Free Legal Tender by Lisa Scottoline Page A

nodded almost graciously. “What was your discussion with Mr. Biscardi about?”
    I cleared my throat. “Mark wanted to dissolve the partnership.”
    “But you didn’t want him to.”
    “Bennie—” Grady said, but I waved him off.
    “I was surprised, but I had no choice. The partnership was dissolvable at will by either partner.”
    “You weren’t happy about it, were you? You and he had started the firm together, and you were seeing each other for many years until he took up with Ms. Eberlein.”
    Grady squeezed my shoulder. “Detective, I’m instructing her not to answer that question, if that is a question. Please move it along.”
    Azzic sighed. “You shouted at Mr. Biscardi during this discussion, didn’t you? You were angry.”
    Grady squeezed again. “Asked and answered, Detective. There was a discussion about the partnership’s dissolution and they disagreed, but both parties decided to move on. Next subject or I’m afraid we’ll have to leave.”
    Azzic rolled the unlit cigarette around his fingers. “Ms. Rosato, did you know you stand to inherit twenty million dollars as a result of Mr. Biscardi’s will?”
    “What?” I blurted out, shocked.
“Twenty million dollars?”
    “Detective,” Grady said evenly, “she already told you she didn’t know Mr. Biscardi had a will.”
    My head was spinning. The amount was so huge it made me sick for the position I was in. It was almost impossible
not
to believe I killed Mark for that much money. I gave in to a panicky urge to explain. “I knew Mark’s family had money, but not
that
much. They weren’t showy about it. They had a split-level, a station wagon—”
    “Bennie, please,” Grady said, his fingers clutching like talons.
    Azzic’s gaze was point-blank. “So you’re saying you had no idea Mr. Biscardi had inherited most of this money from his parents?”
    My mouth must have dropped open, because Grady answered, “That’s what she’s saying, Detective.”
    “Didn’t you attend their funeral with Mr. Biscardi?”
    “Uh, yes.” The service had been tense, with very few mourners, since the family was so small. Mark had almost no grief reaction, even at the cemetery. His parents had died together in a car accident, but Mark had grown up in Catholic boarding schools, estranged from them for a long time. “They weren’t a close family.”
    “Didn’t Mr. Biscardi mention anything about an inheritance?”
    “No.” I glanced at the two-way mirror and saw with dismay that I looked nervous. Who was on the other side of the mirror? Meehan? “Nothing.”
    “And you didn’t ask?”
    “No, it never came up.” It did seem odd, in retrospect. But it was Mark’s business and I always respected his privacy on family issues. God knows, I needed my own.
    “One thing I don’t get, Ms. Rosato. I understand Mr. Biscardi told you during your discussion he wanted to make more money. Why did he want more money when he had so much already? Can you help me out with that?”
    “Detective,” Grady said, “you’re asking her to speculate about Mr. Biscardi’s state of mind.”
    “She was his girlfriend, wasn’t she? Maybe they talked about it.”
    “Bennie, I’m instructing you not to answer.”
    “Well, Ms. Rosato?” Azzic’s eyes bored into me again.
    “I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me,” I said, the words sour in my mouth, like any lie. Mark had always competed with his father, a self-made businessman, and he’d wanted to be as successful as his father had been. Still, I had no idea he aimed to be
that
successful.
    Detective Azzic fiddled with his Merit, tamping it end over end. “So you didn’t know about the will, even though it was prepared by a very close friend of yours?”
    “Who prepared it?” I asked.
    “Bennie!” Grady snapped, but I couldn’t help myself.
    “Who was it, Detective?”
    “Sam Freminet,” Azzic said.
    Sam?
It shocked me. Sam hadn’t said anything, ever.
    “You’re