Page 144 of Fall Into Temptation
Agnes picked up the print and sneered. “So I visited my daughter. Who cares? She wanted me to have that stuff. Gave it to me.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I want a cigarette.”
Donovan glanced at Jamal. “Sorry, ma’am. No smoking indoors.”
“Then what the fuck is this for?” she shoved the empty ashtray off the table with her bound hands.
Jamal grinned. “It’s for decoration.”
“Whatever. I’ll be walking out of here before morning.”
“Not until you explain what you were doing in Evangelina Merill’s house and how you came to be in possession of items that belonged to her that were stolen in a break-in,” Donovan said.
“She’s my daughter. What’s hers is mine.”
“Is that why you’ve blackmailed her out of twenty-six thousand dollars in the past eight years? You feel that you have a right to your daughter’s money.”
“She could have said no,” Agnes pointed out.
“She could have. But you made that a less attractive option didn’t you? Threatening her, the rest of the family.”
“Threats? That’s what she told you? You must be gullible when you got your dick out.” She gave him a sharp grin. “Oh, I know you and Eva are fucking. I read all about it in your stupid town’s newspaper.”
“I’m dating your daughter with plans to marry her,” Donovan corrected her evenly.
“Well, she owes me. And if you marry her, you’ll owe me too.”
“Exactly what does Eva owe you?” Donovan asked.
“She ruined my life. Everything was fine until she was born. Then I got the post-partum and lost everything. Couldn’t hold down a job. Frank kicked me out.”
“You turned to drugs? Criminal activity?”
“Had to. I had no choice.”
Donovan had to tamp down the urge to shove his palm into Agnes’ face and shove her backwards out of her chair.
“So, you’re saying that twenty-six years ago, you suffered from post-partum depression, and that’s why you blackmailed your daughter out of money, broke into her house, and stole personal items?” he clarified.
“I didn’t say I stole nothing. She let me take that stuff. And if she says different, she’s a liar.” Agnes tried to fold her arms over her chest, but her wrists were bound. “And a daughter giving her mother a little loan every once in a while ain’t blackmail.”
“Loans. So, you were paying her back?” Donovan asked.
Again a shrug from those bony shoulders. “If I ever get back on my feet. But the depression and all makes it hard. I got an addiction or two. And no one’s ever given me a chance to get help.”
The perpetual victim.
“Eva owes me. She’s got her fancy career with them books, and what do I have? I brought her into this world, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. She owes me. Theyallowe me.”
“Why?” Donovan asked. “Your ex-husband, your daughters, they all worked for what they have. What have you done to earn anything?”
“I gave them life.” She spat the words out. “They owe me everything.”
“You say no one’s ever given you a chance to get help?” Donovan said, shifting gears.
“That’s right,” Agnes nodded. “Maybe I’d still be married to Frank if he’d given a damn about me.”
“And he never tried to get you any help?”
“Never once. Always too busy with his restaurant and the kids.” She slouched in the chair like a petulant teenager.
