Warning ticks down my spine. “How many people had access to your system at that time?”
She shrugs. “Just people who worked there. Of course, the police confiscated the disc after the murder. They were the ones who told me that all the data was corrupted.”
I still need to obtain a list of all the police officers who worked on the case. “How much did you inherit when your husband died?”
“Rosalie,” Jaqueline snaps.
Blythe lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, just south of two hundred million.”
“That’s quite the motive,” I murmur.
She looks around my office and at the pretty mirror to the side before smirking. “Yes, except I wasn’t in the house when he was killed.”
“We don’t know that, do we?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Phone records show I called Alexei when I left the Pilates class.”
Sure, but she could’ve killed her husband and then gone to Pilates. “The murder weapon was a steak knife from a set?”
“It was a steak knife—we had many different kinds, most not a full set by that time. My husband liked very sharp knives, and he’d just throw one away if he couldn’t get it just right. I swear, I bought more knives for that man.”
I’d reviewed the crime scene photos, and somebody strong had killed David. Someone angry. Was she strong enough to have plunged that knife in so far? “If Alexei didn’t kill your husband and neither did you, who would you suspect?” I find hypotheticals often work best with clients.
She smooths her hands on her skirt, showing several beautiful amethyst rings. My gaze catches on them. She smiles. “These are gifts from Alexei. He loves amethysts, as you know.” She looks at my unadorned hands. “He hasn’t given you a gift yet?”
I’m about to punch this woman in the face. “You have no idea who else might’ve killed your husband?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She waves her hand in the air. “David was a stockbroker. He had happy clients, unhappy clients, but no one who would kill him in such a savage manner. Being stabbed to death like that required both anger and precision.” She smiles again. “Two words I think we both can associate with Alexei Sokolov. Don’t you agree?”
TWENTY-TWO
Rosalie
Ifinish the sandwich Ella has brought me for dinner and crumple up the paper to toss in the garbage can in my office. It’s embarrassing to admit that I couldn’t find enough money to buy pizza, and I’m afraid she knows it. Worse yet, she isn’t rolling in money right now, either. “Thanks for the food. You shouldn’t be spending your funds on me.” I feel a little hypocritical considering my belly is now full with turkey, Swiss cheese, and excellent sourdough.
She waves a hand, sacked out in one of my guest chairs, quietly drinking a soda with a straw. “I set up and manage the website for Hal’s Deli, and they pay me in food. It’s all good.” Per her usual arrangement, she looks adorable in a blue jumpsuit only women about five feet tall can get away with wearing. Her blond hair is back in a ponytail, and her smooth skin lacks makeup. Not that she needs it.
I nod at the bag holding the security disc of the Fairfax mansion that hopefully will show the day of the murder. “I need you to fix that.”
“I’ll do my best.”
While I know she’s brilliant and tough, she sometimes looks so fragile I’m not sure what to do. I feel a clock counting down for her, and part of that is her plan. “I’ve read through TimeGem’s formation documents, updated bylaws, employee handbooks, and tax returns that I don’t want to know how you acquired. I’ve also gone through your father’s last will line by line.”
Her shoulders slump. “Anything helpful?”
“No.” I owe her honesty—as well as free legal advice. “The will leaves everything to your stepmother.” Most folks don’t understand that anybody can disinherit their kids ... but usually not their spouse, absent an agreement like a prenup. There was no prenup in this case, that I’ve found.
She sighs. “The will is a fake, but I can’t find the real one. I know, without question, that my father would not have left me out of the will. I think he granted me the corporation and left Sylveria with financial security.”
That sounds about right to me. “If there was another will, I’m sure she destroyed it,” I say thoughtfully. “But if we can find the attorney who drafted it, they’ll have a dated copy.”
She nods. “I know. I’ve hacked into most of the big law firms in Silicon Valley and am now spiraling outward to other big cities in California. It’s taking some time.”
“Hacking is also illegal.” I haven’t brushed up on the most recent criminal statutes and guess I should start.
“Please. They can’t catch me.”
I take a sip of my soda. “Says every convicted hacker ever.” I tilt my head. “If she had a falsified will created, why do you think she left you a trust in it?”
