Page 155 of Thankless in Death

“She really did, Jerry.” Peabody spoke quietly, pushing what sympathy she could into her tone. “It’s all right there.”

“She did that to get back at me, that’s all. She always had it in for me.”

“Then why did she make you the ID? Why did she help you out?”

“I... you’re confusing me. You’re mixing me up on purpose. I want a lawyer. I want a lawyer, and I’m not talking to you.”

“That’s your right.” Eve began to box up the evidence again. “Peabody, have him taken back to holding.”

“I am not going back there.” Shouting, he gripped the edge of the table as if to secure himself in place. “I want a lawyer now. I’ve got plenty of money. I can hire the best lawyer there is, and he’ll make you sorry.”

“You don’t have any money, Jerry,” Eve corrected.

“I have millions!”

She sighed. “Jerry, Jerry, you moron. The money was stolen in the commission of various crimes. None of it’s yours.”

“Everything my parents had is mine. That’s the law.”

“Not if you killed them.”

“She’s right about that, Jerry. You can’t use any of that money.” Peabody rose, too. “I’ll notify the Public Defender’s office. With the holiday, though, it could be Monday before they assign anyone.”

“I’m not waiting until Monday.”

“If you want a lawyer.” Eve shrugged. “It could take a while to get you a PD.”

“I want one now!” His eyes went wild, spittle flew. “I want to use my money to hire a lawyer, you bitch.”

“Tough shit, Jerry. We’ll work on getting you a public defender, as is your right.”

“Don’t you walk out of here! You come back here, you stupid bitch. You come back here right now.”

“You’ve exercised your right, requested a lawyer. This interview is done until you are represented. Get the door, will you, Peabody?”

“Fuck a bunch of lawyers. I don’t want a lawyer. I want you to get back here. I want to go home.”

Calm as a lake on the outside, Eve turned back to him. “You’re waiving your right to representation at this time?”

“Fuck you, yes. I’m telling you, Joe killed all of them, and you’re trying to pin it on me. You’re just pissed because I was smarter than you.”

“Oh yeah, I can promise if you were smarter than me, I’d be pissed.” Eve set down the box, sat again. “Here’s another little”—what had Roarke called it?—“spanner in the works. Joe’s alibied for the time of your mother’s death, the time of your father’s death, your ex’s death, and Ms. Farnsworth’s death. Do you think we don’t check these things, Jerry?”

“He’s lying. You’re lying. I want another cop.”

“That’s not one of your rights. You killed them, Jerry, every one of them. You liked it. You found what you were missing in life, didn’t you? And you got rich doing it, you got everything you ever wanted, everything you deserved. All those assholes screwing with you? You got them back for it. And you were good at it. You fucking excelled.”

“You’re damn right!”

“It came to you when you were sticking that knife in your mother, didn’t it?”

Eve kept her eyes trained on his, kept her tone quiet and smooth. Praise and threaten, she thought. Juggle both the praise, the threats, and toss in the facts.

“She’s bugging the shit out of you. Get a job, get out, get off your ass. Nagging bitch, you’d had enough. Who wouldn’t? So you picked up the knife, right there in the kitchen where she was making you a sandwich, and you carved her up. And you knew, right then, you’d found your calling.”

“She wouldn’t get off my back. They were going to kick me out. Just kick me out. What was I supposed to do?”

Get a job, Eve thought. “So you killed them. Your mother with the knife. And you waited until your father came home from work and you beat him to death with your old baseball bat.”