Shadowfires by Dean Koontz Page B

she said.
    “He had enemies?”
    “In addition to being a genius in his field, he was a successful businessman. Geniuses often unwittingly arouse jealousy on the part of colleagues. And, inevitably, some people envied his wealth. And some felt he’d . . . wronged them on his climb up the ladder.”
    “ Had he wronged people?”
    “Yes. A few. He was a driven man. But I strongly doubt that any of his enemies are the type to take satisfaction from a revenge as pointless and macabre as this.”
    “He was not just driven,” Verdad said.
    “Oh?”
    “He was ruthless.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “I’ve read about him,” Verdad said. “Ruthless.”
    “All right, yes, perhaps. And difficult. I won’t deny it.”
    “Ruthlessness makes passionate enemies.”
    “You mean so passionate that body snatching would make sense?”
    “Perhaps. I’ll need the names of his enemies, people who might have reason to hold a grudge.”
    “You can get that information from the people he worked with at Geneplan,” she said.
    “His company? But you’re his wife.”
    “I knew very little about his business. He didn’t want me to know. He had very strong opinions about . . . my proper place. Besides, for the past year I’ve been separated from him.”
    Verdad looked surprised, but somehow Rachael sensed that he had already done some background work and knew what she was telling him.
    “Divorcing?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Bitter?”
    “On his part, yes.”
    “So this explains it.”
    “Explains what?” she asked.
    “Your utter lack of grief.”
    She had begun to suspect that Verdad was twice as dangerous as the silent, motionless, watchful Hagerstrom. Now she was sure of it.
    “Dr. Leben treated her abominably,” Benny said in her defense.
    “I see,” Verdad said.
    “She had no reason to grieve for him,” Benny said.
    “I see.”
    Benny said, “You’re acting as if this is a murder case, for God’s sake.”
    “Am I?” Verdad said.
    “You’re treating her as if she’s a suspect.”
    “Do you think so?” Verdad asked quietly.
    “Dr. Leben was killed in a freak accident,” Benny said, “and if anyone was at fault, it was Leben himself.”
    “So we understand.”
    “There were at least a dozen witnesses.”
    “Are you Mrs. Leben’s attorney?” Verdad inquired.
    “No, I told you—”
    “Yes, the old friend,” Verdad said, making his point subtly.
    “If you were an attorney, Mr. Shadway,” Ronald Tescanet said, stepping forward so quickly that his jowls trembled, “you’d understand why the police have no choice but to pursue this unpleasant line of questioning. They must, of course, consider the possibility that Dr. Leben’s body was stolen to prevent an autopsy. To hide something.”
    “How melodramatic,” Benny said scornfully.
    “But conceivable. Which would mean that his death was not as cut-and-dried as it appeared to be,” Tescanet said.
    “Exactly,” Verdad said.
    “Nonsense,” Benny said.
    Rachael appreciated Benny’s determination to protect her honor. He was unfailingly sweet and supportive. But she was willing to let Verdad and Hagerstrom regard her as a possible murderess or at least an accomplice to murder. She was incapable of killing anyone, and Eric’s death was entirely accidental, and in time that would be clear to the most suspicious homicide detective. But while Hagerstrom and Verdad were busy satisfying themselves on those points, they would not be free to pursue other avenues of inquiry closer to the terrible truth. They were in the process of dragging their own red herring across the trail, and she would not take offense at their misdirected suspicion as long as it kept them baying after the wrong scent.
    She said, “Lieutenant Verdad, surely the most logical explanation is that, in spite of Dr. Kordell’s assertions, the body has simply been misplaced.” Both the stork-thin medical examiner and Ronald Tescanet protested. She quietly but firmly cut them