Page 83 of Passions in Death
“Someone she trusted, yes, almost certainly,” Mira concluded. “She’s young, in love, excited, and wants to give the woman she loves this gift in that time and place. In the company of friends who, she’d certainly believe, would share that joy in a dream fulfilled.”
“Somebody didn’t. Not a lot of time to plan if it came up when asked to deliver the case. I think wanting her dead preceded that.”
“And the request opened the door,” Mira finished. “There’s no indication the victim felt threatened previously? Had a problematic relationship with anyone who had access?”
“ChiChi Lopez pops there.” Eve tapped the photo on the board. “Sex, a few times, which by all appearances Lopez took more seriously than Albright, who cut off that aspect after she met Hunnicut. Lopez subsequently engaged in a sexual on-and-off relationship with Anton Carver, one of the victim’s studio mates. This gives her easy access to the studio, and the case once it was there. She was at the party, could possibly have slipped away, murdered Albright, slipped back. Albright may have asked her to bring the case, which would give her access to the privacy room.”
Eyes on the board, Eve drank some coffee. “She’s got a mean streak in there, and doesn’t much like Hunnicut.”
“Personality or jealousy?”
“I’m going to say both. Plus, she got kicked out of bed, replaced. More, they’re getting married, and she’s supposed to act happy about that. The timing on it’s tight but doable.
“Carver.” Eve shook her head. “Access to the case, but he’s so self-absorbed, why would he care? At the same time, he likes sex with Lopez, he strikes as almost permanently pissed off. His alibi seems solid, but Peabody’s checking to make sure it holds. The vic had just sold three paintings—a what’s it? Triptych. And another to Lopez—and though it’s verified he seemed good with that, maybe he wasn’t.”
“So back to jealousy.”
“Yeah. Jon Rierdon, one of Hunnicut’s exes. She broke it off, before Albright, and he wasn’t happy about it. No alibi, but no way he had access to the studio, or that she would have trusted him with the case and delivery. Physically strong enough to have done it, and mutual friends may have mentioned the party—time and place—to him. Motive—back to jealousy and rejection—but I don’t see the opportunity.”
Now she tapped Greg Barney’s ID shot. “Another ex, Hunnicut’s, but going back to high school. All indications are they mutually parted at college time. Reconnected later, back in New York, but as friends. And he’s cohabbing with Hunnicut’s best friend. Also attended the same high school.”
“You see trust there.”
“I do. Yeah, she’d have trusted him. So opportunity—as he doesn’t have a solid alibi. Means, he’s physically capable. Motive? Does he still have feelings there? Maybe using her best friend to keep the connection tight, keep his pride. Maybe he didn’t realize he had those feelings until she’s about to marry somebody else.
“He wanted to make her a sandwich.”
“A sandwich?”
“Make her a sandwich, get her tea.” After a shrug, Eve stuck her hands in her pockets.
“Taking care of her. But they all wanted to take care of her—of Hunnicut. It’s a tight group—Peabody says like a tribe. Everybody loves everybody. That’s where Lopez stands out for me, because she doesn’t. But Barney was the only male there at the follow-up when they’re all there to take care of her.”
“You’re looking at trust, misplaced in that tight group, and jealousy, a rejection of intimacy and sex.”
“That’s what I’ve got. And where these two stand out. Lopez and Barney. Neither fit nice and snug. She doesn’t bother to hide the resentment and a kind of disdain for Hunnicut. Previously, Hunnicut only dated men, so what the hell is this? Where did she come from, how does she rate? I’m sexier, got a better body. And she dumps me for her, then asks me for favors? I’m going to fuck it all up.”
Eve nodded. “She’s got that in her. Screw with me, I screw back harder. That’s in there.”
“And Greg Barney?”
“We were important in high school. The big-deal couple. Shaunbar. Now I’m hooked up with her best friend. It’s not the same, it’s not important. So I’m not important. Wants to get that back, and all of a sudden, she’s with another woman? What does that make me? The only way to get that back is to take out the obstacle.”
Frowning, she thought of Jenkinson’s cold case. “And be there to comfort the not-quite-a-widow.”
“There would be another obstacle there, wouldn’t there? The best friend he’s with. A tribe has codes.”
“Yeah, it would take some time, some maneuvering. But it’s already taken time. Since high school.”
Eve tapped both ID shots. “These two stand out, but do they stand out because I don’t have anyone else, or because one of them did it?”
“Killing her at that place and time indicates a deep need to punish, ruin, a willingness to take the opportunity and risk in order to prevent the marriage. It may have been the gift—the trip, the dream, that pushed the killer to take that risk.”
“That’s not much time to plan, to work out the timing, make or access the weapon. But yeah, that fits. They would’ve looked in the case, and the contents? A serious pisser.”
“Misplaced trust, I agree. Someone harboring a resentment kept under control, concealed. And the gift, so very symbolic, ignited that resentment. It’s personal,” Mira added. “A very personal killing. A marriage thwarted—they will never take vows, never become wives. A honeymoon thwarted—they will never have that dream, one that includes, as honeymoons do, an emphasis on sex and intimacy.”
Mira set her mug aside. “Though planned, as you said, for the method, for the timing, it was a moment of passion. Cold and hot blood running at the same time. They’re not entitled to this, this won’t happen. I won’t allow it.”
