m very fond of him myself. He loved her. The money? It didn’t play a part for him—in fact, it was an obstacle initially. I’m also aware he works for your husband, who would also have done a thorough background on him. Henry wouldn’t work for Roarke in such a key position if he weren’t ethical and clean.”