Evidence

“That’s a crime scene photo, Helga. Check the date. He doesn’t look like much, does he? You killed him.”

Helga gaped. Whispered, “No.”

“On the contrary, Helga. Yes. A big fat yes. Mr. Rutger had the misfortune to be enjoying a quiet moment in the turret of that monstrosity when you came in and set your fuses and your timers and your plugs of Jell-O. He didn’t hear you because you were careful and quiet and he was an old man and being all the way up there on the third floor muted the sound. He was sipping wine as you stood on the sidewalk and enjoyed your act of cleansing, but maybe you already know that.”

“No!”

“He didn’t hear you, Helga, but you’re young, your ears work just fine, so my bet is you heard him. But you didn’t care, what’s another piece of human scheiss?”

Helga let go of the photo as if it were toxic. It slid to the floor. She stared at it, eyes wide with horror.

First time she’d shown anything close to appropriate emotion. I liked her better for it. But not much.

“Oh, God,” she said.

No atheists on the hot seat.

“Your twigs became a pyre for a human being, Helga. That we call felony homicide. Loss of a life during the commission of any major crime, even without prior intention. That’s not a fine, Helga.”

“I never knew,” she said, in a small, thin voice. “You must believe me.”

“I must?”

“It is true! I did not know!”

“You haven’t been listening, Helga. Whether or not you knew, it’s still felony homicide.”

“But that… makes no sense.”

“I don’t write the rules, Helga.”

She studied him. “You are lying. That is special effects. Anyone can stamp a date. You try to confuse me so I will confess to Des and Doreen but I will not because I did not.”

“You did a whole lot, Helga. Trust me, Mr. Rutger’s real. Was. Want me to show you his autopsy report? You fried him to a crisp.”

“I do not kill.”

Milo shook his head. “Unfortunately, you do. You’ve already admitted the arson, admitted planning it. A man died in the process, you’re facing a long prison sentence. The only way I can see you extricating yourself from this mess is by explaining yourself. Tell me why you decided to eliminate Des and Doreen. I can see a motive right off the bat: They were trying to blackmail you. If they were, that’s a good explanation, people can understand that, it’s kind of self-defense.”

She shook her head.

He said, “And if this guy in the hood did the actual killing and you didn’t really know what was going to happen and you tell me who he is, that will also help you.”

“That,” said Helga Gemein, wringing her hands, “would be all idiocy. I killed nobody.”

“Truth is, Helga, I’m leaning toward your partner as the major bad guy for Des and Doreen because there was a certain masculine stupidity to the murders and I don’t see stupid as part of your makeup. So let’s start with who he is.”

“The Dalai Lama.”

“Pardon?”

“Today he is the Dalai Lama. Tomorrow? Emperor Franz Josef, Nikola Tesla, Walter Gropius. Take your pick.”

“You’re not helping yourself, Helga.”

“You think I care to help you?” she said.

“I understand, maybe you didn’t actually pull the trigger so you think-”

“You understand nothing!” she shrieked. “I did not kill anyone!”

“Charles Rutger would debate that if he could.”

“An accident,” she said. “Had I known, I would have waited.”

“Even though you don’t care about people.”

“I avoid complications.”

“Well,” said Milo, “you’ve ended up with a whole bunch of complications.”

“You are stubborn beyond rationality.”

“Like someone else you know?”

“Who?”

Milo smiled. “I had a dad like that.”

Helga shuddered. Her turn to cover the stab of emotion with an even bigger smile. “Pity for you, Policeman.”

“Let’s get back to basics, Helga: You’re not leaving here. But you do have a chance to help yourself by telling me-”

“Policeman,” she said, “at this time, I need to…”

“Oh, shit,” said Maria Thomas.

“… have time to think. Alone. Please.”

Soft voice, almost gentle.

“You have surprised me,” she said. “I need to think. Please, some time.”

Milo said, “Take all the time you need.”

CHAPTER 33

The door to the observation room swung open. Milo stepped in, wiping sweat from his face.

He’d remained cool in Helga’s presence: Zen and the art of detection.

Maria Thomas said, “I have to say she didn’t look the least bit hinky on those two murders.”

Don Boxmeister said, “Even with that, we get her on Rutger, she’s away for a long time.”

“Don’t get overconfident about Rutger,” said Thomas. “She has family money. Want to take bets the first thing any decent lawyer does is move to throw out the last two hours because she was under emotional duress?”

“ Milo didn’t persecute her, Maria.”

“Who’s talking reality, Don? It’s a game and rich people have a better win-loss record.” She turned to Milo. “You’re lucky she’s arrogant. Only reason she hasn’t lawyered up is she thinks she’s smarter than you. But now that she’s faced with Rutger, don’t count on that lasting. What’s your next step?”

Milo sat down heavily. Watched Helga through the glass.

She’d remained in her chair.

Black-wigged statue.

Thomas said, “ Milo, you with us?”

“I don’t know.”

Thomas’s BlackBerry sent her a message. She checked the screen, poked with a stylus,