Reuben was still looking at Faith, waiting for her to sit.
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ She didn’t want to be scrambling to stand if something went wrong.
There were a lot of things that could go wrong.
She had spotted another assault rifle by the front door, an AK-47 that looked like it had been retrofitted with a bump fire stock, which effectively made the weapon a legal machine gun. There was a second handgun inside a heavy-looking hinged glass box on the coffee table, another Sig Sauer, this one a reverse two-tone Mosquito.
Amanda had a five-shot revolver in her purse that she kept inside a Crown Royal bag. Faith had her Glock in her leg holster. They would be no match for Reuben Figaroa. He was turned in his chair, his elbow resting on the back corner, so that his hand was less than two inches from the Sig on his hip.
Reuben said, ‘What happened to Jo?’
‘We’re not sure,’ Amanda admitted. ‘The autopsy has yet to be performed.’
‘When will that be done?’
‘Later this morning.’
‘Where?’
‘The morgue at Grady Hospital.’
He waited for more details.
‘The medical examiner for the Atlanta Police Department will perform the procedure, but someone from the GBI will be on hand to offer assistance.’
‘I want to be there too.’
Kilpatrick sat up. ‘He’s in shock,’ he told Amanda. ‘Of course he doesn’t want to be there when his wife is autopsied.’ He shot Reuben a look of warning. ‘When did she die?’
‘Perhaps Mr Figaroa can tell us first how he spent yesterday, Monday?’
‘Don’t—’ Kilpatrick said, but Reuben held up a hand to stop him.
‘I was at my doctor’s office first thing Monday morning. As you can see, I’ve recently had surgery on my knee. I had to do a follow-up appointment. After that, I had a business meeting with Kip, then we had another meeting with my lawyer, Ditmar Wittich. Then I was with my various bankers for the rest of the day. City Trust. Bank of America. Wells Fargo. Kip can give you their numbers.’
Kilpatrick said, ‘Obviously none of the people Fig met with can tell you what they talked about, but I can get the times verified. The banks will have security footage. You’ll probably have to get a warrant.’
‘There’s still late Monday night and into this morning.’ Amanda told Reuben, ‘Forgive me, but it seems odd that it’s two in the morning and you’re still dressed in a suit.’
‘That’s why I delayed you at the gate,’ he said. ‘I felt it would be inappropriate to answer the door in my pajamas.’
Amanda nodded, but she didn’t point out that his suit looked like he’d been wearing it all day.
Reuben asked, ‘Where was she found?’
Amanda didn’t answer the question. ‘I was hoping you could help us with the timeline.’ She turned to Kilpatrick. ‘You said that you packed Jo into her car Monday morning?’
‘Figure of speech.’ Kilpatrick saw that he’d painted himself into a corner. ‘I packed the car for her Sunday night. I don’t know what time she left Monday morning.’ Kilpatrick’s eyes kept nervously going to Reuben. ‘So the last I saw her was Sunday night. We were at a party.’
Faith asked, ‘She drove herself to rehab in her own car?’
Kilpatrick had seen Faith looking in the garage at Jo Figaroa’s Range Rover. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘And you?’ Amanda asked Reuben.
‘Sunday night,’ Kilpatrick answered before his client could. ‘Reuben was at the party too. So was Jo. She left early. Had a headache, wanted to pack, I don’t know. Reuben took some pain pills when he got in. This is Sunday night, after the party. He woke up Monday morning and assumed Jo had left for rehab. In a town car, because her Rover was still here.’ He was just making this up as he went along. ‘You know with rehab, they don’t let the patients make any calls home for the first two weeks, so we had no way of knowing whether or not she arrived at the clinic.’
Amanda could’ve punched all kinds of holes in the story, but she only nodded.
Reuben asked, ‘Who killed her?’
‘We’re not sure that she was murdered.’
‘The picture,’ Reuben said. ‘Someone hit her face. Beat her.’ He looked away. His clenched fists were the size of footballs. It was the first time he had registered any emotion about his wife. ‘Who killed her?’
‘Ms. Wagner,’ Kilpatrick interjected. ‘I feel that you should know that Jo had an Oxy habit. Pretty serious. Fig had no idea until she got busted. That’s why she’s in rehab. Was going to rehab.’ He stopped to swallow, clearly flustered. ‘You should be looking for her dealer. Underworld people.’
Faith remembered what Will had said about Angie supplying drugs to young girls. Her way of helping them stay off the streets. Had she supplied drugs to Jo Figaroa, too?
‘You have an impressive gun collection.’ Amanda looked around the room, pretending that she hadn’t noticed the arsenal before. ‘Is it a hobby, or are you worried about your family?’
Reuben fixed his steely gray eyes on her. ‘I take excellent care of my family.’
Kilpatrick said, ‘Ms. Wagner, I’m sure you’re familiar with Georgia HB60 section one through ten. Law enforcement officers are not allowed to ask private law-abiding citizens about guns or permits, or any other weapons, concealed or visible. Especially inside a private home.’
Faith asked, ‘Did Jo say goodbye to Anthony?’
Reuben’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes.’
Faith waited, but he obviously wasn’t going to offer more. ‘Is Anthony here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can we talk to him? Maybe his mother—’
A phone rang, a piercing bell that for some reason made Faith’s hand move toward her gun. Reuben’s hand moved too. Very slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an iPhone. Faith looked at Kilpatrick. He had moved to the edge of his seat, tensed, waiting. Reuben’s eyes were no longer so steely. His almost stone-like demeanor cracked just a little bit.
They all watched him put the phone to his ear.
‘No,’ he mumbled. He waited. ‘No,’ he mumbled again. He ended the call. He shook his head once at Kilpatrick. He kept the phone in his hand, which was all right by Faith, because she wanted his dominant hand to stay occupied. ‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘Private matter.’
‘Reuben?’ An older woman had pushed open one of the doors. She was African American, impeccably dressed, with a choker of pearls around her neck. ‘Would you like me to bring your guests some tea or coffee?’
‘No, ma’am. We’re fine.’ Reuben smoothed down his tie. ‘Thank you. Everything is fine.’
She hesitated, then backed out of the room.
The exchange had taken seconds, but Faith had caught a glimpse of the woman’s face. Her bottom lip was quivering.
Kilpatrick explained, ‘That’s Jo’s mother. She’s got a heart condition. We’ll wait to tell her the news when she can handle it.’
‘Forgive me,’ Amanda said. ‘But was Josephine adopted?’