Beth glanced at Ty, then turned her gaze on the housekeeper. “Letitia,” she said gently, “how is Frankie?”
Letitia Velasquez slowly lifted her head. “He is worried, Ms. Maitland,” she answered just above a whisper.
Brandon Dumont suddenly jerked his head up and looked at Ty, demanding testily, “Can we get on with it, please?”
Ty froze the man with a cold, hard glare and watched with satisfaction as the color drained from his already pale face. Dumont reminded Ty of a banked fish, pale and slimy, but he supposed that he was attractive enough, with his soft good looks, trendy spiked haircut and expensive clothes. Ty suspected that his medium brown hair had been artfully highlighted and that the shocking blue of his eyes was achieved via colored contact lenses. The artifice disgusted Ty. He had no respect for this man, but he attempted to submerge that emotion in the determination to do his duty. He turned his gaze to Beth Maitland.
Calmly, Beth linked her hands and rested them atop her purse. She was the one Ty addressed. “Are we expecting your attorney?”
“No,” she said. “He’s in court today, but I’m perfectly willing to carry on without him.”
Ty knew that he ought to be glad about that. Lawyers tended to gum up the works. But he didn’t much like the idea of her being here on her own, not with Dumont dropping unexpected witnesses on them.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked. “Because we can reschedule.”
Her generous mouth curved softly as she smiled at him, genuine blue eyes warm enough to speed up his heartbeat. Definite vibes. “It’s all right,” she said. “I want to get this over with. Besides, what do I have to fear? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Dumont made a sound in the back of his throat, but when Ty looked at him, he was studying his fingernails. Ty pulled out his chair and straddled it.
“Okay.” He flipped open the file folder he had placed on the table in front of his seat earlier, extracted a pen from his inside coat pocket and clicked the point down. “I had intended to go over your individual statements with you, Ms. Maitland and Mr. Dumont. See if we can’t clear up some of the discrepancies. But the presence of Ms. Velasquez has changed the agenda.”
“How so?” Beth asked, clearly puzzled.
Ty glanced at Paul, wondering if his partner disliked this unexpected twist as much as he did, and chose his words carefully. “Ms. Maitland, during our last interview, you denied harassing Mr. Dumont and his wife, the deceased, did you not?”
Beth blinked. “Yes, I did. I do.”
“You never called the Dumonts on the telephone to complain that they had ruined your life by getting married?”
“No, never.”
“You didn’t go to the Dumont home, demanding to speak with Brianne Dumont and making a scene?”
“Of course not!”
Ty glanced at Paul, who quickly spoke. “Ms. Velasquez says you did.”
Beth’s mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. She turned an incredulous gaze down the table. “Letitia?”
The housekeeper raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ms. Maitland. I say only what I must. I’m so sorry.”
“No need to apologize, Letitia,” Brandon Dumont said flatly. “Ms. Maitland knows what she’s done.”
“I know I did not harass or kill Brianne!” Beth exclaimed. “And you know it, too, Brandon Dumont!”
“Do I?” he replied coolly. “You were always fond of telling me what I knew and what I meant. Perhaps if you hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have left you for Brianne.”
Ty saw that she was trembling, but when she turned her blue gaze on him, he realized that the emotion racking her body was pure anger. “He’s lying! I broke up with him. He asked me to say that it was the other way around.”
“And you never harassed the Dumonts?” Ty asked.
“Never!”
“But Ms. Velasquez swears that you did,” Paul said.
Beth turned to the small woman huddled next to Dumont. “Letitia,” she pleaded, “please don’t do this. Please tell them the truth.”
“That’s exactly what she’s doing,” Dumont snapped.
The housekeeper broke into sobs. “I only say what I must,” she repeated. “I only say what I must!”
“Can’t you tell the poor woman is devastated to have to do this?” Dumont went on. He smiled maliciously at Beth and added, “She always did prefer you, you know.”
Letitia Velasquez buried her face in her hands and sobbed brokenly.
“There, there,” Dumont said, with the same inflection he’d use with a pesky fly.
Beth closed her eyes and said softly, “It’s all right, Letitia. Whatever’s going on, it’ll be all right somehow.”
“I don’t want to say it!” Ms. Velasquez sobbed.
“You don’t owe her any apologies or explanations!” Dumont growled at the woman. “You know what’s at stake.”
“That sounds like a veiled threat, Mr. Dumont,” Ty said mildly.
“Don’t be absurd,” Dumont retorted. “I only meant that if Letitia does not do the right thing, a murder will go unpunished.”
“Oh, no,” Ty said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this one. Never doubt it.”
“I should think you’ve seen the bottom—as you put it—already,” Dumont rejoined smoothly, but never once during the entire exchange did he look Ty in the eye.
“Some might think that,” Ty replied noncommittally, but he’d suddenly had all of Brandon Dumont that he could stomach for one day—and he wasn’t quite ready to give up on his original game plan just yet. He still might get some important personal questions answered if he played this right. He stashed his pen, flipped the folder closed and got to his feet, sweeping the folder up in his hand. “Paul, why don’t you take Ms. Velasquez downstairs? Give her a minute to collect herself before the stenographer takes her statement.”
Paul was already on his feet and moving around the end of the table to Letitia Velasquez’s chair. “Come with me, ma’am.”
The little housekeeper cast a worried look at Brandon Dumont, then got stoically to her feet, wiping tears from her face with one hand, her old-fashioned patent-leather purse clutched in the other. She glanced guiltily at Beth, then turned her head away and swiftly followed Paul from the room. Beth was glaring daggers at Dumont, who seemed amused. Ty gestured with his free hand toward the room beyond the door at his back.
“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee, then we’ll get down to brass tacks. Can I bring anything for you two?”
Beth shook her head mutely. Dumont curled his lip in an expression of disdain, as if to imply that simple coffee was beneath him, and said sharply, “No, thank you.”
Ty slipped out of the room, pulling the door almost closed. Catching the eye of one of his co-workers, he pantomimed drinking, then pressed his palms together in supplication and jerked his head at the interrogation room door. An understanding nod and quick movement in the direction of the coffeepot parked in an out-of-the-way corner was his answer. Ty stepped to one side of the door, put his back to the wall and waited.
Beth was the first one to speak. “Why are you doing this, Brandon?”
The smugness of Dumont’s voice made Ty want to slap the cuffs on him. “Why, whatever do you mean, Beth dear?”
“Cut