Detective Mara Vance stood in the center of the grand foyer, her wet coat dripping onto a mosaic of cerulean and gold. Above her, a chandelier the size of a small car glittered with malevolent indifference. The body of Julian Blackwood lay at the foot of the grand staircase, his sightless eyes aimed at the front door he’d never reached.
"So," Mara continued, standing. "At nine o'clock, you claim you were in the dark east wing. Reading. Except the east wing had no generator backup. It would have been pitch black. And you, Elara, are afraid of the dark. The maids mentioned it. You have nightlights in every outlet of the master suite."
"Reading," Mara repeated, finally turning. Her eyes swept past Elara to the tall, silent figure by the fireplace. Silas Crane, the family’s lawyer. He held a snifter of brandy he hadn't touched. "And you, Mr. Crane? You were with her?" Mansion -Alibi-
The rain hammered the windows like a fist demanding entry.
"The mansion keeps no secrets," Mara said, pulling out her handcuffs. "It just waits for someone smart enough to listen." Detective Mara Vance stood in the center of
"But you, Silas," Mara said, turning to the lawyer. "You know the house. You installed the generator yourself last spring. You knew the east wing would be blind. So you sat in the dark with her. Or did you?"
"Tell me again," Mara said, not turning around. "So," Mara continued, standing
"About the documents?"
Silas nodded, a small, precise motion. "From nine until… well, until the commotion. We were reviewing the revised trust documents. Mr. Blackwood was alive when I arrived. He was in his study, quite irate."
Silas opened his mouth. Elara spoke first, her voice a razor wrapped in silk. "He was with me. He was. We were together the entire time."
"Naturally." A thin smile. "He didn't care for the amendments favoring the charitable trust. He preferred his mistresses to have cash, not causes."