“And if they divorced?” Goldman asked.
“Owen signed a prenup. He’d get the house and whatever was left on the mortgage. It’s about a five-hundred-thousand-dollar motive for murder.”
“He had access to more money with Irene alive,” Noah said. “When was the will drawn up? Maybe he didn’t know about it?”
Burns shook her head. “No, Bloom said he knew. Irene took care of it right after they married.”
“Life insurance?” Goldman asked.
“Nope,” Burns said, shaking her head again. “But people have killed for far less.”
“The incentive for murder tends to have a proportional relationship to the overall estate. You wouldn’t murder an oil tycoon for fifty grand, right?” Goldman said.
“I’d need at least a million for murder,” Burns said, deadpan. “I’ve got to put two kids through college.”
“We’re missing something,” Goldman said.
“Let’s go over it one more time before I’m too drunk to follow,” Burns said.
Goldman opened a file on his phone and reviewed the basics. “A victim shot once with a 9mm weapon from at least ten feet, probably closer to twenty. There was no weapon at the scene, no footprints, no cameras on Dover Cemetery, and, as far as we know, none of Irene’s friends or family were gun owners. The shooter would have had to have some practice, right?” Goldman said.
“He or she knew what they were doing. Irene was likely jogging at the time, a moving target.”
“It was planned. Shooter follows her, waits until she’s in an isolated locale. Or an accident? Maybe some kid is using the cemetery for target practice?” Goldman suggested.
Margot shrugged. It was possible, she thought, but unlikely.
“Let’s go over alibis again,” Margot said.
“Carl Hendricks, the ex-husband, was on vacation in California. I talked to his wife, who confirms. And I have digital confirmation of their plane tickets. Irene’s nonprofit had a few employees. All of them can be vouched for, and I’m not seeing a motive there. None of them seem to’ve had a personal relationship with Irene. And, as far as I can tell, she was well-liked. Whitman says he was home alone but probably couldn’t have made the shot anyway. Amy Johnson said she was home in bed. She sent me a selfie of her in bed. It wasn’t for the date in question, so I’m flummoxed as to why she sent it.”
“She was flirting,” Margot said, laughing. “Just out of curiosity, would you date a woman like her?”
“She’s only twenty-three,” Noah said.
“Not answering my question.”
“No.”
“Are you confirming that you’re refusing to answer my question or was that a no-you-wouldn’t-date-her?”
“I would not date someone like Amy,” Goldman said.
“Wow. So judgmental, Noah,” Burns said, smirking. Quickly, back to business: “Why would Owen risk his marriage for someone like Amy? What is it about her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on,” Margot said. “Explain the appeal.”
“I don’t like it when you ask me to explain men to you, like I have special insight into lascivious behavior,” Noah said.
“Fine, don’t answer,” Margot said.
“Luna and Owen don’t have alibis. According to the timeline, Luna was the last person to see Irene alive,” Goldman said.
“Right. She’s the last person to see Irene alive, she finds the body. She doesn’t call the police. She runs to Owen’s house and tells him. He goes to the crime scene, contaminating the evidence.”
“It’s convenient,” Goldman said.
“What do they get out of it?”
“Freedom. Some money,” Goldman said.
“Maybe it isn’t about money,” said Burns. “Or money is just part of it.”
“Then what?”
“Maybe he wants to see if he can get away with it.”
“Maybe he’s done it before?” Noah said.
Burns nodded, thinking. “It’s hard to ignore that incident at Markham. What are the odds?”
Burns stared at her empty glass, trying to decide if she should get another. Noah went to the bar and got another pint.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said.
Burns smiled in appreciation. “Best partner I ever had.”
Goldman felt pleased and embarrassed. “So, back to the Markham thing,” Goldman said. “Are you suggesting that maybe they’re in this together?”