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"Mr. Angelini, I appreciate your time. My sympathies for your loss."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Dallas, please sit."
He wasn't elegant, as Hammett was, but he was powerful. A small man, solidly built with jet hair combed slickly back from a prominent widow's peak. His skin was a pale, dusky gold, his eyes bright, hard marbles of azure under thick brows. He had a long nose, thin lips, and the glitter of a diamond on his hand.
If he was grieving, the former husband of the victim hid it better than her lover had.
He sat behind a console-style desk that was smooth as satin. It was absolutely clear but for his still and folded hands. Behind him was a tinted window that blocked the UV rays while letting in the view of New York.
"You've come about Cicely."
"Yes, I was hoping you could spare some time now to answer some questions."
"You have my full cooperation, Lieutenant. Cicely and I were divorced, but we remained partners, in business and in parenthood. I admired and respected her."
There was a hint of his native country in his voice. Just a whisper of it. It reminded her that, according to his dossier, Marco Angelini spent a large part of his time in Italy.
"Mr. Angelini, can you tell me the last time you saw or spoke with Prosecutor Towers?"
"I saw her on March eighteenth, at my home on Long Island."
"She came to your home."
"Yes, for my son's twenty-fifth birthday. We gave him a party together, using my estate there, as it was most convenient. David, our son, often stays there when he is on the East Coast."
"You hadn't seen her since that date."
"No, we were both busy, but we had planned to meet in the next week or two to discuss plans for Mirina's wedding. Our daughter." He cleared his throat gently. "I was in Europe for most of April."
"You called Prosecutor Towers on the night of her death."
"Yes, I left a message to see if we could meet for lunch or drinks at her convenience."
"About the wedding," Eve prompted.
"Yes, about Mirina's wedding."
"Had you spoken with Prosecutor Towers since the day of March eighteenth and the night of her death?"
"Several times." He pulled his fingers apart, linked them again. "As I said, we considered ourselves partners. We had the children, and there were a few business interests."
"Including Mercury."
"Yes." His lips curved ever so slightly. "You are an... acquaintance of Roarke's."
"That's right. Did you and your former wife disagree on any of your partnerships, personally or professionally?"
"Naturally we did, on both. But we'd learned, as we had been unable to learn during our marriage, the value of compromise."
"Mr. Angelini, who inherits Prosecutor Towers's interest in Mercury after her death?"
His brow lifted. "I do, Lieutenant, according to the terms of our business contract. There are also a few holdings in some real estate that will revert to me. This was an arrangement of our divorce settlement. I would guide the interests, advise her on investments. Upon the death of one of us, the interests and profits or losses would revert to the other. We both agreed, you see, and trusted that in the end, all either of us had of value would go to our children."
"And the rest of her estate. Her apartment, her jewelry, whatever possessions that weren't part of your agreement?"
"Would, I assume, be left to our children. I imagine there would be a few bequests to personal friends or charities."
Eve was going to dig quickly to learn just how much Towers had tucked away. "Mr. Angelini, you were aware that your ex-wife was intimately involved with George Hammett."
"Naturally."
"And this was... not a problem?"
"A problem? Do you mean, Lieutenant, did I, after nearly twelve years of divorce, harbor homicidal jealousy for my ex-wife? And did I slice the throat of the mother of my children and leave her dead on the street?"
"In words to that effect, Mr. Angelini."
He said something in Italian under his breath. Something, Eve suspected,
"Mr. Angelini, I appreciate your time. My sympathies for your loss."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Dallas, please sit."
He wasn't elegant, as Hammett was, but he was powerful. A small man, solidly built with jet hair combed slickly back from a prominent widow's peak. His skin was a pale, dusky gold, his eyes bright, hard marbles of azure under thick brows. He had a long nose, thin lips, and the glitter of a diamond on his hand.
If he was grieving, the former husband of the victim hid it better than her lover had.
He sat behind a console-style desk that was smooth as satin. It was absolutely clear but for his still and folded hands. Behind him was a tinted window that blocked the UV rays while letting in the view of New York.
"You've come about Cicely."
"Yes, I was hoping you could spare some time now to answer some questions."
"You have my full cooperation, Lieutenant. Cicely and I were divorced, but we remained partners, in business and in parenthood. I admired and respected her."
There was a hint of his native country in his voice. Just a whisper of it. It reminded her that, according to his dossier, Marco Angelini spent a large part of his time in Italy.
"Mr. Angelini, can you tell me the last time you saw or spoke with Prosecutor Towers?"
"I saw her on March eighteenth, at my home on Long Island."
"She came to your home."
"Yes, for my son's twenty-fifth birthday. We gave him a party together, using my estate there, as it was most convenient. David, our son, often stays there when he is on the East Coast."
"You hadn't seen her since that date."
"No, we were both busy, but we had planned to meet in the next week or two to discuss plans for Mirina's wedding. Our daughter." He cleared his throat gently. "I was in Europe for most of April."
"You called Prosecutor Towers on the night of her death."
"Yes, I left a message to see if we could meet for lunch or drinks at her convenience."
"About the wedding," Eve prompted.
"Yes, about Mirina's wedding."
"Had you spoken with Prosecutor Towers since the day of March eighteenth and the night of her death?"
"Several times." He pulled his fingers apart, linked them again. "As I said, we considered ourselves partners. We had the children, and there were a few business interests."
"Including Mercury."
"Yes." His lips curved ever so slightly. "You are an... acquaintance of Roarke's."
"That's right. Did you and your former wife disagree on any of your partnerships, personally or professionally?"
"Naturally we did, on both. But we'd learned, as we had been unable to learn during our marriage, the value of compromise."
"Mr. Angelini, who inherits Prosecutor Towers's interest in Mercury after her death?"
His brow lifted. "I do, Lieutenant, according to the terms of our business contract. There are also a few holdings in some real estate that will revert to me. This was an arrangement of our divorce settlement. I would guide the interests, advise her on investments. Upon the death of one of us, the interests and profits or losses would revert to the other. We both agreed, you see, and trusted that in the end, all either of us had of value would go to our children."
"And the rest of her estate. Her apartment, her jewelry, whatever possessions that weren't part of your agreement?"
"Would, I assume, be left to our children. I imagine there would be a few bequests to personal friends or charities."
Eve was going to dig quickly to learn just how much Towers had tucked away. "Mr. Angelini, you were aware that your ex-wife was intimately involved with George Hammett."
"Naturally."
"And this was... not a problem?"
"A problem? Do you mean, Lieutenant, did I, after nearly twelve years of divorce, harbor homicidal jealousy for my ex-wife? And did I slice the throat of the mother of my children and leave her dead on the street?"
"In words to that effect, Mr. Angelini."
He said something in Italian under his breath. Something, Eve suspected,
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