Page 129 of I Will Ruin You

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Page 129 of I Will Ruin You

It made the most sense that Gerhard and Andrea had killed him, but a ballistics test of the bullet that killed Billy did not match the weapon Andrea used to kill Stuart, or shoot at Marta. Nor, after a test was conducted, did it match the weapon Richard took from the crashed Audi.

Marta theorized that it could have been Stuart. He was, according to Lucy, mightily pissed off his friend hadn’t cut him in on his profits from helping the drug smugglers. He’d been at the garage that night, and the gun he’d used to kill Herb Willow was one Billy had bought. He could have shot Billy with his own gun, except there was a problem there. That damn ballistics report again. Billy was not shot with his own gun.

Which brought Marta back to Richard and Bonnie.

They both had a motive. They had both been to the Finster property that night.

Marta didn’t want to think it could be either one of them. And where the hell would her sister or brother-in-law get a gun? Okay, admittedly, getting your hands on one was not exactly like trying to find the Holy Grail. It was easy enough, but seemed so out of Richard and Bonnie’s wheelhouse.

But Billy’s death sure helped Richard. There was no getting around that. Could he have killed Billy before realizing he had the wrong guy? And once Bonnie’d been brought up to speed by her husband, she had a motive, too. She’d never been face-to-face with Billy. She wouldn’t know she had the wrong person.

Shit.

Marta wondered how much trouble she was facing for not immediately disclosing that her sister and brother-in-law were, at the very least, persons of interest in this case. She should have withdrawn from it. She knew that. The best excuse she could come up with was that things were happening so quickly, she hadn’t had time.

Maybe Ginny would get her wish. Maybe Marta wouldn’t be a cop all that much longer.

And this morning, when Chief Constance Barnes wouldn’t look her in the eye when she entered the building, she had a feeling things were about to come crashing down around her.

Shortly before ten, Barnes came over to her desk and asked her to accompany her to one of the interrogation rooms. When she got there, she saw a man from the Internal Affairs Department was already in a chair. She’d met this guy before. Stanley Dinkins was his name.

“Have a seat,” Barnes said.

Marta sat.

The chief had a sorrowful expression on her face as Dinkins opened a folder that sat on the desk in front of him.

“Look, before this gets underway, I can pretty much guess what you’re going to say, so there are some things I’d like to clear the air about,” Marta said.

Barnes and Dinkins waited.

“When I learned my brother-in-law was being blackmailed by someone claiming to be Billy Finster, whose murder, as you know, I was investigating, I should have immediately stepped back and let someone else handle the investigation. I didn’t. That was wrong. My only excuse is developments were happening at such a rate I felt turning it over to someone else could have hampered things. It’s entirely possible my personal connection compromised my judgment. If that means I’m subject to some sort of disciplinary procedure, I accept that. If you want to fire me, well, that’s also your prerogative. My wife would be delighted. So, anyway, that’s my statement. I’ll answer any questions you have about that.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

Finally, Dinkins spoke. “That’s not what we’re here to talk about, Detective. What we want to talk about is Billy Finster.”

Marta blinked. “Okay.”

“What previous encounters have you had with Mr. Finster?”

“Previous encounters?”

“That’s correct.”

“None.”

“You’d never met Mr. Finster? Never had any interactions with him at all?”

“No. I mean, none that I know of. Maybe, when I was still in uniform, I pulled him over for speeding or something, but no, I have no recollection of any dealings with Mr. Finster.”

“You’re sure.”

“That’s what I’m saying. The only time I ever got near him was when he was dead.”

The chief and the Internal Affairs guy were quiet.

“What’s this about? What’s going on?”




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