“She had blue hair, did she?”
“Yes,” Leo said, smiling, remembering. “She was something back then. Not that Irene wasn’t an attractive older woman.”
“I apologize,” Margot said. “I’m not following. Who are we talking about?”
“Irene.”
“She was thirty-six when she died,” Burns said. “That’s an older woman to you?”
“Older than she was, that’s all I meant. Don’t take offense, Detective.”
Burns felt the lascivious tone that Owen had described. Mann’s story was adding up, at the very least.
“How much money has Irene given you in the past year?” Burns asked.
“Pardon me?”
“We know that Irene gave you fifteen thousand in April. That’s the limit for tax-exempt gifts,” Burns said.
“Well, we are family,” Leo said.
“Was she just being generous, or were you having financial problems? Doesn’t have to be one or the other,” she said.
“I think Irene felt guilty about the way her mother’s estate was settled. I was married to the woman and she left virtually everything to her daughter.”
“It was my understanding that Chantal established a trust in your name,” Burns said. “What happened to that?”
“It was hardly anything,” Leo said. “It kept me afloat a few years.”
“When the trust ran dry, Irene continued to give you money,” Burns said.
“She helped out now and again. It was the least she could do.”
“How much did she give you in the last two years?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ballpark.”
“Are you moonlighting for the IRS, Detective?”
“I’m trying to make sense of the numerous cash withdrawals Irene made in the last six months. If all of those funds went into your account, that’s fine. As you said, you were family. But let’s say she was giving money to someone else. Maybe there was an innocent explanation. Maybe not. Maybe someone was blackmailing her. Either way, we need to know. Would you mind giving us a detailed accounting of Irene’s gifts or loans in the last two years? I promise we won’t rat you out to the feds.”
“Two years. I can barely remember last week,” Whitman said.
“You can go home, review your records, and come back with the information,” Burns said.
“I won’t be able to do that overnight,” said Whitman. “I’ll probably have to contact my accountant.”
“You need an accountant just to print out bank records?”
“I’m afraid I’m terrible with computer stuff.”
“I’m sure your assistant could help you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You hired Amy Johnson, right?”
“For a trial period. I’m not sure it will work out.”
“Why not?”
“Myriad reasons, Detective. Are we almost done?”
“Did you hire Amy because she was Owen’s mistress?”
“Of course not.”
“What was your angle?” Burns asked.
Whitman got to his feet. “I’d like to go home now.”
“Of course,” said Burns. “Detective Goldman will drive you.”
* * *
—
In the car, Leo sat frozen, like a side of beef. Some people got really still when they were scared.
“I love this time of year,” Noah said, genuinely moved by the way the leaves revolted in beauty before they gave up and rejoined the earth.
Silence.
“What, it doesn’t do it for you?” Noah said.
“I prefer the simple austerity of winter,” Leo said.
“Huh. Interesting.”
“You do understand that Irene giving me money is hardly a motive. In fact, it’s the opposite of one,” Leo said. “With Irene dead, so is my benefactor.”
Goldman pulled up in front of Leo’s house.
“I don’t think you killed her,” Goldman said.
Leo reached for the door. “I appreciate that. Thank you for the ride, Detective.”
“Do you have a paper shredder?” Goldman asked, freezing Leo mid-exit.
“I…uh. I don’t know,” Leo said. He had one and decided it was best not to lie. “I think so.”
“Don’t shred anything. It won’t help your case and it just makes us angry.”
“Didn’t you just tell me you thought I was innocent?”
“Of murder. Probably,” Goldman said. “Now, blackmail, that’s another story.”