Read Online Dante's Dilemma by Lynne Raimondo - Free Book Online Page B

talked to her. Said she was sorry she had bothered them.”
    â€œThat’s not inconsistent with domestic abuse. Women in that position are often afraid of taking their husbands to court.”
    Di Marco shrugged this off. “That’s what all you bleeding hearts say. We’re not talking about some low-class broad living in a shack. Lazarus was an educated woman with money in the bank. She could have left him anytime. And let’s not forget about what she did to him. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a shame the death penalty no longer exists in this state.”
    â€œSo you think she’s making the abuse part up?”
    â€œThat’s what you’re supposed to find out, isn’t it? I’m just saying it’s mighty suspicious that she didn’t breathe a word about it until her defense lawyers came up with the idea.”
    â€œDuring her confession you mean?”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œMaybe she didn’t understand her rights. Or was talked into it.” I was referring to the first time Di Marco and I had squared off, in a case where the police had coaxed a murder confession out of a developmentally disabled teenager. With the right kind of psychological pressure, practically anyone could be coerced into admitting what the authorities wanted them to.
    â€œI knew you would bring that up,” Di Marco said. “But this confession won’t give you any qualms. The Chicago PD played it totally by the book. They didn’t use any strong-arm tactics because they didn’t have to. Lazarus started spilling her guts practically the minute they sat her down in the interview room. If anything, she was anxious to get it off her chest. It’s all there on the videotape, which you’re welcome to listen to if my word isn’t good enough for you. I guarantee the only questions you’ll hear are ‘What happened next?’ and ‘Please go on, ma’am.’”
    â€œSo what did she say about the murder, if I’m permitted to know?”
    â€œNot much. Just that she thinks she and Westlake were arguing and she lost her temper.”
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œAnd that she got so angry she picked up a fireplace poker and swung it at him. There wasn’t a huge amount to go on, but the forensics guys were able to corroborate her story from fingerprint, blood, and DNA samples taken from the poker. The skull fracture would have been enough to kill him instantly.”
    I was taken by surprise. “I thought he died when she, uh . . .”
    â€œNipped him in the bud? Uh-uh.”
    â€œWhat time was this?”
    â€œNot clear. By the time they found the corpse in the quad the next day, it had been outside in fifty-degree temperatures all night. Rigor was still present but could have been slowed by the cold. The ME wasn’t able to say anything more definite than sometime in the previous twelve hours, putting the murder before midnight.”
    â€œAnd the mutilation occurred right afterward?”
    â€œBased on the amount of blood around the professor’s fireplace, it looks that way.”
    â€œDid she say why she did it?”
    â€œThat’s the other part of her story that isn’t too coherent. Says she doesn’t know—had some kind of blackout and can’t remember. But she was clear-headed enough to haul the professor’s body over to the university quad where they found it the next morning.”
    â€œThat’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t she just leave the body where it was?”
    â€œShe doesn’t have an explanation for that, either. My take is that she was trying to draw attention away from the domestic angle, make it seem like someone else had it in for her husband. Which, as you might remember, is what a lot of people originally supposed.”
    â€œMaybe. But lugging a dead body halfway across Hyde Park doesn’t seem very