He pulled his arm free and bent down to pick up a pair of stockings. Sheer, black stockings. When he turned back to her, she searched his eyes.
“You honestly don’t know?” she asked.
“What part of ‘I don’t know’ don’t you understand?”
He reached for her hand and began wrapping the stocking around her wrist. She didn’t resist. In fact, she seemed oblivious to what he was doing.
“If there’s anything about Eddie or how he died that you can tell me… Please,” she said. “Surely you can understand why I want to know.”
“Actually I don’t. He’ll stay dead. So what difference does it make?”
“It makes a huge difference. If his death wasn’t an accident, as you imply, I’d like to know why he died and who was responsible.” She placed her hand over his. He stopped winding the stocking around her wrist. “Please.”
Her eyes were various shades of green that were constantly changing. He’d noticed that the first thing, when they’d been out in the yard and he’d thrust the barrel of the pistol into her belly. Then her eyes had gone wide with fear. He’d seen them spark with anger. Now they glistened with unshed tears. And, always, those shifting hues.
He looked down at their joined hands. She lifted hers off his, but didn’t break eye contact. “You don’t think Eddie’s car crash was an accident?”
He hesitated, then shook his head.
She breathed through her lips. “You think someone caused the crash and made it look like an accident?”
He didn’t say anything.
Her tongue swept across her lips. “He was killed because of something he had?”
He nodded. “That someone else wanted.”
“Something valuable?”
“The people who wanted it thought so.”
He watched the play of emotions in her face as she digested that. Then her gaze refocused on him. “Valuable to you?”
He gave a brusque nod.
“Like cash?”
“Possibly. But I don’t think so. More like the combination to a lock. Account number in a Cayman Islands bank. Something like that.”
She shook her head with perplexity. “Eddie wouldn’t have had anything like that. Unless he was holding it for evidence.”
“Or…”
His insinuation finally sank in and she recoiled from it. “Eddie wasn’t party to any criminal activity. Surely that’s not what you’re suggesting.”
He snuffled a laugh. “No, of course not.”
“Eddie was as honest as the day is long.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But he got crosswise with the wrong person.”
“Who?”
“The Bookkeeper.”
“Who?”
“Did Eddie know Sam Marset?”