Betrayal in Death

The Minces were staying in what the hotel called their Executive Suite, Luxury Level. This meant the room was large, airy, and separated into sitting room and bedrooms by a fancy latticed screen that bloomed with flowering vines. A corner of the sitting room was efficiently arranged into a mini-office area with a communication and data system built into a trim console so those executives fortunate enough to be able to afford the accommodations could work in style.

Mince had obviously been doing just that when Eve interrupted him. The console was humming discreetly, and there was, a pot of coffee sitting on the refreshment extension.

"Oh, Lieutenant. I'd forgotten you were coming."

"I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me."

"Of course, of course, it's not a problem at all." He gave the suite a distracted look, seemed mildly surprised to find all in place. "I'm afraid I tend to bury myself in work once I begin. Poor Mi

"I can always arrange for that another time."

"Let me get you something. The coffee's probably fresh. I think Mi

"Thanks." She agreed because it would keep things informal, then sat on one of the pretty chairs while he fussed with cups.

"And for you, Officer?"

"If it's no trouble."

"Not at all, not at all. Such a wonderful hotel. Everything you could possibly need or want right at your fingertips. I have to admit, when Magda had the brainstorm to hold the event here, I wasn't happy. I've certainly changed my mind."

"She was set on it?"

"Ummm. She wanted the auction in New York. She had her first professional role onstage here. Though she made her true mark in film, she's never forgotten it was Broadway that gave her the first break."

"You've been together, you and Magda, a long time."

"Longer than either of us would like to remember."

"Like family," Eve said, remembering Peabody's statement.

"Oh yes, very much like family. All the ups and downs and the byways," he said as he brought over the coffee. "We've stood up for each other at weddings, held onto each other at funerals, paced the floors for each other at births. I'm godfather to her son. She's a magnificent woman. I'm honored to be her friend."

Eve said nothing while he took his seat. "Friends can be protective of friends. Sometimes too protective."

He gave her a puzzled expression. "I don't follow you."

"Does she know just how big a financial hole Vincent Lane is in this time?"

"I don't discuss the personal lives of my friends, Lieutenant. And as Magda's manager, would hardly discuss her finances or those of her son with the police."

"Even if discussing it might save her considerable grief? I'm not a reporter, Mr. Mince. I'm not here for gossip. I'm concerned with the security of your friend and her belongings."

"I hardly see what Vince's financial position has to do with security."

"You've bailed him out before, haven't you? One or the other of you. And you keep bailing him out. He sinks again. Consider this. His main meal ticket, his mother is about to give away upwards of a billion dollars. How does that sit with him?"

She caught the flicker in his gaze before he looked away. "I hardly see what – "

"Mr. Mince. I can get warrants. I can oblige you to come into Interview and ask these questions on the record. I don't want to do that, for a number of reasons. One of those reasons is my husband has a great deal of admiration and affection for your friend. I'm thinking of him, and of her, and what it could mean to both of them if there's any scandal with this auction."

"Surely you don't think Vince means to cause any trouble? He wouldn't dare."

"Does she know his current financial situation?"

Mince seemed to sink in his chair. Worry creased his forehead as he set his coffee aside. "No. I haven't told her this time. She thinks he's turned over a new leaf. She's so thrilled that he's taken such a personal interest in her foundation, in the auction…" He trailed off, looked back at Eve, horrified.

Then he shook his head. "But no. No. There's nothing he can do at this point to stop the event from going through. It's done, as far as the end result. All the paperwork is filed. The proceeds go to the Foundation. That's locked in. He can't stop it. It doesn't matter that he was against it initially."

"He tried to stop it?"

Mince rose, paced the room, his palms pressed together as he tried to think it through. "Yes. Yes, he argued bitterly against it. She was giving away his inheritance, his birthright. They had a terrible row over it. She'd reached the end of her rope with him, told him it was time he worked for a living, and that she would not again sail to his rescue with money to plug the holes he kept digging in his life. She said one of the benefits of the Foundation would be that she couldn't just pass him the money. She was setting it up that way for him, for herself, and for those who needed a helping hand."

"What happened to turn him around?"

"I don't know." He lifted his hands, spread his fingers. "He walked out on her, furious. Brought her to tears, and she doesn't shed them lightly. He was out of contact for over two weeks. None of us knew where he was. Then he came back, head bowed, full of contrition. He said she was right, of course, that he was sorry and ashamed and wanted to do everything he could to make her proud of him."

"You didn't believe him, did you?"

He opened his mouth, then let out a sigh. "Not for a minute. But she did. She adores Vince, even as she despairs of him. She was so thrilled when he asked to work on the event. And it seemed, for a time, he'd meant everything he said. Then the bills began coming in again. I had them transferred to me directly to try to spare her. I talked to him, paid them. Talked to him, paid them. Then I threatened to go to Magda. He broke down, begged me not to, promised it would be the last time."

"When was that?"

"Just before we came out East. He has been on his best behavior since, but…" He glanced back toward the data center. "A number of new bills have just come in today. I'm at my wit's end."

"Have any of the bills you've paid since his confrontation with his mother included transportation fees to Delta Colony or to Paris?"

Mince folded his lips into a tight line. "Both. He has friends in those places. I can't say I completely approve, though they do come from good families. There's a wildness to them, a carelessness. Vince's debts always go deeper when he's in contact with Dominic II Naples or Michel Gerade."

"Mr. Mince, can I have your permission to see the bills that came due this morning?"

"Lieutenant, I don't even share such matters with my wife. You're asking me to breach a trust."

"No, I'm asking to help you keep one." She got to her feet. "Would Vince Lane hurt his mother for financial gain?"

"Physically harm Magda? No, no, of course not. That's completely out of the question."

"There are other ways beyond the physical."

Mince's lips trembled. "Yes. Yes, there are. And yes, I'm afraid he would. He loves her. In his way, he loves her very much. But he… I'll bring up the data for you."

It took Eve less than thirty seconds to spot what she was looking for. "Naples Communications. One million dollars."

"Horrible," Mince said from behind her. "Vince has no need for a system of that complexity. I can't imagine what he was thinking."

"I can," Eve murmured.

"You think he'll stick to his word about not telling Magda or Lane about this?" Peabody asked as they took the elevator up to Lane's floor.