“Meaning?”
“You’re going to make me explain it? No prob. Check out the time stamp.”
Bel Geddes turned away.
Milo said, “Okay, I’ll spell it out. You were with Heck during the time his alibi for Sophie Barlow was solidified. So when he was arrested, you both knew immediately that he could weasel out of any charges. Despite that, you let him sit in jail. Beyond that, youadvisedhim to sit in jail so you could claim PTSD and file a false-arrest suit.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re denying it?”
“Why wouldn’tI?”
“Because you’re at risk for an obstruction charge and the more problems you pose, the likelier a compound indictment is. That’s straight from the D.A.’s office.”
Bettina Bel Geddes chewed her lip but said nothing.
Milo said, “Heck’s also going to be charged for obstruction but in his case it goes way beyond that. Now that we know he colluded on a planned fraudulent lawsuit—”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Now that we know what the two of you were up to, Heck’scredibility is gone and we’re putting him back on the suspect list for Sophie Barlow. High on the list. And who knows, you may end up there, too.”
Her head snapped back. “That’s absurd.”
“At the very least, all of this is going to come out in court documents, Bettina. You’re a pro, so you’ll do as good a job as anyone on damage control. But you won’t be able to avoid public exposure. Assuming you’re not involved with Sophie Barlow’s murder.”
“What? How can you even think that? I never met the woman, had no reason—this is big-time fuckedup,why are youdoingthis?”
“To get to the truth, Bettina.”
She clamped her hands on her hips. “More like to prevent your own incompetence and negligence from coming to light.”
“Are you really going to play it that way, Bettina? No prob.”
He turned away and headed back toward Trenton, Alicia at his side.
Ten steps later, Bettina Bel Geddes said, “Wait.”
The detectives remained in place, keeping their backs to her.
The lawyer said, “I may be able to help you.”
Chapter
33
The meeting was called for eight a.m.
No faux-sophisticated club; a smallish interview room down the hall from Milo’s office.
He rarely used the space because the lighting was harsh and nothing rescued the air from chronic staleness.
The furnishings were a small, scarred metal table and four unfriendly folding chairs. On one side, Milo and me. On the other, Bettina Bel Geddes and a nervous-looking Michael Heck. They’d arrived thirteen minutes late. His head was down. Her posture was exaggeratedly erect.
Posturing.
She pointed to me. “What’s he doing here?”
