Show of Evil

'Sir, I was privy to a lot of information that was confidential. Mr Delaney never mentioned Mrs Delaney specifically.'

'But it was a confidential kinda place, right?'

 'Yes.'

'Now, did you ever go over to Mr Delaney's penthouse on Astor when you weren't specifically invited?'

 'Of course not!'

'Never kinda busted in on the place, y'know, looking for records or files or somethin' like that, and Mr Delaney wasn't expectin' you?'

'No. I don't understand what your point to all this is,' she said, becoming passively defensive.

'Will you excuse us for just a minute, please,' Irving said, and motioned Johnson to step outside the office. He leaned close to the captain and whispered, 'We're gettin close the skinny, here, Cap'n. I think it's time we Miranda her.'

'Not yet,' Johnson whispered back. 'She brings in a lawyer and we're in for a long haul. We'll find out as much as we can before we start that.'

'Yeah, if she starts takin' the fifth, we got problems. I just get nervous, gettin' too far into this without lettin' her know her rights. I'm goin' for the gun here any minute now, okay? Then we're into it.'

'I'll let you know when I think it's time to Miranda her,' Johnson said, his voice edgy and harsh.

'I just don't wanna fuck up at this stage.'

'I'll say when, Si.'

'Yes, sir.'

They returned to the room.

Edith Stoddard was slumped in her seat, her hands now in her lap, staring at the wall. Johnson thought to himself, This lady is verging on shock. Johnson and Irving sat down.

'Now, Mrs Stoddard,' Johnson said, 'we were talking about your access to the apartment. Did you ever go over at night?'

'Sometimes,' she said numbly. 'If he wanted me to.'

 'So this was kind of like a second workplace for you, is that correct?'

She nodded. She was still staring past them at the wall. 'And it was natural for you to spend a lot of time there?'

'I suppose you could say that.'

'Let's move on,' Irving said. 'Mrs Stoddard, do you own a gun?'

She looked at him sharply, as if suddenly drawn out of her daze by his question. 'A gun?'

 'Yeah, a gun.' He pulled back his jacket and showed her his weapon. 'A gun.'

'I…'

Johnson stepped in. 'Mrs Stoddard, we know you purchased a .38-calibre handgun at Sergeant York's on January twenty-second of this year. Where is that gun now?'

'Oh, yes, the gun.'

'What about it?' Irving asked.

'It was stolen.'

'Stolen?' Irving said, turning to Johnson and raising his eyebrows.

'From my handbag.'

'You were carryin' it in your handbag?' Irving said.

'There's been a lot of crime, you know, muggings and the like, and I—'

'Do you know how to use a handgun, Mrs Stoddard?'

Johnson asked.

'I thought… I thought it would scare them.'

'Who?'

'People who steal from people.'

 'So you didn't know anything about this weapon, you just wanted it as a scare card, that it?' said Irving.

 'Yes. To scare them.'

'But you were not familiar with the weapon, is that what you're saying?'

'Yes. Or no. I mean, I don't know much about guns, that's what I