Robb, J. D. Memory In Death
MEMORY IN DEATH.
1 DEATH WAS NOT TAKING A HOLIDAY.
NEW YORK may have been decked out in its glitter and glamour, madly festooned in December of 2059, but Santa Claus was dead. And a couple of his elves weren’t looking so good.
Lieutenant Eve Dallas stood on the sidewalk with the insanity of Times Square screaming around her and studied what was left of St. Nick. A couple of kids, still young enough to believe that a fat guy in a red suit would wiggle down the chimney to bring them presents instead of murdering them in their sleep, were shrieking at a decibel designed to puncture eardrums. She wondered why whoever was in charge of them didn’t haul them away.
Not her job, she thought. Thank God. She preferred the bloody mess at her feet.
She looked up, way up. Dropped down from the thirty-sixth floor of the Broadway View Hotel. So the first officer on-scene had reported. Shouting,“Ho, ho, ho” according to witnesses until he’d gone splat, and had taken out some hapless son of a bitch who’d been strolling through the endless party.
The task of separating the two smashed bodies would be an unpleasant one, she imagined.
Two other victims had escaped with minor injuries one had simply dropped like a tree and cracked her head on the sidewalk in shock when the nasty spatter of blood, gore, and brain matter had splashed all over her. Dallas would leave them to the medical techs for the moment, and get statements when, hopefully, they were more coherent.
She already knew what had happened here. She could see it in the glassy eyes of Santa’s little helpers.
She started toward them in a boot-length black leather coat that swirled in the chilly air. Her hair was short and brown around a lean face. Her eyes were the color of good, aged whiskey and were long like the rest of her. And like the rest of her, they were all cop.
“Guy in the Santa gig’s your buddy?”
“Oh, man. Tubbs. Oh, man.”
One was black, one was white, but they were both faintly green at the moment. She couldn’t much blame them. She gauged them as late twenties, and their upscale partywear indicated they were probably junior execs at the firm that had had its holiday bash rudely interrupted.
“I’m going to arrange to have you both escorted downtown where you’ll give your statements. I’d like you to voluntarily agree to illegals testing. If you don’t…” She waited a beat, smiled thinly.“We’ll do it the hard way.”
“Oh, man, oh, shit. Tubbs. He’s dead. He’s dead, right?”
“That’s official,” Eve said and turned to signal to her partner.
Detective Peabody, her dark hair currently worn in sporty waves, straightened from her crouch by the tangle of body parts. She was mildly green herself, Eve noted, but holding steady.
“Got ID on both victims,” she announced.“Santa’s Lawrence, Max, age twenty-eight, Midtown address. Guy who ha-ha broke his fall’s Jacobs, Leo, age thirty-three. Queens.”
“I’m going to arrange to have these two taken into holding, get a test for illegals, get their statements when we finish here. I assume you want to go up, look at the scene, speak with the other witnesses.”
“I…”
“You’re primary on this one.”
“Right.” Peabody took a deep breath.“Did you talk to them at all?”
“Leaving that for you. You want to take a poke at them here?”
“Well…” Peabody searched Eve’s face, obviously looking for the right answer. Eve didn’t give it to her.“They’re pretty shaken up, and it’s chaos out here, but… We might get more out of them here and now, before they settle down and start thinking about how much trouble they might be in.”
“Which one do you want?”
“Um. I’ll take the black guy.”
Eve nodded, walked back.“You.” She pointed.“Name?”
“Steiner. Ron Steiner.”
“We’re going to take a little walk, Mr. Steiner.”
“I feel sick.”
“I bet.” She gestured for him to rise, took his arm, and walked a few paces away.“You and Tubbs worked together?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Tyro Communications. We we hung out.”
“Big guy, huh ?”
“Who, Tubbs? Yeah, yeah.” Steiner wiped sweat from his brow.“Came in about two-fifty, I guess. So we figured it’d be a gag to have him rent the Santa suit for the party.”
“What kind of toys and goodies did Tubbs have in his sack today, Ron?”
“Oh, man.” He covered his face with his hands.“Oh, Jesus.”
“We’re not on record yet, Ron. We will be, but right now just tell me what went down. Your friend’s dead, and so is some poor schmuck who was just walking on the sidewalk.”
He spoke through his hands.“Bosses set up this lunch buffet deal for the office party. Wouldn’t even spring for some brew, you know?” Ron shivered twice, hard, then dropped his arms to his sides.“So a bunch of us got together, and we pooled to rent the suite for the whole day. After the brass left, we brought out the booze and the … the recreational chemicals. So to speak.”
“Such as?”
He swallowed, then finally met her eyes.“You know, a little Exotica, some Push and Jazz.”
“Zeus?”
“I don’t mess with that. I’ll take the test, you’ll see. All I did was a few tokes of Jazz.” When Eve said nothing, merely stared into his eyes, he welled up.“He never used heavy stuff. Not Tubbs, man, I swear. I’d’ve known. But I think he had some today, maybe laced some of the Push with it, or somebody did. Asshole,” he said as tears spilled down his cheeks.“He was juiced up, I can tell you that. But man, it was a party. We were just having fun. People were laughing and dancing. Then Tubbs, he opens the window.”
His hands were everywhere now. His face, his throat, his hair.“Oh, God, oh, God. I figured it was because it was getting smokey. Next thing you know, he’s climbing up, he’s got this big, stupid grin on his face. He shouts, ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.’ Then he fucking dived out. Head first. Jesus Christ, he was just gone. Nobody even thought to grab for him. It happened so fast, so damn fast. People started screaming and running, and I ran to the window and looked.”
He mopped at his face with his hands, shuddered again.“And I yelled for somebody to call nine-one-one, and Ben and I ran down. I don’t know why. We were his friends, and we ran down.”
“Where’d he get the stuff, Ron?”
“Man, this is fucked up.” He looked away, over her head, out to the street. Fighting, Eve knew, the standard little war between ratting out and standing up.
“He must’ve gotten it from Zero. A bunch of us chipped in so we could get a party pack. Nothing heavy, I swear.”
“Where does Zero operate?”
“He runs a data club, Broadway and Twenty-ninth. Zero’s. Sells recreationals under the counter. Tubbs, man, he was harmless. He was just a big stupid guy.”
 *
The big stupid guy and the poor schmuck he landed on were being scraped off the sidewalk when Eve walked into party central. It looked as she’d expected it would look: an unholy mess of abandoned clothes, spilled booze, dropped food. The window remained open, which was fortunate as the stench of smoke, puke, and sex still permeated.
Witnesses who hadn’t run like rabbits had given statements in adjoining rooms, then had been released.
“What’s your take?” Eve asked Peabody as she crossed the minefield of plates and glasses scattered on the carpet.
“Other than Tubbs won’t make it home for Christmas? Poor idiot got himself hyped, probably figured Rudolph was hovering outside with the rest of the reindeer and the sled. He jumped, in clear view of more than a dozen witnesses. Death by Extreme Stupidity.”
When Eve said nothing, only continued to look out the open window, Peabody stopped bagging pills she found on the floor.“You’ve got another take?”
“Nobody pushed him, but he had help getting extremely stupid.” Absently, she rubbed her hip that still ached a bit now and then from a healing wound.“There’s going to be something in his tox screen other than happy pills or something to give him his three-hour woody.”
“Nothing in the statements to indicate that anyone had anything against the guy. He was just a schmoe. And he’s the one who brought the illegals in.”
“That’s right.”
“You want to go after the pusher?”
“Illegals killed him. The guy who sold them held the weapon.” She caught herself rubbing her hip, stopped, and turned around.“What did you get from the witnesses regarding this guy’s illegals habit?”
“He didn’t really have one. Just played around a little now and then at parties.” Peabody paused a moment.“And one of the ways pushers increase their business is to spice the deal here and there. Okay. I’ll see if Illegals has anything on this Zero, then we’ll go have a talk with him.”
 *
She let Peabody run the show and spent her time getting the data on the next of kin. Tubbs had no spouse or cohab, but he had a mother in Brooklyn. Jacobs had a wife and a kid. As it was unlikely any investigation would be necessary into either victim’s life, she contacted a departmental grief counselor. Informing next of kin was always tough, but the holidays added layers.
Back on the sidewalk, she stood looking at the police barricades, the throngs behind them, the ugly smears left behind on the pavement. It had been stupid, and plain bad luck, and had too many elements of farce to be overlooked.
But two men who’d been alive that morning were now in bags on their way to the morgue.
“Hey, lady! Hey, lady! Hey, lady!”
On the third call, Eve glanced around and spotted the kid who’d scooted under the police line. He carried a battered suitcase nearly as big as he was.
“You talking to me? Do I look like a lady?”
“Got good stuff.” As she watched, more impressed than surprised, he flipped the latch on the case. A three-legged stand popped out of the bottom, and the case folded out and became a table loaded with mufflers and scarves.“Good stuff. Hundred percent cashmere.”
The kid had skin the color of good black coffee, and eyes of impossible green. There was an airboard hanging on a strap at his back, and the board was painted in hot reds, yellows, and oranges to simulate flames.
Even as he grinned at her, his nimble ringers were pulling up various scarves.“Nice color for you, lady.”
“Jesus, kid, I’m a cop.”
“Cops know good stuff.”
She waved off a uniform hotfooting it in their direction.“I’ve got a couple of dead guys to deal with here.”
“They gone now.”
“Did you see the leaper?”
“Nah.” He shook his head in obvious disgust.“Missed it, but I heard. Get a good crowd when somebody goes and jumps out the window, so I pulled up and came over. Doing good business. How ‘bout this red one here. Look fine with that bad-ass coat.”
She had to appreciate his balls, but kept her face stern.“I wear a badass coat because I am a bad-ass, and if these are cashmere, I’ll eat the whole trunk of them.”
“Label says cashmere; that’s what counts.” He smiled again, winningly.“You’d look fine in this red one. Make you a good deal.”
She shook her head, but there was a checked one, black and green, that caught her eye. She knew someone who’d wear it. Probably.“How much?” She picked up the checked scarf, found it softer than she’d have guessed.
“Seventy-five. Cheap as dirt.”
She dropped it again, and gave him a look he’d understand.“I’ve got plenty of dirt.”
“Sixty-five.”
“Fifty, flat.” She pulled out credits, made the exchange.“Now get behind the line before I run you in for being short.”
“Take the red one, too. Come on, lady. Half price. Good deal.”
“No. And if I find out you’ve got your fingers in any pockets, I’ll find you. Beat it.”
He only smiled again, flipped the latch, and folded up.“No sweat, no big. Merry Christmas and all that shit.”
“Back at you.” She turned, spotted Peabody heading her way, and with some haste stuffed the scarf in her pocket.
“You bought something. You shopped!”
“I didn’t shop. I purchased what is likely stolen merchandise, or gray-market goods. It’s potential evidence.”
“My ass.” Peabody got her fingers on the tip of the scarf, rubbed.“It’s nice. How much? Maybe I wanted one. I haven’t finished Christmas shopping yet. Where’d he go?”
“Peabody.”
“Damn it. Okay, okay. Illegals has a sheet on Gant, Martin, aka Zero. I wrangled around with a Detective Piers, but our two dead guys outweigh his ongoing investigation. We’ll go bring him in for Interview.”
As they started toward their vehicle, Peabody looked over her shoulder.“Did he have any red ones?”
 *
The club was open for business, as clubs in this sector tended to be, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Zero’s was a slick step up from a joint, with a circular revolving bar, privacy cubes, a lot of silver and black that would appeal to the young professional crowd. At the moment the music was tame and recorded, with wall screens filled with a homely male face, fortunately half-hidden by a lot of lank purple hair. He sang morosely of the futility of life.
Eve could have told him that for Tubbs Lawrence and Leo Jacobs the alternative probably seemed a lot more futile.
The bouncer was big as a maxibus, and his tunic jacket proved that black wasn’t necessarily slimming. He made them as cops the minute they stepped in. Eve saw the flicker in his eyes, the important rolling back of his shoulders.
The floor didn’t actually vibrate when he crossed the room, but she wouldn’t have called him light on his feet.
He gave them both a hard look out of nut-brown eyes, and showed his teeth.
“You got a problem ?”
Peabody was a little late with the answer, habitually waiting for Eve to take the lead.“Depends. We’d like to talk to your boss.”
“Zero’s busy.”
“Gosh, then I guess we’ll have to wait.” Peabody took a long look around.“While we’re waiting we might as well take a look at your licenses.” Now she showed her teeth as well.“I like busywork. Maybe we’ll chat up some of your clientele. Community relations, and all that.”
As she spoke, she pulled out her badge.“Meanwhile you can tell him Detective Peabody, and my partner, Lieutenant Dallas, are waiting.”
Peabody strolled over to a table where a man in a business suit and a woman who looked unlikely to be his wife due to the amount of breast spilling out of her pink spangled top were huddled.“Good afternoon, sir!” She greeted him with an enthusiastic smile, and all the blood drained out of his face.“And what brings you into this fine establishment this afternoon?”
He got quickly to his feet, mumbled about having an appointment. As he rabbited, the woman rose. As she was about six inches taller than Peabody, she pushed those impressive breasts in Peabody’s face.“I’m doing business here! I’m doing business here!”
Still smiling, Peabody took out a memo book.“Name, please?”
“What the fuck!”
“Ms. What-the-Fuck, I’d like to see your license.”
“Bull!”
“No, really. Just a spotcheck.”
“Bull.” She spun herself and those breasts toward the bouncer.“This cop ran off my John.”
“I’m sorry, I’d like to see your companion license. If everything’s in order, I’ll let you get back to work.”
Bull and it seemed the day for people to have names appropriate to their bodies flanked Peabody, who now looked, Eve thought, like a slight yet sturdy filling between two bulky pieces of bread.
Eve rolled to her toes, just in case.
“You got no right coming in here rousting customers.”
“I’m just using my time wisely while we wait to speak with Mr. Gant. Lieutenant, I don’t believe Mr. Bull appreciates police officers.”
“I got better use for women.”
Eve rolled onto her toes again, and her tone was cool as the December breeze.“Want to try to use me? Bull.”
She saw the movement out of the corner of her eye, the flash of color on the narrow, spiral stairs that led to the second level.“Looks like your boss has time after all.”
Another appearance-appropriate name, she decided. The man was barely five feet in height and couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds. He used the short guy’s compensation swagger and wore a bright blue suit with a florid pink shirt. His hair was short, straight, reminding her of pictures of Julius Caesar.
It was ink black, like his eyes.
A silver eyetooth winked as he offered a smile.
“Something I can do for you, Officers?”
“Mr. Gant?”
He spread his hands, nodded at Peabody.“Just call me Zero.”
“I’m afraid we’ve had a complaint. We’re going to need you to come downtown and answer some questions.”
“What sort of complaint?”
“It involves the sale of illegal substances.” Peabody glanced to one of the privacy cubes.“Such as the ones currently being ingested by some of your clientele.”
“Privacy booths.” This time he raised his spread hands in a shrug.“Hard to keep your eye on everyone. But I’ll certainly have those people removed. I run a class establishment.”
“We’ll talk about that downtown.”
“Am I under arrest?”
Peabody lifted her eyebrows.“Do you want to be?”
The good humor in Zero’s eyes hardened into something much less pleasant.“Bull, contact Fienes, have him meet me …”
“Cop Central,” Peabody supplied.“With Detective Peabody.”
Zero got his coat, a long white number that probably was one hundred percent cashmere. As they stepped outside, Eve looked down at him.
“You got an idiot on your door, Zero.”
Zero lifted his shoulders.“He has his uses.”
 *
Eve took a winding route through Central, giving Zero a bored glance.“Holidays,” she said vaguely as they mobbed onto another people glide.“Everybody’s scrambling to clear their desks so they can sit around and do nothing. Lucky to book an interview room for an hour the way things are.”
“Waste of time.”
“Come on, Zero, you know how it goes. You get a complaint, you do the dance.”
“I know most of the Illegals cops.” He narrowed his eyes at her.“I don’t know you, but there’s something …”
“People get transferred, don’t they?”
Off the glide, she led the way to one of the smaller interview rooms.“Have a seat,” she invited, gesturing to one of the two chairs at a little table.“You want something? Coffee, whatever?”
“Just my lawyer.”
“I’ll go check on that. Detective? Can I have a minute?”
She stepped out, closed the door behind Peabody.“I was about to check my pockets for bread crumbs,” Peabody commented.“Why did we circle around?”
“No point letting him know we’re Homicide unless he asks. Far as he knows, this is a straight Illegals inquiry. He knows the ropes, knows how to grease them. He’s not worried about us taking a little poke there. Figures if we’ve got a solid complaint, he’ll fob it off, pay a fine, go back to business as usual.”
“Cocky little son of a bitch,” Peabody muttered.
“Yeah, so use it. Fumble around some. We’re not going to get him on murder. But we establish his connection to Tubbs, let him think one of his customers is trying to screw with him. Work him so we’re just trying to put this into the file. Tubbs hurt somebody, and now he’s trying to foist it off on Zero. Trying to make a deal so he gets off on the possession.”
“I got it, piss him off. We don’t give a damn either way.” Peabody rubbed her palms on her thighs.“I’ll go Miranda him, see if I can establish a rapport.”
“I’ll see about his lawyer. You know, I bet he goes to Illegals instead of Homicide.” Eve smiled, strolled off.
Outside the interview room, Peabody steadied herself, then inspired, slapped and pinched her cheeks pink. When she walked in, her eyes were down and her color was up.
“I … I’m going to turn on the record, Mr. Gant, and read you your rights. My … The lieutenant is going to check to see if your attorney’s arrived.”
His smile was smug as she cleared her throat, engaged the record, and recited the Revised Miranda.“Um, do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Gant?”
“Sure. She give you some grief?”
“Not my fault she wants to go home early today, and this got dumped on us. Anyway, we have information that indicates illegal substances have been bought and sold on the premises owned by … Shoot, I’m supposed to wait for the lawyer. Sorry.”
“No sweat.” He tipped back now, obviously a man in charge, and gave her a go-ahead wave.“Why don’t you just run it through for me, save us all time.”
“Well, okay. An individual has filed a complaint, stating that illegals were purchased from you, by him.”
“What? He complain I overcharge? If I did sell illegals, which I don’t, why does he go to the cops? Better Business Bureau, maybe.”
Peabody returned his grin, though she made hers a little forced.
“The situation is, this individual injured another individual while under the influence of the illegals allegedly purchased through you.”
Zero rolled his eyes to the ceiling, a gesture of impatient disgust.“So he gets himself juiced, then he wants to push the fact he was an asshole onto the guy who sold him the juice. What a world.”
“That’s nutshelling it, I guess.”
“Not saying I had any juice to sell, but a guy can’t go whining about the vendor, get me?”
“Mr. Lawrence claims”
“How’m I supposed to know some guy named Lawrence? You know how many people I see every day?”
“Well, they call him Tubbs, but”
“Tubbs? Tubbs went narc on me? That fat son of a bitch?”
 *
Eve wound her way back, figuring she’d confused things enough that the lawyer would be hunting for them for a good twenty minutes. Rather than go into Interview, she slipped into Observation. The first thing she heard was Zero’s curse as he came halfway out of his chair.
It made her smile.
Peabody looked both alarmed and embarrassed, Eve noted. Good touch the right touch.
“Please, Mr. Gant”
“I want to talk to that bastard. I want him to look me in the face.”
“We really can’t arrange that right now. But”
“That tub of shit in trouble?”
“Well, you could say that. Yes, you could say … um.”
“Good. And you can tell him for me, he’d better not come back to my place.” Zero stabbed a finger on her, setting his trio of rings glittering angrily.“I don’t want to see him or those asshole suits he runs with in my place again. He’ll get another kick for buying and possession, right?”
“Actually, he didn’t have any illegals on his person at the time of the incident. We’re doing a tox screen, so we can get him for use.”
“He tries to fuck with me, I’ll fuck with him.” Secure in his world, Zero sat back, folded his arms.“Say I happened to pass some juice personal use, not for resale. We’re talking the usual fine, community service.
“That’s the norm, yes, sir.”
“Why don’t you bring Piers in here. I’ve worked with Piers before.”
“Oh, I think Detective Piers is off duty.”
“You bring him in on this. He’ll take care of the details.”
“Absolutely.”
“Dumbass comes into my place. He solicits illegals from me. Fat slob’s always nickel-and-diming me, you get it? Mostly Push and not worth my time. But I’m going to do him a favor since he and his buddies are regulars. Just a favor for a customer. He wants a party pack, so I go out of my way to do him this favor at cost! No profit. That keeps the fine down,” he reminded her.
“Yes, sir.”
“Even gave him a separate stash, customized just for him.”
“Customized?”
“Holiday gift. Didn’t charge him for it. No exchange of funds. I ought to be able to sue him. I ought to be able to sue that rat bastard for my time and emotional distress. I’m going to ask my lawyer about that.”
“You can ask your lawyer, Mr. Gant, but it’s going to be tough to sue Mr. Lawrence, seeing as he’s dead.”
“What do you mean, dead?”
“Apparently the customized juice didn’t agree with him.” The harried and uncertain Peabody was gone, and in her place was a stone-cold cop.“He’s dead, and he took an innocent bystander with him.”
“What the hell is this?”
“This is me oh, and I’m Homicide, by the way, not Illegals arresting you. Martin Gant, you’re under arrest for the murder of Max Lawrence and Leo Jacobs. For trafficking in illegal substances, for owning and operating an entertainment venue that distributes illegal substances.”
She turned as Eve opened the door.“All done here?” Eve said brightly.“I have these two nice officers ready to escort our guest down to booking. Oh, your lawyer appears to be wandering around the facility. We’ll make sure he finds you.”
“I’ll have your badges.”
Eve took one of his arms, and Peabody the other, as they hauled him to his feet.“Not in this lifetime,” Eve said, and passed him to the uniforms, watched him walk out the door.“Nice job, Detective.”
“I think I got lucky. Really lucky. And I think he’s greasing palms in Illegals.”
“Yeah, going to have to have a chat with Piers. Let’s go write it up.”
“He won’t go down for murder. You said.”
“No.” As they walked, Eve shook her head.“Maybe Man Two. Maybe. But he’ll do time. He’ll do some time, and they’ll pull his operating license. Fines and legal fees will cost him big. He’ll pay. Best we get.”
“Best they get,” Peabody corrected.“Tubbs and Jacobs.”
They swung into the bull pen as Officer Troy Trueheart stepped out. He was tall, and he was built, and he was as fresh as a peach with the fuzz still on it.
“Oh, Lieutenant, there’s a woman here to see you.”
“About what?”
“She said it was personal.” He glanced around, frowned.“I don’t see her. I don’t think she left. I just got her some coffee a few minutes ago.”
“Name?”
“Lombard. Mrs. Lombard.”
“Well, if you round her up, let me know.”
“Dallas? I’ll write up the report. I’d like to,” Peabody added.“Feels like taking it all the way through.”
“I’ll remind you of that when this goes to court.”
Eve walked through the bull pen and to her office.
It was a stingy room with barely any space for the desk, a spare chair, and the skinny pane of glass masquerading as a window. She didn’t have any problem spotting the woman.
She sat in the spare chair, sipping coffee from a recyclable cup. Her hair was reddish blond, worn in a cap that had apparently exploded into curls. Her skin was very white, except for the pink on her cheeks, the pink on her lips. Her eyes were grass green.
Middle fifties, Eve judged, filing it all away in a fingersnap. A big-boned body in a green dress with black collar and cuffs. Black heels, and the requisite enormous black purse sitting neatly on the floor by her feet.
She squeaked when Eve came in, nearly spilled the coffee, then hastily set it aside.
“There you are!”
She leaped up, the pink in her face deepening, her eyes going bright. There was a twang to her voice, and something in it set Eve’s nerves on edge.
“Mrs. Lombard? You’re not allowed to wander around the offices.”
“I just wanted to see where you worked. Why, honey, just look at you.” She rushed forward, and would have had Eve in an embrace if Eve’s reflexes weren’t so quick.
“Hold it. Who are you? What do you want?”
Those green eyes widened, went swimming.“Why, honey, don’t you know me? I’m your mama!”
2
COLD RIMED HER BELLY, FROSTED ITS WAY UP to her throat. She couldn’t breathe through the ice of it. The woman’s arms were around her now; she was powerless to stop them. She was smothered by them, by the overwhelming scent of roses. And the teary voice Texas, Texas twang pounded in her head like vicious fists.
Through it she could hear her desk link beep. She could hear the chatter from the bull pen. She hadn’t closed the door. God, the door was open, and anyone could …
Then it was all noise, a buzzing hive of hornets in her head. They stung at her chest and brought back the heat, a breathless roll of it that washed through her and grayed her vision.
No, you’re not. No, you’re not. You’re not.
Was that her voice? It was so small, a child’s voice. Were the words outside her head, or just buzzing there like the bees?
She got her hands up, somehow she got them up and pushed at the soft, plump arms that clamped around her.“Let go of me. Let go.”
She stumbled back, very nearly ran.“I don’t know you.” She stared at the face, but she couldn’t make out the features any longer. It was a blur, just color and shape.“I don’t know you.”
“Eve, honey, it’s Trudy! Oh, look at me crying like I had to water the cats.” She sniffled, pulled a wide pink handkerchief out of some pocket, dabbed.“Silly, just silly old me. I figured you’d know me the second you saw me, just the way I did you. ‘Course it has been more than twenty years, between us girls.” She gave Eve a watery smile.“I expect I show a few of them.”
“I don’t know you,” Eve repeated, very carefully.“You’re not my mother.”
Trudy’s lashes fluttered. There was something behind them, something in those eyes, but Eve couldn’t quite focus.
“Sugar pie, you really don’t remember? You and me and Bobby in our sweet little house in Summervale? Just north of Lufkin?”
There was a dull buzz of memory, just on the corner of her mind. But it was making her ill to search for it.“After …”
“You were such a quiet little thing, no bigger than two cents’ worth of soap. Of course, you’d had a horrible time of it, hadn’t you, honey? Poor little lamb. I said I could be a good mama to that poor little lamb, and I took you right on home with me.”
“Foster care.” Her lips felt bruised, swollen by the words.“After.”
“You do remember!” Trudy’s hands fluttered up to her cheeks.“I swear, hardly a day’s gone by in all these years I haven’t thought of you and wondered how you’d turned out. And just look! A policewoman, living in New York City. Married, too. No babies of your own yet, though ?”
Sickness roiling in her belly. Fear scratching at her throat.“What do you want?”
“Why, to catch up with my girl.” The voice was a trill, almost a song.“Bobby’s with me. He’s married now, and Zana’s the sweetest thing on two legs. We came up from Texas to see the sights, and find our little girl. We have to have ourselves a real reunion. Bobby’ll take the whole bunch of us out to dinner.”
She sat back in the chair again, smoothed at her skirts while she studied Eve’s face.“My, my, you grew up tall, didn’t you? Still skinny as a snake, but it looks good on you. God knows I’m forever trying to shake off a few pounds. Bobby now, he’s got his daddy’s build which is just about the only thing that no-account ever gave him, or me, for that matter. Just wait till he sees you!”
Eve stayed on her feet.“How did you find me?”
“Well, it’s the damnedest thing, excuse my French. There I was puttering around my kitchen. You’ll remember I set store by a clean kitchen. I had the screen on for company, and they were talking about those doctors who got murdered, and that cloning. Sin against God and humanity, you ask me, and I was about to switch to something else, but it was so interesting somehow. Why, the teeth nearly dropped out of my head when I saw you talking on there. They had your name, too, right there. Lieutenant Eve Dallas, New York City Police and Security Department. You’re a heroine, that’s what they said. And you’d been wounded, too. Poor little lamb. But you look to be fit now. You’re looking very fit.”
There was a woman sitting in her visitor’s chair. Red hair, green eyes, lips curved in a smile of sweet sentiment. Eve saw a monster, fanged and clawed. One that didn’t need to wait for the dark.
“You need to go. You have to go now.”
“You must be busy as a one-armed paper hanger, and here I am just babbling on. You just tell me where you want to have dinner, and I’ll get on, have Bobby make some reservations.”
“No. No. I remember you.” A little, some. It was easy to let it haze. It was necessary.“I’m not interested. I don’t want to see you.”
“What a thing to say.” The voice registered hurt, but the eyes were hard now.“What a way to be. I took you into my home. I was a mama to you.”
“No, you weren’t.” Dark rooms, so dark. Cold water. I set store by a clean kitchen.
No. Don’t think now. Don’t remember now.
“You’re going to want to go now, right now. Quietly. I’m not a helpless child anymore. So you’re going to want to go, and keep going.”
“Now, Eve, honey”
“Get out, get out. Now.” Her hands were shaking so that she balled them into fists to hide the tremors.“Or I’ll put you in a fucking cage. You’ll be the one in a cage, I swear it.”
Trudy picked up her purse, and a black coat she’d hung over the back of the chair.“Shame on you.”
Her eyes as she walked by Eve were wet with tears. And hard as stone.
Eve started to close the door, to lock it. But the room was overwhelmed with the scent of roses. Her stomach clenched, so she braced her hands on her desk until the worst of the nausea passed.
“Sir, the woman who was … Lieutenant? Sir, are you all right?”
She shook her head at Trueheart’s voice, waved him back. Digging for control, she straightened. She had to hold on, hold onto herself, until she got out. Got away.“Tell Detective Peabody something’s come up. I have to go.”
“Lieutenant, if there’s anything I can do”
“I just told you what to do.” Because she couldn’t bear the concern on his face, she left her desk, the unanswered ‘link, the messages, the paperwork, arrowed straight through the bull pen, ignoring the hails.
She had to get out, outside. Away. Sweat was sliding down her back as she jumped on the first glide down. She could swear she felt her own bones trembling, and the cartilage in her knees sloshing, but she kept going. Even when she heard Peabody call her name, she kept going.
“Wait, wait! Whoa. What’s the matter? What happened?”
“I have to go. You’ll have to handle Zero, the PA. Next of kin of the victims may be calling in for more answers. They usually do. You have to deal with them. I have to go.”
“Wait. Jesus, did something happen to Roarke?”
“No.”
“Will you wait one damn minute!”
Instead, feeling her stomach revolt, Eve sprinted into the closest bathroom. She let the sickness come what choice did she have? She let it come, the bitter bile of it, pouring through the fear and panic and memory, until she was empty.
“Okay. Okay.” She was shaking, and her face ran with sweat. But there were no tears. There wouldn’t be tears to add to the humiliation.
“Here. Here you go.” Peabody pushed dampened tissues into her hand.“It’s all I’ve got. I’ll get some water.”
“No.” Eve let her head fall back on the wall of the stall.“No. Anything goes in now is just going to come up again. I’m okay.”
“My ass. Morris has guests in the morgue that look better than you.”
“I just need to go.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I just need to go. I’m taking the rest of the day, comp time. You can handle the case, you’re up to it.” I’m not, she thought. I’m just not.“Any problems, just… just stall ‘til tomorrow.”
“Screw the case. Look, I’ll get you home. You’re in no shape to”
“Peabody, if you’re my friend, back off. Let me be. Just do the job,” Eve said as she got shakily to her feet.“And let me be.”
Peabody let her go, but she pulled out her pocket ‘link as she headed back up to Homicide. Maybe she had to back off, but she knew someone who didn’t.
And wouldn’t.
 *
Eve’s first thought was to set her vehicle on auto. But it was better to be in control, better to concentrate on navigating the trip uptown. Better, she thought, to deal with the traffic, the snags, the time, the sheer bad temper of New York than her own misery.
Going home, that was the object. She’d be okay once she was home.
Maybe her stomach was raw and her head pounding, but she’d been sick before, and unhappy before. The first eight years of her life had been a slow ride through hell, and the ones following it hadn’t been a damn picnic at the beach.
She’d gotten through, she’d gotten by.
She’d get through, she’d get by again.
She wasn’t going to be sucked back in. She wasn’t going to be a victim because some voice from the past panicked her.
But her hands shook on the wheel nonetheless, and she kept all the windows down to the harsh air, the city smells.
Soy dogs smoking on a glide-cart, the sour belch of a maxibus, a curbside recycler that hadn’t been serviced in recent memory. She could take the stench of all that, and the sheer weight of aromas layering the air from the mass of humanity that thronged the streets and glides.
She could take the noise, the blats and the beeps that thumbed their collective noses at noise pollution laws. The tidal wave of voices rolled toward her, through her, past her. Thousands crammed the streets, the natives clipping along, tourists gawking and getting in the way. People juggling and hauling boxes and shopping bags.
Christmas was coming. Don’t be late.
She’d bought a scarf off the street from a smart-ass kid she’d enjoyed. Green and black checks, for Dr. Mira’s husband. What would Mira have to say about her reaction to today’s ugly flashback?
Plenty. The criminal profiler and psychiatrist would have plenty to say in her classy and concerned way.
Eve didn’t give a rat’s bony ass.
She wanted home.
Her eyes blurred when the gates opened for her. Blurred with weariness and relief. The great, grand lawn flowed, acres of peace and beauty in the center of the chaos of the city she’d made hers.
Roarke had the vision, and the power, to create this haven for himself, and for her the sanctuary she hadn’t known she’d wanted.
It looked like an elegant fortress, but it was home. Just home, for all its size and fierce beauty. Behind those walls, that stone and glass, was the life they’d created together. Their lives, their memories, spilled out into all those vast rooms.
He’d given her home, she needed to remember that. And to remember that no one could take it from her, no one could rip her back to when she’d had nothing, had been nothing.
No one could do that but Eve herself.
But she was cold, so cold, and the headache was tearing through her skull like demon claws.
She dragged herself out of the car, swayed on a hip that now ached horribly. Then she put one foot in front of the other until she’d made it up the steps, through the door.
She barely registered Summerset, Roarke’s majordomo, glide into the foyer. She didn’t have the energy to spar with him, hoped she had enough to get up the stairs.
“Don’t talk to me.” She gripped the newel post, and the cold sweat on her palms made it slick. She pulled herself un the stairs, one tread at a time.
The effort had her breath coming short. Her chest was so tight, so tight it felt as if someone had banded steel around it.
In the bedroom, she pulled off her coat, let it fall, dragged off her clothes as she aimed for the bathroom.
“Jets on,” she ordered.“Full. One hundred and one degrees.”
Naked, she stepped under the spray, into the heat. And exhausted, lowered herself to the shower floor, curled up, and let the heat and force of the water battle the cold.
 *
That’s where he found her, curled on the wet tiles with water beating over her. Steam hung like a curtain. It ripped at his heart to see her.
He grabbed a bath sheet.“Jets off,” Roarke ordered, and crouched down to bundle her up.
“No. Don’t.” She slapped out at him, automatic defense without any sting.“Just leave me alone.”
“Not in this lifetime. Stop it!” His voice was sharp, and the Irish in it had a bite.“You’ll have boiled your bones in another minute.” He hauled her up, lifting her off her feet and into his arms when she tried to curl up again.“Just hush now. Ssh. I’ve got you.”
She closed her eyes. Shutting him out, he knew well enough. But he carried her into the bedroom, over to the platform that held their bed, and sitting with her on his lap rubbed the towel over her.
“I’m going to get you a robe, and a soother.”
“I don’t want”
“Didn’t ask what you wanted, did I ?” He lifted her chin with his hand, traced his thumb down its shallow dent.“Eve, look at me. Look at me now.” There was resentment as well as fatigue in her eyes and it nearly made him smile.“You’re too sick to argue with me, and we both know it. Whatever’s hurt you … well, you’ll tell me about it, then we’ll see what’s to be done.” He touched his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
“I’ve already taken care of it. Nothing has to be done.”
“Well, that’ll save us some time, won’t it?” He shifted her, then rose to get her a warm robe.
She’d gotten his suit wet, she noted. Damn suit probably cost more than the tailor made in two years. Now the shoulders and sleeves were damp. She watched in silence as he shrugged out of the jacket, laid it over the back of a chair in the sitting area.
Graceful as a cat, she thought, and a lot more dangerous. He’d probably been in one of his hundreds of weekly meetings, making plans to buy a freaking solar system. Now he was here, flipping through the closet for a robe. Long and lean, a body of elegant and disciplined muscles, the face of a young Irish god who could seduce with one look out of those Celtic blue eyes.
She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want anyone here.
“I want to be alone.”
He arched an eyebrow, cocked his head a little so that silky mane of midnight flowed around his face.“To suffer and brood, is it? You’d have a better time fighting with me. Here, put this on.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
He laid the robe beside her, bent so their eyes were level.“If I have the opportunity, I’ll take whoever put that look on your face, my darling Eve, and peel the skin from their bones. One thin layer at a time. Now put on your robe.”
“She shouldn’t have called you.” Her voice hitched before she could steady it, and added another tear to humiliation.“Peabody contacted you, I know it. She should’ve left it alone. I’d’ve been all right in a little while. I’d be fine.”
“Bollocks. You don’t go down easy. I know it, and so does she.” He crossed to the AutoChef, programmed for a soother.“This will take the edge off that headache, settle your stomach. No tranqs,” he added, glancing back at her.“I promise.”
“It’s stupid. I let it get to me, and it’s stupid. It’s not worth all this.” She pushed at her hair.“It just caught me off guard, that’s all.” When she got to her feet, her legs felt loose and ungainly.“I just needed to come home for a while.”
“Do you think I’m going to settle for that?”
“No.” Though she wanted to crawl into the bed, pull the covers over her head for an hour, she sat, met his eyes as he brought her the soother.“No. I left Peabody with a mess. I let her take primary, and she did good, but right at the sticking point I left her to deal with it by herself. Stupid. Irresponsible.”
“Why did you?”
Because it was drink the damn soother or have him pour it into her, she drank it in three gulps.“There was a woman waiting for me in my office. I didn’t recognize her, not at first. Not at first.” She set the empty glass aside.“She said she was my mother. She wasn’t,” Eve said quickly.“She wasn’t, and I knew it, but having her say it knocked me. She’s probably about the right age, and there was something familiar, so it knocked me hard.”
He took her hand, held it tight.“Who was she?”
“Her name’s Lombard. Trudy Lombard. After they … When I got out of the hospital in Dallas, I went into the system. No ID, no memory, trauma, sexual assault. I know how it works now, but then, I didn’t know what was happening, what was going to happen. He told me, before, my father, that if the cops or the social workers ever got me, they’d put me in a hole, they’d lock me in the dark. They didn’t, but…”
“Sometimes the places they put you aren’t much better.”
“Yeah.” He’d know, she thought. He’d understand.“I was in a state home for a while. Few weeks, maybe. It’s sketchy. I guess they were looking for parents or guardians, trying to track where I’d come from, what had happened. Then they put me in a foster home. That was supposed to help mainstream me. They gave me to Lombard. Someplace in east Texas. She had a house, and a son a couple years older than me.”
“She hurt you.”
It wasn’t a question. He would know that, too. He would understand that.“She never hit me, not like he did. She never left a mark.”
He swore, with a quiet viciousness that eased the tension balled in her more than the soother.
“Yeah, it’s easier to cope with a direct punch than subtle little tortures. They didn’t know what to do with me.” She pushed at her wet hair, and now her fingers were steady.“I wasn’t giving them anything. I didn’t have anything to give. They probably figured I’d do better in a house with no male authority figure, because of the rape.”
He said nothing, simply drew her toward him to brush his lips over her temple.
“She never yelled at me, and she never hit me no more than a few slaps. She saw to it I was clean, that I had decent clothes. I know the pathology now, but I wasn’t even nine. When she told me I was filthy and made me wash in cold water every morning, every night, I didn’t understand. She always looked so sad, so disappointed. If she locked me in the dark, she said it was only to teach me to behave. Every day there were punishments. If I didn’t eat everything on my plate, or I ate it too fast, too slow, I’d have to scrub the kitchen with a toothbrush. Something like that.”
I set store by a clean kitchen.
“She didn’t have domestics. She had me. I was always too slow, too stupid, too ungrateful, too something. She’d tell me I was pathetic, or I was evil, and always in this soft, kindly voice with this look of puzzled disappointment on her face. I was still nothing. Worse than nothing.”
“She should never have passed the screening.”
“It happens. Worse than her happens. I was lucky it wasn’t worse. I had nightmares. I had nightmares all the time, almost every night back then. And she’d … oh, God, she’d come in and she’d say I’d never get healthy and strong if I didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”
Because she could, she reached for his hand, let it anchor her in the now while she took herself back.“She’d turn off the lights and lock the door. She’d lock me in the dark. If I cried, it was worse. They’d take me back, put me in a cage for mental defectives. That’s what they did to girls who wouldn’t behave. And Bobby, her boy, she’d use me there, too. She’d tell him to look at me, and remember what happened to bad children, to children without a real mother to take care of them.”
He was touching her now, rubbing her back, smoothing her hair.“They did home checks?”
“Yeah. Sure.” She dashed a tear away tears were useless, then and now.“It all looked nice and clean on the surface. Tidy house, pretty yard. I had my own room, clothes. What would I have told them? She said I was evil. I’d wake up from a nightmare where I was covered with blood, so I must’ve been evil. When she told me someone had hurt me, thrown me away with the garbage because I was bad, I believed her.”
“Eve.” He took both her hands, brought them to his lips. He wanted to gather her up, cover her in something soft, something beautiful. He wanted to hold her until every horrid memory was washed away.“What you are is a miracle.”
“She was a vicious, sadistic woman. Just another predator. I know that now.” Had to remember that now, Eve thought as she drew a deep breath.“But then all I knew was that she was in charge. I ran away. But this was a small town, not Dallas, and they found me. I planned it better when I ran the second time, and I got over into Oklahoma, and when they found me, I fought them.”
“Damn right you did.”
He said it with such a combination of pride and anger, she heard herself laugh.“Bloodied one of the social workers’ noses.” And that memory, she realized, wasn’t so bad.“Ended up in juvie for a while, but it was better than her. I put it away, Roarke. I put it aside. Then there she was, sitting in my office, and I was back to being scared.”
He wished she’d bloodied goddamn Trudy Lombard’s nose, gotten some little bit of her own back. She’d have been better for that.“She’ll never hurt you again.”
Eve faced him now, eye to eye.“I fell apart. Disintegrated. I’m feeling just steady enough now for that to piss me off. The Icove case.”
“What?”
She lowered her head to her hands, rubbed them hard over her face before she lifted it again.“She said she’d seen me giving an interview about the Icove murders, the Quiet Birth fiasco. I asked how she’d found me, and she said she’d heard about the case.”
He rolled his healing shoulder out of habit.“I doubt there’s anyone in the known universe who hasn’t by now. She came here, specifically, to see you?”
“Said she wanted to catch up, see how I’d turned out. Wanted a nice reunion.” She was recovered enough that her tone was sour and cynical. It was music to Roarke’s ears.
“She’s got her son and his wife with her, apparently. I kicked her out. At least I had enough left to do that. She gave me that look, that puzzled disappointment with the nasty edge just under it.”
“You’ll want to make sure she goes away, stays away. I can”
“No, I don’t.” She shoved back, stood up.“No, I don’t, and I don’t want you touching it. I want to forget this, forget her. Whatever jollies she thought she might get by taking me down some memory lane she’s swept and polished, she won’t get them. If Peabody had kept her nose out, I’d’ve been straightened out when you got home. We wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
He waited a long minute, then rose as well.“And that’s how you’d have handled this? By telling me nothing?”
“This one, yeah. It’s done, it’s over. It’s my problem. I let it twist me around. Now I’m untwisted. It doesn’t apply to us. I don’t want it to apply to us. If you want to help me out here, you’ll let it fade.”
He started to speak, thought better of it, then shrugged.“All right, then.”
But he took her shoulders, rubbed. He drew her in, and felt her body relax against his.
She was more twisted up than she realized, he thought, if she believed the woman had tracked her across the country, across the years, for no real purpose.
It was only a matter of time before that purpose became clear.
“It’s going dark,” he murmured.“Holiday lights, on.”
She turned her head on his shoulder, and together they studied the huge live pine in the window as the festive lights flashed on.
“You always go overboard,” she said quietly.
“I don’t think you can with Christmas, especially if you’re us, and had so many thin ones. Besides, it’s tradition for us now, isn’t it? A tree in the bedroom at Christmas.”
“You’ve got a tree in nearly every room in the house.”
He grinned at that.“I do, don’t I? I’m a slave to sentiment.” He kissed her, softly, then circled his arms around her again.“What do you say to a quiet meal up here? With no work for either of us. We’ll watch some screen, drink some wine. Make love.”
She tightened her arms around him. She’d needed home, she thought, and here it was.“I’d say, ‘Thanks.’”
 *
And when she was asleep, he left her, briefly, for his private office. He crossed the tiles, laid his hand on the palm print.“Roarke,” he said.“Power up.”
As the console hummed, flickered with light, he used the house link to contact Summerset.
“If anyone by the name of Lombard attempts to reach Eve here, put them through to me. Wherever I might be.”
“Of course. Is the lieutenant all right?”
“She is, yes. Thanks.” He clicked off, then ordered a search. It would take a bit of time to pinpoint where this Lombard was staying while in New York. But it was best, always best, to know the location of an adversary.
He doubted it would be much longer before he knew just what the woman wanted though he was dead certain he already knew.
3
NORMAL, EVE THOUGHT, WHEN SHE STRAPPED on her weapon harness. She felt normal again. Maybe those whiners who were forever talking about expressing your feelings were onto something.
God, she hoped not. If they were, she’d end up neck deep in mangled bodies.
Regardless, she felt steady steady enough to scowl at the nasty weather whirling outside the bedroom window.
“What exactly do they call that business?” Roarke asked as he stepped beside her.“It’s not snow, not rain, not even really sleet. It must be”
“Crap,” she said.“It’s cold, wet, crap.”
“Ah.” He nodded, rubbed the back of his knuckles absently up and down her spine.“Of course. Maybe it’ll keep people indoors and you’ll have a quiet day.”
People kill each other inside, too,” she reminded him.“Especially when they get fed up looking out the window at crap.” Because she sounded just like the woman he adored, he gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder.
“Well, it’s off to work for you, then. I’ll be handling link conferences here for another hour or so before I have to go out in this.” He turned her, gripped the lapels of her jacket, kissed her quick and hard.“Be safe.”
She reached for her coat, started to swing it on, and felt the slight bulge in the pocket.“Oh, I picked this up for Dennis Mira. Just a, you know, Christmas token thing.”
“Looks like him.” Roarke nodded at the scarf she held, even as his eyes laughed at her.“Aren’t you the clever shopper?”
“I didn’t shop. I picked it up. Do you think there’s any way it could get wrapped?”
With a half smile, Roarke held out his hand for it.“I’ll notify the elves. And I’ll have it put with the antique teapot you bought for Mira which you didn’t shop for either, but, as I recall, came across.”
“That’d be good, smart ass. See you later.”
“Lieutenant? You haven’t forgotten our Christmas party?”
She spun around.“Christmas party? That’s not tonight. Is it? It’s not.”
It was small of him, he could admit it. But he loved seeing that quick panic on her face as she tried to remember which day was which.“Tomorrow. So if you’ve anything you need or want to come across to pick up beforehand, it should be today.”
“Sure. Right. No problem.” Shit, she thought as she headed downstairs. Was there anything else? Why were there all these people who had to be crossed off her pick-up-something list? Was she actually going to have to start making a list?
If it came to that it might be best to move away altogether and start over.
She could dump the whole business on Roarke, of course. He actually liked to come across stuff to pick up. The man shopped something she avoided at all possible costs. But if you were going to end up with all these people in your life, it seemed you should at least spend a half a minute picking something up, personally. Plus, she thought it was another kind of rule.
Relationships were lousy with rules, that much she’d learned. It was just her bad luck that she usually tried to play by them.
One of the rules she enjoyed was verbally bitch-slapping Summerset on her way in or out the door. He was there of course he was there, the skeleton in a black suit in the foyer.
“My vehicle better be right where I left it, Nancy.”
His lips thinned.“You’ll find the object you call a vehicle currently embarrassing the front of this house. I require any and all additions or adjustments to your personal guest list for tomorrow’s gathering by two this afternoon.”
“Yeah? Well, check with my social secretary. I’ll be a little busy serving and protecting the city for lists.”
She strolled out, then hissed. List? She was supposed to have a list for this, too? What was wrong with just running into someone and telling them to come on by?
She hunched against the nasty, freezing rain, slid into her car. The heater was already running. Summerset’s work, probably, which would have to go on the list of reasons not to strangle him in his sleep.
At least that was a short one.
She started down the drive, engaged the dash ‘link and tagged Roarke.
“Miss me already?”
“Every second without you is a personal hell. Listen, am I supposed to have a list? Like a guest list for this deal tomorrow?”
“Do you want one?”
“No. No, I don’t want a damn list, but”
“It’s taken care of, Eve.”
“Okay, good then. Fine.” Another thought wandered into her brain.“I probably have an entire outfit, down to the underwear, all picked out, too, don’t I?”
“Showing exquisite taste with underwear optional.”
It made her laugh.“I never miss a trick. Later.”
 *
Peabody was already at her desk when Eve walked into Central. It added another little pinch of guilt. She crossed over, waited until Peabody glanced up from her paperwork.
“Would you mind coming into my office for a minute?”
There was a blink of surprise.“Sure. Right behind you.”
With a nod, Eve headed into her office, programmed two coffees one light and sweet for Peabody. That got her another blink of surprise when Peabody stepped in.
“Shut the door, will you?”
“Sure. Um, I have the report on … thanks,” she added when Eve handed her the coffee.“On Zero. The PA went in hard, Second Degree, two counts, using the illegals sale as a deadly weapon in the act of committing, with”
“Sit down.”
“Jeez, am I being transferred to Long Island or something?”
“No.” Eve sat herself, waiting, watched Peabody warily take a seat.“I’m going to apologize for walking out on you yesterday, for not doing my job, and leaving you to deal with it.”
“We were all but wrapped, and you were sick.”
“It wasn’t wrapped, and if I was sick, it was my problem. I made it yours. You called Roarke.”
Eve waited a beat while Peabody got busy looking at the wall and drinking coffee.“I was going to slap you good for that,” she said when Peabody opened her mouth.“But it was probably the sort of thing a partner should do.”
“You were in bad shape. I didn’t know what else to do. Okay now?”
“Fine.” She studied her coffee a moment. Partnership was another thing with rules.“There was a woman in my office when we got back yesterday. Someone I knew a long time ago. It gave me a knock. A big one. She was my first foster mother loose term on the mother. It was a rough patch, and having her come in like that, after all this time, it… I couldn’t”
No, Eve thought, you always could.
“I didn’t handle it,” she corrected.“So I ditched. You handled the case, Peabody, and largely alone. You did a good job.”
“What did she want?”
“I don’t know, don’t care. I got her out. Door’s closed. If she wheedles her way through it again, she won’t be taking me by surprise. And I will handle it.”
Rising, she went to her window, shoved it up. Cold and wet spilled in as she leaned out and tore free the evidence bag she’d fixed to the outside wall. In it were four unopened candy bars.
“You have chocolate bars sealed and taped outside the window,” Peabody said with a mixture of awe and puzzlement.
“I did have,” Eve corrected. She was giving up the best hiding place she’d devised from the nefarious candy thief. She unsealed the bag, handed the speechless Peabody a bar.“They’ll be somewhere else after you leave and I lock the door and find a new spot for my cache.”
“Okay. I’m putting it in my pocket before I tell you we didn’t get Murder Two.”
“Didn’t figure you did.”
Not one to take chances with chocolate, Peabody shoved the bar into her pocket anyway.“PA told me we wouldn’t before we went in to pitch the deal. He wanted Zero bad, more than me, I think. Zero’s slipped through his fingers plenty, and the PA wanted to nail him.”
Eve leaned against her desk.“I like a PA with an agenda.”
“It helps,” Peabody agreed.“We spooked them with talk of two consecutive life sentences, off planet penal colony, made noises about eye witnesses.”
Peabody tapped her fingers on her pocket as if to reassure herself the candy was still there.“We got ourselves a search and seize, and popped some illegals from the club and Zero’s residence. Petty stuff, really, and the claim they were for personal use might have been true, but we just kept piling it up. By the time we’d finished, Zero and his lawyer were looking at Man Two as a gift from the Higher Powers. Five to ten, and he probably won’t serve the full minimum, but”
“You got him in a cage, and that’s a check in the win column. He loses his license, he pays out the butt in fees and fines, his club will likely go tits up. You keep the chocolate.”
“It was great.” And since the candy in her pocket was currently screaming her name, Peabody gave in, took it out, and unwrapped enough to break off a knuckle’s worth.“It was a rush to push it through,” she said with her happy mouth full.“I’m sorry you missed it.”
“So am I. Thanks for covering.”
“No problem. You can put the bag back outside. It’ll be safe from me.” At the narrowed, speculative look in Eve’s eye, she rushed on.“Ah, not that it wouldn’t be safe from me anywhere you put it. I’m not saying that I’ve ever had any part in taking any candy of any sort from this office.”
Eve flattened the look cop interrogating suspect.“And if we did a quick little truth test on that?”
“What?” Peabody put a hand to her ear.“Did you hear that? Someone’s calling me from the bull pen. There may be crimes being committed even now while we lollygag. Gotta go.”
Eyes still narrowed, Eve walked to the door, shut and locked it. Lollygag? What the hell kind of word was lollygag? A guilty one if she was any judge.
She gave the bag a shake as she considered where her next candy vault might be.
 *
Between a meeting with the senior staff of one of his manufacturing arms and a lunch he had scheduled in his executive dining room with investors, Roarke’s interoffice link beeped.
“Yes, Caro.” His brow winged up when he noted she’d engaged privacy mode.
“The individual you mentioned this morning is downstairs, lobby level, and requesting a moment of your time.”
He’d bet himself a half mil she’d contact him before noon. Now he went double or nothing she’d show her hand before he booted her out again.
“Is she alone?”
“Apparently.”
“Keep her waiting down there another ten minutes, then escort her up. Not personally. Send an assistant, please, Caro a young one. Keep her cooling out there until I buzz you.”
“I’ll take care of it. Would you like me to buzz you again a few minutes after she’s in your office?”
“No.” He smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant.“I’ll get rid of her personally.”
He was looking forward to it.
After checking the time, he rose, walked to the wall of glass that opened his office to the spires and towers of the city. It was just rain now, he noted. Dreary and gray and dull, shitting down on the streets from an ugly sky.
Well, he and Eve knew all about being shit on. Life hadn’t dealt either of them a pretty hand, and had given them no stake to play it. What they’d done each in his own way was make a win out of it. Bluffing, bulling, and at least in his case, cheating their way to the pot at the end of the day.
But there was always another game to be played, always another player willing to do all manner of nasty things to take a share. Or take it all.
Well, come on, then, he thought. He wasn’t just willing, but more than able to do all manner of nasty things himself.
He couldn’t go back, more’s the pity, and beat her bastard of a father into a gibbering, bloody pulp. He couldn’t make the dead suffer, as Eve suffered still. But here, fate had dropped a pale substitute right into his hands.
A live one. Plump and pink and prime for skinning.
Trudy Lombard was in for a very unpleasant surprise.
He imagined the last thing that would be on her mind when she crawled out again would be to slither her way around Eve.
He turned, glanced around his office. He’d made it what it was. Needed to. He knew what she would see when she came in, out of the cold and the gray. She’d see power and wealth, space and luxury. She’d scent the money, though if she wasn’t brainless, she’d have some idea of the pot on his table.
An idea that would be considerably short, come to that, he mused. He may have been legal now, but that didn’t mean he felt the need to make public what was in all his pockets.
He kept books in his private office at home, updating quarterly. Eve had access to them, should she ever have any interest. Which she wouldn’t, he thought with a faint smile. She was easier with his money than she’d once been, but he was still a faint embarrassment to her.
He wished he knew the name of the gods who’d looked down on him the day he’d met her. If he could stack everything he owned, had done, had accomplished, on one side of a scale, it still wouldn’t outweigh the gift of her.
As he waited for time to pass, he slid a hand into his pocket, rubbed the button he carried, one that had fallen off her suit jacket the first time he’d met her.
And as he thought of her, he wondered how soon her mind would clear and snap back. How soon she’d realize why she’d encountered this ghost from her past.
Once she did, he mused, and closed his hand over the button, she was going to be right pissed.
Judging the time was right, he walked back to his desk, sat, buzzed his admin.
“Caro, you can bring her in now.”
“Yes, sir.”
While he waited those last moments, he chained up what was inside him. What wanted the taste of blood and bone.
She was what he’d expected from his research of her. What in some circles was called a handsome woman big and bony, her hair freshly done, her face not unattractive and carefully enhanced.
She wore a purple suit with bright gold buttons and a knee-length skirt. Good, sensible heels. Her scent was strong and rosy.
He got to his feet, and though he remained in a position of power behind his desk, he offered a polite smile and his hand.
“Ms. Lombard.” Smooth, he thought when her hand was in his. Soft and smooth, but he wouldn’t have said weak.
“I so appreciate you taking a few minutes out of what I know must be a very busy schedule.”
“Not at all. I’m always interested in meeting one of my wife’s… connections? Thank you, Caro.”
He knew the brisk tone told his admin not to offer refreshment. She simply inclined her head, backed out. Shut the doors.“Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her voice and her eyes were bright.“I wasn’t sure if little Eve sorry, I still think of her that way if Eve had mentioned me.”
“Did you think she wouldn’t?”
“Well, you see, I feel terrible, just terrible, about the way I handled things yesterday.” She pressed a hand to her heart.
Her nails, he noted, were long, well manicured, and painted boldly red. There was a ring on her right hand, a thick gold band around a sizable amethyst.
Matching earrings, he observed, to make a well-put-together if unimaginative ensemble.
“And how did you handle things yesterday?” he asked her.
“Well, poorly, I confess. I realized I should have contacted her first, and instead I just jumped in head first, a habit of mine. I’m just too impulsive, especially when my feelings are engaged. Eve had such a hard, hard time back then, and seeing me, out of the blue, no warning at all, it must’ve taken her right back. I upset her.”
Now she pressed that hand to her lips, and her eyes shimmered.“You have no idea what that poor, sweet child was like when she came to me. Like a little ghost in my house, hardly casting a shadow, and scared of even that just the same.”
“Yes, I imagine so.”
“And I blame myself for not thinking it through first, because I understand now that seeing me again just made her remember those terrible days before she was safe again.”
“So, you’ve come to see me so I can pass your apologies along. I’m happy to do so. Though I think you’ve overestimated your impact on my wife.”
He sat back, swiveled the chair lazily.“I believe she was a bit irritated by the unexpected visit. But upset? It isn’t the word I’d choose. So, please, rest your mind, Ms. Lombard. I hope you’ll enjoy your time in the city, however brief, before you return home.”
It was a dismissal, flat and pleasant. A busy man idly brushing a speck of lint off his jacket pocket.
He saw it register, saw that quick flick, like a snake’s tongue, flash in her eyes.
And there she is, he thought. There’s the viper under the conservative dress and sugary accent.
“Oh, oh, but I couldn’t go back to Texas without seeing my little Eve, without making personal amends, and being sure she’s all right.”
“I can assure you, she’s fine.”
“And Bobby? Why my Bobby’s fretting to see her. He was like a brother to her.”
“Really? How odd then she’s never mentioned him.”
Her smile was indulgent now, and just a little sly.“I think she had just a tiny little crush on him. I expect she doesn’t want you to be jealous.”
His laugh was quick, rich and long.“Please. Now, if you’d like, you can certainly leave your name and address with my administrative assistant. If the lieutenant wants to contact you, she will. Otherwise …”
“Now this just won’t do. This won’t do at all.” Trudy sat up straighter, and her tone took on a little lash.“I took care of that girl for over six months, took her into my home out of the goodness of my heart. And believe me when I say she wasn’t easy. I think I deserve more than this.”
“Do you? And what do you think you deserve?”
“All right now.” She shifted in her chair into what he assumed was her bargaining pose.“If you think that seeing me and my boy isn’t the right thing, then and I know I’m talking to a businessman here I think I should be compensated. Not only for the time and the effort, and the trouble I went to for that girl all those years back when nobody wanted to take her in, but for all the inconvenience and expense it’s taken for me to come here, just to see how she’s doing.”
“I see. And do you have a measure of this compensation in mind?”
“This has taken me by surprise, I have to admit.” Her fingers fussed with her hair, red against red.“I don’t know how you can put a price on what I gave that child, or what it’s costing me to turn away from her now.”
“But you’ll manage to do so, I’m sure.”
It was temper he saw deepen the color in her cheeks, not embarrassment. He merely kept that mildly interested look on his face.
“I’d think a man in your position can afford to be generous with someone in mine. That girl would likely be in jail instead of putting people in one if it wasn’t for me. And she wouldn’t even speak to me when I went to see her yesterday.”
She looked away, blinking at tears he noted she could call up at will.
“I think we’re past that now.” He allowed a sliver of impatience to come into his voice.“What’s your price?”
“I think two million dollars wouldn’t be unreasonable.”
“And for two million dollars … that’s U. S. dollars?”
“Of course it is.” Faint irritation took the place of tears.“What would I want with foreign money?”
“For that, you and your Bobby will happily go back to where you came from and leave my wife alone.”
“She doesn’t want to see us?” She raised her hands as if in defeat.“We won’t be seen.”
“And if I find that measure of compensation a bit too dear?”
“For a man of your means, I can’t imagine, but… I’d be forced to mention the possibility of my being upset by all this discussing the situation with someone. Maybe a reporter.”
He swiveled lazily again.“And that would concern me, because …”
“Being a sentimental woman, I kept files on every one of the children I was in charge of. I have histories, details and some of those might be difficult, even embarrassing for you and for Eve. Did you know, for instance, that she’d had sexual relations repeatedly, and all before she was nine years old?”
“And do you equate rape with sexual relations?” His tone was mild as milk, even as his blood boiled.“That’s quite unenlightened of you, Ms. Lombard.”
“Regardless of what you call it, I think some people might feel a woman with that kind of thing in her makeup isn’t the sort who should be a lieutenant of the police department. I’m not sure of that myself,” she added.“Maybe it’s my civic duty to talk to the media, maybe her superiors at the police station.”
“But two million that’s USD would outweigh your civic duty.”
“I just want what’s coming to me. Did you know she had blood on her when she was found? She … or someone else … washed most of it off, but they did tests.”
Her eyes were brighter now, as bold and as sharp as her long red nails.“And not all the blood was hers.
“She used to have nightmares,” Trudy continued.“And it seemed to me that she was stabbing somebody to death in those nightmares. I wonder what people would make of that, if I was upset and said something. I bet people’d pay good money for a story like that, considering who she is now. And who she’s married to.”
“They might,” Roarke agreed.“People often enjoy wallowing in another’s pain and misery.”
“So I don’t think the compensation I mentioned is too dear. I’ll just I take it and go back to Texas. Eve won’t have to think about me again, even after all I did for her.”
“You’ve misspoken. It was to her, not for her. Now then, what you don’t understand, Ms. Lombard, is I’m compensating you right now.”
“You’d better think before”
“I’m compensating you,” he interrupted,“by not getting up, coming over there, and twisting your head off your neck with my bare hands.”
She gasped, theatrically.“You’re threatening me?”
“Indeed, I’m not,” he continued in the same easy tone.“I’m explaining to you how you’re being compensated for walking away from this. I’m telling you what’s not happening to you, and believe me, it’s costing me dearly not to put my hands on you for what you did to my wife when she was defenseless.”
He rose, slowly. There wasn’t a gasp this time, and no theatrics. She simply froze as all the blood drained out of her face. Finally, he decided, she saw what was under his own shell, under the sophistication, the style, the manners money had bought him. Even a viper hadn’t a prayer against it.
With his eyes on hers, he came around the desk, then leaned back against it. Close enough that he heard her breath shudder out.
“Do you know what could be done, what I could do like that?” He snapped his ringers.“I could kill you, here and now, without a flinch. I could have as many people as I deemed appropriate swear you’d left this office hale and hearty. I could have security discs altered to prove it. They’d never find your body what was left of it when I was done with you. So consider your life which I assume is worth a considerable amount to you your compensation.”
“You must be crazy.” She shrank back in her chair.“You must be out of your mind.”
“Consider that if you ever think of bargaining with me again … If you consider lining your pockets by speaking of a child’s torture and nightmare for money … If you ever attempt to contact my wife again … Think of that, and be afraid. Be afraid,” he repeated, leaning toward her a bit,“because restraining myself from carving pieces of you away, slowly, one at a time, is irritating. I dislike being irritated.”
He took one step toward her, had her scrambling to her feet and backing toward the door.“Oh, and you may want to pass the message on to your son, should he feel inclined to try my patience.”
When she reached the door, fumbled behind her for it, he spoke softly.“There’s nowhere in or off this world you could hide from me if you do anything more to hurt my wife. Nowhere I wouldn’t go to settle with you for it.” He waited a beat, smiled, and said:“Run.”
She ran, and he heard a thin scream, like a wheezing breath as her footsteps pounded away. He dipped his hands in his pockets, closed one over Eve’s button again as he walked back to study the dank gloom of the December sky.
“Sir?”
He didn’t turn as his admin stepped into his office.“Yes, Caro.”
“Did you want Security to monitor Ms. Lombard’s exit?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“She seemed to be in a hurry.”
He watched the ghost of his reflection smile a little.“She had a sudden change of plans.” He turned now, glanced at his wrist unit.“Well, it’s time for lunch, isn’t it? I’ll go up, greet our guests. I have quite the appetite this afternoon.”
“I imagine,” Caro murmured.
“Oh, and Caro?” he said as he strolled toward his private elevator.“Would you notify Security that neither Ms. Lombard nor her son I’ll see they have an ID print of him should be given access to this building?”
“I’ll take care of it right away.”
“One more thing? They’re staying at the West Side Hotel, over on Tenth. I’d like to know when they check out.”
“I’ll see to that, sir.”
He glanced back as the elevator opened.“You’re a treasure, Caro.”
She thought, as the door closed behind him, that at moments like, this she was pleased he thought so.
4
TO KEEP HER MIND BUSY, EVE CONCENTRATED on paperwork and followups. Dealing with the drone work had the added benefit of getting her desk reasonably clear before the holidays snuck up and bit her in the ass.
She was making considerable headway when Peabody came to her office door.
“Tubbs’s tox came back positive for traces of Zeus, and various others. Other vic was clean. The bodies, such as they are, will be released to next of kin tomorrow.”
“Good job.”
“Dallas?”
“Mmm. I’m sending the squad’s expense chits up. Most of them,” she said with a sneer.“Baxter and I are going to have a little chat.”
“Dallas.” Eve glanced up, saw Peabody’s face.“What?”
“I’ve got to go to court. Celina.”
Eve got to her feet.“We’ve already given our testimony.”
“Prosecution called me separately, remember? As one of the victims.”
“Yeah, but… I thought you weren’t coming up for that yet, not for another week or two anyway. With the holidays…”
“It’s moving along pretty fast. I need to go in.”
“When?”
“Sort of now. It shouldn’t take long, but… You’re going with me?” Peabody asked as Eve grabbed her coat.
“What do you think?”
On a long breath, Peabody closed her eyes.“Thanks. Thanks. McNab’s going to meet me there. He’s out in the field, and he’s going to try to… Thanks.”
On the way out, Eve stopped at one of the vending units.“Get yourself some water,” she told Peabody.“Get me the cold caffeine.”
“Good idea. My throat’s already dry. I’m prepped,” Peabody continued as she entered her code, made her choices.“The prosecution team drilled me good. And it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve testified in court.”
“It’s the first time you’ve testified as a victim. It’s different. You know it’s different.”
She passed Eve a tube of Pepsi, and took a long pull from the water as they walked.“It wasn’t even Celina who hurt me. I don’t know why I’m so spooked.”
“She was part of it. She had foreknowledge and did nothing. She’s charged with accessory for a reason, Peabody. You go in, you lay out what happened, you don’t let the defense shake you. Then you walk away from it.”
You could walk away from it, Eve thought, but you never really got away. Peabody would remember every moment of that attack. She’d remember the pain and the fear. Justice might be served, but even justice couldn’t wipe away the memories.
She went out the main doors. However crappy the day, the short walk would settle Peabody down.“You’re a cop,” she began,“and you took a hard hit in the line. That matters to juries. You’re a woman.” Eve slid her hands into her pockets, out of the cold rain.“Whether or not it should apply, that matters to juries, too. The fact that this big, crazy son of a bitch one who’d killed and mutilated multiple women kicked you around … it matters big time.”
“He’s sewed up.” And that was a huge relief.“Too damn crazy to stand trial. He’ll be locked up in an institution for the mentally defective, violence sector, ‘til he croaks.”
“Your job here is to make what Celina didn’t do matter. To help the prosecution prove she was responsible.”
“They’ll get her cold on Annalisa Sommers’s murder, the one she did herself. She’ll go up for that. Maybe it’s enough.”
“Enough for you?”
Peabody stared straight ahead, chugged more water.“I’m working on it being enough.”
“Then you’re doing better than I am. You made it through, others didn’t. She watched. Every one of the dead after she linked psychically with John Blue is on her. Every minute you spent in the hospital, in recovery. Every bad moment you’ve had about it is on her, too. I damn well want her to pay.”
As they walked up the courthouse steps, Peabody swallowed hard.“Hands are shaking.”
“Toughen up” was all Eve said.
Once they were through security, she could have badged her way into the courtroom. Instead she waited with Peabody while APA Cher Reo made her way over.
“We’ve got a short recess,” Reo began.“You’ll testify next.”
“How’s it going in there?” Eve asked.
“She’s got good lawyers.” Reo glanced back toward the double doors. She was pretty and blonde, with perky blue eyes and a faint Southern drawl. She was also tough as titanium.“We’re both playing the psychic card, in different ways. Their stand is that the images Celina received the murders, the violence resulted in trauma, diminished capacity. They’ve got their experts swearing to it, and as a result they’re trying to hang all the responsibility on Blue. He’s crazy, he invaded her mind, and there you go.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, yes.” Reo fluffed at her hair.“On our end we have her snuggled up safe in bed at home, watching Blue torture and mutilate and kill, which gave her the bright idea to do the same, with his MO, to her former lover’s fiancee. Under the guise of working with the cops, she held back while women were murdered, and while a NYPSD detective was critically injured. A decorated officer, who courageously fought back and was intimately involved in closing the case.” Reo put a hand on Peabody’s arm, gave it a little rub in what Eve recognized as a woman-to-woman support gesture.“You want to go over it again? We’ve got a few more minutes.”
“Maybe. Okay, maybe.” Peabody turned to Eve. Her eyes were a little too bright, her smile a little too tight.“You can go on in. I’ll get one i more briefing from Reo, then I might want to throw up. I’d do that better alone.”
Eve waited until Reo took Peabody into a conference room, then she pulled out her communicator and tagged McNab.“Where are you?”
“On my way.” His pretty face and the long blond tail he wore bobbed on her screen.“Three blocks south. I had to hoof it. Who the hell let all these people out on the street?”
“There’s a recess, nearly over. You’ve got a few minutes. I’ll be in the back. Save you a seat.”
She clicked off, walked in, and sat, as she had countless times in the course of her career. Halls of justice, she thought as she studied the bench, the gallery, the reporters and those who piled in out of curiosity. Sometimes she liked to think most times justice was served here.
She wanted it for Peabody.
They’d dunked the ball of the case in the net for the arrest, for the indictment. Now the ball was passed to the lawyers, to the judge, and to the twelve citizens who sat on the jury. She studied them when they filed in.
A moment later, Celina Sanchez was led in with her legal team.
Their eyes met, held with that quick, buzzing connection between hunter and prey. It all came back, all the bodies, all the blood, the waste, and the cruelty.
For love, Celina had said at the end of it. She’d done it all for love.
And that, Eve thought, was the biggest bullshit of all.
Celina took her seat, faced front. Her luxurious hair was worn back and up sleek and almost prim. Instead of her preferred bold colors, there was a staid gray suit.
Just packaging, Eve noted. She knew what was inside it. Unless the jury was dirt stupid, they knew, too.
Reo stepped in, leaned down briefly.“She’s going to be fine. It’s good you’re here.” Then she walked to the front to take her place with the State’s team.
As the bailiff called for the court to rise, McNab bolted through the doors. His face was pink from cold and exertion, but was still a few shades calmer than the puce shirt he wore under a jacket with a blue and pink zigzag pattern so bright and busy it stung the eyes. On matching puce airboots, he nipped in beside Eve, spoke in a breathless whisper.
“Didn’t want me to sit with her needed a minute. We thought we had ‘til Monday. Damn it.”
“She knows how to handle herself.”
There was no point telling him her stomach was tying itself into greasy knots. No point in telling him she knew what he saw in his head as they took their seats and the PA called Peabody.
He’d see himself running, with his heart slamming in his throat, hear himself shouting,“Officer down!” into his communicator as he flew down the steps of the apartment building to get to her.
Eve hadn’t been there, but she saw it, too. She hadn’t been there to see Peabody broken and bloody and crumpled on the street. But she could see.
She wanted every member of the jury to see it, too.
As directed, Peabody gave her name, her rank, her badge number. The PA was brisk with her good strategy, in Eve’s mind. Treat her like a cop. He reviewed with her some of the testimony already given, and he and the lead for the defense did their little lawyer dance.
When she was asked to take them through the evening of the attack, she started out strong. The timing, the steps, the way she’d contacted her cohab partner, Detective Ian McNab, as she’d walked home from the subway. So when her voice broke, the jury heard it, they saw it. And they saw a woman’s struggle to stay alive, a cop’s fight to survive.
“I was able to deploy my weapon.”
“You were severely injured, and in a life-or-death struggle with a man who was considerably bigger than you, but you were able to reach your weapon?”
“Yes, sir. I got one off. He threw me, was throwing me. I remember being airborne, and firing. Then I hit the ground, and I don’t remember anything until I woke in the hospital.”
“I have here a list of the injuries you sustained, Detective. With the court’s permission, I’ll read them off for your verification.”
As it began, McNab’s hand groped for Eve’s.
She let him hold it through the recitation, through the verification, the objections, the questions. She said nothing when the defense began their cross, and McNab’s fingers tightened like thin wires on hers.
Peabody was shaky now, and the defense played on that. But that might be a mistake, Eve thought. Screwing with the victim, the only survivor in a series of hideous murders.
“According to your own testimony, Detective, and the statements and testimony of other witnesses to the attack, John Joseph Blue was alone when he assaulted you.”
“That’s correct.”
“Ms. Sanchez was not there at the time you were injured.”
“No, sir. Not physically.”
“According to prior testimony, Ms. Sanchez had never met or spoken with or had contact with the man who attacked you, with John Joseph Blue.”
“That’s not accurate. She had contact with John Blue. Psychically.”
“I would qualify the word contact. Ms. Sanchez had observed, through her gift, violent murders committed by one John Joseph Blue, to which he has confessed. Isn’t it true that Ms. Sanchez came to you voluntarily to offer her assistance in your investigation?”
“No, sir, it’s not.”
“Detective, I have reports in evidence that clearly state Ms. Sanchez volunteered her help, without any fee, to the investigating officers, and that her assistance was accepted. That, in fact, she was instrumental in identifying Blue, and thereby stopping him.”
While he’d spoken, Peabody lifted a water glass, drank deep. Her voice was steady again, a cop’s again when she continued.“No, sir, she did not give the investigative team or the department, or the victims or the city assistance. She, in fact, hindered the investigation by holding back key information in order to kill Annalisa Sommers, which was her primary objective.”
“Your Honor, I ask that this witness’s speculative and inflammatory statement be stricken from the record.”
“Objection.” The PA was on his feet.“This witness is a trained police officer, one of the key members of the investigative team.”
The dance continued, but Eve could see Peabody relax into it now. She’d found her rhythm.
“You’ve got two seconds to let go of my hand before I use the other to punch you,” Eve said mildly.
“Oh. Sorry.” McNab released her, gave a nervy little laugh.“She’s okay, don’t you think?”
“She’s fine.”
There was more, then re-cross. When she stepped down, Peabody was a little pale, but Eve was pleased to see her turn her head, look directly at Celina.
She’d remember that, too, Eve decided. She’d remember she’d stood up, and she’d looked.
“That’s my girl,” McNab said the minute they were outside the courtroom. His arms went around her.“She-Body, you rocked!”
“More like I was rocky, but I think I came around. And Jesus, I’m glad it’s over.” She rubbed a hand over her belly, mustered up a genuine smile.“Thanks for sticking,” she said to Eve.
“No problem.” Eve checked the time.“Tour’s over in two. Take off, take the personal.”
“I’m okay, I”
“Nothing’s shaking anyway.” She spotted Nadine Furst, Channel 75’s on-air ace, clicking her way over the tiles in her skinny-heeled boots, her camera in her wake.“At least, nothing official.”
“There she is. How’d it go, Peabody?”
“Okay. I think it went good.”
“You up for a quick one-on-one?”
Eve started to object on principle, then stopped herself. It would probably be good for Peabody to have her say outside the courtroom. And she could trust Nadine.
“I guess. Sure. I can do that.”
“It’s lousy out, but it’d make better screen if we did it on the steps. Give up your girl a minute, McNab.”
“Nope, but you can borrow her.”
“Dallas, looking forward to tomorrow.” They headed for the doors.“I could use a quick one from you, too. The sober, flat-eyed, ‘justice is being served’ kind of thing.”
“No. It’s Peabody’s show. Take the personal,” Eve said to Peabody, and took a look up at the sky before she started down the steps.
At the bottom, she turned, looked back. Nadine was right, it would make good screen Peabody, damp in the drizzle, on the steps of the courthouse. It’d be something Peabody would want her family to see, how she’d stood there and talked of the job and justice.
Since she liked seeing it herself, she watched a few moments. She turned away again, just in time to see the shove, grab, and go.
“My purse! My purse!”
“Oh, shit,” Eve muttered. She blew out a breath, and gave chase.
 *
Halfway down the steps, Nadine risked a broken neck by rushing.“Get on her!” she shouted to her camera.“Stay on her. Look at her go!” When Peabody and McNab whizzed by, Nadine all but danced on the courthouse steps.“Don’t lose them, for God’s sake.”
 *
The snatcher was about six foot, Eve judged, and looked a solid one-ninety. Most of his height was legs, and he was using them. He bowled people over like pins, leaving her to leap over the piles.
Her coat streamed back, leather snapping in the wind.
She didn’t waste her breath shouting for him to stop, identifying herself as the police. His eyes had met hers as Celina’s had and they’d recognized the hunt.
He grabbed a glide-cart on the corner operator and all and shoved it. Soy dogs skidded onto the ground, drink tubes splatted and burst.
She jigged away from a pedestrian he all but threw at her, then jagged from another. Judging the distance, she pumped her legs, shoved off. Her tackle took him down, sheered them both across the wet sidewalk an inch from the curb, where the brakes of a maxibus screamed like a woman.
Her healing hip cried like a baby at the jolt.
He managed to get one in while she was avoiding being crunched under skidding wheels. She tasted blood when the elbow jammed her jaw.
“Now that was stupid.” She yanked his arms back, slapped on restraints.“That was bone stupid. Now you’ve got assaulting an officer on your tab.”
“Never said cop. How’m I supposed to know? ‘Sides, you were chasing me, you nearly threw me in front of a bus. Police brutality!” He shouted it, humping his body as he struggled to look for some sympathetic bystander.“I’m minding my own and you try to kill me.”
“Minding your own.” Eve turned her head, spat out blood. At least her throbbing jaw took her mind off her hip.
She tugged, pulled out the purse and another three, along with assorted wallets.“Pretty good haul,” she commented.
He sat up, shrugged, philosophical now.“Holidays. People come out, whatever the hell. Don’t slap the assault on, okay? Come on, cut me one, will ya? It was reflex.”
Eve wiggled her jaw.“You’ve got good ones.”
“You’re fucking fast, gotta admire it.”
She shoved at her wet hair as Peabody and McNab ran up.“Disperse this crowd, will you? And get a black-and-white down here to haul this guy in. Multiple counts, robbery. Seeing as it’s this close to Christmas, I’ll give you a pass on the assault.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Let’s get get that camera out of my face,” Eve snapped.
McNab busied himself gathering the bags and wallets.“Your lip’s bleeding, Lieutenant.”
“Nah.” She swiped a hand over it.“Bit my own damn tongue.”
“Car’s on its way, sir,” Peabody reported.“Nice pedestrian-hurdling, by the way.”
Eve crouched down to have another word with the snatcher.“If you’d run the other way, we’d be at Central, out of this damn cold drizzle.”
“Yeah, like I’d be that stupid.”
“Stupid enough to do the grab right in front of the courthouse.”
He gave her a sorrowful look.“I couldn’t stop myself. The woman’s swinging the damn purse around, gabbing to the woman walking with her. She practically gave it to me.”
“Right. Tell it to your PD.”
“Lieutenant Dallas?” Nadine, huffing a little, stepped up. She had a hand clamped over the arm of a woman with huge brown eyes.“This is Leeanne Petrie, whose property you’ve just recovered.”
“Ma’am. I just don’t know how to thank you.”
“Start by not calling me ma’am. We’ll need you to come down to Central, Ms. Petrie, to make a statement and sign for your property.”
“I’ve never had so much excitement. Why, that man just shoved me right down on the ground! I’m from a little place called White Springs just south of Wichita, Kansas. I’ve never had so much excitement.”
It had to be said.“You’re not in Kansas anymore.”
 *
Because she pulled rank and ordered Peabody home, straightening out the mugging mess kept her at Central until after shift. Dark had the temperatures dropping, and the incessant drizzle turned into sleet. The now tricky streets turned the dflve home into a marathon of annoyance.
Stuck in it, she sipped on ice water to soothe her sore tongue, and let her mind drift. She was a handful of blocks from home when it drifted to Trudy Lombard, and the light went off.
“Not me. Jesus, it’s not about me. Why would it be? Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
She flicked on sirens, shot into vertical. Cursing herself and the snarls that made the maneuver all but suicidal, she engaged her dash link.
“Roarke,” she snapped when Summerset came on.“Is he there yet? Put him on.”
“He’s just come through the gates, hasn’t yet reached the house. If there’s an emergency”
“Tell him I’ll be there in ten. I need to talk to him. If anyone named Lombard contacts the house, don’t put her through to him. You got that? Don’t put her through.”
She flicked off, whipped her wheel, and nipped back down to the street to narrowly miss a trio offenders.
Son of a bitch! What else would she be after but money? Big, shiny piles of it. And who in the known universe had the biggest piles?
She wasn’t getting away with it. And if he even thought of paying her off to make her go away, Eve vowed she’d personally skin him.
She fishtailed, and roared through the gates of home. Roarke opened the door himself as she braked in front of the house.
“Am I under arrest?” he called out, and circled a ringer in the air.“Sirens, Lieutenant.”
She called them off, slammed the door.“I’m so stupid! I’m a goddamn idiot.”
“If you’re going to talk that way about the woman I love, I’m not going to offer you a drink.”
“It’s you. It was never me. If I hadn’t let her turn me inside out, I’d’ve known it from the get. Lombard.”
“All right. And what’s this?” He skimmed a finger gently over the faint bruise on her jaw.
“Nothing.” Anger had smothered any lingering pain.“Are you listening to me? I know her. I know the type. She doesn’t do anything without a purpose. Maybe the purpose is jollies, but she didn’t go to all the trouble and expense to come here just to bust my balls. It’s about you.”
“You need to calm down. In the parlor.” He took her arm.“There’s a nice fire. You’ll have some wine.”
“Will you stop.” She slapped his hand off, but he simply shifted and tugged off her wet coat.
“Take a minute, catch your breath,” he advised.“You may not be wanting a drink, but I am. Filthy weather.”
She did take a breath, pressed her hands to her face to steady herself.“I couldn’t think, that was the trouble. Didn’t think. Just reacted. And I know better. She must’ve figured she’d come see me, try to play the reunion card. I was just a kid, and messed up with it. So maybe she banked that I didn’t remember what it had been like with her. Then she can be the long-lost mother, angel of mercy, whatever, grease those wheels so when she tapped me for money, I’d ask you to give it to her.”
“Underestimated you. Here.” He handed her a glass of wine.
“Backup plan.” She took the wine, paced to the hearth with its snapping fire, back again.“Someone like her has one. I’m not receptive, she’ll have a way to go straight to the source. Right to you. Try for sympathy, some hard-luck story. Move to threats if that doesn’t shake the money tree. She’d want a nice fat lump sum, come back for more later, but get a juicy bite right off…”
She took a moment to study his face.“And none of this is news to you.”
“As you said, you’d have come to it yourself right away if you hadn’t been so twisted up.” He lowered his head enough to brush his lips over her jaw.“Come, sit by the fire.”
“Wait, wait.” She grabbed his sleeve.“You didn’t go warn her off. You didn’t go see her.”
“I had and have no intention of going to her. Unless she continues to harass and upset you. Do you know she had eleven other children put in her care over the years? I wonder how many of them she tormented as she did you.”
“You ran her? Of course you ran her.” She turned away.“I’m really slow on this one.”
“It’s taken care of, Eve. Put it out of your mind.”
She kept her back to him, took a slow sip of the wine.“How is it taken care of?”
“She came to my office today. I made it clear that it would be best for all concerned if she went back to Texas and didn’t attempt to contact you again.”
“You spoke to her?” She squeezed her eyes shut against the helpless anger.“You knew who she was, what she was, but you let her in your office.”
“I’ve had worse in there. What did you expect me to do?”
“I expected you’d leave this to me. That you’d understand this is my problem. This is for me to handle.”
“It’s not your problem, but ours or was. And it was for us to handle. Now it’s done.”
“I don’t want you dealing with my problems, my business.” She whirled around and before either of them knew she intended it, she let the glass fly. Wine and glass splatted and shattered.“This was my personal business.”
“You don’t have personal business from me any longer, any more than I do from you.”
“I don’t need to be shielded, I won’t be shielded. I won’t be tended to.”
“Oh, I see.” His voice softened, a dangerous sign.“So it’s perfectly fine, we’ll say, for me to see to those pesky little details. Can this get wrapped, for instance. But the things that matter, I’m to keep my nose out?”
“It’s not the same. I’m a lousy wife, I get that.” Her throat was clogging up, and her voice thickening as the words fought their way through.“I don’t remember to do things don’t know how and don’t give a rat’s ass about finding out. But”
“You’re not a lousy wife, and I’d be the one to judge that. But you are, Eve, an extremely difficult woman. She came to me, she tried to shake me down, and she won’t try it again. I have every right to protect you, and my own interests. So if you want to have one of your snits about it, you’ll have to have it alone.”
“Don’t you walk away from me.” Her fingers actually itched to pick up something precious to throw at him as he started for the doorway. But that was too female, and too foolish.“Don’t you walk away and flick off my feelings.”
He stopped, looked back at her with eyes searing with temper.“Darling Eve, if your feelings weren’t so important to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If and when I walk away from you, it’s to prevent myself from taking the alternative, which at the moment would be to beat your head against some hard object until a little sense rattles into it again.”
“Were you even going to tell me?”
“I don’t know. There were good reasons on both sides of that, and I was still weighing them. She hurt you, and I won’t have it. That’s simple. For God’s sake, Eve, when I found out about my mother, and went into a spin, didn’t you knock it out of me? Didn’t you tend to me, even stand in front of me?”
“It’s not the same.” Her stomach burned, and the acid of it spewed into words.“What did you get, Roarke? What did you fall into but people who love and accept you? Good, decent people. And what do they want from you? Not a damn thing. Yeah, you had it rough. Your father killed your mother. But what else did you find out? She loved you. She was a young, innocent girl who loved you. It’s not the same for me. Nobody loved me. Nobody and nothing I came from was decent or innocent or good.”
Her voice hitched, but she bore down, let the rest spew out.“So yeah, you took a hard and nasty slap, and it sent you reeling. But what did you fall into? Right into gold. What else is new?”
He didn’t stop her when she strode from the room. Didn’t go after her when she charged up the steps. At that moment, he couldn’t think of a single reason why he should.
5
THE GYM SEEMED THE OBVIOUS PLACE FOR HIM to work off steam, and he had plenty of it. His shoulder was still weak from wounds he’d incurred a few weeks before, helping his infuriating wife on the job.
It was all right, apparently, for him to risk his bloody life, but not according to the Book of Eve to get rid of a fucking blackmailer.
Bollocks to that, he thought. He wasn’t going to stew about it.
It was time, he decided, to punish his body back into shape.
He went for weights rather than one of the holomachines, and programmed a brutal session of reps and sets.
Her solution, he knew, had she headed downstairs rather than up, would have been to activate one of the sparring droids. Then beat the bleeding hell out of it.
To each his own.
Knowing her, she’d be pacing her office, kicking whatever was handy, and cursing his name. She’d have to get over it. Never in his life, he thought as he pumped his way through bench presses, had he known such a rational woman who could flip so quickly and so stupidly into irrational behavior.
What the bloody, buggering hell had she expected him to do? Give her a shout and ask her to pinch that ridiculous Texas fly off his neck for him?
Well, she’d married the wrong man for that, hadn’t she? Too bad for her.
She didn’t want to be protected when she damn well needed protection, didn’t want to be looked after when she was blind with grief and stress? That was too fucking bad for her as well, wasn’t it?
He ripped through the session, taking dark satisfaction in the burn of his muscles, the ache of the healing wounds, and the drip of his own sweat.
 *
She was exactly where he’d assumed she’d be, doing precisely what he’d assumed she’d be doing. She stopped pacing long enough to give her desk three hard kicks.
And the hip she’d injured battling beside Roarke protested.
“Damn him. Damn him! Can’t he stay out of anything?”
The fat cat, Galahad, padded in, plopped down in the doorway of the kitchen as if prepared to enjoy the show.
“Do you see this?” she demanded of the cat, and slapped a hand on her sidearm.“You know why they gave me this? Because I can handle myself. I don’t need some some man charging in to tidy up my mess.”
The cat angled his head, blinked his dual-colored eyes, then shot a leg in the air to wash it.
“Yeah, you’re probably on his side.” Absently, she rubbed her sore hip.“Male of the fricking species. Do I look like some wilting, helpless female?”
Okay, maybe she had, she admitted as she resumed pacing. For a couple of minutes. But he knew her, didn’t he? He knew she’d pull it together.
Just like he’d known Lombard would come sniffing around him.
“But did he say anything?” She threw her hands up.“Did he say: ‘Well now, Eve, I think perhaps the sadistic bitch from your past will likely be paying me a visit?’ No, no, he did not. It’s all that damn money, that’s what it is. It’s what I get for getting hooked up with a guy who owns most of the world, and a good chunk of its satellites. What the hell was I thinking?”
Since she’d exhausted a good portion of her energy with her anger, she flopped into her sleep chair. Scowled at nothing in particular.
Hadn’t been thinking, she admitted as the worst of the blind, red rage faded. But she was thinking now.
It was his money. He had a right to protect himself from poachers. She sure as hell hadn’t stepped up to do it.
She sat up, dropped her head in her hands. No, she’d been too busy wallowing and whining and, screw it, wilting.
And she’d attacked the one person who fully understood her, who knew everything she kept bottled inside. Attacked him because of that, she realized. Mira would probably give her a big gold star for reaching that unhappy conclusion.
So, she was a bitch. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made full disclosure before the I do’s. He’d known what he was getting, damn it. She wasn’t going to apologize for it.
But she sat, drumming her fingers on her knee, and the scene in the parlor began to play back in her head. She closed her eyes as her stomach sank, and twisted.
“Oh God, what have I done?”
 *
Roarke swiped sweat off his face, reached for a bottle of water. He considered programming another session, maybe a good, strong run. He hadn’t quite worked off all the mad, and hadn’t so much as started on the resentment.
He took another chug, debated whether to sluice it off in the pool instead. And she walked in.
His back went up, he swore he could feel it rise, one vertebra at a time.
“You want a workout you’ll have to wait. I’m not done, and don’t care for the company.”
She wanted to say he was pushing himself too hard, physically. That his body hadn’t healed well enough as yet. But he’d snap her neck like a twig for that one. Deservedly so.
“I just need a minute to say I’m sorry. So sorry. I don’t know where it came from, I didn’t know that was in me. I’m ashamed that it was.” Her voice shook, but she’d finish it out, and she wouldn’t finish it with tears.“Your family. I’m glad you found them, I swear I am. Realizing I could be small enough somewhere inside to be jealous of it, or resent it, or whatever the hell I was, it makes me sick. I hope, after a while, you can forgive me for it. That’s all.”
When she reached for the door, he cursed under his breath.“Wait. Just wait a minute.” He grabbed a towel, rubbed it roughly over his face, his hair.“You kick the legs out from under me, I swear, like no one else. Now I have to think, I have to ask myself, what would I feel, should that family situation have been reversed? And I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me to find some nasty little seed stuck in my belly over it.”
“It was ugly and awful that I said it. That I could say it. I wish I hadn’t. Oh Jesus, Roarke, I wish I hadn’t said it.”
“We’ve both said things at one time or another we wish we hadn’t. We can put that aside.” He tossed the towel on a bench.“As to the rest…”
“I was wrong.”
His brows shot up.“Either Christmas has come early, or this should be made another national holiday.”
“I know when I’ve been an idiot. When I’ve been stupid enough I wish I could kick my own ass.”
“You can always leave that one to me.”
She didn’t smile.“She came after your money, you slapped her back. It was just that simple. I made it complicated, I made it about me, and it never was.”
“That’s not entirely true. I slapped her a good deal harder than was necessary, because for me, it was all about you.”
Her eyes stung, her throat burned.“I hate that… I hate that No, no don’t,” she said when he took a step toward her.“I have to figure out how to get this out. I hate that I didn’t stop this. Wasn’t even close to capable of stopping it. Because I didn’t, couldn’t, and you did, I stomped all over you.”
She sucked in a breath as the rest came to her.“Because I knew I could. Because I knew, somewhere in the stupidity, that you’d forgive me for it. You didn’t go behind my back or betray any trust, or any of the things I tried to convince myself you had. You just did what needed to be done.”
“Don’t give me too much credit.” Now he sat on the bench.“I’d like to have killed her. I think I’d have enjoyed it. But you wouldn’t have cared for that, not at all. So I settled for convincing her that’s just what I’d do, and very unpleasantly, should she try to put her sticky fingers on either of us again.”
“I sort of wish I could’ve seen it. How much did she figure I was worth ?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’d like to know.”
“Two million. A paltry sum considering, but then, she doesn’t know us, does she?” His eyes a bold, impossible blue that saw everything she was stayed on her face.“She doesn’t know we wouldn’t give her the first punt. She doesn’t know there’s no limit on your worth to me. It’s only money, Eve. There’s no price on what we have.”
She went to him then, dropping into his lap, wrapping arms and legs around him.
“There,” he murmured.“There we are.”
She turned her face, pressed it to his throat.“What’s a punt?”
“A what? Oh.” He gave a baffled laugh.“It’s an old word for an Irish pound.”
“How do you say ‘I’m sorry’ in Gaelic?”
“Ah … ta bron orm,” he said.“And so am I,” he added when she’d mangled it.
“Roarke. Is she still in New York?” When he said nothing, she leaned back, met his eyes.“You’d know where she is. It’s what you do. I made myself feel stupid. Don’t make me feel incapable on top of it.”
“As of the time I left the office, she hadn’t yet checked out of her hotel, nor had her son and his wife.”
“Okay, then tomorrow… No, tomorrow’s the thing. I’m not forgetting the thing, and I’m going to do … whatever.”
And whatever the whatever was that went into preparing for a major party would be her penance for bitchy idiocy.
“Somebody’ll have to tell me whatever it is I should do for the thing.” She framed his face with her hands, spoke urgently.“Please don’t let it be Summerset.”
“There’s nothing you have to do, and the thing is called a party.”
“You do stuff. Coordinate stuff, and approve it, blather with the caterer and that kind of thing.”
“I never blather, not even with the caterer, but if it’ll make you feel better you can help supervise the decorating up in the ballroom.”
“Am I going to need a list?”
“Several. Will that help with the guilt you’re feeling?”
“It’s a start. On Sunday, if Lombard’s still here, I’m going to see her.”
“Why?” Now he framed her face in turn.“Why put yourself through that, or give her any sort of an opening to stab at you again?”
“I need to make it clear to her she can’t. I need to do it face-to-face. It’s and this is embarrassing enough that I’ll have to hurt you if you repeat it but it’s about self-esteem. I hate being a coward, and I stuck my head in the sand on this.”
“That’s an ostrich.”
“Whatever, I don’t like being one. So, we do what we’ve planned to do tomorrow because she’s not worth putting on the list and if she’s still here on Sunday, I deal with her.”
“We deal.”
She hesitated, then nodded.“Yeah, okay. We deal.” She pressed her cheek to his.“You’re all sweaty.”
“I used my temper constructively, as opposed to kicking my desk.”
“Shut up, or I might not still feel guilty enough to offer to wash your back in the shower.”
“Lips are sealed,” he murmured, and pressed them to her throat.
“After.” She gripped his tank, yanked it up and off.“After I screw your brains out of your ears.”
“Far be it from me to dictate how you should assuage your guilt. Do you have a lot of it?”
She bit his good shoulder.“You’re about to find out.”
She toppled them both off the bench and onto the mat.“Well, ouch. I take it guilt doesn’t bring out your gentler side.”
“What it does is make me edgy.” She straddled him, planted her hands on his chest.“And a little mean. And since I’ve already kicked my desk …”
She lowered down, her breasts skimming his damp chest, her nails raking lightly over his skin on their way to the waistband of his shorts. She tugged again, freed him.
Then her mouth clamped over him like a vise.
“Oh, well then.” He dug his fingers into the mat.“Have at it.”
His mind switched off, his vision went red, and pulsed. She used her teeth yes, just a little bit mean and tore the breath out of him. Muscles he’d tuned and oiled in temper began to quiver, helplessly. And a moment before his world imploded, she released him. Slicked her tongue up his belly.
He started to roll her over, but she scissored her legs, shifted her weight, and pinned him once more. Her eyes were dark gold and full of arrogance.
“I’m starting to feel a little better.”
He caught his breath.“Good. Whatever I can do to help.”
“I want your mouth.” She crushed it under hers, using her teeth, her tongue, her lips, so his own blood pounded through him, a hundred drums.
“I love your mouth.” Hers was wild on his.“I want you to do things to me with it.” She dragged and pulled at her own shirt. This time when her breasts skimmed his chest it was flesh to flesh.
She let him flip her to her back, arched up to him so that his mouth, hot and ravenous for her, could take. Her stomach clenched, twisted, a fist of need and pleasure. Her breath was already going ragged when he yanked down her pants.
His hands, she thought on a fresh leap, his hands were as skilled as his mouth. And the fist in her belly tightened, tightened, then flew open in release.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, gripped all that black silk to guide him down, down to where the need was already blooming again, so full, so ripe, it took only a flick of his tongue to send her flying.
And he was with her, right with her through every breath and beat.
Now she quivered, and the heat poured off her. She was wet and wild and his. When he braced himself over her, looked down at her face, she gripped his hair again.
“Hard,” she told him.“Hard and fast. Make me scream.” And pulled his mouth to hers even as he drove himself into her.
He plunged, a beast on fire, and she raced with him. Her hips surged up, demanding more even as his lips muffled the scream.
They whipped each other mercilessly to the edge, and over.
 *
She nearly had her breath back, and figured she’d recover the full use of her legs, eventually.
“Just remember, it was my fault.”
He stirred.“Hmm?”
“It was my fault, so I’m the reason you just got your rocks off.”
“Entirely your fault.” He rolled off her, onto his back, breathed.“Bitch.”
She snorted out a laugh, then linked fingers with him.“Do I still have my boots on?”
“Yes. It’s quite an interesting and provocative look, particularly since your trousers are inside out and hooked on them. I was in a bit of a rush.”
She braced on her elbows to take a look.“Huh. I guess I’ll get them the rest of the way off, maybe take a swim.”
“I believe you’re scheduled to wash my back.”
She glanced over.“Strangely, I’m no longer feeling guilty.”
He opened one eye, brilliant and blue.“But here I am, with my feelings so bruised.”
She grinned, then levered up to work off her boots. When he sat up beside her, she turned so they sat facing each other, naked, forehead to forehead.
“I’ll wash your back, but it goes on the credit side of my account, to be counted the next time I’m a complete asshole.”
He patted a hand on her knee.“Done,” he said, then pushed up, and offered her a hand.
 *
In a small hotel room on Tenth Avenue, Trudy Lombard studied herself in the mirror. He thought he’d scared her, and maybe he had, but that didn’t mean she’d just turn tail and run like a whipped dog.
She’d earned that compensation for tolerating that nasty little bitch in her home, nearly six months of her. Six months of having that dirty child under her roof. Feeding and clothing her.
Now, the mighty Roarke was going to pay for the way he’d treated Trudy Lombard make no mistake about it. It was going to cost him a lot more than two million.
She’d taken off her suit, put on her nightgown. Preparation was important, she reminded herself, and washed down a pain blocker with the good French wine she preferred.
No point in chasing the pain, she thought. No point at all. Though she didn’t mind a little pain. It sharpened the senses.
She took slow, even breaths as she picked up the sock she’d filled with credits. She swung it at her own face, striking between jaw and cheekbone. Pain exploded, nausea rolled in her belly, but she gritted her teeth, struck a second time.
Woozy, she lowered herself to the floor. It hurt more than she’d bargained for, but she could take it. She could take a great deal.
Once her hands had stopped shaking, she picked up the homemade sap again, slammed it into her hip. She bit her lip to bring blood, and smashed it twice against her thigh.
Not enough, she thought, even as tears leaked out of eyes that glittered with purpose and a kind of dark pleasure. Not quite enough, as the thrill of the pain coursed through her. Every blow was money in the bank.
With a keening wail, she swung the sap into her belly, once, twice. On the third blow, her stomach revolted. She vomited in the toilet, then rolled away. And passed out cold.
 *
There was more to it than she’d realized, Eve admitted. The house was full of people and droids, and at this point it was tough to tell which was which. It looked as though an entire forest had been purchased and replanted in the ballroom, with another acre spreading to the terrace. Several miles of garlands, a few tons of colored balls, and enough tiny white lights to set the entire state aglow, were hung, about to be hung, waiting to be discussed where they should be hung.
There were ladders and tarps and tables and chairs, there were candles and fabrics. The guy in charge of setting up the platform for the orchestra, or band-she wasn’t sure which it was was arguing with the guy in charge of some of the miles of garland.
She hoped they came to blows. That, at least, would be her territory.
It seemed Roarke had taken her at her word about supervising the ballroom decorations.
What had he been thinking?
Someone was always asking her what she thought, what she wanted, if she’d prefer this to that, or the other thing.
One of the crew had actually rushed from the room in tears the third time Eve said she didn’t care.
Okay, she’d said she didn’t give a gold-plated crap, but it meant the same thing.
Now she had a stress headache circling the top of her skull just waiting to clamp down on her brain and destroy it.
She wanted to lie down. More, she wanted her communicator to beep and have Dispatch inform her there was a triple homicide that needed her immediate attention.
“Had about enough?” Roarke whispered in her ear.
Such was her state that she jumped like a rabbit.“I’m fine. I’m good.” And she broke, spinning to him, gripping his shirt.“Where have you been?”
“Why, blathering with the caterer, of course. The truffles are spectacular.”
A steely light came into her eyes.“The chocolate kind?”
“No, actually, the sort the pigs snuffle out for us.” He ran an absent hand over her tousled hair while he scanned the room.“But we have the chocolate kind as well. Go, make your escape.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.“I’ll take over here.”
She nearly bolted. Every instinct had her out the door, running for I her sanity. But it wasn’t only pride, it was marriage that held her in 1 place.“What am I, stupid? I’ve run ops bigger than this when lives are on the line. Just back off. Hey, you!”
Roarke watched as she strode across the floor, cop in every swagger.
“I said you!” She shoved between Garland Guy and Platform Guy before blood was spilled.“Button it,” she ordered as each began to I complain.“You, with the shiny stuff, put it where it belongs.”
“But I”
“You had a plan, the plan was approved. Stick with the plan and don’t bother me, or I’ll personally stuff all that shiny stuff up your butt. And you.” She jabbed a finger in the other man’s chest.“Stay out of his way, or I’ll save some shiny stuff for you. Okay, you, tall blond girl with the flowers …”
“Poinsettias,” the tall blonde clarified with New Jersey so thick in her voice Eve could have driven on it across the river.“There were supposed to be five hundred, but there’re only four hundred and ninety-six, and”
“Deal. Finish building your … what the hell is this?”
“It’s a poinsettia tree, but”
“Of course, it is. If you need four more, go get four more from the poinsettia factory. Otherwise work with what you’ve got. And you, over there with the lights.”
Roarke rocked back and forth on his heels and watched her rip through the various crews. Some of them looked a little shaky when she’d finished, but the pace of work increased considerably.
“There.” She walked back to him, folded her arms.“Handled. Any problems?”
“Other than being strangely aroused, not a one. I think you’ve put the fear of God into them and should reward yourself with a little break.” He draped an arm over her shoulders.“Come on. We’ll find you a truffle.”
“The chocolate kind.”
“Naturally.”
 *
Hours later, or so it seemed to her, she stepped out of the bathroom. She’d done the best she could with the lip dye and the eye gunk. On the bed, waiting for her, was what looked like a long panel of dull gold. She figured it became a dress of some kind once it was on a body.
At least it wasn’t fussy, she decided as she fingered the material. There were shoes of the same tone, if you could call a couple of skinny straps with an even skinnier heel shoes. She glanced at the dresser and saw he’d thought of the rest. A black case was open, and the diamonds nothing sparkled like that but diamonds, she assumed, though they looked to be the color of champagne formed a circle against the velvet. Another held the dangle of earrings, and still another a thick bracelet.
She picked up the panel of gold fabric, studied it, and concluded it was one of those deals you just wiggled into. Once that was done, she carried the shoes, which weren’t going on her feet until zero hour, and fumbled her way through the accessories at the dresser.
The bracelet was too big, she noted. She’d probably lose it, then someone would pawn it and have enough money to buy a nice little island country in the South Pacific.
“You’re wearing it wrong,” Roarke told her from the doorway.“Here.” He stepped in, walked to her, elegant in formal black. He slid the glittering triple band to just above her elbow.“A bit of a warrior touch, suits you.”
He stepped back.“You look like a flame. A long golden flame on a cold night.”
When he gazed at her like that, things started melting inside her, so she turned away, studied herself in the mirror. The dress was a column, sleek and fluid from just over her breasts to her ankles.
“Is this dress going to stay up?”
“Until the guests leave, at any rate.” He leaned over to brush his lips over her bare shoulder. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist so they studied the image they made in the glass.
“Our second Christmas together,” he said.“We’ve stored up a few things in the memory box Mavis and Leonardo gave us last year.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at him, and had to admit the two of them looked pretty damn terrific.“We have. Maybe things’ll stay quiet this year, so we can make more instead of running around after a deranged Santa.”
“We can hope.” The bedroom ‘link beeped twice.“Our first guests are arriving. Shoes?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She bent down to tug on one, narrowed her eyes at the sparkle on the strap.“Oh, my Jesus, don’t tell me these are fricking diamonds on my shoes.”
“All right, I won’t tell you. Hustle up, there, Lieutenant. The hosts can’t be fashionably late.”
Diamonds on her shoes. He was a crazy man.
 *
The crazy man threw a hell of a party she had to give him credit. Within the hour, the ballroom was crowded with people. Lights sparkled tike wine, and the music streamed through. The tables were loaded with a good deal more than pig truffles. Fancy canapes, pates, mousse, glossy delicacies from around the world, and beyond it.
The waitstaff was every bit as elegant as the champagne they served on silver trays. She didn’t bother to count the poinsettias, but the tree looked fine to her. In fact, it looked amazing, as did the pines that dripped more light, more color. The forest she’d seen that afternoon had become a wonderland.
Yeah, the guy threw a hell of a party.
“This is so totally juiced!” Mavis Freestone rushed up, leading with her very pregnant belly. At her velocity she bumped into Eve before Eve could avoid contact.“Nobody throws a splash like you guys.”
Her hair was silver tonight, in a lot of long, shaggy layers. She wore red, so snug Eve wondered that the ball of her belly didn’t burst free. In concession to her condition, her silver boots had short, squat heels shaped like Christmas trees.
Her eyebrows were a curve of silver stars. Eve didn’t want to ask how she’d managed that one.
“You look absolutely radiant.” Roarke took her hand, then smiled at the giant of a man in silver and red at her side.“Both of you, in fact.”
“We’re coming to the countdown.” Leonardo rubbed his big hand over Mavis’s back.
“Almost at what they consider full-term. Um, what’s that? Can I have some of that?” She snatched three canapes off a passing tray, popped them like candy.“So when, you know, we’re there, we’re going to have sex day and night. Orgasms can kick you into labor. My teddy bear can sure do orgasm.”
Leonardo’s wide, copper-hued face went red along the cheekbones.
“So, you’re set for the classes, right?”
Eve just couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t think about the coaching classes she and Roarke were scheduled to take.“Hey, there’s Peabody. I think she’s got a truffle.”
“Truffle? Chocolate? Where? Later.”
“There’s my clever girl,” Roarke murmured.“Saving us by baiting your best friend with food. The Miras have just arrived,” he added.
Before Eve could comment, he was steering her toward them.
It was going to be awkward, she knew. It had been awkward between her and Mira since the two of them had knocked heads and sensibilities over the Icove case.
They’d both worked to keep it smooth, but there were still ripples. And Eve could feel them now as Mira glanced over and spotted her.
“We were held up.” Mira kissed Roarke’s cheek, smiled at Eve.
“Not literally, I hope,” Roarke said as he shook Dennis’s hand.
“Misplaced my tie.” Dennis patted it. It was Christmas red with a pattern of little green Christmas trees running over it.
“Actually, I hid it.” Mira slanted a look at her husband.“And was found out.”
“I like it.” Something about Dennis Mira with his dreamy eyes and mussy hair went straight to Eve’s soft spot.“Festive.”
“And look at you.” Dennis took her hands, pulled back, wiggled his bushy eyebrows.“Glamorous.”
“His idea.” Eve tipped her head toward Roarke.“I’m ditching the shoes first chance.”
“You look wonderful, both of you. And everything looks amazing.” Mira, lovely as always in midnight blue, glanced around the ballroom. She’d done something with her hair, Eve noted. Little sparkly things glinted against the rich sable sweep.
“Let’s get you a drink.” Even as he spoke, a waiter magically appeared at Roarke’s elbow. He lifted a glass of champagne from it for Mira.“Champagne, Dennis? Or can I offer you something stronger?”
“Stronger? Wouldn’t say no.”
“Come with me. I have something a little special. Ladies.”
That was on purpose, Eve thought, and her neck tensed. Small talk was bad enough, and she only had a limited supply. But in the strained small-talk department, she was all but empty.
She fell back on the cliche.“So, I guess you’re all ready for the holidays.”
“Just about. You?”
“I don’t know. I think. Listen, the food’s”
“Actually, I have something for you. I didn’t bring it because I hoped you might be able to find a little time, come by the house tomorrow. For coffee.”
“I…”
“I badly want to be friends again.” Mira’s eyes, a quiet blue, went misty.“I miss you. I miss you very much.”
“Don’t. We’re friends.” Or something more complicated, Eve thought, that was tangled in friendship.“I have something I have to do tomorrow, but after … I think I might want to talk about it. I think I might need to talk about it. After.”
“Something serious.” Mira touched a hand to Eve’s arm, and the tension was gone.“I’ll be home all day.”
6
THE NEXT MORNING, SHE FELT BETTER THAN she’d anticipated. Her feet hurt a little because she’d never found the right moment to get rid of the shoes. But considering she hadn’t hit the mattress until nearly four a. m., she was doing okay.
She couldn’t say it was because she had a rare two days off in a row. Preparing for a party, giving a party, recovering from a party wasn’t time off in her book. But it had kept the task she had today off her mind.
In any case, she felt better in normal clothes and a good pair of boots.
She found Roarke in his office, his feet propped on his desk as he talked on a headset.“That will do very well.” He held up a finger, signalling her that he was nearly done.“I’ll expect you then. Yes. Yes, I’m sure I will. Thank you.”
He took off the headset, smiled at her.“Well, you look rested.”
“It’s nearly eleven.”
“So it is. I imagine some of our guests are still in bed a sign of a successful party.”
“Pouring Peabody and McNab into one of your limos so that Mavis and Leonardo could cart them into their apartment’s probably another sign. What was that all about? You don’t usually use a headset at your desk.”
“A quick call to Santa.”
“You haven’t, like, gone completely insane with the presents, right?”
His smile remained easy and mild.“So, it seemed as if you and Mira were back to normal.”
Of course he’d gone insane with presents, she thought. And there was no point fighting it.
“Yeah, we’re good. In fact, she wanted me to stop by today, and I was thinking maybe I would.” She slid her fingers into her pockets, gave a little shrug.“Maybe talking to her about all this will put it to bed. Figuring that, you really don’t have to come with me to the hotel. If they’re still at the hotel.”
“As of an hour ago, they were. And haven’t indicated they plan to check out today. I’m going with you.”
“It’s really okay if you”
“I’m going,” he repeated, and swung his feet to the floor, rose.“If you want to speak with Mira alone, I’ll drop you there afterward. I’ll either come back for you myself and we could go have ourselves a nice meal somewhere, or I’ll send a car. Are you ready now?”
No point fighting this either, she decided. Better to save all the energy for the face-to-face with Trudy.“As I’ll ever be.” She stepped up, put her arms around him, and squeezed.“In case I get all worked up and pissed off and forget to thank you later.”
“So noted.”
 *
It wasn’t a fleabag, Eve decided when she studied the facade of the hotel. In a city of five-diamond hotels, it maybe earned a half carat. It didn’t run to parking, so Roarke had paid an obscene amount in a private lot a block east. But then his ride was probably worth more than the building that housed the hotel and some souvenir shop called Tokens on Ten.
It didn’t run to doormen either, and what passed for its lobby was a double-wide alcove with a counter. Behind it and a security screen was a droid clerk fashioned to resemble a man in his forties suffering from male-pattern baldness.
He wore a tired white shirt, and as bored an expression as a droid could manage.
“Checking in? Luggage?”
“Not checking in. No luggage. Try this instead.” Eve drew out her badge.
Bored became long-suffering.“Was there a complaint? No one filed a complaint through me. All our licenses are in order.”
“I need to speak to one of your guests. Lombard, Trudy.”
“Oh.” He swiveled to his register comp.“Ms. Lombard has a Do Not Disturb on her room. She hasn’t taken it off yet today.”
Eve kept her eyes on his, tapped a finger on her badge.
“Yeah, well… She’s in four-fifteen. Do you want me to call up, let her know you’re here?”
“I think we can find four-fifteen all by ourselves.”
She eyed the single elevator with some distrust, but her feet were still a little achy from her diamond slippers.
“Voice activation’s broke,” the desk droid called out.“You have to push for your floor.”
She stepped on, pushed four.“This thing gets stuck, you can get us out, right?”
“Not to worry.” Roarke took her hand.“Look at her the way you looked at the clerk, and you’ll be done.”
“How’d I look at the clerk?”
“Like he was nothing.” He lifted their joined hands, kissed hers as the elevator groaned its way upward. The droid wouldn’t have registered the nerves, Roarke thought, and he doubted Trudy would. But they were there, under the surface.“If you’re up for it after Mira’s, why don’t we do a little shopping?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No, seriously. We’ll stroll around on Fifth, look at the decorations, wander over to watch the skaters. Be New Yorkers.”
She started to point out that no sane New Yorker would hassle with Fifth on a weekend this close to Christmas, much less stroll. But suddenly, it seemed like just the thing.
“Sure. Why not?”
The elevator squeaked open on four. The hall was narrow, but it was clean. A maid’s cart stood outside the open door of four-twelve, and a woman curvy, blond, mid-twenties was knocking lightly on four-fifteen.
“Come on, Mama Tru.” The woman’s voice was soft as cotton. As she knocked again, she shifted from foot to foot, nervously, on simple canvas skids the same quiet blue as her pants.“We’re worried about you now. Come on and open the door. Bobby’ll take us out for a nice lunch.”
She glanced over with eyes baby blue like her outfit, and gave Eve and Roarke an embarrassed smile.“Morning. Or afternoon by now, I expect.”
“She doesn’t answer?”
The woman blinked at Eve.“Um … No. My mother-in-law. She wasn’t feeling very well yesterday. I’m sorry, is the knocking bothering you?”
“I’m Dallas. Lieutenant Eve. She probably mentioned me.”
“You’re Eve!” She slapped crossed hands to her chest as her face lit up.“You’re Eve. Oh, I’m so glad you came by. This is going to make her feel so much better. I’m just so happy to meet you. I’m Zana. Zana Lombard, Bobby’s wife. Oh, gosh, and I’m just not fixed up like I wanted.” She brushed at her hair that fell in soft, shiny waves.“You look just like you did onscreen. Mama Tru played that interview for me a couple times. I’m just so distracted I didn’t recognize you. Goodness, we’re like sisters, aren’t we?”
She made a move an obvious hug move which Eve evaded by stepping to the side.“No, we’re really not.” This time Eve knocked, three good, strong pounds with the side of her fist.“Lombard, it’s Dallas. Open up.”
Zana bit her lip, twisted the silver chain she wore around her fingers.“Maybe I should get Bobby. We’re down at the end of the hall. I should get Bobby.”
“Why don’t you give this a moment?” Roarke suggested, and drew her back gently with a hand on her arm.“I’m the lieutenant’s husband.”
“Oh, Lord, oh my, of course you are. I recognize you, I sure do. I’m just so confused. I’m starting to worry that something’s wrong. I know Mama Tru went to see Eve the lieutenant but she wouldn’t talk to us about it. She was that upset. Then yesterday.” She gripped her hands together, twisted them.“I don’t know what’s going on. I hate when everyone’s upset.”
“Then you’d better take a long walk,” Eve told her. She shook her 1 head at Roarke, then signalled to the maid who was peeking around I; the corner of the open door of four-twelve.“Open it,” she ordered and flashed her badge.
“I’m not really supposed to without permission from the desk.““See this?” Eve waved her badge in the air.“This is permission. You I open the door, or I break in the door. Take your pick.”
“I’ll get it, I’ll get it.” The maid hustled over, digging her master out of her pocket.“Sometimes people sleep late on Sundays, you know. Sometimes they just like to sleep in.”
When she’d used the master, Eve nudged her aside.“Stand back.” She thumped twice more on the door.“Coming in.”
She wasn’t sleeping. Not in that position, not sprawled on the floor with her nightgown hiked up to her hips and her head resting in a pool of congealed blood.
Odd to feel nothing, Eve realized as she automatically pulled her recorder from her coat pocket. Odd to feel nothing at all.
She fixed it to her lapel, engaged.“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve,” she began, then Zana was wiggling around her.
“What is it? What’s …”
The words became a gurgle, and the first screech erupted before Eve could push her aside. By the second, the maid had joined in with a kind of hysterical harmony.
“Quiet. Shut up! Roarke.”
“Wonderful. Ladies …”
He caught Zana before she hit the floor. And the maid ran like a gazelle toward the stairs. Doors began to open here and there along the hall.
“Police.” She turned, held her badge in clear view.“Go back in your rooms, please.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.“I don’t have my field kit.”
“I have one in the car,” Roarke told her, and laid Zana down on the hall carpet.“It seemed wise to store a few in various vehicles, as this sort of thing happens entirely too often.”
“I’m going to need you to go get it. I’m sorry. Just leave her there.” She drew out her communicator to call it in.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Sir, I need you to go back to your room. This is…”
She wouldn’t have recognized him. Why should she? He’d been a blip in her life more than twenty years before. But she knew by the way he paled when he saw the woman passed out cold in the hallway, it was Bobby Lombard who had rushed out of the room at the end of the hall.
She eased the door to four-fifteen closed, and waited.
“Zana! My God, Zana!”
“She fainted. That’s all. She’ll be fine.”
He was on his knees, clutching Zana’s hand, patting it the way people do when they feel helpless.
He looked hefty, but in the way a ballplayer does, she thought. Strong and solid. His hair was the color of straw, cut short and neat. Water was beaded on it, and she could smell hotel soap. He hadn’t finished buttoning his shirt, and the tail was out.
She had another flash of memory. He’d snuck her food, she remembered. She’d forgotten that, as she’d forgotten him. But sometimes he’d snuck a sandwich or crackers into her room when she was being punished.
He’d been his mother’s pride and joy, and had gotten away with a great deal.
They hadn’t been friends. No, they hadn’t been friends. But he hadn’t been unkind.
So she crouched down, laid a hand on his shoulder.“Bobby.”
“What? Who …” His face was a sturdy kind of square, and his eyes were the blue of jeans that had faded from countless washings. She saw recognition layer over confusion.
“My God, it’s Eve, isn’t it? Mama’s going to get a thrill. Zana, come on, honey. We had an awful lot to drink last night. Maybe she’s… Zana, honey?”
“Bobby”
The elevator opened, and the droid clerk came rushing out.“What happened? Who’s”
“Quiet,” Eve snapped.“Not a word. Bobby, look at me. Your mother’s inside. She’s dead.”
“What? No, she’s not. God, almighty, she’s just feeling off. Sorry for herself, mostly. Sulking in there since Friday night.”
“Bobby, your mother’s dead. I need you to take your wife and go back to your room until I come to talk to you.”
“No.” His wife moaned, but he was staring at Eve now, and his breath began to hitch.“No. No. I know you’re upset with her. I know you’re probably not happy she came, and I tried to tell her so. But that’s no reason to say something like that.”
“Bobby?” With her hand on the side of her head, Zana tried to sit up.“Bobby. I must’ve … Oh, God. Oh, my God. Mama Tru! Bobby.” She flung her arms around him and burst into wild sobs.
“Take her back, Bobby. You know what I do? Then you know I’m going to take care of this. I’m sorry, but I need you to go back to your room and wait for me.”
“What happened?” Tears swirled into his eyes.“Did she get sick? I don’t understand. I want to see Mama.”
Eve got to her feet. Sometimes there was no other way.“Turn her around,” she said with a nod toward Zana.“She doesn’t need to see this again.”
When he had, pressing Zana’s face to his shoulder, Eve eased the door open enough for him to see what he needed to.
“There’s blood. There’s blood.” He choked and pulled himself up with his wife in his arms.“Did you do that? Did you do that to her?”
“No. I just got here, and now I’m going to do my job and find out what happened, and who did this to her. I need you to go wait for me.”
“We should never have come here. I told her.” He began to sob along with his wife as they helped each other back to their room.
Eve turned back.“Looks like she should’ve listened.”
She glanced over as the elevator clunked to a stop on the floor. One of the two uniforms responding looked familiar enough to have her nod in acknowledgment.
“Bilkey, right?”
“Sir. Howzit going?”
“Not so good for her.” She jutted her chin toward the open doorway.“I need you to stand by. My field kit’s on the way. I was here on personal, so my …” She hated to say”my husband” when she was on the job. But how else did you say it?“My, ah, husband’s gone back to our ride for it. My partner’s being tagged. Vic’s son and daughter-in-law are down the hall in four-twenty. I want them to stay there. You can start the knock-on-doors when …”
She trailed off as the elevator bumped to a stop again.“There’s my kit,” she said as Roarke stepped out.“Start knocking. Vic’s Lombard, Trudy, out of Texas.”
She took the kit from Roarke, opened it for a can of Seal-It.“You made good time.” She coated her hands, her boots.“Might as well say it so I can say I said it. You don’t have to stay for this.”
“And so I can say I said it, I’ll say I’ll wait. Do you want help?” He eyed the can of Seal-It with some disgust.
“Better not, not in there anyway. Anyone comes out or onto the floor, you can look stern and tell them to move along.”
“A boyhood dream of mine.”
That got a wisp of a smile out of her before she stepped inside.
The room was standard, which meant it was bland. Dull, washed-out colors, a few cheap prints in cheaper frames on the tofu-colored walls. There was a midget-sized kitchenette, which included a self-stocked AutoChef, minifriggie, and a sink the size of a walnut. A stingy entertainment screen was across from the bed, where the sheets were rumpled and a remarkably ugly spread was shoved down, draping its green leaves and red flowers at the foot.
The carpet was green, thin, and pocked with a few burn holes. It had soaked up some of the blood.
There was a single window, green drapes pulled tight, and a narrow bath where the short beige counter was jammed with various face and body creams and lotions, medications, hair products. There were towels on the floor. Eve counted one bath, one washcloth, and two hand towels.
On the dresser a just-up-a-level-from-cardboard affair with a mirror above were a travel candle, a disc holder, a pair of faux pearl earrings, a fancy wrist unit, and a string of pearls that might have been the genuine deal.
She studied, recorded, then stepped to the body that lay between the bed and a faded red chair.
The face was turned toward her, those eyes filmed over the way death did. Blood had trickled and dried on the hair and skin of the temple, running there from where she could see the death blow at the back of the head.
She wore rings a trio of silver bands on her left hand, a blue stone in an ornate silver setting on the right. The nightgown was good quality cotton, white as snow where it wasn’t stained with blood. It was hiked up to the top of her thighs, and exposed bruising on both legs. The left side of her face carried a whopper that had blackened the eye.
For the record, she took out her Identi-pad and verified.
“Victim is identified as Lombard, Trudy. Female, Caucasian. Age fifty-eight. Vic was discovered by primary investigator, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, at this location. The body shows bruising on both thighs as well as facial bruising.”
And that was off, Eve thought, but continued.
“Cause of death appears to be a fractured skull caused by multiple blows to the back of the head. There’s no weapon near the body.” She took out her gauges.“Time of death is found to be one-thirty this morning.”
A part of her unclenched at that. Both she and Roarke had been at home, with a couple hundred people, at the time in question.
“Examination of the wound indicates your classic blunt instrument. There is no evidence of sexual assault. Vic’s wearing rings, and there is jewelry in plain sight on the dresser. Burglary is unlikely. There’s no evidence of struggle. No defensive wounds. The room is orderly. Bed’s been slept in,” she murmured as she reexamined the lay of the land from her crouch by the body.“So why is she over here?”
Eve rose, crossed to the window, opened the drapes. The window was half-open.“Window’s open, emergency escape is easily accessible. Possibly the perpetrator entered through this route.”
She turned around again, studied again.“But she wasn’t running toward the door. Somebody crawls in your window, and you’ve got time to get out of bed, you run for the door, maybe the bathroom. But she didn’t. She was facing the window when she fell. Maybe he had a weapon, woke her, ordered her out of bed. Looking for a quick score. But he doesn’t take this very nice wrist unit? He smacks her around an activity nobody hears, or at least reports then bashes her over the head and leaves? It’s not like that. Nothing like that.”
She shook her head as she reexamined Trudy.“Bruises on the face and body are older than one-thirty this morning. Hours older. ME will verify. What were you into Trudy? What were you up to?”
She heard Peabody’s voice, just the rhythm of it out in the hall, then the muffled doing of airskids.“Peabody, Detective Delia, now on-scene. Record on, Peabody?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Check out the closet, and see if you can find her pocket ‘link. I’ll want the room ‘link replayed.”
“On that.” She stepped to the body first.“Coshed, back of the head. Blunt. Classic.” Her gaze came up, met Eve’s.“Time of death?”
“Just after one-thirty this morning.”
And Eve saw the flash of relief.“Sexual assault?” Peabody asked as she turned to the closet.
“No evidence thereof.”
“She robbed?”
“It’s possible her killer was after something specific, had no interest in some jewelry and a quality wrist unit.”
“Or funds,” Peabody added, holding up a large handbag.“Wallet’s in here. Couple of credit cards, a debit, and some cash. No personal ‘link or PPC. A couple of good-sized shopping bags in the closet here.”
“Keep looking.”
Eve moved into the bath. The sweepers would go over the room, inch by inch. But she could see quite a bit without their particular brand of magic.
She had, unfortunately, a solid working knowledge of hair gunk and face crap and body slathering stuff. The feared and dreaded Trina seemed to find a way to torture her with all of it every few weeks.
Trudy, it seemed, hadn’t stinted on the products quantity or quality. She had, by Eve’s estimation, a couple grand in vanity crowded onto the bathroom counter.
The towels were still damp, Eve noted. In fact, the single washcloth was sodden. She glanced toward the tub. She’d bet the sweepers would find traces of bath products in the tub, face products on one of the towels.
So where were the missing bath towel and washcloth? Should be two of each.
She’d had a bath. Eve recalled how Trudy had enjoyed what she’d called her long soaks. If you’d disturbed her during that hour, you’d better have lopped off an appendage. Otherwise, you’d end up locked in a dark room.
Took a beating sometime yesterday, or as far back as Friday evening, Eve thought. Closes herself up, long soaks and pills. Trudy had liked pills, too, Eve remembered.
Take the edge off my nerves.
Why didn’t she have Bobby or Zana tending to her? Being tended to had been another of Trudy’s favorites.
Least you can do is bring me a cold drink—
You’re going to eat me out of house and home, I expect you could fetch me a cup of coffee and a piece of that cake.
You’re the laziest damn thing on two legs. Get your skinny butt moving and clean up around here.
Eve blew out a breath, settled herself. If Trudy had suffered in silence, there was a reason for it.
“Dallas?”
“Yeah.”
“No link.” Peabody stood at the bathroom door.“More cash in a security pack. More jewelry in pouches tucked into her clothes. Couple of transmissions, in and out, between her and either her son or her daughter-in-law. In-hotel trans. Bottle of blockers on the night table by the bed.”
“Yeah, I saw that. Let’s check the kitchen, see if we can determine the last time she got food.”
“Nobody breaks in, kills someone, for a ‘link.”
“Depends what’s on the ‘link, doesn’t it?” Eve moved to the AutoChef, hit replay.
“Chicken soup, just after eight last night. Chinese wrap about midnight. A lot of coffee on and off until seven p. m.” She opened the friggie.“Wine, good stuff about a glass and a half left in the bottle. Milk, juice both opened and a quart, half gone, of chocolate frozen nondairy dessert product.”
She glanced at the sink and counter.“Yet there’s not a bowl, glass, spoon unwashed.”
“She was tidy?”
“She was lazy, but maybe she was bored enough to clean up after herself.”
She heard Crime Scene arrive, took another minute.“Door’s locked from the inside.” Two clicks, she thought, when the maid had used her master.“Killer exited from the window. Possibly entered through same. Tourist hives like this one don’t go for soundproofing. Makes you wonder why she didn’t scream the place down.”
She stepped out, saw not only the sweepers, but Morris, the Chief Medical Examiner.
She remembered he’d worn a suit to the party, a kind of muted blue overlaid with a faint sheen. His long, dark hair had been intricately braided and he’d knocked back a few. Enough that he’d gotten up on stage with the band at one point and wailed away on the sax.
His talents, she’d discovered, weren’t limited to deciphering the dead.
Now he was in casual pants and a sweatshirt, and his hair was scooped back in a long, shiny tail. His eyes, slanted and oddly sexy, skimmed down the hallway and found her.
“Have you ever considered, just for the hell of it, taking a Sunday off?”
“Thought I was.” She drew him aside.“I’m sorry to call you in, especially since I know you were up late.”
“Very. In fact, I’d just gotten home when you tagged me. I have been to bed,” he added with his slow smile.“Just not my own.”
“Oh. Well. Here’s the thing. I knew her.”
“I’m sorry.” He sobered.“Dallas, I’m very sorry.”
“I said I knew her, not that I liked her. In fact, it’s the opposite. I need you to verify time of death. I want to be sure your gauge matches mine. And I want to know, as close as you can get it, when she obtained the other injuries you’re going to find.”
“Of course. Can I ask”
“Lieutenant, sorry to interrupt.” Bilkey stepped beside her.“Vic’s son’s getting antsy.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in five.”
“No problem. Nothing on the canvass so far. Just fyi, two rooms this floor had check-outs this morning. Got you the data on that. Room next to the scene was a no-show. Contacted the desk last night about eighteen hundred to cancel. Got the name in case you need it. You want I should get the lobby security discs?”
“Do that. Good work, Bilkey.”
“All in a day’s.”
She turned back to Morris.“I don’t want to get into it here and now. Just want to emphasize your confirmation of my time of death. I’ve got next of kin down the hall, and I have to deal with them. I’ll fill you in on whatever’s salient once you’ve filed your report. I’d appreciate if you’d handle all of it personally.”
“Then I will.”
With a nod, she signalled to Peabody.“This is bound to be messy,” she began as they started down the hall.
“You want to separate them?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Let’s see how it goes.”
She braced herself, and knocked on the door.
7
ODD, EVE THOUGHT, HOW LITTLE SHE remembered him. He was, essentially, the first child near her own age she’d ever known.
They’d lived in the same house for months, and it had been a series of firsts for her. The first time she’d ever lived in a house, or stayed in one place night after night with a bed of her own. The first time she’d been around another kid.
The first time she hadn’t been beaten or raped.
But she could only see him vaguely the way he’d been the pale blond hair cut short over a wide, almost chubby face.
He’d been shy, and she’d been terrified. She supposed it wasn’t that odd that they hadn’t bonded.
Now, here they were, in a bland hotel room with grief and death fouling the air.
“I’m sorry, Bobby. I’m very sorry about what’s happened.”
“I don’t know what happened.” His eyes were ravaged, and he clung to Zana’s hand as they sat together on the side of the bed.“No one will tell us anything. My mother … my mother.”
“Do you know why she came to New York?”
“Of course.” When Zana made a little whimpering sound, Bobby took his hand from hers so he could wrap his arm tight around her shoulders.“She wanted to see you. And we haven’t had a vacation in a while. She was excited about coming to New York. We’ve never been. And seeing you, and shopping for Christmas. Oh, God.” He dropped his head onto his wife’s shoulder, then just dropped it into his hands.“How could this have happened to her? Who could’ve done it?”
“Do you know anyone who was bothering her? Who had threatened her?”
“No. No. No.”
“Well…” Zana bit her lip, then pressed them tight together.
“You thought of someone?” Eve asked her.
“I, well, it’s just that she’s got that feud going with Mrs. Dillman next door?” She knuckled tears away.“Mrs. Dillman’s grandson’s over there and out in the backyard all the time with that little dog he brings over, and they do carry on. Mama Tru and Mrs. Dillman had more than a few words over it. And Mrs. Dillman said she’d like to slap Mama Tru silly.”
“Zana.” Bobby rubbed and rubbed at his eyes.“That isn’t what Eve meant.”
“No, I guess not. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just trying to help.”
“What have you been doing in New York?” Eve asked.“What sort of things?”
Zana looked at Bobby, obviously expecting him to take the lead, but he just kept his head in his hands.“Um, well, we got in. It was Wednesday, and we walked around, shopped a little bit, and we went to see the show at Radio City. Bobby got tickets from a man right out on the street. They were awfully expensive.”
Scalped tickets generally were, Eve thought.
“It was wonderful. I’ve never seen anything like it. Mama Tru said we didn’t have very good seats, but I thought they were just fine. And we went and had an Italian dinner after. It was awfully nice. We came back sort of early, because it’d been a long day with all the traveling.”
She began to rub a hand up and down Bobby’s back as she spoke. The gold band of her wedding ring glinted dully in the poor light.“Next morning, we had breakfast in a cafe, and Mama Tru said how she was going to see you, and she wanted to go by herself this first time. So Bobby and I went to the Empire State Building, ‘cause Mama Tru said she didn’t want to stand in those lines anyway, and”
“You’ve been doing the tourist thing,” Eve interrupted, before she got more play-by-play.“Did you see anyone you knew?”
“No. You’d almost think you would, because it doesn’t feel like there could be anyone left out in the rest of the world with all these people.”
“How long was she gone, out on her own?”
“That day? Urn.” Zana went back to biting her lip, creasing her forehead as she thought.“I guess I don’t know for sure, because Bobby and me didn’t get back until almost four, and she was here already. She was a little upset.”
Zana glanced at Bobby again, took one of his hands and squeezed it.“I guess things didn’t go as well with you as she’d hoped, and she was a little upset and irritated that we weren’t here when she got back.”
“She was spitting mad.” Bobby finally lifted his head.“It’s all right to say so, Zana. She was hopping because you’d brushed her off, Eve, and she felt put upon because we weren’t waiting for her. Mama could be difficult.”
“Just got her feelings hurt, that’s all,” Zana soothed, brushing her hand over his thigh.“And you fixed it all up, like always. Bobby took her right back out, bought her a real nice pair of earrings, and we went all the way downtown for a fancy dinner. She was feeling just fine after that.”
“She went out on her own the next day,” Eve prompted, and Bobby’s expression turned puzzled.
“That’s right. Did she come to see you again? I told her to leave it alone, at least for a while. She didn’t go to breakfast with us, said she was going to be lazy, then go out for some retail therapy. Shopping always made her happy. We were booked for dinner that night, but she said she didn’t feel like going out. Said she was feeling tired, and she’d have something in her room. She didn’t sound like herself.”
“How’d she look?”
“I don’t know. She was in her room. When she didn’t answer the room ‘link, I called on hers, and she had the video blocked. Said she was in the tub. I didn’t see her. I didn’t see her again after Friday morning.”
“What about Saturday?”
“She called our room, about nine, I guess. Zana, you talked to her that time.”
“I did. She had the video blocked again, now that I think of it. She said we should go on with whatever we wanted to do. She wanted to be on her own. Truth is, I thought she was sulking a little, and I tried to talk her into coming out with us. We were going to take one of the sky trams, and we had a ticket already for her, but she said no. Maybe she’d go walking. She wasn’t feeling that well anyway. I could tell she was upset didn’t I say, Bobby? ‘Your mama’s irritated, I can tell by her voice.” But we let her be and went on. And that night… You tell it, Bobby.”
“She wouldn’t come to the door. I was getting a little irritated myself. She said she was fine, but still wanted to stay in, watch the screen. We went out to dinner, just the two of us.”
“We had a wonderful meal, and champagne. And we …” She slid her eyes toward Bobby in a way that told Eve they’d done some celebrating when they’d gotten back to their room.“We, ah, slept a little late this morning. We tried to call her room, and her ‘link, but she didn’t answer. Finally, when Bobby was in the shower, I thought, ‘Well, I’m going down there and knocking ‘til she lets me in. I’m just going to make her…”
She trailed off, pressed her hand to her mouth.
“And all that time. All that time …”
“Did you hear or see anything last night, anything unusual?”
Bobby only sighed.“It’s loud here, even with the windows closed. And we’d had a bottle of champagne. We put on music when we got back, never turned it off. It was still playing when we got up this morning. And we … made love when we got back last night, and again this morning.”
His color came up as he spoke.“The fact is, I was annoyed with her, with my mother. She pushed to come here, and she wouldn’t contact you by ‘link before we came, no matter how much I talked to her about it. Then she started holing up in her room sulking, I figured, because you weren’t playing the role she wanted you to play, I guess. I didn’t want Zana’s trip spoiled because of that.”
“Oh, honey.”
“My feelings were, ‘Fine, she wants to pout in there, she can stay in until we leave on Monday. I’m going to do the town with my wife.’ Oh hell. Oh hell,” he repeated and wrapped his arm around Zana.“I don’t know why somebody’d hurt her like that. I don’t understand it. Did they … was she”
Eve knew the tone, knew the look in the survivor’s eye.“She wasn’t raped. Did she have anything of value with her?”
“She didn’t bring much of her good jewelry.” Zana sniffled.“Said it was asking for trouble, though she loved wearing it.”
“I see you’ve got your window closed and locked.”
Bobby glanced over.“It’s noisy,” he said absently.“And there’s that emergency escape out there, so it’s best to … Is that how they got in? Through her window? I told her to keep that window shut, keep it locked. I told her.”
“We haven’t determined that yet. I’m going to take care of this, Bobby. I’m going to do everything I can. If you need to talk to me, either of you, you can contact me at Central.”
“What do we do now? What do we do?”
“Wait, and let me do my job. I’m going to need you to stay in New York, at least for the next few days.”
“Yeah, okay. I… I’ll get in touch with my partner, tell him tell him what happened.”
“What do you do?”
“Real estate. I sell real estate. Eve? Should I go with her? Should I go with Mama now?”
He was no good to anyone now, Eve thought. He and his baffled grief would only be in the way.“Why don’t you give that some time? There’s nothing you can do. Other people are taking care of her now. I’ll let you know when there’s something more.”
He got to his feet.“Could I have done something? If I’d made the manager open the door last night, or this morning, could I have done something?”
And here, she thought, she could do the one thing, the single thing, that soothed.“It wouldn’t have mattered.”
When Eve and Peabody walked out, she drew a clear breath.“Take?”
“Comes off a decent guy. Shocky right now. So’s she. One holds up ‘til the other goes down. Want me to run them?”
“Yeah.” Eve rubbed her hands over her face.“By the book.” She watched as the morgue unit rolled out the body bag. Morris came out behind them.
“One-twenty-eight a. m. on time of death,” he said.“On-scene examination indicates the fatal blow was a head wound inflicted with our old favorite the blunt object. Nothing in the room, at my scan, matches. The other bodily injuries are older. Twenty-four hours or more. I’ll get you more exact once I’ve got her in my house.” His eyes stayed level on hers.“Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I’ll let you know what I know when I know it.”
“Thanks.” Eve walked back into the crime scene, signalled one of the sweepers.“I’m looking, particularly, for a pocket or hand ‘link, her personal communication device.”
“Haven’t got one yet.”
“Let me know when and if.” She moved straight to the window, glanced back at Peabody.“We’ll go down this way.”
“Oh, man.”
Eve ducked through and out the window, dropped lightly on the narrow evac platform. She hated heights, freaking hated them, and had to wait a moment for her stomach to stop rolling. To give her system time to adjust, she concentrated on the platform itself.
“Got blood.” She hunkered down.“Nice little dribble of a trail. Over the platform.” She hit the release, watched the steps jut out.“And down.”
“Logical route out and away,” Peabody commented.“Sweepers will get samples, and we’ll know if it’s the vic’s.”
“Yeah.” Eve straightened, studied the access to other rooms on the floor.
Tricky, she decided, with the gaps, but not impossible if you were athletic or ballsy enough. A good strong jump would do it, which she’d have preferred over the tiptoe route along the skinny spit of ledge. Which meant the killer could have come from inside or outside the hotel.
But logic said in and out the emergency route. Down and away, to ditch the weapon just about any damn where.
She looked down, breathed through her teeth as her head went light. People crawled along the sidewalk below. Four floors, she thought. She probably wouldn’t pull a Tubbs if she fell, and kill some innocent pedestrian.
Then she crouched, examining a splat of pigeon dung. She cocked her head up as Peabody stepped out beside her.“See this flying rat shit.”
“What a lovely pattern, abstract yet compellingly urban.”
“Looks smeared to me, like somebody caught the side of it with a shoe.” She poked her head back in the window.“Yo! Got some blood and some pigeon crap out here. I want it scraped up and bagged.”
“We get all the class work,” one of the sweepers commented.
“Mark it, Peabody,” Eve ordered, then started down the zigzagging stairs.“I want the hotel’s recyclers, and any recyclers in a four-block radius, searched. We got some luck there, it being Sunday.”
“Tell that to the team pawing through the garbage.”
“Emergency evac makes basically every room this side of the building accessible to the other. We’re going to want to take a look at the copy of the registration disc.”
“No security cams in the hallways, stairways,” Peabody added.“If it’s an inside job, why not just go out the door when you were finished?”
“Yeah, why not? Maybe you don’t know there aren’t any cams.” Her boots clanged on metal as she went down, and her stomach began to level out.“Maybe you’re really careful and don’t want to chance being seen by Mr. and Mrs. Tourist, who may be strolling in from a night on the town.”
At the last platform, she hit the second release, and the short ladder rattled out. Steady now, she swung out, used the rungs, then dropped to the sidewalk.
Peabody clambered down after her.
“Couple of things,” Eve began as they skirted around to the front of the building.“Lombard went to Roarke’s office on Friday to try to shake him down.”
“What? What?”
“It needs to go in the report. It needs to be out there, up front. He met her, booted her out. End of story, but it needs to be up front. Sometime after that and several hours before she got bashed, she ran into trouble. It’s easy for both Roarke and myself to account for our time and our whereabouts at the time of her death, and should be just as easy to account for the period between her leaving his office and TOD.”
“Nobody’s going to be looking at either of you.”
Eve stopped.“I’d be looking at me if I didn’t know I was alibied. I wouldn’t be above smacking her in the face.”
“Killing her?”
Eve shook her head.“Maybe whoever tuned her up wasn’t the same person who killed her. Maybe she was working with someone, hoping to fall into easy money through Roarke. When she didn’t pull it off, he or she tuned her. It’s something to look at.”
“All right.”
“Here’s the deal.” She turned to Peabody and gave what she considered a statement.“We had a houseful of caterers and decorators and God knows crawling all over the house all day Saturday. All day. When Roarke has outside contractors on the premises, he keeps cams on, full. You’re going to contact Feeney, request that he pick up those discs, examine the equipment, and verify we were both there, all day.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’m going to repeat: Nobody’s going to look at you.” She held up a hand before Eve could interrupt.“Neither would you, Dallas, after five minutes. A face punch, sure. You’re not above it. And so what? But that was more than a punch that left her face messed up. More than a fist, and you are above that. She tries to shake Roarke down? Shit, she had to be bird stupid. He’d scrape her off like, well, like you’d scrape flying rat shit off your shoe. It’s a nonissue. Trust me, I’m a detective.”
“Been a while since you’ve managed to work that into a conversation.”
“I’ve grown mature, and selective.” As they rounded the corner, Peabody dipped her hands into her pockets.“He’s going to have to be interviewed, you know.”
“Yeah.” She could see him leaning up against the side of her vehicle where had that come from and working on his PPC.“I know.”
He looked over, spotted her. His eyebrows lifted, and he tucked his PPC away.“Out for a stroll?”
“You never know where cop work’s going to take you.”
“Obviously. Hello, Peabody. Recovered this morning?”
“Barely. It was a hell of a party.”
“Give us a minute, will you?” Eve asked her.
“Sure. I’ll go talk to people, and get those discs.”
When they were alone, Eve gave her vehicle’s tire a little boot.“How did this get here?”
“A bit of sleight of hand. I assumed you’d want your own.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I contacted Mira, let her know what was going on and that you’d be tied up for a while.”
“Mira? Oh, right, right.” She shoved a hand through her hair.“Forgot. Thanks. What do I owe you?”
“We’ll negotiate.”
“I’ve got to ask you for one more. I need you to come down, make an official statement regarding your conversation with the victim on Friday at your office.”
Something sizzled in his eyes.“Am I on your short list, Lieutenant?”
“Don’t pull that. Don’t.” She drew a breath in, slowly. Released it, slowly.“Another investigator catches this, we’re both on the short list until we clear it up. We both had motive to cause her pain, and someone caused her plenty. We’re out regarding the murder. Can’t kill someone in Midtown when you’re partying with the chief of police in another part of town. Still, we’ve both got connections, and the wherewithal to hire somebody to do it.”
“And we’re both smart enough to have hired someone who wouldn’t be quite so obvious and sloppy.”
“Maybe, but sometimes obvious and sloppy is purposeful. Added to it, somebody busted up her face earlier. We need to cover that, too.”
“So, you don’t think I murdered her, but as for beating her up”
“Stop it.” She jabbed a finger into his chest.“Hitting me with this attitude isn’t helping.”
“Which attitude would you prefer I hit you with? I have several available.”
“Goddamn it, Roarke.”
“All right, all right.” He waved a hand in dismissal.“It just pisses me off, having my wife interview me over assault.”
“Well, cheer up, I won’t be. Peabody’ll handle it.”
“Won’t that be delightful?” He took her arms, turned her so they were toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye.“I want you to tell me I want you to look at me and tell me, right now, if you believe I put hands on her.”
“No.” There was no hesitation.“It’s not your style, and if you’d lost it enough to jump out of character, you’d have told me already. The fact is, it’s my style, and I’ll be putting her visit to me in my report.”
He swore.“Bloody bitch is as much trouble dead as she was alive. Don’t give me that look. I won’t be lighting a candle for her. You would, in your way. Because for better or worse, she’s yours now, and you’ll stand for her because you can’t do otherwise.”
He continued to hold her arms, and now ran his hands lightly up and down.“I’ll come with you now, and have it done.”
“Crappy way to spend a Sunday.”
“Wouldn’t be the first,” he said and opened the car door.
 *
At Central, Peabody set up in one of the interview rooms. Her movements were a little jerky, and her eyes stayed down.
“Relax,” Roarke advised.“I believe it’s traditional for the subject to be nervous rather than the investigator.”
“It’s awkward. It’s just a formality.” Peabody looked up.“It sucks. It’s a sucky formality.”
“Hopefully, it’ll be quick and painless for both of us.”
“You ready?”
“Go ahead.”
She had to clear her throat, but read the data into record.“Sir, we understand you’re here voluntarily, and we appreciate your cooperation with this investigation.”
“Whatever I can do…” He shifted his gaze to the long mirror, to indicate he knew very well Eve was observing from the other side.“For the department.”
“You were acquainted with Trudy Lombard.”
“Not really. I had the occasion to meet her once, when she requested a meeting with me, at my office, this past Friday.”
“Why did you agree to meet her?”
“Curiosity. I was aware that my wife was briefly in her charge many years ago.”
“Ms. Lombard was Lieutenant Dallas’s foster mother for a five-and-a-half-month period in 2036.”
“That was my understanding.”
“Were you aware that Ms. Lombard had made contact with the lieutenant at her office in this facility this past Thursday?”
“I was.”
“And how would you describe the lieutenant’s reaction to that contact?”
“As her business.”
When Peabody opened her mouth, shut it again, he shrugged.“My wife had no desire to renew the relationship. Her memory of that time was unhappy, and I believe she preferred to keep it in the past.”
“But you agreed to meet with Ms. Lombard, at your office in Midtown.”
“Yes, as I said, I was curious.” His gaze tracked to the mirror again, and, he was sure, met Eve’s.“I wondered what she wanted.”
“What was it she wanted?”
“Money, naturally. Her initial pitch was to play on my sympathy, to enlist me to help her soften the lieutenant. Her claim was that my wife was mistaken in her feelings toward her, and her memory of that portion of her life.”
He paused, looked at Peabody, and nearly smiled.“As the lieutenant is, as you know, rarely mistaken on such matters, I didn’t find the woman’s claims credible, and wasn’t sympathetic. I suggested that she leave things as they were.”
“But she wanted you to pay her?”
“Yes. Two million dollars was the suggestion. She would go back to Texas for that amount. She was unhappy when I informed her that I had no intention of paying her any amount, at any time.”
“Did she threaten you in some way?”
“She was no threat, to me or mine. She was an irritant at worst. A kind of leech, you could say, who’d hoped to suck a bit of blood out of what was a difficult time in my wife’s childhood.”
“Did you consider her request for money blackmail?”
Tricky area, Roarke thought.“She may have hoped I’d see it that way I can’t say. For myself, I considered it ridiculous, and nothing that I, or the lieutenant, should concern ourselves with.”
“It didn’t make you angry? Somebody comes into your office, tries to hose you down? It’d tick me off.”
He smiled at her, wished he could tell her she was doing a good job of it.“To be frank, Detective, I’d expected her to try me. It seemed the most logical reason for her contacting the lieutenant after all these years.”
He leaned back in his chair.“Angry? No. On the contrary, I got some satisfaction out of the meeting, by letting her know, unmistakably, that there would be no payment. Now or ever.”
“How did you make that clear?”
“By telling her just that. We spoke in my office for perhaps ten minutes, and I sent her on her way. I requested that my admin inform Security, to make certain she’d left the building. Oh, there’s a record of her entering and exiting the building, and my office. Standard security measures. I took it upon myself to contact Captain Feeney of EDD, and ask that he personally retrieve those discs so that you have them for your files. I thought that would be best.”
“Good.” Peabody’s eyes went wide.“That’s good. Um, did you have contact with Ms. Lombard after she left your office on Friday?”
“None. The lieutenant and I spent the evening at home on Friday, and she and I hosted a large holiday party on Saturday at our home. We were quite busy throughout the day with preparations. There are also security discs for that period, as we had numerous outside contractors in our home. Captain Feeney will also retrieve those. And, of course, Saturday evening we were among more than two hundred and fifty friends, acquaintances, and business colleagues from approximately eight p. m. until after three in the morning. I’m happy to provide you with the guest list.”
“We appreciate it. Did you have any physical contact with Trudy Lombard, at any time?”
His voice remained neutral, but he allowed just a hint of disgust to show on his face.“I shook her hand when we met. That was quite enough.”
“Could you tell me why you and the lieutenant were at the West Side Hotel this morning?”
“We’d decided it would be best if the lieutenant spoke to Lombard face-to-face, to inform her that she my wife had no desire for further contact, and that neither of us intended to pay for the privilege of choice.”
Peabody nodded.“Thank you. Again, we appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Interview end.”
She heaved out a breath, went comically limp in her chair.“Thank God that’s over.”
He reached over to pat her hand.“How’d we do?”
“She’ll let us know, believe me, but my take? You were forthcoming, articulate, and gave the details. You’re alibied up to your gonads Oh, sorry.”
“Not a problem, I like knowing that part of my anatomy is protected.” He glanced over as the door opened.“Now this one may bring out the rubber hoses. But I could learn to like it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d contacted Feeney?” Eve demanded.
“I believe I just did.”
“You could’ve never mind. Peabody, let’s start those runs, and do a quick check of the other guests at the hotel. I’ll be a minute.”
“See you later,” Peabody said to Roarke.
“I’m going to”
“Be a while.” Roarke finished Eve’s sentence.“I can find my way home.”
“It’s good you did this. Good it’s done and out of the way. She could’ve pushed a little harder, but she got the details, and that’s what counts.”
“All right, then. About what you owe me? I’ve got my price.”
She pursed her lips in thought.“We’ve probably got some rubber hoses in the basement somewhere.”
And he laughed.“There’s my girl. Go by Mira’s when you’re done.”
“I don’t know how long”
“It won’t matter. Go talk to Mira, then come home to me.”
“Where else would I go?”
“The gifts? They’re in the boot of your car.”
“That’s trunk in the U. S. of A., mick-boy.”
“Right.” He grabbed her arms, yanked her forward, kissed her good and hard.“I’ll be waiting.”
He would, she thought. She had someone waiting for her, and that was her miracle.
 *
At her desk with an oversized mug of black coffee, Eve studied the official data on Lombard, Bobby. Not Robert, she noted. He was two years her senior, the product of a legal cohab that had dissolved when he’d been two. His father, when she did a cross-run, was listed as Gruber, John, married since 2046, and residing in Toronto.
Bobby himself had graduated from business college and been employed at Plain Deal Real Estate from that time until eighteen months earlier, when he’d gone into partnership with a Densil K. Easton to form L and E Realtors, in Copper Cove, Texas. He’d married Kline, Zana, a year later.
No criminal.
Zana was twenty-eight, originally from Houston. No paternity listed on her record. She’d been, apparently, raised by her mother, who had died in a vehicular accident when Zana was twenty-four. She, too, had gone to a business college, and was listed as a C. P. A. One, Eve noted, who’d been employed by L and E Realtors almost from the onset.
So she moved to Copper Cove, and married the boss, Eve thought.
No criminal, no previous marriage or cohab.
Officially, they came off as what they seemed, she decided. A couple of simple, ordinary people who’d had some extreme bad luck.
Finally, she pulled up Trudy Lombard.
She skimmed over what she already knew, and lifted her eyebrows at the employment record.
She’d been a health care assistant, a receptionist in a manufacturing firm. She’d applied for professional mother status after the birth of her son, and had worked part-time reporting an income just under the legal limit to retain that status.
Retail clerk, Eve scanned. Three different employers. Data cruncher, two employers. Domestic coordinator? What the hell was that? Whatever it was, it hadn’t lasted either.
She’d also lived in four different places, all in Texas, over a six-year period.
On the grift, Eve thought. That’s what the pattern told her. Run the game, wring it dry, move on.
She’d applied for, tested for, and been approved for foster parenting. Had applied and been granted the retention of full pro-mom status under the fostering waiver make every penny count, Eve thought. Austin area, Eve noted, for a full year, before she’d moved again, applied again, been approved again.
Fourteen months in Beaumont, then another move, another application. Another approval.
“Itchy feet? You know what, Trudy, you bitch? I don’t think so. Then I came along, and look here, you pulled up stakes again three months after I went back inside. More applications, more approvals, and you just grifted your way around the big-ass state of Texas, taking the fostering fees, right up until Bobby graduated from college and your pro-mom status was up.”
She leaned back, considered.
Yeah, it could work. It was a good game. You’ve got your license and approval, in state. So you just move from location to location, pick up more kids, more fees. Child Services, busy agency. Always under-staffed, underfunded. Bet they were pleased to have an experienced woman, a pro-mom, willing to take on some charges.
Trudy had settled in one place after her professional mother status elapsed, and she’d gone out of the fostering business. Kept close to her son, Eve mused. Another handful of short-term jobs. Not a lot of income for a woman who supposedly liked to shop, and had jewelry valuable enough, reportedly, to leave home when traveling.
Interesting, Eve thought. Interesting. And she’d bet a pound of real coffee beans that she hadn’t been the only child Trudy Lombard had traumatized.
8
SHE WISHED ROARKE HADN’T MADE HER FEEL obliged to go by the Miras. She was tired, and there was still a lot of work on her plate, a lot of thinking time to put in.
Now she’d have to visit. Sit around, drink something, make conversation. Exchange presents. The last always made her feel stupid, and she didn’t know why. People seemed to have this unstoppable need to give and receive stuff they could easily afford to go out and get for themselves anyway.
Now here she was, standing outside the pretty house in its pretty neighborhood. There was a holly wreath on the door. She knew holly when she saw it now, after her experience with the decorators. There were candles in the windows, pretty white lights glowing calm against the dark, and through one of those windows she could see the sparkle of a Christmas tree.
There would be presents under it, probably a considerable haul as Mira had grandchildren. She’d also learned that if one present wasn’t enough to give a spouse for the holiday, a half dozen didn’t come up to snuff for a kid.
She happened to know Peabody had already bought three count them, three presents for Mavis’s baby, and the kid wasn’t due to be born for over a month.
What the hell did you buy for a fetus, anyway? And why did nobody else think that was kind of creepy?
Roarke had shipped a damn cargo freighter of gifts to his relatives in Ireland.
And she was stalling. Just standing out in the cold and dark, stalling.
She shifted the packages under her arm, rang the bell.
It was Mira who answered moments later. Mira in her at-home wear, soft sweater, trim pants, bare feet.
“I’m so glad you came.”
Before Eve could speak, she was being drawn inside, into warm, pine-and cranberry-scented air. There was music playing, something quiet and seasonal, and more candles flickering.
“Sorry it’s so late.”
“It doesn’t matter. Come into the living room, let me take your coat.”
“I’ve got these things. Just some things I picked up.”
“Thank you. Just sit. I’m going to get you some wine.”
“I don’t want to hold you up from”
“Please. Sit.”
She laid the gifts on the coffee table beside a big silver bowl full of pine cones and red berries.
She’d been right about the mountain of gifts, Eve noted. There had to be a hundred packages under the tree. How many was that each? she wondered. How many of the Miras were there, anyway? They were kind of a horde. Might be almost twenty of them altogether, so …
She got to her feet as Dennis Mira strolled in.
“Sit, sit, sit. Charlie said you were here. Just came in to see you. Wonderful party last night.”
He was wearing a cardigan. Something about the scruffy look of it with one of its buttons dangling from a loose thread turned her heart to mush.
He smiled, and since she continued to stand, walked to stand beside her and turned that dreamy smile toward the tree.“Charlie won’t go for fake. Every year I tell her we ought to buy a replica, and every year she says no. I’m always glad.”
He stunned Eve by draping an arm over her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.“Nothing ever seems too bad, too hard or too sad when you’ve got a Christmas tree in the living room. All those presents under it, all that anticipation. Just a way of saying there’s always light and hope in the world. And you’re lucky enough to have a family to share it with.”
Her throat had snapped shut. She found herself doing something she’d never have believed, and even as she did it, she couldn’t see herself doing it.
She turned into him, pressed her face to his shoulder, and wept.
He didn’t seem the least surprised, and only stroked and patted her back.“There now. That’s all right, sweetheart. You’ve had a hard day.”
She hitched in a breath, drew away, appalled.“I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s… I should go.”
But he had her hand. However soft and sweet he appeared, he had a grip like iron.“You just sit down here. I’ve got a handkerchief. I think.” He began patting his pockets, digging into them with that vague and baffled expression.
It settled her more than a soother. She laughed, rubbed her face dry.“That’s okay. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I really need to”
“Have some wine,” Mira said, and crossed the room with a tray.
As it was obvious she’d seen the outburst, Eve’s embarrassment only increased.
“I’m a little off, that’s all.”
“Hardly a wonder.” Mira set the tray down, picked up one of the glasses.“Sit down and relax. I’d like to open my present, if that’s all right.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Um …” She picked up Dennis’s gift.“I came across this, thought you might be able to use it.”
He beamed like a ten-year-old who’d just found a shiny red airbike under the tree. And the twinkle didn’t fade when he drew out the scarf.“Look at this, Charlie. This ought to keep me warm when I take my walks.”
“And it looks just like you. And, oh! Look at this.” Mira lifted out the antique teapot.“It’s gorgeous. Violets,” she murmured, tracing a finger over the tiny painted flowers that twined around the white china pot.“I love violets.”
She actually cooed over it, Eve realized, as some women tended to do over small, drooling babies.
“I figured you’re into tea, so”
“I love it. I absolutely love it.” Mira rose, rushed over and kissed Eve on both cheeks.“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“I think I’m going to try my gift out right now, have myself a little walk.” Dennis rose. He walked over, bent down to Eve, tapped her chin.“You’re a good girl and a smart woman. Talk to Charlie.”
“I didn’t mean to run him off,” Eve said after Dennis left the room.
“You didn’t. Dennis is as astute as he is absentminded, and he knew we needed a little time alone. Will you open your gift?” She took a box from the tray, held it out to Eve.
“It’s pretty.” She never knew the right thing to say, but that seemed appropriate when holding a box wrapped in silver and gold and topped by a big red bow.
She wasn’t sure what it was something round, with open scrollwork and small glittering stones. As it was on a chain her first thought was that it was some sort of necklace, though the disk was wider than her palm.
“Relax,” Mira said with a laugh.“It’s not jewelry. No one could compete with Roarke in that area. It’s a kind of sun catcher, something you might hang at the window. In your office, I thought.”
“It’s pretty,” Eve said again, and looking closer, made out a pattern in the scrollwork.“Celtic? Sort of like what’s on my wedding ring.”
“Yes. Though my daughter tells me the symbol on your ring is for protection. This one, and the stones with it, are to promote peace of mind. It’s been blessed I hope you’re all right with that by my daughter.”
“Tell her I appreciate it. Thanks. I’ll hang it in my office window. Maybe it’ll work.”
“You don’t catch much of a break, do you?” Roarke had filled Mira in on the afternoon’s work.
“I don’t know.” She studied the disk, ran her thumb over it.“I guess I was feeling sorry for myself, before, when Dennis put his arm around me. Standing there with him, looking at the tree, the way he is, the way the house smells, and the lights. I thought, I just thought if once just once I’d had someone like him … Just once. Well, I didn’t. That’s all.”
“No, you didn’t, and that shame lies in the system. Not in you.”
Eve lifted her gaze, steadied herself again.“Wherever, it’s the way it was. Now Trudy Lombard’s dead, and she shouldn’t be. I had to have my partner interview my husband. I have to be prepared to answer personal questions, put those answers on record if they apply to the investigation. I have to remember what it was like with her, because knowing her helps me know her killer. I have to do that when, a few days ago, if you’d asked me, I could barely remember her name. I can do that,” Eve said, fiercely now.“I’m good at pushing it out, shoving it down. And I hate when it jumps up and kicks me in the face. Because she’s nothing, nothing to who I am now.”
“Of course, she is. Everyone who touched your life had a part in forming it.” Mira’s voice was as soft as the music that wafted through the air, and as implacable as iron.“You overcame people like her. You didn’t have a Dennis Mira, bless him. You didn’t have the simplicity of home and family. You had obstacles and pain and horrors. And you overcame them. That’s your gift, Eve, and your burden.”
“I fell apart when I first saw her in my office. I just crumbled.”
“Then you picked yourself up and went on.”
Eve let her head fall back. Roarke had been right again. She’d needed to come here, to say it out loud to someone she trusted.“She made me feel afraid, sick with fear. As if just by being there, she could drag me back. And it wasn’t even me she cared about. If I wasn’t hooked to Roarke, she wouldn’t have given me a second thought. Why does that bother me?” She closed her eyes.
“Because it’s hard not to matter, even to someone you dislike.”
“I guess it is. She wouldn’t have come here. Not much to squeeze out of a cop, unless that cop happens to be married to billions.”
She opened her eyes now, gave Mira a puzzled look.“He has billions. Do you ever think of that?”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes, this kind of time, and I can’t really get a handle on it. I don’t even know how many zeros that is because my brain goes fuzzy. And I don’t know the number that goes ahead of them because once you have all those zeros it’s just ridiculous anyway. She tried to shake him down.”
“Yes, he gave me the basics. I’m sure he handled it appropriately. Would you have wanted him to pay her off?”
“No.” Her eyes went hot.“Not one cent out of the billions. She used to tell me I didn’t have a mother or a father because I was so stupid that they’d tossed me away because I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
Mira lifted her wine, sipped, to give herself a chance to push back her own anger.“She should never have passed the screening. You know that.”
“She was smart. I look back now, and I see she was smart, the way you have to be to run long cons or quick scams successfully. She played the system, figured the ins and outs. I think, well, you’re the head doctor, but I think she believed her own bullshit. You have to believe the lie to live it, to make others see you the way you need to be seen.”
“Very possibly,” Mira agreed.“To have lived it for so long.”
“She had to figure she deserved the money, had earned it. Had to believe she’d worked and sacrificed, and given me a home out of her humanitarian nature, and now, hey, how about a little something for old times’ sake? She was a player,” Eve said, half to herself.“She was a player, so maybe she played too deep with somebody. I don’t know.”
“You could pass this off. In fact, you may be asked to do so.”
“I won’t. I think I’ve got that covered. I’ll call in favors if I have to, but I’m going to see it through. It’s necessary.”
“I agree. That surprises you?” Mira asked when Eve stared at her.“She made you feel helpless and worthless, stupid and empty. You know better than that, but you need to feel it, to prove it, and to do that you’ll need to take an active part in resolving this. I’ll say just that to Commander Whitney.”
“That has weight. Thanks.”
 *
When she stepped through the door of her home, Summerset was looming like a black crow in the foyer, fat Galahad at his feet. She knew by the gleam in his beady eyes he was primed.
“I find myself surprised,” he said in what she figured he considered droll tones.“You’re out for several hours, yet you return dare I say almost fashionably dressed, with nothing torn or bloodied. A remarkable feat.”
“I find myself surprised that no one’s bothered to beat you into a pulpy mass just on the general principle of your ugliness. But the day’s young yet, for both of us.”
She whipped off her coat, dumped it on the newel post just because she could, and strutted up the stairs. The quick and habitual sally made her feel marginally better. It was just the thing to take Bobby’s devastated face out of her head, at least temporarily.
She went straight to her office. She would set up a murder board here, set up files and create a secondary base, on the off chance Whitney vetoed both her and Mira. If she was ordered to step aside, officially, she intended to be ready to pursue the work on her own time.
She engaged her ‘link to touch base with Morris.
“I’m going to come by in the morning,” she told him.“Am I going to get any surprises?”
“Head blow did the job, and was incurred about thirty hours after the other injuries. While those were relatively minor in comparison, it’s my opinion they were caused by the same weapon.”
“Got anything on that?
“Some fibers in the head wounds. I’ll be sending them over to our friend Dickhead at the lab. A weighed cloth sack would be my preliminary guess. Tox screen’s come back positive for legal, over-the-counter pain meds. Standard blockers. She took one less than an hour before death, chased it with a very nice Chablis.”
“Yeah, there was a bottle of that in her room, and blockers on the bed table.”
“She had some soup, mostly chicken broth, and some soy noodles about eight, and some soft meat in a wrap closer to midnight. Treated herself to some chocolate frozen dessert, more wine with her late supper. She was, at time of death, nicely buzzed on wine and pills.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll catch you in the morning.”
“Dallas, are you interested in the fact that she’s had several sculpting procedures over the last, I’d say, dozen years? Face and body, tucks and nips. Nothing major, but considerable work, and good work at that.”
“Always good to know the habits of the dead. Thanks.”
She ended the transmission, sat back at her desk to study the ceiling.
So she’d gotten herself roughed up sometime Friday after leaving Roarke’s office. Doesn’t, by their statements, tell her son or daughter-in-law, doesn’t report same to the authorities. What she does, apparently, is hole up with wine and pills and easy food.
Either leaves her window unlocked, or opens the door to her killer.
Now why would she do that if the killer had already played a tune on her the day before? Where was her fear, her anger? Where was her survival instinct?
A woman who could run a game on CPS for over a decade had damn good survival instincts.
Even if you’re in some pain, why would you get buzzed alone in a hotel room when someone’s hurt you, and obviously can hurt you again? Especially when you have family right down the hall.
Unless it was what was down the hall that hurt you. Possible, she thought. But if so, why stay where they could so easily get to you, hurt you again She glanced over as Roarke came in through his adjoining office.
“You get yourself beat up,” she began,“you don’t want the cops involved.”
“Certainly not.”
“Right, okay, I get that. You don’t tell your son?”
“I don’t have one to tell at the moment.” He eased a hip onto the corner of her desk.“But pride might very well prevent me.”
“That’s guy thinking. Think like a woman.”
“A stretch for me,” he said with a smile.“How about you?”
“If I’m thinking like this woman, I whine ASAP to anyone who’ll listen. But she doesn’t, which gives me a couple of possibilities.”
“One, she doesn’t have to tell her son, because her son’s the one who used her as a punching bag.”
“That’s one,” she agreed.“One that’s not fitting so well into my memory of their relationship. If that relationship soured since, why does she stay where he can get to her again?”
He picked up the little statue of the goddess, a symbol of mother, he thought, from her desk. He toyed with it idly as he spoke.“We both know relationships are thorny areas. It’s possible that he made a habit out of knocking her about. She was used to it, and didn’t consider telling anyone, or getting out of his way.”
“There’s the daughter-in-law. No marks on her, no typical signs of an abusive relationship there. A guy who pounds on Mommy is likely to smack the little woman around, too. It doesn’t fit very well for me.”
“If you bump that down the list” he set the statue back on her desk”what leapfrogs over it?”
“She doesn’t want anyone to know. Which isn’t pride, it’s planning, it’s precaution. She had an agenda, a personal one.” And yeah, Eve thought, she liked that a lot better.
“But it doesn’t explain why she drank a lot of wine, took blockers, got herself impaired.”
She shuffled the close-up still of Trudy’s face to the top of her pile. And took a hard look at it.“That doesn’t say fear to me. She’s afraid, she uses her son as a shield, she locks herself up tight, or she runs. She didn’t do any of those things. Why wasn’t she afraid?”
“There are some who enjoy pain.”
Eve shook her head.“Yeah, there’s that. But she liked being tended to. Run me a bath, get me a snack. She’d used the tub, and I got a prelim sweeper’s report that tells me there was some blood in the bathroom sink, in the drain. So she washed up after she got tuned.”
Missing towels, she remembered, and made another note of it.
“And she turns her back on her killer. Blow came from behind. She’s not afraid.”
“Someone she knows and mistakenly as it turns out trusts.”
“You don’t trust somebody who smashes your face the day before.” Love them, maybe. She knew there was a kind of love that ran to that. But trust was different.“Morris thinks the same weapon was used throughout, but I’m thinking two different hands on it, two different times. You’ve got the run from your building security.”
“A copy, yes. Feeney has the original.”
“I want to see it.”
He took a disc from his pocket.“Thought you might.”
She plugged it in, ordered the review on the wall screen.
“I’ve had the whole business put on here,” he said as Eve watched Trudy enter Roarke’s Midtown building. She crossed the acres of marble, passed animated screens, rivers of flowers, sparkling little pools, and moved straight to the information desk that handled the offices.
That suit, she noted, had been in the closet of the hotel room. Neatly hung. The shoes had been tucked in there, too. She hadn’t been wearing that outfit when she was beaten.
“Done her research,” Eve mused.“No fumbling around, no looking around to get her bearings.”
“She presses at information, as you see. ‘No, I’ve no appointment, but he’ll want to see me,’ and so on. Look confident, look friendly, and as though you belong. She’s very good.”
“She got upstairs, anyway.”
“They called through, got to Caro, who passed the request on to me. I had them make her wait a bit. I’m good as well. She doesn’t care for it, as you can see by the way her face tightens up, but she has a seat in one of the lobby waiting areas. Unless you want to watch her twiddle her thumbs for the next bit of time, you can move forward.”
Eve did, then slowed it down when a young woman approached Trudy.
“Caro, who knows the ropes, sent one of the assistants down to escort her up on one of the public elevators. Takes her round about, up to my level, through outer areas, down the skyway. A goodly hike, and when she arrives, well, she can wait a bit more. I’m a busy man, aren’t I?”
“She’s impressed,” Eve commented.“Who wouldn’t be? All that space, the glass, the art, the people at your beck and call. Good job.”
“Here you see Caro coming to get her at last, to walk her back. Then Caro goes out, shuts the doors, and we have our little chat.”
Eve ran the disc forward, marked the time elapsed at twelve minutes before Trudy came hurrying out.
And there was fear, Eve noted, a hint of wildness in the eyes, a jerkiness to the walk that was nearly a trot.
“She was a bit annoyed,” Roarke said with a wide, wide grin.
Eve said nothing, simply watched as Trudy was escorted down, and quickly made her way out of the building.
“Unharmed, as you see, and where she went from there, I couldn’t say.”
“She wasn’t afraid of her killer.” Eve’s gaze met his.“But she was afraid of you.”
He held up his hands, palms out.“Never laid a hand on her.”
“You don’t have to,” Eve replied.“But you’re clear. You had a record going inside your office. You would have.”
He lifted a shoulder.“And your point?”
“You didn’t offer that to Feeney, to the investigation.”
“It’s private.”
She took a careful breath.“And if it comes to a squeeze?”
“Then I’ll give it to you, and you can decide if it’s needed. I said nothing to her that I’m ashamed of, but it’s your privacy. It’s ours, and we’re bloody well entitled to it.”
“If it has weight in the investigation”
“It doesn’t. Damn it, Eve, take my word and let it go. Do you think I had her done, for Christ’s sake?”
“No. But I know you could have. I know a part of you could want that.”
“You’re wrong.” He braced his hands on the desk, leaned forward until their eyes were level. And his were cold as arctic ice.“If I’d wanted her done, I’d have given myself the pleasure of seeing to it personally. That’s who you married, and I’ve never pretended otherwise. It’s for you to deal with.”
He straightened, turned, started for the door.
“Roarke.”
When he glanced back, she had her fingers pressed to her eyes. It tugged at his heart even as temper and pride burned at his throat.
“I know who I married.” She lowered her hands, and her eyes were dark, but they were clear.“And you’re right, you’d have done it yourself. The fact that you could and would do that, for me the fact that you wouldn’t, didn’t do that, again for me, well, sometimes it’s a hell of a jolt.”
“I love you, beyond all reason. That’s a hell of a jolt for me as well.”
“She kept me afraid, the way I think a dog’s afraid of the boot that kicks him, again and again and again. It’s not even a human fear, it’s more primal, it’s more … sheer. I don’t know how to say it.”
“You have.”
“She played on that, she used that, kept me down in the fear until there was nothing but just getting through one day to the next. And she did it without the boot. She did it by twisting what was inside me until it was all there was. Until, I swear I’d have ended myself, just to get out.”
“But you ran instead. And got out, and did more than anyone could expect.”
“This, all this, makes me remember too well what it was like to be nothing but fear.” The fact that her breath shuddered out told her the memory was very close to the surface.“I have to see this through, Roarke. I have to end this the way I am now. I don’t think I can if you walk away from me.”
He came back, took her hand, gripped it.“I never walk very far.”
“Help me. Please? Will you help me?”
“What do you need?”
“I need to see the run from your office.” She tightened her hand on his.“It’s not mistrust of you. I need to get into her head. I need to know what she was thinking, feeling, when she left. It can’t have been many hours after that she got beat up. Where did she go, who did she go to? It might help me figure it out.”
“All right then, but it’s not going into the file. Your word on that first.”
“You’ve got it.”
He left her to go back into his office. When he returned, he handed her a fresh disc.“There’s audio as well.”
With a nod, she plugged it in. Looked and listened.
She knew him, the ins and outs of him, and still, his face, his tone even more than his words, made her belly jitter.
When the run ended, she took the disc out, gave it back to him.“It’s a wonder she didn’t piss herself and ruin your expensive chair and carpet.”
“Would’ve been worth it.”
Eve rose, paced around the room.“She had to be working with someone. But if it was Bobby … nothing I have on him clicks for this.
It takes a certain type to punch out your own mother. I don’t like him for it. Someone else.”
“She was an attractive enough woman. A lover, perhaps.”
“Logical, and lovers are notorious for using fists and weapons. So, she’s scared, scared bad, maybe wants to drop the whole thing and head back to Texas, and this pisses him off. She had a job to do, a part to play, and she didn’t pull it off. He slaps her around to remind her what’s at stake. When he comes to see her later, she’s whiny, she’s half-drunk. I want to go home. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to do this anymore. And he’s pissed again, and kills her.”
“Logical.”
Yeah, logical, she thought. But shook her head.“I don’t like it. She doesn’t give up that easy. Plus, while you scared her, he hurt her. Maybe she’s caught between the two fear and pain. But she’s not running from either. And why kill her?” She lifted her hands.“Wait until she’s calmed down. With her dead, you’ve got nothing.”
“He lost control.”
She brought the murder scene, the body, back into her head.“But he didn’t. Three blows. Three deliberate blows. He loses control, he’s drunk or juiced or just plain murderous, he beats the shit out of her, he smashes her face. He whales on her, but he doesn’t. He just bashes the back of her head, and leaves her.”
She rolled her shoulders.“I’m going to set up a board. I have to start putting this in order.”
“Well then, let’s have a meal first.”
9
SHE ATE BECAUSE HE’D NAG HER OTHERWISE.
And the mechanical act of fueling the body gave her more time to think. She had a glass of wine, nursing it throughout the meal. Small sips, like medicine taken reluctantly.
She left the wall screen on, data scrolling over. More pieces of the players she knew, or knew of, thus far. Trudy herself, and Bobby, Zana, and Bobby’s partner, Densil K. Easton.
Finances looked solid, if not spectacular, all around. Easton had attended the same college as Bobby, graduated with him. He was married, one offspring.
A knuckle rap for disorderly conduct his last year in college. Otherwise, no criminal.
Still, a good candidate if Trudy had a partner, or a lover. Who’d know the ins and outs of personal and professional data better than the son’s business partner?
Easy enough to get from Texas to New York. Tell the wife you’ve got to make a quick trip out of town, wheel a deal.
The killer had to be good with details. Remembering to take Trudy’s ‘link, bringing the weapon, or using something handy, then taking it along with him.
Quick temper, though, bashing a woman’s brains out with a couple of hard blows. But not rage.
Purpose.
And what was the purpose?
“Why don’t you talk it through,” Roarke suggested, tipped his glass toward her.“It might help.”
“Just circling around it. I need to see the body again, need to talk to Bobby and his wife again, check out this business partner, Densil Easton, get a line on if the vic had any lovers or tight friends. Sweepers didn’t find much. Plenty of prints. Vic’s, son’s, daughter-in-law’s, the maid’s. A couple of others that checked out as previous guests, back home and alibied at the time in question. No prints on the escape platform or ladder. Got blood there, and some smeared pigeon shit.”
“Lovely.”
“Little bit of blood in the drain, and I’m betting it’s the vic’s.”
“Meaning the killer didn’t wash up at the scene, and either wiped whatever he touched, or sealed up. So you’d say prepared.”
“Maybe prepared, maybe somebody who knows how to seize opportunity.” She was silent a long moment.“I don’t feel.”
“Don’t feel what?”
“What I’m used to feeling. They’re worried I can’t be objective because I knew her, but that’s not the problem. I don’t feel… I guess it’s a connection. I always feel some kind of connection. I knew her, and I don’t feel anything at all. I helped scrape two men off the sidewalk a few days ago.”
Tubbs Max Lawrence in his Santa suit and Leo Jacobs, husband and father.
“Their mothers wouldn’t have recognized them,” she continued.“I didn’t know them, but I felt… I felt pity and anger. You’re supposed to put that aside. It doesn’t help the victims, the investigation, that pity, that anger. But it does. If I can hold on to it, just enough of it to drive me on. But I don’t have it. I can’t hold what I don’t have.”
“Why should you?”
She looked up sharply.“Because”
“Because she’s dead? Death conveniently makes her worth your pity, your anger? Why? She preyed on you, an innocent and traumatized child. And how many others. Eve? Have you thought of that?”
Her throat burned. But it was his anger heating it, she realized. Not her own.“Yes. Yes, I’ve thought of that. And I’ve also thought that because I don’t feel, or can’t, I should’ve passed on this. And I can’t pass because if you can walk away, even once if you can just turn your back and walk, you’ve lost what made you.”
“Then use something else this time.” He reached over, just to brush his fingers over the back of her hand.“Your curiosity. Who, why, how? You want to know, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” She looked back at the screens.“Yeah, I want to know.”
“Then let that be enough this time. This one time.”
“I guess it’s going to have to be.”
 *
So she set up her board, reviewed her notes, compiled lists, checked data. When her office ‘link beeped, she checked the readout, glanced at Roarke.“It’s Bobby.”
She answered.“Dallas.”
“Um, sorry. I’m sorry to contact you at home, and so late. It’s Bobby Lombard.”
“Yeah, it’s all right. What’s the problem?”
Other than your mother being dead, she thought, and the fact that you look one thin step up from a ghost.
“I wanted to ask, if we can move. I mean, if we can get another hotel.” His hand lifted, raked through his short, sandy hair.“It’s hard it’s hard to be here, right down the hall from … It’s hard.”
“You got a place in mind?”
“I… no. I tried a couple of places. Things are booked. Christmas. But Zana said maybe we had to stay here, and I didn’t think of that, so I wanted to ask.”
“Hold on.” She put the ‘link on wait mode.“You saw the digs they were in. You got anything comparable to that, something that has a vacancy for a few days?”
“There’s always something.”
“Thanks.” She changed modes.“Listen, Bobby, I can have a place for you tomorrow. I need you to hang on there tonight, and I’ll have a new location for you in the morning.”
“That’s nice of you. It’s a lot of bother. I’m not thinking so clear right now.”
“You can hang on for tonight, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” He passed his hand over his eyes.“I don’t know what exactly we should do.”
“Just stay there. My partner and I will come by in the morning. About eight. We need to do a followup, and afterward you can relocate.”
“Okay. That’s good. Okay. Can you tell me if you know anything about… if you know anything more?”
“We’ll talk in the morning, Bobby.”
“Yeah.” His breath came out in a sigh.“In the morning. Thanks. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
When she disconnected, Roarke moved over behind her chair, laid his hands on her shoulders.“You have pity enough,” he said quietly.
 *
She thought she would dream, thought the nightmares would chase her in sleep, hunt her down. But they stayed shadows, never took form. Twice she woke, her body tight and tensed for the fight that didn’t come. In the morning, tired and edgy, she tried to combat the fatigue with a blistering shower, with strong coffee.
In the end, she picked up her shield, shouldered on her weapon.
She’d do the job, she told herself. If there was an empty place inside her, she’d just fill it with work.
Roarke walked in, already suited up for the day. Those staggering blue eyes alert, aware. Once all she’d had was the work, and those empty places.
Now she had him.
“I thought hell had frozen over during the night.” She took a slug out of her second mug of coffee.“Since you weren’t sitting here scanning the financials when I got up.”
“Did that in my office, so hell’s still a fiery pit, if that’s a comfort.” He tossed her a memo cube.“Took care of this from there as well. Midlevel, Big Apple Hotel. It should suit them.”
“Thanks.” She pushed it into her pocket as he cocked his head and studied her.
“You don’t look rested.”
“If I were a girl, a comment like that would piss me off. I think.”
Now he smiled, moved in to touch his lips to hers.“Lucky for both of us, then.” And he laid his cheek to hers, rubbed.“Nearly Christmas.”
“I know, seeing as the room smells like a forest from the big-ass tree you had hauled in here.”
He smiled at it over her shoulder.“You had a fine time hanging the baubles on the boughs, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, that was good. I had a better time banging your brains out under them.”
“That did put a nice finish on things.” He eased back, smoothed his thumbs under her eyes.“I don’t like seeing shadows there.”
“You bought the territory, Ace. They go with it.”
“I want a date with you, Lieutenant, seeing as our Sunday plans were aborted.”
“I thought dates went out with the I do’s. Isn’t that in the marriage rule book?”
“You didn’t read the fine print. Christmas Eve, barring emergencies. You and me, in the parlor. We’ll open our gifts, drink a great deal of Christmas cheer, and take turns banging each other’s brains out.”
“Will there be cookies?”
“Without a doubt.”
“I’m there. Gotta go.” She pushed the coffee into his hand.“Peabody’s meeting me at the crime scene.” Then she grabbed his hair, gave it a yank, and gave him a hard, noisy kiss.“See you.”
He was better than hot showers and real coffee for getting the system up and running, she decided. And she had one more thing left to top it off.
She jogged down the stairs, grabbed her coat from the newel post, and sent Summerset a wide, toothy smile as she swirled it on.“Figured out just what to get you for Christmas. A brand-new shiny stick for you to shove up your ass. The one you’ve had up there the past couple decades must be showing some wear.”
She strode out to her car with the smile still on her face. She had to admit, despite a shitty night’s sleep, she wasn’t feeling half bad.
 *
Peabody was stomping up and down in front of the hotel when Eve pulled up. The way she was eating up sidewalk told Eve she was either trying to walk off a few calories, cold which didn’t seem possible as she had some sort of long muffler deal wrapped about six times around her neck or seriously pissed.
It only took one look at her partner’s face to opt for door number three.
“What is that?” Eve demanded.
“What is what?”
“That thing that’s strangling you. Should I call pest control?”
“It’s a scarf. My grandmother wove it, sent it to me, and told me to open it now. So I did.”
Eve pursed her lips, studied the length of zigzagging reds and greens.“Festive.”
“It’s warm, and it’s pretty, and it’s the fricking season, isn’t it?”
“Last I checked. You want me to call that exterminator after all, for the bug crawling around in your ass, or are you getting a thrill out of it?”
“He’s such a jerk. He’s a total and complete asshole. What am I doing cohabbing with that moron?”
“Don’t ask me. Really,” Eve said holding up a hand.“Don’t ask me.”
“Is it my fault we’re in a budget crunch? It is not,” Peabody announced and jabbed a finger in Eve’s face.“Is it my fault his stupid family lives in stupid Scotland? I don’t think so. And so what if we spent a couple of measly days with my family at Thanksgiving?” The snaking scarf flew and billowed when Peabody threw up her hands.“They have the sense to live in the United States of America, don’t they? Don’t they?”
“I don’t know,” Eve said cautiously as Peabody’s eyes seemed to pinwheel with passion.“There’re a lot of them.”
“Well, they do! And I just mention, just casually mention, that maybe we should stick around home for Christmas. You know, seeing as it’s our first one as a couple and maybe, considering his attitude, our last. Stupid fuckhead. What are you looking at?” she demanded of a man who glanced her way as he walked by.“Yeah, keep walking. Dumbass man.”
“The dumbass man is an innocent bystander. One of those dumbasses we’re sworn to protect and serve.”
“All men are dumbasses. Every mother’s son. He said I was selfish! He said I wasn’t willing to share. Well, bullshit. Doesn’t he wear my earrings? Doesn’t he”
“If he wears anything else of yours, I really, really don’t want to know about it. We’re on the clock, Peabody.”
“Well, I’m not selfish, and I’m not being stupid. And if it’s so important to him to go roast his damn chestnuts in Scotland, then he can just go. Screw him. I don’t know those people.”
Tears swam now, and had Eve’s stomach going on alert.“No, no, no. No. There’s no crying on the job. No crying on the damn sidewalk in front of a crime scene.”
“His parents, and his family. And his cousin Sheila. You know how he’s always talking about her. I can’t just go over there. I still have five pounds to lose, and I haven’t finished doing this skin-care regimen that’s supposed to shrink my pores which are currently the circumference of moon craters. And by the time we pay for the flight, we’ll be tapped for a month. We should stay home. Why can’t we just stay home ?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe because you did the holiday thing with your half, and”
“But he knew my parents. Didn’t he?”
There were still tears threatening, Eve noted, but with the heat in those brown eyes, it was a wonder they didn’t turn to steam.
“Didn’t he meet my parents before that? He wasn’t going in cold. Besides, my family’s different.”
She knew it was a mistake to ask, but the words just popped out of Eve’s mouth.“How do you know?”
“Because they’re my family. And it’s not like I don’t want to meet his. Eventually. But I have to go to a foreign country, and eat I don’t know haggis or something. It’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, I bet the tofu surprise was a big winner over Thanksgiving.”
Peabody’s pinwheeling eyes went to lethal slits.“Whose side are you on ?”
“Nobody’s. I’m neutral. I’m what is it I’m Switzerland. Can we go to work now?”
“He slept on the couch,” Peabody said in a trembling voice.“And he was gone when I got up this morning.”
Eve heaved a huge sigh.“What time is his tour?”
“On at eight, same as me.”
Eve pulled out her communicator, contacted EDD.
“Don’t!” Now Peabody did the panic dance on the sidewalk.“I don’t want him to know I’m worried about him.”
“Shut up. Lieutenant Dallas, Sergeant. Has Detective McNab clocked in?” When she got an affirmative, she nodded.“Thanks, that’s it.” She clicked off.“There, he’s on the job. Like we should be.”
“Bastard.” Tears dried up in eyes gone hard. Her mouth tightened to the width of a scalpel blade.“Just strolls right in to work.”
“Jesus. Jesus Christ. My head. My head.” Eve cradled it in her hands a moment.“Okay. I was going to do this later.” She dug into her pocket, pulled out a small wrapped box.“Take it now.”
“My Christmas present? That’s nice. But I’m not really in the mood to”
“Open the goddamn thing or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
“Sir! Opening it.” She ripped the paper, stuffed it hurriedly in her pocket, and pulled off the lid.“It’s a key code.”
“That’s right. It’s to the ground transpo that’ll be at the airport over in that foreign country. Air transpo’s been arranged, for two, on one of Roarke’s private shuttles. Round trip. Merry fricking Christmas. Do what you want with it.”
“I you one of the shuttles? Free?” Peabody’s cheeks went pink as a summer rose.“And and and a vehicle when we get there? It’s so … It’s so seriously mag.”
“Great. Can we go now?”
“Dallas!”
“No. No. No hugs. No hugs. No. Oh, shit,” she muttered as Peabody threw her arms around her and squeezed.“We’re on duty, we’re in public. Let me go or I swear I’ll kick your ass so hard that extra five pounds you’re whining about will end up in Trenton.”
Peabody’s response was incoherent and muffled against Eve’s shoulder.“Get snot on my coat, and I’ll strangle you with that scarf after I kick your ass.”
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” Sniffling, Peabody drew back.“It’s the ult. Thanks. Man. Oh boy, thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“I guess I’ve got to go now.” Peabody stared down at the box.“I mean, the main part of the excuse reason. I meant reason. The main part’s flipped, so … Gosh.”
“Whatever.” She’d been feeling pretty good, Eve remembered. And now a frustration headache was circling just over the crown of her skull.“Do you think, maybe, we could go spend just a couple minutes on murder now? Will that fit into your schedule?”
“Yeah. I can shuffle it in. I’m good now. Thanks, Dallas. Really. Thanks. God, I have to go now. I actually have to go.”
“Peabody,” Eve said, darkly, as they entered the building.“Ice is thinning.”
“I’m nearly finished obsessing. Just another minute.”
The same droid manned the desk. Eve didn’t bother to flash her badge, but started up the steps as Peabody muttered to herself. Something about packing, a red sweater, and five pounds.
Ignoring her, Eve checked the seal on the crime scene, found it undisturbed, then continued down the hall.“Once they’re out of the room and gone, I want sweepers. Full sweep,” she added.“Cover the bases.”
She knocked, and seconds later Bobby opened the door. His face looked gaunt, as if grief had carved away some of the flesh. He smelled of soap, and indeed she could see the open bathroom doorway behind him, and the faint sheen of steam still on the mirror over the sink.
There was a murmur from the entertainment screen, as the on-air reporter recounted the morning’s headlines.
“Come in. Ah, come in. I thought you were Zana. That maybe she’d forgotten her key.”
“She’s not here?”
“She went out to get some coffee, some bagels and stuff. I thought she’d be back by now. We packed last night,” he said when Eve glanced at the two suitcases standing by the door.“We wanted to be ready to go. We just don’t want to stay here.”
“Why don’t we sit down, Bobby. We can get some of this out of the way before Zana gets back.”
“She should’ve been back by now. The message said she’d only be twenty minutes.”
“Message?”
“Um …” He looked around the room, one hand raking distractedly through his hair.“She set a message alarm for me. She does things like that. Said she woke up early and wanted to go down to this deli she’d seen a few blocks from here, get some stuff so you’d have coffee when you got here. I don’t like her being out there, alone. After what happened to Mama.”
“Probably a line at the deli, that’s all. She say which one?”
“I don’t remember.” But he went to the bed, picked up the little travel clock on the table, hit playback.
Morning, honey. Time to get up now. Your clothes for today are in the top drawer of the dresser, remember? I’m already up, don’t want to wake you. I know you didn’t sleep very well. I’m just running out to get some coffee and some bagels or danishes, something. Doesn’t feel right to have your friend coming by and not have anything to offer. I should’ve stocked the AutoChef before. Sorry, honey. I’ll be twenty minutes just running to that deli a couple blocks down. Or up. I can’t figure this city out. Deli Delish. I’ll have coffee for you when you get out of the shower. I love you, honey.
Noting the time on the stamp, Eve flicked Peabody a glance.
“Why don’t I walk out and meet her?” Peabody said.“Give her a hand.”
“Have a seat, Bobby,” Eve told him.“I have a few questions.”
“Okay.” He stared at the door Peabody closed behind her.“I shouldn’t worry. It’s just that she’s never been to New York. She probably turned the wrong way coming out, something like that. Got turned around, that’s all.”
“Peabody’ll find her. Bobby, how long have you known your partner?”
“D. K.? Since college.”
“So you’re tight on a personal level?”
“Yeah, sure. I was best man at his wedding, and he was at mine. Why?”
“He knew your mother then?”
“I had to tell him, had to call and tell him yesterday.” When his mouth trembled, Bobby firmed it.“He’s covering for me back home. Said he’d come out here if I needed him to. Don’t want him to do that. Christmas coming, and he’s got a family.” Bobby put his head in his hands.“Nothing he can do anyway. Nothing to do.”
“What kind of relationship did he have with your mother?”
“Careful.” When he lifted his head, he nearly mustered a smile.“Oil and water, you know?”
“Why don’t you explain it to me?”
“Well, D. K., he’s what you’d call a risk-taker. I never would’ve gone out on my own if he hadn’t nudged me. My mama, she could be a little critical of people. She didn’t think we’d make it in the business, but we’re doing okay.”
“They didn’t get along?”
“Mostly, D. K. and Marita stayed out of her way. Marita’s his wife.”
“Anyone else she didn’t get along with?”
“Well, I guess Mama wasn’t what you’d call a people person.”
“How about people she did get along with, people she was close to?”
“Me and Zana. Always used to tell me she didn’t need anybody but me, but she made room for Zana. She raised me on her own, you know. That was hard. She had to give up a lot to make sure I had a good home. I came first. She always told me I came first.”
“I know this is hard. How about her assets? She had the house, right?”
“It’s a good place. Can’t have a son in the business and not have a good property. She was pretty well set. Worked hard all her life, was careful with her money. Frugal.”
“You inherit.”
He looked blank.“I guess. We never talked about it.”
“How’d she get along with Zana?”
“Good. Things were a little rough at first. Mama I was all she had, and she wasn’t real happy about Zana right off. You know how mothers are.” He caught himself, colored.“Sorry, that was stupid.”
“No problem. She had a problem with you marrying Zana?”
“Just me getting married, I’d say. But Zana won her over. They get got along fine.”
“Bobby, were you aware that your mother went to see my husband on Friday afternoon?”
“Your husband? What for?”
“She wanted money. A lot of money.”
He simply stared, shook his head slowly side to side.“That can’t be right.”
He didn’t look shocked, she noted. He simply looked baffled.“Do you know who I’m married to?”
“Yeah, sure. There were all those media reports after the cloning scandal. I couldn’t believe it was you, right up on the screen. I didn’t even remember you at first. It’s been a long time. But Mama did. She”
“Bobby, your mother came to New York for a reason. She wanted to contact me again because I happen to be married to a man who has a lot of money. She wanted some of it.”
His face remained blank, his voice slow and careful.“That’s just not true. That’s just not.”
“It is true, and it’s very likely she had an associate, and that associate killed her when there was no money given. Bet you could use a couple million dollars, Bobby.”
“A couple million … You think I did that to Mama?” He got shakily to his feet.“That I’d hurt my own mother? A couple million dollars.” His hands went to the sides of his head, squeezed.“This is crazy talk. I don’t know why you’d say things like that. Somebody broke in, came in through the window, and killed my mother. He left her lying on the floor in there. You think I could do that to my own blood? To my own mother?”
She stayed where she was, kept her tone just as brisk, just as firm.“I don’t think anyone broke in, Bobby. I think they came in. I think she knew them. She had other injuries, injuries she sustained hours before her death.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The facial wounds, bruising elsewhere on her person, all were inflicted sometime Friday night. Injuries you claim you knew nothing about.”
“I didn’t. It can’t be.” The words hitched and jumped out of his mouth.“She’d have told me if she was hurt. She’d have told me if somebody hurt her. For God’s sake, this is just crazy.”
“Someone did hurt her. Several hours after she left my husband’s office, where she attempted to shake him down for two million. She left empty-handed. That tells me she was working with someone, and that someone was seriously pissed off. She walked into Roarke’s office and wanted two million to go back to Texas and leave me alone. It’s on record, Bobby.”
There was no color left in his face.“Maybe … maybe she asked for a loan. Maybe she wanted to help me out, with the business. Zana and I are talking about maybe starting a family. Maybe Mama … I don’t understand any of this. You’re making it sound like Mama was was
“I’m giving you the facts, Bobby.” Cruelly, she thought, but the cruelty could take him off the suspect list.“I’m asking who she trusted enough, cared for enough to work with on this. The only ones you’re coming up with are you and your wife.”
“Me and Zana? You think one of us could’ve killed her? Could’ve left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room? Over money? Over money that wasn’t even there? Over anything?” he said and sank back onto the side of the bed.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because someone left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room, Bobby. And I think it was over money.”
“Maybe your husband did it.” His head shot up, and his eyes were fierce now.“Maybe he killed my mother.”
“Do you think I’d be telling you any of this if there was a chance of that? If I wasn’t absolutely sure, if the facts weren’t rock solid on his side, what do you think I’d do? Open window, escape platform. Unknown intruder, botched breakin. Sorry for your loss, and that’s that. Look at me.”
She waited until he took a good long look at her face.“I could do that, Bobby. I’m a cop. I’ve got rank, I’ve got respect. I could close the door on this so nobody’d look back. But what I’m going to do is find out who killed your mother and left her lying on that floor. You can count on it.”
“Why? Why do you care? You ran away from her. You took off when she was doing her best by you. You”
“You know better, Bobby.” She kept her voice low, kept it even.“You know better. You were there.”
He lowered his gaze.“She had a hard time, that’s all. It was hard raising a kid on her own, trying to make ends meet.”
“Maybe. I’ll tell you why I’m doing this, Bobby. I’m doing it for me, and maybe I’m doing it for you. For the kid who snuck me food. But I’ll tell you, if I find out you’re the one who killed her, I’ll lock you in a cage.”
He straightened; he cleared his throat. His face, his voice, were very set now.“I didn’t kill my mother. I never once in my life raised a hand to her. Never once in my life. If she came for money, it was wrong. It was wrong, but she was doing it for me. I wish she’d told me. Or or somebody made her do it. Somebody threatened her, or me, or”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” His voice cracked and shattered.“I don’t know.”
“Who knew you were coming to New York?”
“D. K., Marita, the people who work for us, some of the clients. God, the neighbors. We didn’t keep it a secret, for God’s sake.”
“Make a list of everyone you can think of. We’ll work from there.” She rose when the door opened.
Peabody came in all but carrying a pale and shaking Zana.
“Zana. Honey.” Bobby sprang off the bed, leaped to his wife’s side, caught her in his arms.“What happened?”
“I don’t know. A man. I don’t know.” Sobbing now, she threw her arms around Bobby’s neck.“Oh, Bobby.”
“Found her a block east,” Peabody told Eve.“Looked lost, shaken up. She said a man grabbed her, forced her into a building.”
“My God, Zana, honey. Did he hurt you?”
“He had a knife. He said he’d cut me if I screamed or tried to run. I was so scared. I said he could have my purse. I told him to take it.
“I don’t know. I don’t think … Oh, Bobby, he said he killed your mama.”
Eve waded through the next flood of tears, muscled Zana away from Bobby.“Sit down. Stop crying. You’re not hurt.”
“I think he” With a trembling hand, she reached down the small of her back.
“Take off the coat.” Eve noted the small hole in the red cloth, and the tear in the sweater Zana wore under it. There were a few spots of blood.“Superficial,” Eve said, then pulled up the sweater, examined the shallow cut.
“He stabbed you?” Horrified, Bobby slapped at Eve’s hands to get a look for himself.
“It’s a scratch,” Eve said.
“I don’t feel very well.”
When Zana’s eyes started to roll back, Eve grabbed her and shook.“You’re not going to faint. You’re going to sit down, and you’re going to tell me what happened.” She pushed Zana into a chair, then shoved the woman’s head between her knees. The thin silver dangles at her ears swung like bell clappers.
“Breathe. Peabody.”
“On it.” Already prepared, Peabody came out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth.“It really is a scratch,” she said gently to Bobby.“A little antiseptic wouldn’t hurt.”
“In my travel kit. It’s already packed.” Zana’s voice was weak and wavery.“In my little travel kit in the suitcase. God, can we go home? Can’t we just go home?”
“You’re going to make a statement. On record,” Eve said and showed Zana the recorder.“You got up, went out to get coffee.”
“I feel a little sick to my stomach.”
“No, you don’t,” Eve said brutally.“You left the hotel.”
“I… I wanted to be able to offer you something when you got here. And Bobby’s hardly eaten a thing since … I thought I’d just run out, pick up a few things before he woke up. We didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Okay, you went downstairs.”
“I went down, and I said good morning to the desk clerk. I know he’s a droid, but still. And I went outside. It looked like a nice day, cool though. So I started buttoning up my coat as I walked. Then … he was just there. He had his arm around me so fast, and I could feel the point of the knife. He said if I screamed he’d ram it right into me. Just to walk, keep walking, look down, down at my feet and keep walking. I was so scared. Can I have some water?”
“I’ll get it.” Peabody moved into the kitchenette.
“He walked really fast, and I was afraid I’d trip. Then he’d kill me right there.” Her eyes went glassy again.
“Focus. Concentrate,” Eve snapped.“What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Zana shivered, hugged herself.“I said, ‘You can have my purse.’ But he didn’t say anything. I was afraid to look up. I thought maybe I should run, but he was strong, and I was too afraid. Then he pushed open this door. It was a bar, I think. It was dark and there was nobody there, but it smelled like a bar, you know. Thank you.”
She took the water in both hands, and still it slopped over the rim as she brought it to her lips.“I can’t stop shaking. I thought he was going to rape me and kill me, and I couldn’t do anything. But he told me to sit down, so I did, and keep my hands on the table, so I did. He said he wanted the money, and I told him to take my purse. Just take it. He said he wanted the full two million, or he’d do to me what he did to Trudy. But he’d cut me up so nobody’d even recognize me when he was finished.”
Tears streamed down her face, sparkled on her lashes.“I said, ‘You killed Mama Tru, you killed her?’ He said he’d do worse to me, and to Bobby, if we didn’t get him the money. Two million dollars. We don’t have two million dollars, Bobby. I told him, my God, where are we going to get that kind of money? He said, ‘Ask the cop.’ And he gave me what he said was a numbered account. He made me say it back, over and over, and said if I screwed it up, if I forgot the number, he’d come find me, and he’d carve it into my ass. That’s what he said. 505748711094463. 505748711094463. 505”
“Okay, we got it. Keep going.”
“He said for me to just sit there. ‘You sit there, little bitch,’ that’s what he said.” She swiped at her wet cheeks.” ‘You sit there for fifteen minutes. You come out before then, I’ll kill you.’ And he left me there. I just sat there in the dark. Afraid to get up, afraid he’d come back. I just sat until the time was up. I didn’t know where I was when I came out. I was all turned around. It was so noisy. I started to run, but my legs wouldn’t run, and I couldn’t find my way back. Then the detective came, and she helped me.
“I left my purse. I must’ve left my purse. Or maybe he took it. I didn’t get the coffee.”
She dissolved into tears again. Eve gave her a full minute of them, then pushed.“What did he look like, Zana?”
“I don’t know. Not really. I hardly got a look. He was wearing a hat, like a ski hat, and sunshades. He was tall. I think. He had on black jeans and black boots. I kept looking down, like he said, and I saw his boots. They had laces, and they were scuffed at the toes. I kept looking at his boots. He had big feet.”
“How big?”
“Bigger than Bobby’s. A little bit bigger, I think.”
“What color was his skin?”
“I hardly saw. White, I think. He wore black gloves. But I think he was white. I only got a glimpse, and when he took me inside, it was dark. He stayed behind me the whole time, and it was dark.”
“Facial hair, any scars, marks, tattoos?”
“I didn’t see any.”
“His voice? Any accent?”
“He talked down in his throat, low down. I don’t know.” She looked piteously at Bobby.“I was so scared.”
Eve pressed a little more, but the details were getting hazier.
“I’m going to have you escorted to your new location, and I’m going to put a uniformed guard on you. If you remember anything else, however slight, I want you to contact me.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Why would he kill Mama Tru? Why would he think we could give him so much money ?”
Eve looked over at Bobby. Then she signalled for Peabody to arrange for the escort.“Bobby will tell you what we know.”
10
TO EXPEDITE THE TRANSFER, EVE PERSONALLY escorted Bobby and Zana to their new location. She assigned two uniforms to canvass for the location Zana said she’d been taken, fanning out in a four-block radius from the original hotel. Rather than search the vacated room herself, she left it to Peabody and the sweepers before heading to the morgue.
At her request, Morris had Trudy waiting.
Nothing, Eve thought as she looked down at the body. There was still nothing inside her. No pity, no anger.
“What can you tell me?” Eve asked.
“Facial and bodily injuries sustained twenty-four to thirty-six hours before the head wounds. We’ll get to them shortly.” Morris handed her a pair of microgoggles, gestured.“Have a look here.”
She stepped to the slab with him, bent to study the fatal injuries.
“Some ridges. And these circular or half-circular patterns.”
“Good eye. Now let me bump it up for you.” He brought the section of the skull onto his screen, magnified.
Eve shoved the goggles to the top of her head.“You said you found fibers in the head wound.”
“Waiting for the labs on that.”
“These patterns. Could be credits. Cloth sap filled with credits. Old-fashioned and dependable. You’ve got ridges, possibly from the edges, then those more circular shapes. Yeah, could be credits. Lots of them from the weight it would take to crush the skull.”
She put the goggles back on, reexamined the wounds.“Three blows maybe. The first at the base they’d be standing, vie with her back to the killer. Goes down, second blow comes from above you’ve got more punch there, more velocity. And the third …”
She stepped back, shoving the goggles back up.“One,” she said, miming a two-handed swing from her right and down.“Two.” Overhead, this time and down.“And three.” Swinging, still two-handed, from the left.
She nodded.“Fits the spatter pattern. If the sap was cloth a bag, a sock, a small pouch you could get those imprints. No defensive wounds, so she didn’t put up a fight. Taken by surprise. From behind, so she’s not afraid. If the killer had another weapon a knife, a stunner to force her to turn around why not use it? And it’d be a quiet murder. First blow takes the vie down, she wouldn’t have time to scream.”
“Simple, and straightforward.” Morris set his own goggles down.“Let’s go back, review our previous program.”
With his sealed fingers, he tapped some icons on his diagnostic comp. He wore his long, dark hair in a braid today, and the braid curled up in a loop at the nape of his neck. His suit was a deep, conservative navy, until you added the pencil-thin stripes of showy red.
“Here’s our facial wound. Let’s enhance it a bit.”
“Similar ridged pattern. Same weapon.”
“And the same on the abdomen, torso, thighs, left hip. But something interests me here. Look closely at the facial wound again.”
“I’d say the attacker was close in.” She paused, puzzled.“From the bruising, the angle, it looks like an uppercut.” She turned to Morris, swung up toward his face, and had him blink and jerk his head back a fraction as her fist stopped a hairsbreadth from his skin.
“Let’s use the program, shall we?”
She couldn’t quite stop the grin.“I wouldn’t have tapped you.”
“Regardless.” He moved back to the screen, cautiously keeping it between them. He pulled up his program, showing two figures.“Now, you see the angles and movements of the attacker, programmed to recreate the injuries we see. The facial injury indicates a left-handed blow, uppercut, as you said. It’s awkward.”
Eve frowned as she watched the screen.“Nobody hits like that. If it’s a leftie coming at her that way, he’d’ve swung out, caught her here.” She flicked fingers on her own cheekbone.“If he swung up, he should’ve caught her lower. Maybe right-handed, and he … no.”
She turned from the screen and back to the body.“With a fist, maybe, maybe you get bruising like that. But with a sap, you’ve got to swing it, even close in, you’ve got to lead with it.”
Her brows drew together, and her eyes narrowed. Then she lifted them to Morris.“Well, for Christ’s sake. She did it to herself?”
“I ran that, and got a probability in the mid-nineties. Have a look.” He brought up the next program.“One figure, a two-handed swing, right taking the weight, cross-body to the face.”
“Sick bitch,” Eve said under her breath.
“And a motivated one. The angles of the other injuries save the head could all be self-inflicted. Probability hits 99.8, when we factor in the facial injuries as self.”
She had to wipe away previous theories, get her head around the self-inflicted.“No defensive wounds, no sign she struggled or was restrained.”
While her mind whirled, Eve put the goggles on yet again, moved back to examine every inch of the body.“The bruising on the knees, the elbows?”
“Consistent with a fall, timing coordinates with the head wounds.”
“Okay, okay. Somebody clocks you in the face like this, comes at you to beat on you some more, you run, or you fall, you put your hands up to try to ward them off. Should be bruising on her forearms at least. But there isn’t, because she’s beating on herself. Nothing under her nails?”
“Now that you mention it…” Morris smiled.“A couple of fibers, under the index and ring fingers of her right hand, under the index of her left.”
“They’re going to be the same as what you found in the head wound.” Eve closed her right fist.“Digs into the cloth, gets her courage up. Crazy bitch.”
“Dallas, you said you knew her. Why would she do this?”
Eve tossed the goggles aside. She’d found her anger now, and it soaked into her bones.“So she could say someone else did. Me, maybe Roarke. Maybe go to the media with it,” she said as she began to pace.“No, no, you’re not going to get big fat piles of money that way. Attention, sure, and some dough, but not a bakery full. Blackmail. Figured she could go back on us. Pay up, or I go public, show people how you hurt me. But it turned back on her. Whoever she was working with decided they didn’t need her anymore. Or she got greedy, tried to cut them out.”
“Takes some brass ones to try to blackmail a cop like you, or a man like Roarke.” He looked back at the body.“Takes some sick need to do this to yourself for money.”
“Got paid back, didn’t she?” Eve said quietly.“All the way back.”
 *
Peabody took a detour. Dallas would roast her if she got wind, but she didn’t intend to be long. Besides, the sweepers hadn’t found anything so far in the rooms vacated.
She wasn’t even sure McNab would be in-house. He could be out in the field for all she knew. Since he hadn’t bothered to leave her a message. Men were such pains in the ass, she wondered why she bothered to keep one. She’d been doing okay solo. It wasn’t as if she’d gone out looking for somebody like Ian McNab. Who would?
Now she was cohabbing, with a lease in both their names. They’d bought a new bed together a really uptown gel. And that made it theirs instead others, didn’t it? Which she hadn’t thought about until now. Which she wouldn’t have to think about now, except he’d been such a complete dick.
And technically, he’d been the one to walk out, so he should be the one to make the first move. She hesitated, nearly jumped off the glide. But the box Dallas had given her was burning a hole in her pocket and the idea that maybe she’d been partly to blame was burning one in her gut.
Probably just indigestion. She shouldn’t have grabbed that soy dog on the corner.
She stalked into EDD, her chin jutted up. There he was, in his cube. How could you miss him when even in the rainbow hues of the division his green zip pants and yellow shirt vibrated.
She sniffed, then stomped over to jab him sharply on the shoulder twice.“I need to talk to you.”
His eyes, cool and green, flicked to her face, away again.“Busy here.”
The back of her neck sizzled at the dismissal.“Five minutes,” she said between her teeth.“Private.”
He shoved back from his station, swiveled around fast enough to make his long tail of blond hair swing. He gave a jerk of the shoulder to indicate she should follow him, then strode off on his shiny yellow airboots.
Color, from anger and from embarrassment, rode her cheeks as she wove through the clicks and clacks of EDD. The fact that no one paused long enough to hail her or send her a wave told her McNab hadn’t kept their situation to himself.
Well, neither had she. So what?
He opened the door to a small break room where two detectives were arguing in the incomprehensible terms of e-geeks. McNab simply jerked a thumb toward the door.“Need five.”
The detectives took their argument and a couple of cherry fizzies out the door. One paused long enough to glance back at Peabody with a look of sympathetic understanding.
Of course, Peabody thought, the look came from a female.
McNab got himself a lime fizzy, probably color-coordinating his outfit, Peabody thought nastily. She closed the door herself as he leaned back against the short counter.
“I’ve got something cooking, so make it fast,” he told her.
“Oh, I’ll make it fast. You’re not the only one who’s got something cooking. If you hadn’t snuck out of the apartment this morning, we could’ve dealt with some of this before shift.”
“I didn’t sneak.” He took a long drink, eyeing her over the neon tube.“Not my fault you sleep like a corpse. Plus, I didn’t feel like slamming up against your attitude first thing in the morning.”
“My attitude?” Her voice came out in a squeak that would have mortified her if she’d noticed it.“You’re the one who said I was selfish. You’re the one who said I didn’t care.”
“I know what I said. So if this is just a replay”
Peabody planted her feet. For once she was happy to know she outweighed him.“You make a move to that door before I’m done, I’ll flatten your bony ass.”
Now temper flashed in his eyes.“Say what you’ve got to say, then. Odds are it’ll be more than you’ve had to say to me for the past week.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You’ve always got something to do.” He slammed down his drink, and true to its name, lime-colored liquid fizzed over the lip.“Always got something going. Every time I try to talk to you, it’s ‘We’ll get into it later.’ You’re going to dump a guy, you could have the decency to wait until after the holidays. Wouldn’t fucking kill you.”
“What? What? Dump you? Have you lost what little brainpower you had?”
“You’ve been avoiding me. Coming in late, heading out early, every damn day.”
“I’ve been Christmas shopping, you moron.” She threw her hands in the air as her voice pitched toward a shout.“I’ve been going to the gym. And I’ve been up at Mavis and Leonardo’s because … I can’t tell you why. And if I’ve been avoiding you, it’s because all you want to talk about is going to Scotland.”
“We’ve only got a couple of days left to”
“I know, I know.” She slapped her hands to her head and squeezed.
“I’ve got a line on some side work I can do, help pay for it. I just want to … You weren’t going to dump me?”
“No, but I should. I should dump you right on your pointy head and save myself all this aggravation.” She dropped her hands, sighed.“Maybe I was avoiding you because I didn’t want to talk about going to Scotland.”
“You always said you wanted to go one day.”
“I know what I said, but that’s when I didn’t think we’d ever go. Now you’re pinning me to it, and I’m nervous. No, not nervous. Terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of meeting your family all at once. Of being the one you bring home for Christmas, for God’s sake.”
“Jesus, Peabody, who the hell do you want me to bring home for Christmas?”
“Me, you idiot. But when you bring somebody home for Christmas, it’s a big. It’s a real big. They’re all going to be looking at me and asking me questions, and I can’t lose a stupid goddamn five pounds, because I’m nervous, so I eat. And I figured if we could just stay home I wouldn’t have to worry about it until whenever.”
He just stared at her in the baffled way men had stared at women across the ages.“You took me home for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s different. It is,” she said before he could object.“You’d already met my parents, and we’re Free-Agers. We feed anybody and everybody on Thanksgiving. I feel fat and clunky, and they’re going to hate me.”
“Dee.” He only called her Dee when he was particularly tender, or especially exasperated. This, from his tone, seemed to be some of both.“It is a real big to take someone home for Christmas. You’re the first I have.”
“Oh, God. That just makes it worse. Or better. I don’t know which.” She swallowed, pressed a hand to her belly.“I think I feel sick.”
“They’re not going to hate you. They’re going to love you because I do. I love you, She-Body.” He gave her the smile, the one that made her think of little puppy dogs.“Please come home with me. I’ve been waiting a long time to show you off.”
“Oh, wow. Oh, boy.” Sentimental tears sprang to her eyes as she jumped him. His hands clamped on her ass.
“I’ve got to lock the door,” he muttered as he bit cheerfully at her ear.
“Everybody’ll know what we’re doing.”
“I love being the object of envy. Mmm, I missed you. Let me just”
“Wait, wait!” She shoved back, dug into her pocket.“I forgot. God. It’s our present from Dallas and Roarke.”
“I’d rather have one from you right now.”
“Look. You’ve got to look. They’re giving us the trip,” she said as she opened the box, showed him the cards inside.“Private shuttle, ground transpo. The works.”
Since his hands dropped off her ass, she figured he was as stunned as she’d been.“Holy shit.”
“All we have to do is pack,” she said with a watery smile.“You don’t have to take the side job, unless you want it. I’m sorry I was such a freak about this. I love you, too.”
She threw her arms around him, locked lips. Then eased back with a wicked wiggle of eyebrows.“I’ll lock the door.”
 *
Minutes after Eve stepped into her office to coordinate her next move, Peabody rushed in.
“I’ve got the initial sweeper’s report on the room the Lombards vacated nothing,” Peabody said hurriedly.“Canvassing cops found the bar one block east, two south of the hotel. Door was unlocked. Zana’s purse was inside on the floor. I have a team heading there now.”
“You’ve been busy,” Eve said.“How did you manage to fit in sex?”
“Sex? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I bet you want coffee.” She darted to the AutoChef, then whirled back.“How do you know I had sex? Do you have sex radar?”
“Your shirt’s not buttoned right, and you’ve got a fresh hickey on your neck.”
“Damn it.” Peabody slapped a hand to the side of her neck.“How bad is it? Why don’t you have a mirror in here?”
“Because, let’s see, could it be because it’s an office? You’re a disgrace. Go do something about yourself before the commander” Her interoffice ‘link beeped.“Too late. Step back. Step the hell back so you’re not onscreen. Christ.”
Her head might have dropped in shame as she eased out of range, but a smile tugged at Peabody’s mouth.“We made up.”
“Can it. Dallas.”
“Commander Whitney would like to see you in his office, immediately.”
“On my way.” She clicked off.“Give me the salient, make it fast.”
“I’ll come. I just need to”
“Give me the salient, Detective. Then write your report.”
“Sir. The sweepers found no evidence in the rooms vacated by Bobby and Zana to tie them to the murder under investigation. Zana Lombard’s handbag was located by canvassing officers inside a bar called Hidey Hole on Ninth between Thirty-nine and Forty. The officers entered the premises when it was noted that the security was off, and the lock disengaged. The officers sealed the building, and sweepers are responding.”
“Name of the owner of the bar, the owner of the building.”
“I intended to obtain that information after bringing you up to date.”
“Do it now. Run the names. I want the data and your written report within thirty.”
Eve let the steam of temper carry her out of her office, through the bull pen, into the elevator, where for once she didn’t have to use her elbows to maintain a little personal space.
Good thing, she decided. She might’ve broken some asshole’s ribs.
Then she shut it down, turned it off. She would show Whitney nothing but control and professionalism. She’d use them, and whatever else she needed, to keep the case.
He was waiting, sitting back in his chair behind his desk. His wide, dark face showed no more than hers what was inside his head. His hair was salt and pepper, with the salt liberally dashed. There were lines carved in his face, around the eyes, around the mouth, etched there by time and, she was sure, the burden of command.
“Lieutenant, you’ve named yourself as primary in a homicide investigation that is now in its second day, and this office has not been so informed by you.”
“Sir, the investigation came into my hands yesterday morning. Sunday morning, sir, when both of us were off duty.”
He acknowledged that with a slight dip of his head.“Yet you took charge of this matter while off duty, utilizing departmental personnel, and equipment, neglecting to inform your superior.”
No point in bullshit, she decided.“Yes, sir, I did. I believed the circumstances warranted my actions, and am fully prepared to report said circumstances and actions at this time.”
He lifted a hand.“In the ‘better-late-than-never’ category?”
“No, sir. In the ‘immediate-need-to-secure-the-scene-and-gather-evidence’ category. Respectfully, Commander.”
“The victim was known to you.”
“She was. I haven’t seen or had contact with the victim for over twenty years until two days before her death, when she came to my office.”
“You’re entering a boggy area, Dallas.”
“I don’t believe so, sir. I knew the victim briefly when I was a child. Therefore”
“You were under her care for several months when you were a child,” he corrected.
Okay, she thought, screw it.“The term ‘care’ is inaccurate, as she gave none. I would have passed her on the street without recognizing her. There would have been no further contact between us after her visit to me this past Thursday if she had not gone to my husband’s office the following day and attempted to shake him down for two million dollars.”
His eyebrows winged up.“And this is not boggy territory?”
“He showed her the door. Captain Feeney has the security discs from Roarke’s office, was requested to retrieve them by Roarke in order to aid this investigation. She left the same way she came in.”
“Sit down, Dallas.”
“Sir, I’d do better standing. I went to her hotel room Sunday morning as I felt it necessary to speak with her, to make it clear that she would not blackmail or extort funds from Roarke or myself. That neither of us were concerned regarding her threat to go to the media or the authorities with copies she claimed to have of my sealed files. At that time”
“Did she have copies?”
“Very likely. None were found at the scene, though a disc holder was recovered. The probability is high that whoever killed her now has possession of them.”
“Dr. Mira has spoken to me. She came to see me this morning, as you should have done.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She believes that you’re capable of handling this investigation, and further that it’s in your best interest to do so.” His chair creaked as he shifted his weight.“I’ve also just spoken with the ME, so I’m not completely in the dark regarding this case. Before you give me your report, I want to know why you didn’t come to me. I want it straight, Dallas.”
“I felt I would be in a better position to continue as primary if the investigation was ongoing. My objectivity on the matter would be less likely called into question.”
He said nothing for a long moment.“You could have come to me. Report.”
He’d shaken her, and she had to struggle not to fumble, to take him through clearly from her first contact with the victim to the data Peabody had just given her.
“She self-inflicted in order to bolster her plan for blackmail. Would that be your opinion?”
“It would, given the ME’s findings and the current evidence.”
“Her partner or accomplice kills her, abducts the daughter-in-law, and through her continues the demand for money, using the threat of exposure of your sealed files.”
“I don’t believe the killer would be aware that both Roarke and I were in the company of the chief of police and security, and yourself, sir, when the murder took place. It’s possible implicating one or both of us is part of the plan at this point.”
“It was a good party.” He smiled a little.“The numbered account is being traced?”
“Captain Feeney is taking that. With permission, I’d like Roarke to assist in that area.”
“I’m surprised he isn’t already.”
“I haven’t brought him fully up to date. It’s been a busy morning, Commander.”
“It’s going to get busier. It’d be a mistake to keep your connection to the victim undercover. It’ll come out. Better if you bring it out. Use Nadine.”
Eve thought of her media connection. She’d hoped for more breathing room there, but he was right. Get it done, get it out. Get it spun.“I’ll contact her right away.”
“And the media liaison. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
She started toward the door, stopped, and turned back.“Commander Whitney, I apologize for keeping you out of the loop. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.”
She walked out unsure if she’d been given a supportive pat on the back or a rap across the knuckles. Probably both, she decided, as she headed back to Homicide.
Peabody popped up from her desk in the bullpen the minute Eve strode in, and trotted behind her into her office.
“I have the data you requested, Lieutenant, and my report.”
“Good. I don’t have coffee.”
“That abhorrent oversight will be corrected immediately, sir.”
“If you’re going to lick my boots, Peabody, try to be subtle about it.”
“Was my tongue hanging out that far? I deserved the slap I won’t say it wasn’t worth it, but I deserved it. McNab and I cleared the air, and straightened stuff out. He thought I was dumping him. Stupid idiot.”
It was said with such affection, almost sung, that Eve just dropped her head in her hands.“If you want to wiggle out of another kick in the ass, spare me the details.”
“Sorry. Coffee, sir, just the way you like it. Would you like me to get you something from vending? My treat.”
Eve lifted her head, slanted her eyes over toward Peabody.“Just how long were the two of you banging? No, no, I don’t want to know. Just get me whatever, then contact Nadine. Tell her I need a meet.”
“On that.”
As Peabody scooted out, Eve tried Roarke on his personal ‘link. She dragged a hand through her hair as she was transferred to voice mail.
“Sorry to bump into your day. There are some complications. Get back to me when you get the chance.”
She shrugged her shoulders, hissed, then contacted the dreaded media liaison. With that duty done, she plugged in Peabody’s data disc, began the scan as her partner came back.
“I got you a Go Bar, tide you over. Nadine’s up for a meet in fact, she said she had stuff to talk to you about, and wanted lunch.”
“Lunch? Why can’t she just come here?”
“She’s juiced about something, Dallas. Wants you to meet her at Scentsational, at noon.”
“Where?”
“Oh, it’s a real hot spot. She must be able to pull fat strings to get a reservation. I’ve got the address. She asked me to come, too, so …”
“Sure, sure. Why the hell not. Just us freaking girls.”
11
THOUGH THE SWEEPER’S REPORT ON HIDEY HOLE told her the locks and security had been tampered with, Eve went to the scene herself and met with the owner.
His name was Roy Chancey, and he was just as pissed to be hauled out of bed as he was with the breakin.
“Probably kids. Mostly is.” He scratched the paunch of his belly, yawned, and gave her a good whiff of breath that had yet to be refreshed.
“No, it wasn’t kids. Give me your whereabouts between seven and nine this morning.”
“In my Christing bed, where d’ya think? Don’t close ‘til three. Time I get locked up and hit the sheets, it’s damn near four. I sleep days. Nothing out there but sun and traffic days anyway.”
“You live upstairs.”
” ‘S’right. Got a dance studio second floor, apartments on three and four.”
“Alone? You live alone, Chancey?”
” ‘S’right. Look, why’d I wanna break into my own place?”
“Good question. Do you know this woman?” She showed him Trudy’s ID photo.
She gave him credit for taking a good look. Cops and bartenders, Eve thought. They knew how to make people.
“Nope. She the one got pulled in here?”
“Nope. She’s the one got dead a couple days ago.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” His rheumy eyes finally showed some life.“Nobody got dead in my place. Some might mix it up a little now and then, but nobody gets dead.”
“How about this one? You know her?” She offered Zana’s ID.
“No. Jesus, she dead, too? What’s the deal?”
“What time does the dance studio open?”
“Like eight. Closed on Monday, though, thank Christ. Nothing but noise otherwise.”
 *
“He’s not in it,” Peabody said when they stepped outside.
“Nope.” On the street, Eve studied the building, the ground-level door, the exterior.“Easy enough to pick out. Locks were crappy, security crappier. Minimal skill required to get in.”
She scanned the pedestrian and street traffic.“Midlevel risk to get her in. Guy quick-walking with a woman, her head’s down. Who pays attention? She’d drummed up a little spine, makes some noise, resists, maybe she shakes him off.”
“Small-town girl, big city, dead mother-in-law.” Peabody shrugged.“Not surprising she went along, especially when he gave her that little stick.”
“Sloppy, though, whole thing’s sloppy. Stupid on top of sloppy. And you’re hitting for two million when, as far as you know, the well’s a hell of a lot deeper. Chump change.”
“You’re jaded.”
“Yeah, so?”
“No, I mean about money, if you can call two mil chump change.”
“I am not.” The insult went deep.“You’re in for two, then you get bloody. Stakes go up when there’s blood, and you ask for more. Smalltime, it’s small-time. Has to be another reason he took Trudy out.”
“Lover’s quarrel, maybe. No honor among thieves. Maybe she was trying to cut him out.”
“Yeah, greed always works.”
Her ‘link beeped on the way to the car.“Dallas.”
“Complications?” Roarke said.
“A few.” She filled him in.“You’re on for ECC status if you want and can fit it in.”
“I’ve a few things to deal with I’d rather not shift, but I’ll touch base with Feeney. I should be able to work on it a bit at home this evening. In the company of my lovely wife.”
Eve’s shoulders automatically hunched together, particularly when she noted Peabody looking her way with fluttering eyelashes.“My day’s pretty packed. I’m going to go by the lab now… No, shit, meet first, then lab. Gotta do some media spinning, so I’m tagging Nadine. Appreciate the assist if you manage it.”
“Not a problem. Squeeze some food into your schedule.”
“I’m having lunch with Nadine at some stupid place.”
“Scentsational,” Peabody told him, leaning over enough to get a glimpse of his face on the ‘link screen.
“Well, now, the world’s full of surprises. Let me know what you think of it.”
It only took Eve a beat.“Yours?”
“A man’s got to keep his hand in. I’ve a lunch meeting myself. Try the nasturtium salad. It’s very nice.”
“Yeah, that’s going to happen. Later. That’s flowers, right?” she asked Peabody when she ended transmission.
“Edible ones.”
“In my world, flowers aren’t on the menu.”
 *
Apparently they were in Roarke’s world. They could be sampled, sipped, and sniffed, all in one elaborate setting where the tables rose up on graceful stems and bloomed in a garden of colors.
The air smelled like a meadow, which Eve assumed was supposed to be a good thing.
The floor was some sort of green glass, translucent so the flowers thriving below shimmered in a sophisticated garden. There were various levels, up trios of steps. An arbor arched over the bar, where diners could order flowery or herbal drinks as well as the more pedestrian wines.
Nadine sat at a table near a little lagoon where golden fish swam among water lilies. She’d done something to her hair, Eve noted, straightening its usual waves and fluffs so it was sleek, streaky rain angled around her face.
She looked sharper, somehow honed, suited up in pansy purple. She wore an earpiece, and spoke softly into it between sips of something very pink and very frothy.
“Gotta go. Hold everything for the next hour. Yes, everything.” She tugged off the earpiece, dropped it into her purse.“Isn’t this a place? I’ve been dying to come here.”
“Your hair looks absolutely mag,” Peabody told her as they sat.
“You think? First time I’ve taken it for a spin.” In the way of women, Nadine combed her hand through the angled ends.“I’m trying it out.”
A waiter, decked out in leafy green, poofed beside their table like magic.“Welcome to Scentsational, ladies. I’m Dean, and I’m your server today. Can I get you a cocktail?”
“No,” Eve said even as Peabody’s eyes brightened. She kept hers bland as Peabody’s dimmed.“Got Pepsi?”
“Of course, madam. And for you?”
“Can I get what she’s got?” Peabody gestured to Nadine’s drink.“Virgin.”
“Absolutely.”
“Fantastic party the other night, by the way,” Nadine began when the waiter went off to fill the order.“I’m still recovering. Didn’t have a lot of time to talk to you then, and I didn’t think it was the right time and place for what I need to talk about. So”
“Hold that, will you? I’ve got something going, and I need some spin.”
Nadine’s eyebrows shot up.“You’ve got a hot one already? Why haven’t I heard?”
“Female vic, skull cracked, hotel room on the West Side.”
“Mmmm.” Nadine shut her eyes a minute.“Yeah, I got some wind on that. Tourist, bungled breakin. What’s the big?”
“I found the body. 1 knew her. It wasn’t a burglary gone wrong.”
“Let me get this down.”
“No, keep it in your head. No record, not now.”
“You never make it easy. All right.” Nadine sat back, gestured with her glass.“Shoot.”
Eve gave her the basics, quick and pointed.“The department feels it would be in the best interest of the investigation if my connection, however slight, with the victim was made known straight off. I’d appreciate some …” She couldn’t think of the right word.”… I guess delicacy. I don’t want big drums banging about the whole foster business.”
“I won’t, others might. Are you going to be prepared to deal with that?”
“Not much choice. The point is and the point that should be banged is a woman was murdered, police are investigating. Evidence indicates that the victim knew her assailant.”
“We do a one-on-one, you can put it in your own words. Get your face out there while you do. The public hasn’t forgotten the Icove business, Dallas, believe me. Seeing you, hearing you, reminds them. Oh yeah, there’s that cop who busted those crazy doctors. And when I wrap the story with that tag, that’s what they’ll focus on more than your negligible connection to a recent murder victim.”
“Maybe. Maybe.” Eve paused as their drinks were served and the waiter began his litany of the day’s specials and chef’s recommendations.
Because the descriptions were long and rapturous Jots of”infused with” or”scented with” and”delicately swathed in” she tuned him out and turned over Nadine’s suggestion.
“Give me the pasta thing,” Eve said when it was her turn to order.“How soon can you do the one-on-one?”
“I’ll get a camera, do it right after lunch if we cut the meal a little short. I need to skip dessert anyway.”
“All right. Good. Thanks.”
“You’re always good for ratings. Speaking of which, mine are currently through the stratosphere. One of the things I wanted to discuss with you. I had the front line with the Icove story thanks and I’m raking in the offers. Book deals, vid deals, and the big one, for me … Drum roll, please,” she said while her face lit up.”… I’m getting my own show.”
“Your own show!” Peabody all but bounced on her seat.“Wow! Mega-wow! Congratulations, Nadine. This is beyond uptown.”
“Thanks. A full hour weekly, and I can call my own shots. I’m going to have a staff. Jesus, I can’t get over it. My own staff, my own show.” Laughing, she patted her heart.“I’m sticking with the crime beat, it’s what I know and what I’m known for. We’re calling it Now, as I’m going to deal with what’s happening up to the minute we air, every week. Dallas, I want you to be my first interview.”
“Nadine, congrats and blah-blah. Seriously. But you know I hate that crap.”
“It’ll be great, it’ll be good. You can take us into the mind of the NYPSD’s hottest cop.”
“Oh, shit.”
“How you work, how you think, the routine. The steps and stages of an investigation. We’ll talk about the Icove case”
“Hasn’t that horse been beaten dead yet?”
“Not as long as people are interested, and they are. I’m going to start working with a writer on the book, and the vid script. I need you to meet with her.”
Eve lifted a finger, slashed it through the air.“Line drawn.”
Nadine’s smile was sly.“It’s going to get done with or without you, Dallas. You want to make sure it’s done right, don’t you?”
“Who’s playing you in the vid?” Peabody wanted to know, and attacked the orange blossom chicken on her plate the minute it was in front of her.
“Don’t know yet. We’re just getting started.”
“Am I in it?”
“Sure. The young, steady detective who hunts murderers alongside her sexy, seasoned partner.”
“I’m going to boot,” Eve muttered, and was ignored.
“This is too frosty! Entirely. Wait ‘til I tell McNab.”
“Nadine, this is good for you. Another round of big congrats and all that.” Eve shook her head.“But it’s not the kind of thing I want to get tangled in. It’s not what I do, what I am.”
“Be iced if we could do some of the shoot for the show and the vid at your house. Dallas at home.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
Nadine grinned.“Figured as much. Think about some of it, anyway, will you? I’m not going to push it on you.”
Eve sampled pasta, gave Nadine a wary look.“No?”
“No. I’ll nag a little, finagle where I can, but I won’t push. Here’s why,” she said, tapping her fork in the air.“Remember that time you saved my life? When that psycho Morse had me in the park, ready to slice me to pieces?”
“I have a vague recollection.”
“This is bigger.” Nadine signaled the waiter.“Another round here. So I’m not going to push,” she continued.“Much. But if you could catch a juicy case mid-February when we debut, it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Mavis is due then,” Peabody commented.
“God, that’s right. Mama Mavis,” Nadine added with a laugh.“Still can’t get around it. You and Roarke started your coaching classes yet, Dallas?”
“Shut up. Never mention it again.”
“They’re dragging butt over it,” Peabody told her.“Procrastinating.”
“The word’s ‘avoiding,’” Eve corrected.“People always want you to do stuff that’s not natural.”
“Childbirth’s natural,” Peabody put in.
“Not when I’m involved.”
 *
Going to the lab to boot some ass, Eve thought. That was natural. She found Dick Berenski, of the spidery fingers and egg-shaped head, at a work station, slurping coffee through his flabby lips.
“Gimme data.”
“It’s always ‘gimme’ with you cops. Always think your shit’s the priority.”
“Where are my fibers?”
“In the fiber department.” He snorted, obviously amused with himself as he rolled on his stool to a screen, gave a few taps.“Harvo’s working on it. Go hound her. She did your hair already. Out of the drains, out of both the rooms. Must not clean out the pipes in that shithole but every decade. Got the vic’s, and other unidentified for now on crime scene. No Wood traces in the drains of the second room, just the vic’s on crime scene, bathroom sink. ID’d hair from vic, son of vic, daughter-in-law of vic, hotel maid, couple of former tenants already listed on your report. All the blood on crime scene was the vic’s. Surprise, surprise.”
“In other words you can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”
“Not my fault. I can only work with what you give me.”
“Let me know when you’ve compared hair and prints from the hotel scene and the bar.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“Cheery today,” Peabody muttered as they headed through the glass-wall maze of the lab.
They found Harvo at her station studying the screen. Her red hair was stiff with spikes that contrasted with her pale, almost translucent skin. There were little Santas dangling from her ears.
“Yo,” she said.
“That my fiber?”
“One and the same. Hair’s turned in.”
“Yeah, I got that from Dickhead. I thought you were the Queen of Hair, not fiber.”
“Queen of Hair,” Harvo agreed with a snap of her chewing gum.“Goddess of Fiber. Fact of it is, I’m just fucking brilliant.”
“Good to know. What’ve we got?”
“Synthetic white poly with traces of elastizine. Same constitution as the particles found in the unfortunate vic’s bone and gray matter. What you’re looking for is either a sock or a tummy tamer. But I’d say not a girdle not enough elastizine.”
“Sock,” Eve said.
“And you’d win the prize. Compared fibers to a lone white sock taken from the scene. You got your match. New sock, never worn, never washed. Still traces of gum on the lone one, from the tag, and I got me a tiny bit of plastic jammed in the toe. You know how they snap the socks together with the little plastic string?”
“Yeah, I hate those.”
“Everyone does. You got to cut them apart, and who’s got a knife or scissors handy when you want to wear your new socks?” Harvo snapped the gum in her mouth and circled a finger in the air. The nail was painted Christmas red with little green trees.“Freaking nobody. So you” She fisted her hands together, twisted.“And half the time you snag the socks, or end up with a little bit of plastic inside that stabs you in the foot.”
“Pisser.”
“Yeah.”
“How about the tag?”
“It’s your lucky day the sweepers were thorough and brought in the contents of the trash can. Came from the bathroom. I took it since I was doing the fibers anyway.”
She scooted, showed Eve the tag.
“It was balled up, like you do, and a piece of it torn. Fibers stuck to the gummy side. Anyways, got it straightened out, put together, and you can see our handy bar code, and the type.”
She tapped the protective shield over the evidence.
“Women’s athletic socks, size seven to nine. Which is another pisser on my personal bitch list. See I wear a seven myself, and when I buy socks like this, I always got too much length in the foot. Why can’t they just make them fit? We have the technology, we have the skill. We have the feet.”
“That’s a puzzler,” Eve agreed.“Prints?”
“Vic’s, tag and sock. Got another on the tag. Ran it.” She bumped back to the screen.“Hitch, Jayne. Employed by Blossom Boutique on Seventh, sales clerk. I don’t know, call me crazy, but I bet Jayne sold the vic a pair of socks recently.”
“Nice job, Harvo.”
“Yeah, I awe myself regular.”
 *
It was a simple matter to track down Jayne. She was behind the counter at the boutique ringing up sales with the focused determination of a soldier on the front lines.
The shop was jammed with customers, drawn, Eve imagined, by the big orange sale signs on every rack, table, and wall. The noise level, punched upward by incessent holiday music, was awesome.
You could shop online, Eve thought, if you were desperate to shop. Why people insisted on pushing into retail outlets with other people who probably wanted the same merchandise, where the lines roped around in endlessly confusing misery and torture, and where the sales clerks were bitter as raw spinach, was beyond her.
When she said the same to Peabody, her partner’s answer was a chipper”Because it’s fun!”
To various consumers’ annoyance and objections, Eve cut the line and muscled her way up front.
“Hey! I’m next.”
Eve turned to the woman all but buried under piles of clothing, and held up her badge.“This means I go first. Need to talk to you, Jayne.”
“What? Why? I’m busy.”
“Gee, me, too. Got a back room?”
“Man. Sol? Cover register two. Back here.” She thumped her way on two-inch-thick airsoles down a short corridor.“What? Listen, we were having a damn party. Parties get loud. It’s Christmas, for God’s sake. My across-the-hall neighbor is a primo bitch.”
“Next time ask her to the party,” Peabody suggested.“Hard to complain if you’re part of the noise.”
“I’d rather eat worm shit.”
The back room was loaded with stock, boxes, bags. Jayne sat down on a stack of underwear.“Anyway, I’m off my feet for a minute. It’s lunacy out there. Christmas makes people insane. And that bit about goodwill toward men? It sure as hell doesn’t apply to retail.”
“You sold a pair of socks to a woman sometime between Thursday and Saturday,” Eve began.
Jayne ground her fist into the small of her back.“Honey, I sold a hundred pairs of socks between Thursday and Saturday.”
“Lieutenant,” Eve said and tapped her badge.“White athletics, size seven to nine.”
Jayne dug in her pocket. She seemed to have a dozen of them between her black shirt and black pants. She pulled out a piece of hard candy, unwrapped it. Her fingernails, Eve noted, were as long as ice picks and painted like candy canes.
Yeah, Christmas made people insane.
“Oh, white athletic socks,” Jayne said sourly.“That’s a real tip-off.”
“Take a look at a picture, see if you remember.”
“I can barely remember my own face after a day like this one.” The candy made rattling noises against Jayne’s teeth as she played with it. But she rolled tired eyes and took the photo.
“Jeez, what are the odds? Yeah, I remember her. Talk about primo bitch. Listen,” she said and sucked air through her nose.“She comes in, grabs a pair of socks. One lousy pair, complains we don’t have enough help after she gets to me, and demands the sale price. Now, it’s clear the socks are on sale in lots of three. Says so right on the display. One pair’s nine-ninety-nine. Buy three for twenty-five-fifty. But she’s squawking that she wants the socks for eight-fifty. She’s done the math, and that’s what she’ll pay. She’s got a line clear to Sixth behind her, and she’s busting on me for, like, chump change.”
She crunched down hard on the candy.“I’m not authorized to cut a price, and she won’t budge. People are going to riot any minute, so I’ve got to call over the manager. Manager caves because it’s just not worth the aggravation.”
“When did she come in?”
“Man, it blurs together.” Jayne rubbed the back of her neck.“I’ve been on since Wednesday. Straight seven days from hell. I get two off starting tomorrow and I’m going to sit on my ass for most of it. It was after lunch, I remember, because I thought how this asshole woman was going to make me lurch my gyro. Gyro!”
She snapped her fingers, shot her index up, leading with the festive ice pick.“Friday. Me and Fawn grabbed gyros on Friday. She had the weekend off, and I remember crabbing about it to her.”
“Was she alone?”
“Who’d hang with that type? If anybody was with her, they stayed back. She strutted out by herself. I watched her go.” She smiled a little.“Shot her the bird behind her back. Couple of the customers applauded.”
“Have you got security discs?”
“Sure. What’s this about? Somebody kick her ass? I’d’ve held their coat.”
“Yeah, somebody did. I’d like to view the discs for Friday afternoon. We’ll need to make copies.”
“Wow. Okay. Gee. I’m not in trouble with this, am I?”
“No. But we’ll need the discs.”
Jayne shoved herself to her feet.“I gotta get the manager.”
 *
Back at her office, Eve reviewed the disc again. She drank coffee and watched Trudy walk in through the street doors. Sixteen-twenty-eight on the time stamp. Time enough to stew about the result of her visit to Roarke, Eve decided. Time enough to discuss it with a partner, or just walk around until a plan formed.
Pissed, Eve noted, when she paused, magnified Trudy’s face. She could almost hear the teeth grinding together. Seething anger, not cold deliberation. Not right now, anyway. Impulse, maybe. I’ll show them.
Had to look for the socks, elbow people out of her way, skirt around tables. But she found what she wanted … and at a bargain price.
Eve watched Trudy’s teeth bare in a snarl when she yanked the socks from the display. But she frowned at the price, at the sale display, before marching over to stand in line.
Tapping her foot, glaring at the customers in line ahead of her.
Impatient. And alone.
She continued to watch, through the altercation with the clerk, Trudy looking down her nose, fisting her hands on her hips. Digging in. Turning briefly to snap something at the woman behind her in line.
Making a scene over pocket change.
Buying her own murder weapon on the cheap.
She didn’t wait for a bag, didn’t wait for a receipt. Just stuffed the socks in her purse and stalked out.
Eve sat back, perused the ceiling. Had to get the credits. Nobody carries enough to fill a sock around with them. And the way she’d slung the purse around didn’t indicate it was weighed down.
“Computer, find and list all banks from Sixth Avenue to Tenth, between … Thirty-eighth and Forty-eighth.
Working…
Pushing up, she checked the time. Banks were closed for the day. But Trudy would have had just enough time to get to one, get herself a sackful of credits.
Check that out tomorrow.“Print out data,” Eve ordered when the computer began to recite a list of banks.“Copy to file, copy to my home computer.”
Acknowledged. Working …
She could see it. She’d have to find the bank, verify, but she could see it. Closest one to the boutique, that’s the one it would be. Stride in, still steaming. Used cash if she was thinking, Eve decided. No point in having a transaction like that popping on a credit or debit report, so you use cash. And you dispose of the bank bag before you go back to the hotel.
Alone, she thought again.
Comes to the station alone, then to Roarke’s office. No sign anyone’s waiting for her in the lobby.
Makes a call maybe, uses her ‘link once she’s outside the building. No way to check that when the ‘link’s gone. Smart to take the ‘link from the murder scene.
She paced, ordered more coffee.
Scared when she leaves Roarke. Contacts her pal, her cohort. Cries the blues. Could’ve cooked up the next part together.
She turned to her murder board, studied the photos of Trudy’s face.
“What does it take to do that to yourself?” Eve muttered.“Plenty of motivation. Plenty of anger. But how the hell did you expect to prove you got tuned up by me or Roarke, or somebody we sicced on you?”
Back to stupid, she thought with a shake of her head. That was leading with anger, that was impulse and fury. Smarter to have gotten one or both of us out of the house on some pretext, somewhere we wouldn’t be easily alibied. Stupid to assume we wouldn’t have one. Sloppy.
A memory nudged at her, nearly faded once more. Eve closed her eyes, pressed and focused.
Dark. Can’t sleep. Too hungry. But the door of her room was locked from the outside. Trudy didn’t like her to wander around the house sneaking around, getting into trouble.
She was being punished anyway.
She’d talked to the boy across the street, a couple of his friends. Older boys. Taken a ride on one of their boards. Trudy didn’t like the boy across the street, or his friends.
Hoodlums. Delinquents. Vandals. And worse. And you, nothing but a slut. Nine years old and already putting out. That’s nothing new for you, is it? Get upstairs, and you can forget about supper. I don’t feed trash in my house.
Shouldn’t have talked to the boy. But he’d said he’d show her how to use the board, and she’d never ridden one before. They could do tricks on theirs loops and wheelies and spins. She liked to watch them. The boy had seen her watching, and grinned at her. Motioned her over.
Shouldn’t have gone hell to pay. But he’d held that colorful board out, said she could take a breeze. He’d show her how.
And when she’d shot off on it, he’d whistled through his teeth. His friends had laughed. He’d said she had balls.
It was she thought it was the happiest, most liberating moment of her life at that time. She could remember, even now, the odd way the smile had fit on her face. The way her cheeks had stretched out, and the laugh that had rumbled up in her throat and hurt her chest a little. But a good hurt, like nothing she’d ever experienced.
He’d said she could go again, that she was a natural.
But Trudy had come out, came streaming out with that look on her face. That hell-to-pay look. She had yelled, screamed at Eve to get off that damn thing.
Didn’t I tell you to stay in the yard. Didn’t I say? Who gets the blame if you breaks your fool neck? You ever think of that?
She hadn’t. Had only thought of the thrill of riding the board for the first time.
Trudy had screamed at the boys, too, told them she’d call the police. She knew what they were up to. Perverts, hoodlums. But they’d just laughed and made rude noises. The one whose board she’d ridden had called Trudy an old bitch, right to her face.
Eve had thought it was the bravest thing she’d ever seen.
He’d given Eve a quick grin, a quick wink, and told her she could have another ride whenever she shook the old bitch loose.
But she’d never ridden it again. She’d stayed away from him, and his friends.
And she’d paid for the momentary thrill with an empty gut.
Later, with stomach growling, she had stood at the window of her room. And she’d seen Trudy go out of the front door below. Had watched her take rocks and smash the windshield of her car, then the side windows. Had watched her spray paint on the hood and made out the gleam of the letters in the dark.
OLD BITCH Trudy had then marched across the street, had wiped the can on a rag, and then tossed it into the bushes in front of the boy’s house.
She’d been smiling, a bared-teeth snarl of a smile as she’d walked back toward the house.
12
EVE HAD ONE MORE CHORE BEFORE SHE WENT off duty, and took it solo.
The hotel Roarke had provided for Bobby and Zana was a step up from the previous location. No big surprise there. Still, it was moderate, short on frills. Just the sort of place tourists or business-people on a budget might choose.
Security was subtle, but it was there.
She was stopped on her way across the tidy lobby before she could access the elevators.
“Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?”
The woman who tapped her shoulder had a pleasant face, an easy smile. And the faint bulge of a stunner under the armpit of her smart jacket.
“Police.” Eve held up her right hand, reached for her badge with her left.“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. My people are in five-twelve. I’m going up to check on them and the uniform on duty.”
“Lieutenant. Orders are to scan ID. So …”
“Good.” They were her own orders, after all.“Go ahead.”
The woman took out a hand scanner jazzier than any police issue verified. She tapped a button, brought Eve’s ID photo onto the scanner’s screen. Satisfied, she handed Eve her badge.
“Go ahead up, Lieutenant. Do you want me to call the uniform on duty and tell him you’re on your way?”
“No. I like surprising them.”
Fortunately for the uniform, he was at the door. They knew each other by sight, so rather than ask for ID, he simply sucked in his stomach, straightened his shoulders.“Lieutenant.”
“Bennington. Status?”
“Quiet. All the rooms this level are occupied except five-oh-five and five-fifteen. Few people in and out shopping bags and briefcases. Not a peep out of five-twelve since I came on shift.”
“Take ten.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I’m relieved in thirty, so I can stand until.”
“Good enough.” She knocked, waited while someone inside checked the security peep. Zana opened the door.
“Hi. I wasn’t sure you’d be by today. Bobby’s in the bedroom talking to D. K. Do you want me to get him?”
“No need.” Eve stepped inside the little parlor, Roarke had provided what she supposed was termed an ‘executive suite,’ with a jut of kitchenette off a cozy sitting area. The bedroom was separated by a pair of pocket doors, currently shut.
“How you doing?” Eve asked.
“Better, thanks. Better.” Her cheeks pinked a little. She fluffed nervously at the long waves of her sunny hair.“It occurred to me that you’ve mostly seen me hysterical. I’m not usually. Really.”
“You had reason.” Eve scanned. Privacy screens engaged. Good. Entertainment screen on some sort of girlie talk show. No wonder Bobby had the doors shut.
“Can I get you something? The kitchen’s got a good supply.” She smiled wanly.“No need to run out for bagels. I can get you coffee or”
“No, that’s okay.”
“It’s a nicer room than the other. Terrible way to get it.”
“No point in being uncomfortable and uneasy.”
“No. No, I guess not.” She turned her wedding ring around and around on her finger. Another nervous habit, Eve thought. There was a ring with a little pink stone on her right hand, and the same pink stone, as studs, in her ears.
They matched her lip dye, Eve noted. How and why did women think of that kind of detail?
“I’m so glad you got my purse back. It had all my stuff, pictures and ID and this new lip dye I just bought, and … God.” She rubbed her hands over her face.“Want to sit down?”
“For a minute. You’ve known Bobby and D. K. awhile.”
“Since I started working for them. Bobby, he’s just the sweetest thing.” She sat, brushed at the thighs of her pants.“I fell right off. He’s a little shy, you know, with women. D. K. was always teasing him.”
“Bobby mentioned that D. K. and Trudy didn’t get along.”
“Oh, well.” Zana’s color resurfaced, just a little.“Mostly D. K. just kept his distance. Kind of a personality clash, I guess. Trudy, she’d just say what she was thinking, right out. And sometimes, well, people got a little offended.”
“You didn’t?”
“She’s she was the mother of the man I love. And she raised him single-handed.” Her eyes went starry.“Raised such a good man. I didn’t mind her giving me advice. I’ve never been married before, after all, or kept a home. Anyway, Bobby knew just how to handle her.”
“Did he?”
“He’d just tell me to nod and go along, then do what I wanted.” Zana laughed, then covered her mouth with her hand as if to smother the sound.“That’s what he did, mostly, and there was hardly ever a cross word between them.”
“But there were some.”
“Little spats now and then, like families have. Eve is it all right if I call you Eve?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Do you think we can go home soon?” Her lips trembled before she pressed them together.“I was so excited about coming here, seeing New York, it was all I could think about. Now I just want to go home.”
“At this point of the investigation, it’s more convenient if you and Bobby are here.”
“That’s what he said.” She sighed.“And he doesn’t want to go home for Christmas. Says he just doesn’t want to be there for it. I guess I can understand. It’s just…” Tears shimmered in her eyes, but didn’t fall.“It’s selfish.”
“What is?”
“It’s our first Christmas married. Now we’ll spend it in a hotel room. It is selfish.” She sniffed back the tears, shook her head.“I shouldn’t even be thinking about it with his mama…”
“It’s natural enough.”
Zana cast her guilty look toward the pocket doors.“Don’t tell him I said anything. Please. He’s got enough on his mind.”
She got to her feet when the doors opened.“Hi, honey. Look who’s here.”
“Eve. Thanks for coming. I was just talking to my partner.” He worked up a smile for his wife.“We closed the deal.”
She slapped her hands together, bounced on her toes.“The big house?”
“The big one. D. K. got the contract and deposit from the buyer this morning.”
“Oh, honey! That’s just wonderful. Congratulations.” She hurried around the sofa to give him a fierce hug.“You both worked so hard for that.”
“Big sale,” Bobby told Eve.“Hell, a white elephant we took on. We’d just about given up, when we got a nibble last week. My partner tied it up in a bow this morning.”
“Back in Texas.”
“Yeah. Took them through it three times over the weekend. They just wouldn’t commit. Wanted to go through it again this morning, so he walked them through it again, and they finally bit. It’s a big commission for us.”
And put the partner out of the running, Eve decided, unless he’d found a way to be two places at once.“Congratulations.”
“Mama would’ve been on the moon.”
“Honey.” Zana took his arms.“Don’t be sad. She wouldn’t want you to be sad. She’d be so proud. In fact, we’re going to celebrate. I mean it.” She gave him a little shake.“I’m going to order a bottle of champagne, and you’re going to take a little while to relax and be proud of yourself. Will you have some with us, Eve?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to go.”
“I thought maybe you had some news, about my mother.”
“The investigation’s moving forward. That’s the best I can tell you now. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. If anything breaks beforehand, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’m glad it’s you, Eve. It’s easier somehow because it’s you.”
 *
She could go home, Eve thought, as she muscled her way into traffic. It was more than Bobby could do at this point. She could go home where things were normal, at least by her standards.
As traffic snarled, she studied one of the bright, animated billboards, touting cut rates for holiday trips to Aruba.
Everyone wanted to be somewhere else, she decided. People from Texas, and wherever, flocked to New York. New Yorkers crawled up the highway to the Hamptons, or got on a shuttle south for some island.
Where did people on the islands go? she wondered. Probably to some noisy, overcrowded city.
Why couldn’t people just stay put?
Because they didn’t, the streets and sidewalks were clogged, with the airways overhead little better. And still, there wasn’t anywhere she’d rather be.
She drove through the gates, finally, toward the lights.
Every window was lit, candles or festooned trees glittering. It looked like a painting, she thought. Dark sky, rising moon, and the fanciful shapes and shadows of the house, with all those windows glowing.
She could go home.
So why was she depressed? It dragged at the base of her skull, at the pit of her belly as she parked the car, pushed herself out. She wanted to lie down, she realized, and not because she was tired. She just wanted to shut her head down for five damn minutes.
Summerset was there, a dour skeleton amid the festive colors of the grand foyer.
“Roarke is in his office, attending to some of your business.”
In her current mood, the disapproval scraped over the weight in her belly.“Nobody held a stunner to his throat,” she snapped.“Which is what I dream of doing to you, night after night.”
She stomped upstairs without bothering to take off her coat.
She didn’t go to the office, which was petty and wrong. She knew it. But instead she went straight to the bedroom and, still in her coat, dropped facedown on the bed.
Five minutes, she thought. She was entitled to five damn minutes of solitude and quiet. If only she could shut off her head.
Seconds later, she heard the rapid pad of little feet, then the vibration of the bed as Galahad made his leap. She turned her head, stared into his bicolored eyes.
He stared back. Then did a couple of lazy circles, curled up by her head, and stared some more. She found herself trying to out-stare him, to make him blink first.
When she lost, she thought he smirked.
“Pal, if you were a cop, you’d crack suspects like walnuts.”
She shifted so she could scratch his ears. With the cat purring like a souped-up engine, she watched the lights glimmer on the bedroom tree.
It was a good deal she had here, she told herself. Big bed, pretty tree, nice cat. What was wrong with her?
She barely heard him come in, probably wouldn’t have if she hadn’t been listening for him.
When the mattress depressed, she turned her head again. This time she stared into eyes of wild and vivid blue.
Yeah, a pretty good deal.
“I was coming in,” she murmured.“I just wanted a couple minutes.”
“Headache?”
“No. I’m just… I don’t know.”
He stroked a hand over her hair.“Sad?”
“What have I got to be sad about? I’ve got this big-ass house. Did you see how it looks all lit up?”
“Yes.” His hand moved down to the nape of her neck where some of the weight lay.
“I’ve got this fat cat hanging around. I think we should torment him on Christmas, make him wear some of those antler things. You know, like a reindeer.”
“Undermine his dignity. Good idea.”
“I’ve got you. The icing on my personal cake. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She curled into him, burrowed into him.“I don’t even care that she’s dead, so what’s wrong with me?”
“You’re too hard on yourself, that’s what’s wrong with you.”
She breathed him in, because it was a comfort.“I went to the morgue and looked at her. Just another body. I looked at what she did to herself, to try to screw with us. And it disgusted me. Didn’t surprise me not once I thought about it. I looked at what someone else did to her, and it was like: Well, what goes around. I’m not supposed to think that.”
“What else did you do?”
“Today? Reported to Whitney. Got a little spanking there. Had lunch with Nadine to get her to spin the connection up front. Hit the lab. Followed the fabric trail to a retail outlet where Trudy bought the socks she used to make a sap. I got a list of banks between there and the hotel. Figure she had to get the credits. Check that tomorrow.
Went by the bar where Zana was taken, talked to the owner. Reviewed the discs. Um … updated reports. Checked in on Bobby and Zana. Good security at the hotel. You’ve got a solid frontman in your lobby.”
“Good to know.”
“Then I came home. Other stuff in there, but that’s the gist.”
“In other words, you did your job. Whether or not you care she’s dead, you did the work that will lead you to her killer.”
She rolled over, stared up at the ceiling.“I’ve got no juice.”
“What did you have for lunch?”
She gave a half laugh.“Taking my mind off my pity party? This pasta thing with some sort of herb stuff. It was good. Whatever Nadine and Peabody chowed on, they made a lot of girl yummy noises. The place was swinging, so I guess you’ve got a hit. Big surprise.”
“The service?”
“Spooky. The waiter sort of poofs at the table out of nowhere if you even think about wanting something. Nadine’s getting her own show.”
“I heard about that just today. Good for her.”
“And she’s got vid and book deals. You in on any of that?”
“As a matter of fact.”
“She wants to interview me, which maybe. And wants to do some of the vid here at the house, which is definitely no.”
“Definitely.”
She turned her head again to look at his face. How could one man be so beautiful, day after day?“I figured we’d line up in the same column on that.”
“This is home.” His hand stroked over hers, then lay, quiet and warm, over it.“It’s private.”
“I’m always bringing work home. Doing work here.”
“As am I.”
“You don’t fill it with cops on top of it.”
“I don’t. And certainly don’t plan to in the future. If I had a problem with you doing so, I’d let you know.”
“I had this memory flash today.”
Ah, he thought, now we’ve got the root.“Tell me.”
“I was thinking about the way she’d hurt herself, gone out, bought socks for God’s sake, for the sole purpose of bashing herself in the face, bruising her body. Vicious, self-destructive behavior. And I remembered this time …”
She told him, just as the memory had come back to her. And more, as she remembered more. That it had been hot, and she could smell grass. Strange smell to her as she’d so rarely experienced it before. One of the boys had had a disc player, and there was music jingling out.
And how the police car had slid almost silently up to the house that night. How the buttons on the cops’ uniforms had glinted in the moonlight.
“They went across the street. It was late, it had to be late, because all the lights were out, everywhere. Then they came on, lights came on in the house across the street, and the boy’s father came to the door. The cops went inside.”
“What happened?” he asked when she went silent.
“I don’t know, not for sure. I imagine the kid told them he didn’t do anything. He’d been asleep. Couldn’t prove it, of course. I remember the cops came out, poked around. Found the spray can. I can still see how one of them bagged it, shook his head. Stupid kid, he was probably thinking. Asshole kid.
“She went over, started shrieking. Pointing at the can, her car, their house. I just stood there and watched, and finally I couldn’t watch it anymore. I got into bed. Pulled the covers over my head.”
She closed her eyes.“I heard other kids talking about it in school. How he’d had to go down to the police station with his parents. I tuned it out. I didn’t want to hear about it. A couple days later, Trudy was driving a new car. Nice shiny new car. I ran away not long after. I took off. I couldn’t stand being there with her. I couldn’t stand being there, seeing that house across the street.”
She stared up at the dark window above her head.“I didn’t realize until today that’s the root of why I ran. I couldn’t stand being there with what she’d done, and what I hadn’t. He’d given me the best moment of my life, and he was in trouble. I didn’t do anything to help him. I didn’t say anything about what she did. I just let that kid take the rap.”
“You were a child.”
“That’s an excuse for doing nothing to help?”
“It is, yes.”
She sat up, pushed around so she could stare down at him.“The hell it is. He got dragged down to the cop shop, probably got a sheet, even if they couldn’t prove he did it. His parents had to make restitution.”
“Insurance.”
“Oh, fuck that, Roarke.”
He sat up, took her chin firmly in his hand.“You were nine years old, and scared. Now you’re going to look back twenty years and blame yourself. Fuck that, Eve.”
“I did nothing.”
“And what could you have done? Gone to the police, told them you saw the woman licensed and approved by Child Protection deface her own car, then blame the kid across the street? They wouldn’t have believed you.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“It’s not. And we both know that boy survived that bump in his childhood. He had parents, a house, friends, and enough character to offer a little girl a ride on an airboard. I imagine he survived very well. You’ve devoted your adult life to protecting the public, risking your life to do so. So you can bloody well stop blaming yourself for once being a frightened child and behaving as one.”
“Well, hell.”
“I mean it. And take off your coat. Christ Jesus, aren’t you roasting?”
It wasn’t often she felt The only word she could think of was”abashed.” She tugged off her coat, left it pooled around her.“You’d think a person could wallow a little in her own bed.”
“It’s my bed, too, and there’s been quite enough wallowing. Want to try for something else?”
She picked up the cat, plopped him in her lap.“No.”
“Go ahead and sulk, then, it’s a step up from wallowing.” He rolled off the bed.“I want some wine.”
“He could’ve been scarred for life.”
“Please.”
She narrowed her eyes as he opened the liquor cabinet.“He could’ve become a career criminal, all because of that one frame job.”
“There’s a thought.” He selected a nice white out of the cooler section.“Maybe you’ve put him away. Wouldn’t that be some lovely irony?”
Her lips twitched, but she bore down on the laugh.“You could’ve done business with him in your nefarious past. He’s probably a kingpin somewhere in Texas right now.”
“And he owes it all to you.” He came back to the bed with two glasses of wine, gave her one.“Better?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’d forgotten about it, you know, the way you do even if it’s all normal. And when it came back, it just rushed in with all this guilt. He was only about fourteen, fifteen. He felt sorry for me. I could see it on his face. No good deed goes unpunished,” she said, toasting before she drank.
“I can find him if you want. You can see what he’s up to, other than being a Texan crime lord.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
“Meanwhile, I’d like to ask you for something.”
“What?”
“I don’t have any pictures of you from before we met.”
It took her mind a moment to catch up with the non sequitur.“Pictures?”
“Yes, from when you were a nubile young girl, or a green rookie in uniform, which I’m hoping you’ll put on again one day soon. I do love my woman in uniform. I could access older ID photos, but I’d like it more if you could find something for me.”
“I guess. Maybe. Probably. Why?”
“Our lives didn’t start when we met.” He touched her face, just a feathering of those wonderful fingers over her skin.“Though I like to think the best of them did. I’d like to have a piece or two of you, from before.”
“That’s pretty sappy.”
“Guilty. And if you come across any photos of yourself at, oh, around eighteen, scantily clad, so much the better.”
She couldn’t stop the laugh this time.“Perv.”
“Again, guilty.”
She took his glass, scooted over, and set both it and her own on the bedside table. She shoved the black butter of her coat carelessly onto the floor.
“I feel like doing something else.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head.“Such as?”
She was quick, and she was agile. In a flashing movement, she rolled, reared up, and had her legs clamped around his waist, her hands fisted in his hair, and her mouth fused hotly to his.“Something like this,” she said when she let him breathe again.
“I suppose I’ll have to make the time for you.”
“Damn right.” She flipped open buttons on his shirt, leaned down to take a sharp nip at his jaw.“You scolded me. Counting my session with Whitney, that’s the second knuckle rap I’ve had today.”
Her hands were very busy, and by the time they reached his zipper, he was hard as steel.“I hope you didn’t have the same reaction with your commander.”
“He’s pretty studly, if you go for the big-shouldered, careworn type. Me, I like ‘em pretty.” She took another nip at his ear as she overbalanced them and shoved him to his back.
The cat might have been fat, but he was also experienced, and dodged aside.
“You’re so pretty. Sometimes I just want to lap you up like ice cream.” She tugged his shirt open, spread her hands on his chest.“And look at this, all that flesh, all that muscle. All mine.” She scraped her teeth down the center of his torso, felt him quiver.“Now that’s something to make girl yummy noises over.”
His hands were on her, little thrills. But he let her lead, let her set the pace. He would let her, she knew, for the moment at least. And not knowing when he might take her over was another thrill.
She yanked open her own shirt, put her hands over his to slide them up her body, close them over her breasts. And cruised on the sensation of those long, strong fingers against her. Then bowed back, eyes closed, as his hands skimmed down to unhook her trousers.
She came down to him again, bracing on her elbows. Mouth-to-mouth long, sumptuous kisses punctuated by quick bites as her heart beat, beat, beat against his. When she offered her breast, he took it, and her breath caught, then released on a shudder.
His now, as much as he was hers. Her body was fueled for him. He rolled her over, pinned her hands to either side of her head. Her eyes were heavy with passion, dark with challenge.
“I want you naked. Lie still while I undress you.”
He touched his lips to hers, then to the dent in her chin, lining little opened-mouth kisses down her throat, over her breasts, down to her belly.
He rolled her pants down her hips, exposing more flesh, then traced his tongue over the tender dip where legs met her center. She arched, shivered.
“Ssh.” A soothing murmur even as he used his mouth to drive her to the edge, finally to push her over it. When she went limp, he continued down her thighs.
He tugged off her boots, let her trousers fall in a heap on top of them. Then began to work his way up, slowly, tortuously.
“Roarke.”
“Look at this flesh and muscle,” he said, echoing her earlier words.“All mine.”
Again, her body began to churn, that outrageous and breathless pressure building and building until everything inside her burst open. She could only reach for him.
He was inside her, deep and strong. His mouth on hers, his fingers linked with hers. Tasting, feeling, holding, they flashed together.
She thought, blind with love, that, yes, she could go home.
 *
They lay quiet for a moment, settling. He’d rolled again so her head could rest on his shoulder, her hand on his heart that was still drumming.
“I should scold you more often.”
“Wouldn’t make a habit of it. Might tick me off next time. I felt off all day. I was doing the job, like you said, but I felt off. Almost like I was watching myself do the job. Passive or something. That’s not my rhythm. I need to tune it up.”
He gave her belly a light rub.“You felt tuned to me.”
“Sex’ll do that. With you, anyway.” She pushed herself up.“I need to start at the beginning of this, in my head. Rub off this film that’s been clouding my brain, and start over.”
He stretched out to reach the wine.“Then that’s what you’ll do.” She took a sip of the one he handed her.“What I’m going to do is take a shower and get dressed. Go over my own notes and reports from the scene, the statements. Take an hour and just line it up in my head.”
“All right. I’ll go back to the account, see what I can chisel out.”
“Can I bounce some things off you after I line them up?”
“I’d be disappointed otherwise. Why don’t we rendezvous in an hour, do that bouncing over dinner?”
“That’ll work.” She took his hand, squeezed.“This works.” He kissed her knuckles.“It certainly does.”
13
SHE TOOK HER HOUR AND WENT BACK TO THE beginning. She walked back through it, step by step, using the crime scene record, her own notes, the reports from the sweepers, the ME, the lab.
She listened to statements, judging inflection, expression, as much as the words themselves.
She stood in front of her board and studied each photograph, every angle.
When Roarke came in from his office, she turned to him. He acknowledged the light in her eyes with a grin and cocked brow.“Lieutenant.”
“Goddamn right. I was acting like a cop, doing the cop walk, but I wasn’t feeling like a cop. I’m back now.”
“Welcome.”
“Let’s eat. What do you want?”
“Since you’re feeling like a cop, I suppose it best be pizza.”
“Hot damn. If I hadn’t already rolled you, I’d probably jump you just for that.”
“Put it on my account.”
They sat at her desk, one on either side, with pizza and wine between them. He’d even put a tree in here, she thought. A small one, by his standards, but, by God, she liked looking at it over by the window, sprinkling light out into the dark.
“See, here’s the thing,” she began,“it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Ah.” He gestured with his glass, sipped.“Glad that’s cleared up.”
“Seriously. Here’s what you’ve got on the surface, when you walk cold into the scene: Dead woman, killed by multiple blows of a blunt instrument, head shots from behind. Previous bodily injuries indicating she’d been attacked and/or beaten the day before. Door locked from the inside, window not.”
With a slice of pizza in one hand, she waved toward her board with the other.“Appearance, basic evidence points to intruder entering through the window, bashing her, exiting the same way. As there are no defensive wounds whatsoever, investigator would assume she probably knew her killer, or didn’t believe she was in jeopardy. Now, somebody pounds on you one day, you’re going to be a little concerned next time he pops around.”
“Not if those initial injuries were self-inflicted.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know that why would you think that when you find the body? The killer had to be aware of at least the facial injury. It’s right there. And the same weapon was used. So we go back over it, with that data, and we have the murder being set to look like she was killed by whoever tuned her up.”
She took a huge bite of pizza, savored the spice.“We got the killer using the previous injuries as smoke. That’s not bad. Not bad at all. It’s good thinking, just like taking her ‘link was good thinking.”
“Exploiting the victim’s greed and violent impulses.”
“Yeah. But there’s little things that blow that. Again, no defensive wounds. No indication she was bound when she was beaten, and no sign that she attempted, in any way, to fight back or shield herself. Doesn’t wash. Then you add the angles of the bruising. Comes up self-inflicted.”
“Which moves you to a different arena.”
“Exactly. Then there’s the crime scene itself, the position of the body, and TOD.”
“Time of death.”
“Yeah, somebody strange comes in the window middle of the night and you can get out of bed, you run and you scream. She didn’t do either. So the killer came through the door. She let the killer in.”
“The window’s still viable. If indeed she and her partner were having differences, he may have chosen to come in that way rather than risk her not letting him in.”
“The window was locked. That’s the thing about memory. It’s tricky.” She took another bite of pizza, washed it down.“It’s the thing about having a cop on an investigation who knew the victim who, once that memory gets poked, clearly recalls how the victim always locked every door, every window. The world was full of thieves and rapists and bad business, according to the Bible of Trudy. Even during the day, when we were in the house, it was locked like a vault. I’d forgotten that. She’s not going to leave a window unlocked in big, bad New York. It’s out of character.”
“She lets the killer in,” he prompted.“Late-night visit.”
“Yeah. Late. And she doesn’t bother to put on a robe. She had one in the closet, but she doesn’t bother with it and entertains her killer while wearing her nightgown.”
“Indicating a certain level of intimacy. A lover?”
“Maybe. Can’t dismiss it. She kept herself in tune. Face and body work. I can’t remember any guys,” Eve murmured, trying to look back into the past again.“It was only about six months I was there, but I don’t remember any guys coming around, or her going out with any.”
“From then to now would indicate a very long dry spell.”
“Can’t rule out a booty call,” Eve continued,“but I went over the list of her possessions, everything she had in that room: no sex toys, no sexy underwear, no condoms or any shields against STDs. Still, could be a long-term relationship I’m not finding indications, but could be. Not a partner, though. Not on equal terms.”
“No?”
“She had to be in charge. She had to give the orders. She liked telling people what to do and liked watching them do it. Look at her pathology take her employment record. Scores of jobs over the years, none lasting long. She didn’t take orders, she gave them.”
“So, in her mind, fostering was perfect.” Roarke nodded.“She’s the boss, she’s in charge. Total authority.”
“She’d think,” Eve agreed.“She was cruising toward sixty, and no marriages on record. Only one official cohab. No, she wasn’t a team player. Partnership wouldn’t work for her. So maybe she tagged this individual on her ‘link. Get over here, we need to talk. She’s had some wine, some meds. Probably just enough to be floaty and full of herself.”
“Another reason she might not have taken as much care as she might have otherwise.”
Eve nodded.“She’s relaxed, medicated. And she’s figuring on squeezing you for the two million. She’s cracked her own face for it. Yeah, she’s full of herself. But how’s she going to squeeze you when she’s holed up in a hotel room?”
“I’ve considered that already. You were off your rhythm,” he reminded her when she frowned at him.“Documented the injuries, I imagine, with a shaky, perhaps teary, account of the attack. An attack which would implicate either or both of us as the assailant, or if she were more clever which had the unknown assailant warn her that either or both of us would see she got worse unless she did what she was told.”
He topped off the wine in Eve’s glass.“There would be a statement that this record was made to protect herself, in the event of her untimely death. Or further injury. In which case the record would be sent to the media, and the authorities. This documentation would be sent to me, as she’d trust me to decipher the subtext: Pay, or this goes public.”
“Yeah, well.” She took another slice of pizza.“Did all this considering tell you where that record might be?”
“With her killer, no doubt.”
“Yeah, no doubt. So why wasn’t it brought up along with the numbered account during Zana’s abduction? Why haven’t you received a copy of the documentation?”
“The killer may have assumed the record would do the talking. And may have been foolish enough to trust it to regular mail.”
“See.” She shook the slice at him, then bit in.“Smart, sloppy, smart, sloppy. And that doesn’t work for me. There’s no sloppy here. It’s all smart smart enough to try to look sloppy. Crime of passion, covering it up, little mistakes. Bigger ones. But I think … I’m starting to wonder if some of those mistakes are purposeful.”
She looked back at the board.“Maybe I’m just circling.”
“No, keep going. I like it.”
“She was a difficult woman. Even her son said so. And yeah,” she added, reading Roarke’s expression,“I haven’t eliminated him as a suspect. I’ll come back to why he’s not higher on my list. So you’re doing grunt work for a difficult woman. You’re going to get a cut, but no way you’re getting half. Maybe she tells you she’s going for a million, and you can have ten percent for your trouble. That’s not bad for grunt work. Maybe that’s the play, and she gives you the record to deliver or send.”
“Sure of herself to do that,” he commented.
“Yeah, and sure of her grunt. But it also takes her a step back if anything goes wrong. It all fits her profile.”
“But her grunt isn’t as obedient as she assumed,” Roarke continued.“Instead of being a good doggy and delivering, you take a look at it first. And start thinking this is worth more.”
Here was her rhythm, Eve realized. Batting it back and forth with him, seeing the steps, the pieces, the possibilities.
“Yeah. Maybe you come back, tell her you want a bigger cut. Maybe you point out they could squeeze for more than a measly million.”
“That would piss her off.”
“Wouldn’t it.” Eve smiled at him.“And she’s loose. Been drinking, taking meds. Could be her tongue got away from her and it comes out she was going for two. Oops.”
“Or she just flat out refuses to widen the slice of the pie.”
“That’s a pisser either way. And any way it plays, you’re back in that room with her late Saturday night, early Sunday morning. She turns her back on you. You’ve got the record, you’ve got the weapon. You’ve got motive, you’ve got opportunity. You take her out. You bag up her ‘link, her copy of the documentation, her disc files, anything else that might implicate you or help you out. You unlock the window, and you’re gone.”
“Now you’ll get the whole pie.” Roarke glanced down at the pizza between them. They’d fairly well demolished it, he noted. Hungry work.
“Then it angles back.” Eve licked a little sauce from her thumb.“Bright and early Monday morning, you’re right there, right on the spot to snatch Zana when she comes out. Happy coincidence for you that she’s out hunting bagels on her own.”
“Maybe Trudy wasn’t the one with the lover.”
“That’s a thought, isn’t it?” She inclined her head, and shoved the pizza away before she made herself sick.“Going to take a closer look at Bobby’s pretty little wife.”
“Not Bobby?”
“I’ll go down a few layers. But the thing with matricide is it’s usually uglier. More rage.”
As was patricide, she thought. She’d all but swam in the blood when she’d killed her father.
As that was one memory she didn’t need or want, she focused on the now.“Then the motive’s murky there. If it’s the money, why not wait until she scooped it up? Then you arrange for an accident back home, and you inherit. Could’ve been impulse, just of the moment, but…”
“You’ve got a spot for him,” Roarke said.“A soft one.”
“It’s not that.” Or maybe part of that, she admitted.“If he was putting on a show outside that hotel room, he’s wasting his talents with real estate. And I was with him when Zana had her adventure, so that means he’d have to have a partner. Or he and Zana are in this together. None of that’s impossible, so we’ll go down those layers. But it’s not what rings for me.”
He studied her face.“And something does. I can see it.”
“Back to the vic. She likes to be in charge, keep people under her thumb. Like you pointed out, she didn’t just take kids in for the fees. She took them in so she had sway over them, so they’d do her bidding, fear her. According to her, she kept files on them. So why would I be the first she’s hit on?”
“Not a partner then. A minion.”
“That’s a good word, isn’t it?” Eve sat back in her chair, swiveled back and forth.“Minion. Right up her alley. From the look back I already took, she always fostered females. Which plays into her being in her nightgown. Why bother with a robe when it’s another woman? No need to be concerned or afraid when it’s someone you bossed around when she was a kid and who, for whatever reason, is still under your control.”
“Zana was abducted by a man, if we take her at her word.”
“And if we do, going by this theory, there are two. Or Trudy had herself a man. I’m going to take a closer look at who she fostered.”
“And I’ll play with my numbers.”
“Getting anywhere?”
“It’s a matter of time. Feeney got a start and a warrant. Which makes it possible for me to use my office equipment without dodging around CompuGuard.”
“Only half the fun for you.”
“Sometimes you settle.” He got to his feet.“I’ll get back to it.”
“Roarke. Before, what I said about bringing work home, and cops into the house. I should’ve added pulling you into this mix.”
“I put myself into the mix quite a few times, going around you to do so.” His lips curved, just a bit.“I’ve tried to learn to wait to be asked first.”
“I ask a lot. And I haven’t forgotten you were hurt, took a couple of pretty serious hits on my last two major cases because I asked you first.”
“As did you,” he reminded her.
“I signed up for it.”
He smiled fully now it was enough to make a woman’s heart do a header and walked around the desk to lift her hand, rub his finger over her wedding ring.“As did I. Go to work, Lieutenant.”
“Okay. Okay,” she repeated quietly as he walked to his own office. She turned to her computer.“Let’s start earning our pay.”
She brought up the list of the children Trudy had fostered, then began to pick at their lives.
One was doing her third stretch for aggravated assault. Good candidate, Eve thought, if she wasn’t currently in a cage in Mobile, Alabama. She put a call through to the warden, just in case, and confirmed.
One down.
Another had been blown to bits while dancing at an underground club in Miami when a couple of lunatics stormed it. Suicide bombers, Eve recalled, protesting with their lives, and more than a hundred others what they considered the exploitation of women.
The next had a residence listed as Des Moines, Iowa, one current marriage on record, with employment as an elementary educator. One offspring, male. The spouse was a data cruncher. Still, they pulled in a decent living between them, Eve mused. Trudy might have dipped into the well.
Eve contacted Iowa. The woman who came onscreen looked exhausted. Banging and crashing sounded in the background.“Happy holidays. God help me. Wayne, please, will you keep it down for five minutes? Sorry.”
“No problem. Carly Tween?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Lieutenant Dallas, with New York City Police and Security.”
“New York. I’ve got to sit down.” There was a huge sigh, and the screen tipped just enough for Eve to get a glimpse of an enormously pregnant belly. Another down, she decided, but followed through.
“What’s this about?”
“Trudy Lombard. Ring a bell?”
Her face changed, tightened.“Yes. She was my foster mother for several months when I was a child.”
“Could you tell me the last time you had contact with her?”
“Why? Wayne. I mean it. Why?” she repeated.
“Ms. Lombard was murdered. I’m investigating.”
“Murdered? Wait, just wait, I have to move to somewhere else. I can’t hear with all this noise.” There was a lot of huffing before the woman gained her feet, and the screen swayed as she waddled across what Eve saw was a family living area into a small office space. She shut the door.
“She was murdered? How?”
“Mrs. Tween, I’d like to know the last time you spoke with or had contact with Ms. Lombard.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“The fact that you’re not answering a routine question makes me wonder.”
“I was twelve,” Carly snapped.“I was under her care for eight months. My aunt was able to get custody and I went to live with her. Matter closed.”
“Then why are you angry?”
“Because a New York cop is calling my home and asking me questions about a murder. I have a family. I’m eight months pregnant, for God’s sake. I’m a teacher.”
“And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I have nothing to say about this or her. Nothing. Not without a lawyer, so leave me alone.”
The screen went black.“That went well,” Eve commented.
While she didn’t see Carly Tween waddling her way to New York to bash Trudy’s brains in, she kept her on the list.
On the next call she was switched to voice mail two faces, two voices, both of them glowing to the point Eve wished for sunshades.
Hi! This is Pru!
And this is Alex!
We can’t talk to you right now because we’re on our honeymoon in Aruba!
They turned to each other, giggling insanely. Catch you when we comeback. If we come back.
Apparently someone was taking advantage of those low rates to the islands, Eve thought. If Pru and Alex had tied the knot, they’d done so recently enough that the data hadn’t caught up.
She confirmed with vital records in Novi, Michigan. Pru and Alex had indeed applied for a marriage license, and had put it to use the previous Saturday.
She doubted they’d detoured to New York to commit murder on their way to sun, surf, and sex.
“All right, Maxie Grant, of New L. A., let’s see what you’re up to. A lawyer, huh? And with your own firm. Must be doing pretty well. I’d bet Trudy would’ve liked a piece of that.”
Factoring the time difference, she tried Maxie Grant’s office number first.
It was answered on the second beep, in brisk tones, by a woman with a great deal of curly red hair around a sharply defined face. Her mossy green eyes fixed on Eve’s.“Maxie Grant, what can I do for you?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.”
“New York? You keep late hours, Lieutenant.”
“You answer your own ‘link, Ms. Grant.”
“Entirely too often. What can I do for New York?”
“Trudy Lombard.”
The smile that curved across Maxie’s face was anything but friendly.“Tell me you’re Homicide, and the bitch is on a slab.”
“That’s just what I’m going to tell you.”
“No shit? Well, strike up the band and hand me a tuba. How’d she buy it?”
“I take it you weren’t a fan.”
“I hated her guts. I hated the atoms that made up her guts. If you’ve got who did her under wraps, I’d like to shake his hand.”
“Why don’t you tell me your whereabouts from this past Saturday through Monday.”
“Sure. I was right here. On the coast, I mean. Even I don’t spend every minute in this office.” She eased back in the chair, pursed her lips in consideration.“Okay, Saturday, eight to noon, I was volunteering at St. Agnes’s. I coach girls’ volleyball. Get you a list of names to verify if you want them. Did some Christmas shopping after, with a pal. Spent too much, but hell, it’s Christmas. Got the pal’s name, and my receipts. Party Saturday night. Didn’t get home ‘til after two, and didn’t come home alone. Sex and breakfast in bed Sunday morning. Went to the gym, hung around the house. Did some work from home Sunday night. How about some details. Did she suffer? Please tell me she suffered.”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’d enjoy that?”
“She made my life hell for nine months. Unless you’re a total fuckup and you don’t look like one you’ve got my file right there. Went into the system when I was eight, after my old man finally beat my mother to death and got his sorry ass locked up. Nobody wanted me. I got shot to that sadistic bitch. She used to make me scrub floors with a toothbrush, locked me in my room every night. Cut the power to it sometimes, just so I’d be in the dark. Told me my mother probably deserved what she got, and I’d end up the same way.”
She took a deep breath, then reached for the bottle of water at her elbow, drank.“I started stealing, squirreling money away for my escape fund. Got caught. She showed the cops all these bruises on her arms, her legs. Told them I’d attacked her. I never touched the bitch. So I’m slapped in juvie. Got bad, lots of fights.
“You’ve seen this picture before.”
“Yeah, a few times.”
“I was dealing illegals by the time I was ten. Bad ass,” she said with a smile that said she was ashamed of it.“In and out of kid cages until I was fifteen and a deal went south. I got cut up. Best thing that ever happened to me. There was a priest… This sounds very Vid of the Week, but there you go. He stuck with me, wouldn’t quit. He turned me around.”
“And you went into law.”
“Just seemed to suit me. That sadistic bitch had me when I was eight, and I was scared. I’d watched my mother die. She used that, did her level best to ruin me. And she nearly did. I won’t be sending flowers to her wake, Lieutenant. I’ll be strapping on red shoes and drinking French champagne.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“I haven’t seen her, face-to-face, in four years.”
“Face-to-face?”
She took another sip, slowly.“I’m a lawyer, good enough to know I should have representation. I shouldn’t be talking to you. But I’m so damn happy she’s dead, I’m going to walk on the wild side. Four years ago, I was working for a high-powered firm. Junior partner. I was engaged to a guy who had a solid shot at the Senate. I was pulling in a big salary, one I worked my ass off for. She shows up at my office. Where I worked, for God’s sake. She’s all smiles, and look at you, aren’t you something. Made me sick.”
Maxie took one more slug of water, then slapped the bottle down again.“I should’ve kicked her out, but she caught me off guard. Then she hits me with it: She’s got copies of my record, all of it. The illegals, the cage time, the assaults, the thefts. It wouldn’t do, would it, for that to come out? Not with me in this cushy job, in this important firm. Not with me planning my wedding to a man favored to head to East Washington.”
“She blackmailed you.”
“I let her. So stupid. I gave her fifty thousand. In three months, she was back for more. That’s the way it works. I’m not green, I knew better. But I paid her again. Even when my relationship went down the sewer. My fault, I was so stressed, so determined not to let him know, that I torched it.”
She broke off a moment, and her tone changed, softened.“I’m sorry for that. Still sorry for that. So, I paid her for two years. To the tune of a quarter mil. And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I quit my job. And the next time she contacted me, I told her to go ahead. Go ahead, you bitch, do your worst. I’ve got nothing to lose now. Already lost it,” she said quietly.
“How’d she take it?”
“She was steamed. At least I had that. She screamed and carried on like I was jabbing hot sticks in her eyes. Nice moment for me. I’d get disbarred, she said. And that’s bull, of course. No firm would ever hire me again. And there she might’ve had something. I didn’t give a cold shit. I stuck, and she went away. And now, thank the gods, she won’t be back.”
“You should’ve gone to the cops.”
“Maybe. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. I played my hand. I got my own firm now, such as it is. I’m happy. I didn’t kill her, but I’ll offer my services pro bono to whoever did. She made me bathe in cold water, every night. Said it was good for me. Cooled hot blood.”
Eve shuddered before she could stop herself. She remembered the cold baths.
“I’m going to want the names of the people who can verify your whereabouts, Maxie.”
“No problem. Tell me how she bought it.”
“Fractured skull, blunt instrument.”
“Oh. I was hoping for something more exotic. Guess that’ll have to do.”
Cold, Eve thought later. Cold and brutally frank. She had to respect that.
Even better, she had her first step toward a pattern of blackmail.
She found two more. Though they didn’t confirm it, she saw it in their eyes. Alibis would be checked for them, and for the two others she couldn’t reach.
She got up for coffee, detoured into Roarke’s office.“Any progress?”
“Continues to dead-end on me.” He shoved back from the desk, obviously annoyed.“Are we sure she had the numbers right?”
“She was shook, so she may have screwed up. But she said them twice, in the sequence I gave you. No hesitation.”
“I’m getting nothing. I’m going to have the computer run them, in various sequences. See what pops up. What about you?”
“I’ve got one confirmed blackmail. Lawyer out in California. I don’t like her for the murder, but she claims she shelled out a quarter million over a couple of years before she cut Trudy off. That’s a lot from one source, and I’m banking there’s more. I’m also banking Trudy had herself a couple of quiet accounts, the sort she wouldn’t report for taxes.”
“Now that I can find easily enough.”
“I’ve got two account numbers from the lawyer where she transferred money to Trudy. But it’s been several years, and maybe Trudy shuffled funds around.”
“The best way to keep the IRS from sniffing. I’ll start with those, find the rest.”
“When you do, if they were e-transfers, we’d be able to track them to the source.”
“Child’s play, and it’ll give me a break from this frustration.”
“Want coffee?”
“How wifely. I would, yes. Thanks.”
“I was getting some for me anyway.”
She heard him laugh as she started out, then she stopped by the board again. If Trudy had income from blackmail, money tucked away, just how much would Bobby inherit now?
A nice boost to his business, she imagined.
She thought briefly of the boy who’d snuck a sandwich into her room when she’d been alone and hungry. How he’d done so without a word, with the faintest of smiles and a finger to his lips.
Then she got coffee, and prepared to find out if he’d killed his own mother.
14
SHE WAS STANDING IN A ROOM, BRILLIANTLY lit, drinking champagne with a group of women. She recognized their faces. The California lawyer was drinking right from the bottle and doing a hip-swinging dance in high red heels. Carly Tween was sitting on a stool with a tall back, sipping delicately while she rubbed her enormous belly with her free hand.
The others the others who’d been like her were all chattering the way women do at girl parties. She’d never been fluent in the language of fashion and food and men, so she drank the frothy wine and let the sounds roll over her.
Everyone was duded up. She herself was wearing the same outfit she’d donned for the holiday party. Even in the dream even knowing it was a dream her feet ached.
Part of the room was sectioned off, and there the children they’d been sat, watching the party. Hand-me-down clothes, hungry faces, hopeless eyes all closed off from the lights, the music, the laughter by a sheer glass wall.
Inside it, Bobby served the children sandwiches, and they ate ravenously.
She didn’t belong here, not really. She wasn’t one of them, not quite. And the others sent her quick, sidelong glances, and whispered behind their hands.
Still, it was she who walked first to the body that lay on the floor in the middle of the celebration. Blood stained Trudy’s nightgown and congealed on the glossy floor.
“She’s really not dressed for it,” Maxie said, and smiled as she chugged down more champagne.“All the money she carved out of us, you’d think she could afford a nice outfit. It’s a fricking party, isn’t it?”
“She didn’t plan to be here.”
“You know what they say about plans.” She gave Eve an elbow nudge.“Loosen up. We’re all family here, after all.”
“My family’s not here.” She looked through that sheer glass, into the eyes of children. And wasn’t so sure.“I’ve got a job to do.”
“Suit yourself. Me, I’m going to get this party started.” Maxie turned the bottle over, gripped the neck in both hands, and with a wild laugh smashed it against Trudy’s already shattered head.
Eve leapt forward, shoved her back, but the others swarmed in. She was knocked down, kicked aside, trampled as they fell on the body like dogs.
She crawled clear, struggled to stand. And saw the children behind the glass. Cheering.
Behind them, she saw the shadow, the shape that was her father.
Told you, didn’t I, little girl? Told you they’d toss you into the pit with the spiders.
“No.” She jerked, struck out when someone lifted her.
“Easy now,” Roarke murmured.“I’ve got you.”
“What? What?” With her heart skittering, she shook herself awake in his arms.“What is it?”
“You fell asleep at your desk. Small wonder as it’s nearly two in the morning. You were having a nightmare.”
“It wasn’t…” She took a moment to steady herself.“It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. It was just weird. Just a weird dream. I can walk.”
“I like this better.” Still carrying her, he stepped onto the elevator.“We’d have headed for bed sooner, but I got caught up.”
“I’m fuzzy.” She rubbed her face, but couldn’t scrape away the fatigue.“You get anywhere?”
“What a question. Three accounts so far. I suspect there are more. Feeney can take over with it in the morning. I’ve some work of my own to deal with.”
“What are”
“Morning’s soon enough. It’s nearly here, in any case.” He stepped out of the elevator, took her straight to the bed. When he started to tug down her pants, she tapped his hands aside.
“I can do that. You might get ideas.”
“Even I have limits, broad though they may be.”
Still, when he slid into bed with her, he drew her close to his side.
She started to nag him into giving her some of the data. And the next thing she knew, it was morning.
He was having coffee in the sitting area, with the viewing screen split between stock reports and the morning bulletins. At the moment, she didn’t care about either. So she grunted what passed for a morning greeting and slogged off to the bathroom.
When she came out, she smelled bacon.
There were two plates on the table. She knew his game. He’d fill her in if and when she ate. To expedite it, she plopped down across from him, grabbed the coffee first.
“So?”
“Good morning to you, too. Such as it is. Forecast is for sleet, possibly turning to snow by midmorning.”
“The fun never ends. The accounts, Roarke.”
He pointed a finger at the cat, who was trying to belly over toward the food. Galahad stopped, and began scratching his ears.
“The accounts the lawyer gave you were closed. Timing coordinates with the cutoff. I found others, off shore and off planet. Numbered, of course, but with some finessing, I unearthed the certified names. Roberta True and Robin Lombardi.”
“Not very imaginative.”
“I don’t think imagination was her strong suit. Greed certainly was. She had close to a million in each. Tracing back, I’ve got the lawyer’s transfers. And another six figures transferred from an account under the names Thom and Carly Tween.”
“Yeah, I knew she’d been scalped some.”
“Also a chunk from a Marlee Peoples.”
“Peoples that’s the doctor, pediatrician, in Chicago. I wasn’t able to reach her yesterday.”
“There’s more. I made you a list. Deposits that I’ve found so far go back about ten years.”
“Round about the time she’d have lost the pro-mom status. You got a kid in college, you keep the status until he’s done, or turns twenty-four.”
“A handy way to make up for the loss in income.”
“But she doesn’t buy a nice outfit for the party.”
“Sorry?”
“Stupid dream.” Eve shook her head.“Or not so. What the hell did she do with her money, anyway? Comes to New York, stays in an economy hotel.”
Roarke plucked up a piece of bacon, handed it to her.“For some, it’s simply the having, the accumulating. It’s not what you can buy with it.”
Because it was in her hand, she ate the bacon.“Well, Morris said she’d had good face and body work, so she spent some on that. Daughter-in-law stated Trudy left her better jewelry at home, so she spent some there. Personal stuff,” Eve mused.“Appearance. That fits her. And maybe she invested in something. Bobby’s in real estate. Could be she’s got property. Something she figured to retire to when she was done bleeding her former charges.”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. How much she had, who knew she had it, who had access. It might matter.” She ate as she thought about it.“I couldn’t find anything that points to Bobby or his bride. I went through financials, medical, education, criminal. But if either or both of them knew she had a couple million stashed away, and thought there was a shot at doubling that, maybe.”
She toyed with it a moment.“If we can freeze the accounts, prove the funds were from illegal means … Might get the killer to try to follow Trudy’s path to blackmail. Might piss him off, too. And eventually, through the maze of red tape, we might even get the money back where it came from.”
“And justice for all.”
“In a perfect world, which isn’t even close to this one. But it’s an angle. If money was the motive, removing the money could stir things up.”
With some surprise she realized she’d finished her breakfast. She rose.“I’m going to get dressed, get started. Maybe we’ll lower the visual on the security I’ve got on Bobby and Zana. Make it seem like it’s eased up. Need some bait, is what we need.”
She went to the closet, remembered what he’d said about sleet and snow, so detoured to her dresser to dig out a sweater.“It’s the twenty-third, right?”
“Only two more shopping days before Christmas.”
“Makes sense, lighter duty this close to the big day. Couple of out-of-towners cooped up in a hotel. They’d start whining about getting out some. So we let them. See what we can see.”
 *
At Central, she set up a briefing in one of the conference rooms. She called in Detective Baxter and Officer Trueheart, as well as Feeney, Peabody, and McNab.
She caught them up, then began to assign duties.“Feeney, you’ll continue to follow the money. I realize this isn’t your top priority, so whatever time and manpower you can spare.”
“Things are pretty loose. Losing a lot of my boys over the next day or two. Including this one.” He jerked a thumb at McNab.“No reason I can’t work their asses off until then.”
“Appreciate it. I’m going to need a couple of homers,” she told him.“I want small and discreet. I’m going for a warrant to use them on our two protective custodys.”
“A warrant?” He scratched his fingers into his wiry, ginger-colored hair.“You don’t figure they’ll grant permission?”
“I’m not going to ask for it. So I want something I can get on them without them being aware. You got something in your bag of tricks that’ll give me some audio, it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Tricky.” Considering, he rubbed his chin.“Warrant for something like that, you generally got to have some evidence points to them as suspects, or have their prior knowledge and cooperation.”
She’d already worked the skirt around that one in her head.“In the opinion of the primary, the subjects are already under duress and stress. The purpose of the homers is for their own safety, as the female subject was purportedly abducted once.”
“Purportedly?” Peabody repeated.
“We’ve only got her word on it. We’re running a thin line with these two, between victims and suspects. Homers are my method of walking the line. I’m going to do a dance for the warrant. I’ll call Mira in to back me up if necessary. We get them wired, and we open the cage.”
She turned to Baxter.“That’s where you and your partner come in. I want you out there, soft clothes, tailing them. I want to know where they go, how they look.”
“You’re tossing us out on the street on Christmas Eve Eve… Eve.” Baxter grinned.“Somebody had to say it.”
“It would be you. They split up, you split up. You stay in contact with each other, and with me. This is low risk, but I don’t want sloppy. They may be approached. It’s unlikely they’ll be harmed. Probability’s in the low twenties. Let’s take that down to zero and keep sharp.”
“Lieutenant?” As was his habit, Trueheart raised his hand. He wasn’t as green as he once was, Baxter was ripening him. But a little color rose up his throat over his uniform collar when Eve turned to him.
“If they are approached, do we move in to apprehend?”
“You observe, use your own judgment. I don’t want you giving chase and losing this guy on the street. You take him if you’re close enough to do so without risk. Otherwise, you follow, give me the coordinates. From all evidence, the victim was target specific. There’s little risk to the populace, so let’s keep it that way.”
She gestured to the board, and Trudy’s picture.“Still, he did that, so we’re dealing with someone who can and will kill if motivated. I want everybody home for Christmas.”
She held Peabody back when the others left.“I’m going to see Mira, run this by her and get her behind me on this warrant. I’ve got names of former fosters. The ones I was unable to reach are marked. See what you can do with them. But first, contact Carly Tween from that list. She wouldn’t talk to me. She’s eight months pregnant, scared, and cranky. Use your soft sell. If you can confirm her husband’s whereabouts for the murder, so much the better.”
“She got a father? Brothers?”
“Shit.” Eve rubbed her neck.“Can’t remember. Doubtful on the father as she was in foster, but check it out.”
“On that. Good luck with the warrant.”
 *
To Eve’s shock and surprise, Mira’s admin didn’t throw herself bodily in front of the office door. Instead, she beeped through, got the okay, then gestured Eve in.
“Oh, Merry Christmas, Lieutenant, if I don’t see you before.”
“Ah, thanks. Same to you.”
She glanced back, still baffled, as the dragon at the gates began to hum”Jingle Bells.”
“You’d better do a head exam on your admin,” Eve said to Mira as she shut the door.“She’s suddenly perky and she’s out there singing.”
“The holidays do that to people. I told her to put you through at any time, unless I was in session. It’s important that I keep up, not just with the progress of your investigation, but with your emotional state.”
“I’m fine. I’m good. I just need”
“Sit down, Eve.”
Because Mira turned to her AutoChef, Eve rolled her eyes behind Mira’s back. But she sat, dropping into one of the pretty blue scoop chairs.“I’m hitting snags and dead-ends on the investigation, so I’m pushing it open. I want to”
“Have some tea.”
“I really don’t”
“I know, but indulge me. I can tell you didn’t get much sleep. Are you having nightmares?”
“No. Not exactly. I worked late last night.” She took the tea what choice did she have?“I dropped off for a few minutes. Had a weird dream. Nothing major.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She hadn’t come for a session, damn it. But she knew that arguing with Mira on her own turf was like beating your head against rock.
She described the dream, shrugged.“Weird, mostly. I didn’t feel threatened or out of control.”
“Even when the other women stampeded you?”
“No, that just pissed me off.”
“You saw yourself, as a child, through the glass.”
“Yeah. Having a sandwich. I think it was ham and cheese.”
“And, at the end of it, your father.”
“He’s always there. Can’t get around it. Look, I get it. Him on one side, her on the other. Me in the middle. Then and now. I’m squeezed on this, but it’s not a problem. For once, nobody’s trying to kill me.”
“Do you really feel that different that distance from the others? The other women?”
“I feel different from most of the women I know. Never can figure out how I end up pals with them, when half the time they’re like another species. Okay, I understood where Maxie was coming from. I know why she felt the way she did, at least initially. Somebody who screwed with her is dead. I don’t feel the same way. Not like busting out the champagne. If I wanted everyone I disliked dead, the city’d be a bloodbath.
“I don’t blame her, but I don’t agree with her. Death isn’t an answer, it’s an end. And murder’s a crime. That makes Trudy, whether I liked her or not, mine. Whoever ended her has to pay for it.”
She hesitated a moment, then decided to finish it out, to close it off with what had just gone through her mind.“I wish I’d had the chance to say what I went there to say to her. To face her like that. More, I wish she were alive so I could help put her away for dogging those women all these years, exploiting them, taking their money and their peace of mind.”
“And you can’t.”
“No. Life’s full of disappointments.”
“Cheery thought,” Mira added.
“Here’s a cheerier one, then: She can’t take from me what I’ve got. I know that. She didn’t. She thought she could get under me, use me. She wouldn’t have. It helps knowing that. Part of what she couldn’t take was what I am. What I am is the cop who’s going to close this case. That’s it.”
“All right. What do you need from me?”
Eve told her of the plans to try for a warrant.
Mira sipped at her tea, and from the expression on her face, Eve knew she was far from convinced.“That’s a shaky line, Eve.”
“I’m freezing the accounts. Money’s cut off. Nobody can get to them in the hotel. Sooner or later I’ve got to spring them. So maybe he waits until I do, until they’re back in Texas. Maybe he goes after one of them there, when they’re not being protected. There’s no motive, at this point, to attack them. Approach, yes, but not attack. Not if money’s the root.”
“What else?”
“Payback, maybe. But I’m hitting dead ends there. The fact is, she could’ve and probably did piss off a lot of people we don’t know about. But Zana’s abduction points to money. So that’s our first stop.”
“I’ll back you on this since I agree the physical jeopardy is low. It could be argued that their emotional state is exacerbated by being kept in the hotel, under guard. Some return of normalcy could benefit them, while aiding your investigation.”
“That’s good enough. I’ll get on it.” She rose.“Peabody and McNab are heading for Scotland tomorrow.”
“Scotland? Oh, his family, of course. They must be excited.”
“Peabody’s running on nerves over it. His family and all that. If nothing breaks today, this is going to cool on me over the holiday. Right now, this is my best chance to keep it hot.”
“Then I wish you luck. And if I don’t see you, have a lovely Christmas. Both you and Roarke.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ve got to take care of a couple things regarding that yet.”
“Ah, another last-minute shopper.”
“Not exactly.”
She started toward the door, then turned back and took another study. Mira wore a suit in a kind of rusty red today, and the shoes matched. Her necklace was short, thick gold with a lot of little stones sparkling in it. Multicolored, triangular shape. Her earrings were thick gold triangles.
“Something else?”
“Just a passing thought,” Eve began.“How much time and thought did it take for you to deck yourself out this morning?”
“Deck myself?” Mira looked down at herself.
“You know, to pick the outfit and the stuff, to fiddle with your hair and face. All that. So you’re all put together just so.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s a compliment. Probably the best part of an hour. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Wait.” Mira held up a hand before Eve opened the door.“How long did it take you?”
“Me? I don’t know. Ten minutes?”
“Get out of my office,” Mira said with a laugh.
 *
Eve gave the warrant a good, solid push. It took over an hour, a lot of tap dancing, but at the end she got what she wanted.
She was told to consider it a Christmas present.
Satisfied, she headed out to the bull pen.“Suit up,” she told Baxter.“Get your boy. I want you in position, at the hotel, in thirty.”
“It’s going to snow. Did you know it’s supposed to start snowing?”
“Wear boots, then.”
Ignoring his whine, she walked to Peabody’s desk, got a little brush-back.“I hear you, Carly.”
Peabody used an earpiece on privacy mode.“You’ve only got one thing to worry about now, and that’s your family. Having another beautiful, healthy baby boy. It’s a big help to us that you cooperated. Now I want you to put it out of your mind, and go enjoy the holidays.”
She listened for a moment, smiled.“Thanks. I’ll be in touch when we have more information. Merry Christmas to you and your family.”
Peabody pulled off the earpiece, then made a show of buffing her nails on her shirt.“I’m good.”
“Did you stop short of sending her a gift? Jesus. What’d you get?”
“Husband’s out of it. He was with her Saturday, in the hospital. She had false labor, and they were there several hours. I ran a secondary check on that while I had her on ‘link. Pans out. No brother, no father. Only child. Jeez, Dallas, she had it rough.”
“Walk and talk. We’ve got a warrant coming through, and I want to head up, see what toys Feeney’s picked out for me.”
“Mother was a junkie. Used while she was pregnant, so Carly was born an addict. She got passed around, various relatives. Too much for them to handle, too much expense, too much trouble.”
They hopped on a glide, blissfully uncrowded as the holidays had everyone who could manage it copping time off.
“She’s dumped in the system. Her physical problems are dealt with, but she’s a hard placement. Scrawny, possible physical complications. Mother cleans up, supposedly at least enough to get the courts to put the kid back in her care. Then she starts using again, turning tricks. Kid’s ten, and it’s a bad life. Mother gets popped again, but not before she uses the kid to sell a little kiddie porn on the ‘net. Back in the system, and she ends up with Trudy.”
“Who made things worse.”
“I’ll say. Made her scrub in cold water every night. And other various torments. Kid squeals, but nobody’s buying. Not a mark on her. No outward signs of abuse, and it’s all put down to her prior difficulties. Until she tried to off herself. Slashed her own wrists with a kitchen knife.”
Eve paused long enough to breathe out.“Oh, hell.”
“Said it was Bobby who found her, called an ambulance. When she woke up in the hospital, they told her she’d attacked her foster mother. She swore that was a lie, but Trudy had superficial stab wounds on her forearms.”
“Bitch did it to herself.”
“I’m with that. But she’s back in the system again, and this time she stays in state schools until she’s of age.
“She turned her life around, Dallas, you gotta admire it. Scraped it together to go to college for a degree in Elementary Ed, snagged a couple scholarships. She settled out in Iowa, said she just wanted to put it away. Close that door. Met her husband five years ago, got married.”
“Then Trudy comes back.”
“Parents might not like the idea of someone with her background teaching their tots, that’s how Trudy put it. If she wanted to keep all that boxed up, it would cost. These aren’t wealthy people, but Carly was scared. They paid. When I told her we were going to try to get the money back, she cried.”
“How much did Trudy take her for ?”
“Over the years, about a hundred and fifty thousand.” There was an account Roarke had opened in her name when they’d married. She’d never touched it, had never intended to do so. But, she thought now, if the system didn’t do right by Carly Tween this time, she’d do it herself.
 *
In EDD, Eve studied the homers Feeney offered. They were bigger than she’d wanted, almost thumb-sized.
“How am I supposed to get these on the subjects without them being aware?”
He gave her one of his morose scowls.“Hey, that’s your part of the show. You wanted audio. You settled for a simple beacon, I get you something not much bigger than a piece of lint.”
“I want audio. I’ll figure it out.”
“You’re welcome,” he muttered.
“Sorry, sorry. Jesus. You’re the god of electronics. Appreciate you doing this. I know you’re shorthanded.”
“Might as well be doing something.” He nodded toward his office door where the sounds of loud music, loud voices pressed.
“They’re having a party. A quick one. I gave them an hour to blow off the steam, do the Secret Santa crap. Anybody who’s not on an active’s not coming in next two days.”
“Cops know better than to figure crime takes holidays.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got some boys on call. I’m coming in a half-day, just to round things up. Wife’s making Christmas dinner, and you’d think she was cooking for the royal freaking family. Says we gotta dress for it.”
“What, you generally eat naked?”
“Dress, Dallas. Like formal or some shit.” His already droopy face sagged.“She got the damn idea from you.”
“Me? Me?” Insult, and a little fear, jumped into her voice.“Don’t hang your marital weirdness on me.”
“It was the party at your place did it. Everybody all duded up and sparkly. Now she wants us all to get fancy. I gotta wear a suit in my own house. At my own table.”
Because she felt guilty, Eve pulled her hands through her hair, and struggled to tug out an idea.“You could spill gravy on it right off.”
His eyes brightened.“I knew I kept you around for something. The wife’s gravy’s lethal, too. I spill that on the suit, it’ll practically eat through the lining. Hey, Merry freaking Christmas, kid.”
“Back atcha.”
She toted the homers out, and had to slap a hand to her cheek as a muscle twitched. Straight in her line of vision, Peabody and McNab were locked in a big, sloppy kiss, hips grinding together as they used the music as an excuse for vertical humping.
“Stop! Cease and desist, or I’m locking you both in separate cells for public lewdness.”
She kept walking. When Peabody caught up, she was huffing. Eve didn’t think it was the quick trot that had her breathing heavy.
“We were just”
“Say nothing,” Eve warned.“Do not speak. We’re heading to the hotel. I’m going to get these wires planted, give the subjects the talk. You’re going to check out the banks on the list I’m going to give you. Show them Trudy’s picture. See if anyone remembers her coming in for a big bag of credits on Thursday or Friday.”
“Where do you want me after?”
“I’ll tag you, let you know.”
She dropped Peabody off, continued to the hotel. Spotting the security, she walked over.
“I’m pulling my uniform. At least I want it to look that way. Can I plug him into one of your security areas, give him access to the cam on the fifth floor?”
“We can do that.”
“I’m keeping the Lombards unapprised.”
“No problem. Just send him to me when you’re ready.”
“Thanks.” She moved to the elevator, going over the steps in her head as she rode up.
Once the uniform was given his orders, she knocked.
Bobby answered.“You’ve got news.”
“We’ve had some progress. Nothing much I can tell you at this point. All right if I come in?”
“Sure, sure. Sorry. Zana’s in the shower. We slept in. Not much else to do.”
“I want to talk to you about that,” Eve began.“Why don’t you go in and tell Zana I’m here.”
“Oh. Okay. Be right back.”
“No rush.”
The minute he went into the bedroom, Eve hurried to the closet by the door. The tidy state of the suite told her these were people who put things in their place. She found their coats where she expected.
She took out the two homers, slid one under the collar of each coat, secured them, then engaged. There were two jackets as well, and she considered.
It was cold, she thought. They were from Texas. They’d wear the coats.
She glanced toward the bedroom doorway.“Feeney, if you read, beep my communicator.”
When the beep sounded, she closed the closet door, stepped away. Moments later, Bobby came out.
“She’ll be done in a minute.”
“I guess the two of you are getting antsy, stuck in here.”
“Maybe.” He smiled a little.“I can do some work from here. And I’ve been making arrangements. For my mother. Zana’s been a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without her, don’t know how I managed before she came along. Lousy Christmas for her. I thought maybe I could order a little tree. Or something.”
“I’m going to clear you to go out.”
“Out?” He looked toward the windows as if they were prison bars.“Really? You think it’s safe, after what happened?”
“I think the chances of you being approached or accosted, especially while you’re together, are pretty low. Basically, Bobby, I can’t keep the two of you holed up like this as material witnesses when you didn’t see anything in the first place. If you’ve thought of anything else, remembered anything, that might help.”
“I’ve gone over it and over it. Not doing a lot of sleeping since … since it happened. I don’t understand why my mother would’ve gone to you for money. She’s she was pretty well set. And I’m doing good. Good enough, and better now that we closed that big deal. Somebody must’ve pushed her to do it. But I don’t know who’d do that. I don’t know why.”
“Get out, clear your head a little bit. Maybe something will come to you.” If not, Eve thought, she was going to bring them both in, formal interview. Hit them with the facts, she decided, straight out. See what shakes.
“We could” He broke off when Zana stepped out.
She was dressed in a white sweater and trim pants with tiny brown and white checks. Eve noted she’d taken the time to put on some lip dye, a little cheek color.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. We’re getting a late start today.”
“It’s okay. How’re you feeling?”
“All right. It’s all starting to seem like some long, strange dream.”
“Eve said we can go out for a while,” Bobby told her.
“Really. But…” As he had, Zana glanced toward the window, bit her lip.“But what if… He could be watching.”
“I’ll be with you.” Bobby walked over, put an arm around her.“We’ll go out, buy a little tree. We might get some real snow.”
“I’d really like that, if you’re sure.” She looked back at Eve.“I guess we’re both going a little stir-crazy.”
“Take your ‘link,” Eve advised.“I’ll check in with you now and then.” She headed for the door, stopped.“It’s pretty cold. You’ll want to dress warm if you’re going to be walking around.”
As she headed for the elevator, she pulled out her communicator again.“Peabody, status.”
“Two blocks west. Got what we were looking for, first stop.”
“Meet me in front of the hotel.”
“Are we a go?”
“We’re a go,” Eve said. She switched over to Baxter.“We’re in place. You have the signals.”
“That’s affirmative.”
“Give them some room. Let’s see how they spend their day.”
On the street, she took a look around. If Trudy’s killer had tracked them to the new location and anything was possible where would he wait and watch? There were always places. A restaurant, another hotel room, even the street for a period of time.
But those chances were slim. Tracking them wouldn’t have been a cinch. That would take skill, smarts, and luck. Finding a spot to watch for a couple of days would take a great deal of patience.
And for what purpose? Money, if money was the object, would only come through them if she paid it out. Smarter, simpler, to try the direct blackmail route.
Smarter, simpler, to try to shake her rather than the victim’s daughter-in-law.
She leaned on her car as she waited for Peabody. If money was the motive for murder, why wasn’t the killer pushing harder for a payoff?
Peabody hiked up, rosy-cheeked from the cold and the walk.
“What if the money’s the beard?”
“Whose beard?”
“The beard, Peabody. I keep circling back to payback instead of payoff. It just slides in better. But if it’s payback, why do you wait until she’s in New York, coming after me? Why do you smash her head in after she’s made contact? Why don’t you wait until you see if she gets the dough first? Or you take her out at her home base, easier to make it look accidental.”
“Maybe the killer lives here. In New York. Maybe she was playing two at once.”
“Maybe. But so far, I’ve got nobody who’s local popping out of her file. If it was impulse, why hang around trying to threaten Zana into coughing up money she doesn’t have?”
“Because now you’re greedy.”
“Yeah, greed’s usually good.” But it wasn’t gelling for her.
She got in the car. She didn’t want to be loitering out front when and if the Lombards came out.
“What did you find out?” she asked Peabody.
“National Bank, a block from the boutique. One of the tellers made her photo straight off. She was in right before they closed, Friday afternoon. Wanted two hundred single-dollar credits. Snippy about it, so says the teller. Wanted them loose. No bag, no rolls. Just dumped them into her purse. Oh, they want a warrant before they turn over any security discs.”
“Get one. Let’s tie up all the threads.”
“Where are we heading?”
“Back to the murder scene. I’ve run re-enactments on the comp. I want to try it on the spot.” She dug out her homer, stuck it on the dash.“Baxter and Trueheart can handle the shadow, but we’ll keep an eye on them anyway.”
“Haven’t moved yet,” Peabody observed.
“They will.”
Eve took a second-level street slot at the West Side Hotel.“How could there be anything left in the city to buy?” She clambered down, scowling at the masses of people.“What more could they possibly want?”
“Speaking for myself, I want lots and lots. Piles of boxes with big shiny bows. And if McNab didn’t spring for something shiny, I’ll have to hurt him. Maybe we’ll get that snow.” She sniffed the air like a hound.“Smells like it.”
“How can you smell anything in this city but city?”
“I got a prime nose. I can scent soy dogs grilling. And there they are, down the block. I’m sort of going to miss being here for Christmas. I mean, it’s exciting scary, too going to Scotland, but it’s not New York.”
Inside, the same droid worked the desk.“Hey!” He signaled.“When you gonna unseal the room?”
“When justice is served.”
“Manager’s busting me on it. We got reservations. Full house next week for New Year’s Eve.”
“He’s got a problem with my crime scene, tell him to contact me. I’ll tell him what he can do for New Year’s.”
She checked her homer on the way up.“They’re moving. Baxter?” she said into the communicator.“They’re coming out.”
“We’ve got them. Got audio. They’re talking about heading over to Fifth, window shopping. Looking for a tabletop tree for the room.”
“I can hear them. I’m tuning down the audio. Tag me if there’s anything I should know.”
“They’re stepping out. My youthful companion and I will be taking a stroll. And we’re out.”
Eve pocketed her communicator, took out her master to break the seal. A woman opened the door across the hall a crack.
“Are you the police?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Eve drew out her badge.
“Somebody said a woman was killed in that room, just a few days ago.”
“There was an incident. There’s no reason for you to be concerned.”
“Easy for you to say. Larry! Larry, I told you there was a murder. The cops are right here.” She poked her head back out.“He wants to get his vid cam. Get something we can show the kids tomorrow.”
Larry, busting with smiles as he pushed the door open, led with the camera.“Hi! You think maybe you could put your hand on your weapon, maybe hold up your badge. Look tough. The kids’re going to love it.”
“Now’s not really a good time, Larry.”
“It’ll only take a minute. You going in? Great! I can just get a quick shot of the inside. Is there still blood?”
“What, are you twelve? Put that thing down, go back in your room before I arrest you for being dirt stupid.”
“Great! Great! Keep going.”
“Jesus Christ, where do people come from? What dark hole vomits them out into my face? Peabody.”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside now. This is a police investigation.” She lowered her voice as she moved to block his view.“You don’t want to tick her off. Trust me.”
“Can you say your name? Like this is Officer Smith, ordering you to cease and desist.”
“It’s detective, and, sir, you will have to cease and desist before”
Eve simply stepped forward, wrenched the little camera out of his hand.
“Hey!”
“If you don’t want me to drop it, and have it somehow end up under my boot, you’re going to go back inside.”
“Larry, give it a rest.” The woman elbowed him back.“I’ll take it.”
“I got some good stuff on there,” Larry said as his wife nudged him back inside.“You can’t buy this kind of stuff.” The door finally shut after him.
Eve glanced back. She knew damn well Larry had that damn camera up to the security peep. She broke the seal on room 415, jerked a thumb at Peabody. She kept the door open just enough for her partner to squeeze through, then followed. Closed it. Locked it.
“Asshole.” Eve scanned the room, shook off the incident in the hall.“She comes in Friday, worked up. Got herself a new plan. Following a pattern we’ve established. Doesn’t mind hurting herself or her property to pin it on someone else. Complicate their lives. Pay them back. She’s laid in some supplies. We’ll check some of the markets. Harder to pin that down, though. But she’s going to have some supplies. The wine, soup, easy food.”
“She’s already planning how to take care of herself once she’s hurt. Blockers, then,” Peabody added.“Some soothers.”
“If she didn’t travel with enough, yeah. We’ll check that, too. Bet she has a drink first. Yeah. A big gulp of wine maybe. Maybe some solid food. Thinking, working it out.”
Eve walked the room as she imagined it.“Does she call her killer? I don’t know, I don’t know. Why? This is her deal. She’s in charge. And she’s hot. She’s plenty steamed.”
“Have to be gritting down to do that to herself.”
“She thinks how it’s going to play out. How it’s going to make Roarke scramble. Thinks he can brush her off? Well, she’ll show him. Rips the socks apart. Pulls off the tag, balls it up, tosses it and pulls the pair apart. Tosses the spare, floor, dresser. Fills the one with the credits. Checks the weight. Maybe takes a blocker first, gets ahead of the pain.”
Eve strode to the bathroom.“In here. You’d do it in here, in case the pain makes you sick. Don’t want to puke on the floor. Who’s going to clean it up?”
Eve stepped to the sink, looked into the mirror.“Takes a good look. She’s paid good money to keep her face in tune. But that’s all right, that’s okay. There’ll be more. And there’s no way that son of a bitch is going to get away with treating her that way. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
Eve brought her fist up hard, right below the chin. Fast enough, violently enough to make Peabody jolt behind her.
“Jeez, I could almost feel it.”
“Saw stars. Pain grinds right down into the gut. Dizzy, half sick. Gotta do the rest, gotta do it while you’ve still got the courage, and the strength.” She mimed the blows, imagined them. Tipped forward, gripped the sink as if for support.
“They got her prints off the sink? Where?”
Peabody pulled out her PCC, called up the file.“Pretty much where your hand is. Good imprints all four fingers and thumb, left hand.”
“Yeah, cause she’s still holding the sap in her right, had to grab hold to stay upright. Good grip, good prints. Got to bleed a little, from the face.”
She turned, reached out for a washcloth.“Should be two of these. She takes one, holds it to her face, maybe dampens it first. So we get a little of her blood in the sink. But the cloth’s not here when we find her.”
“Killer took it? Why?”
“To keep the illusion she was beaten. Trudy takes the cloth, probably puts some ice in it, just to cool her face. None of her clothes had blood on them, except for the nightgown. Most likely she wore it while she clocked herself. Don’t want to mess up a nice outfit. Besides, she’s going to want to lie down for a while anyway. Sleep off the pain.”
“It still doesn’t make sense.”
“Call up the list of her belongings. Is there a vid cam?”
“Hold on.” Peabody shoved at her hair, then found the file.“No cam, but… hey. There’s a disc for one. Unused. It was in her purse.”
“Tourists don’t come to New York without a vid cam. Just like our pal, Larry. And she used recordings before. Sleeps it off, first. Has to have her wits about her when she documents her injuries. Sets the stage, works up some tears, some shakes. Puts the finger on Roarke, or me. Or both of us.”
Eve looked toward the bed, could picture Trudy sitting there, her face battered, tears streaming.“‘This is what they did to me. I’m afraid for my life.’ All she has to do is get a copy of it delivered to one of us. Have to have some subtext on the recording. ‘I don’t know what to do. Should I go to the police? But she’s the police. God help me,’ blah-blah. ‘He’s so rich, so powerful. What will happen if I take this recording to the media. Will I be safe?’”
“Figuring you’d read between the lines.”
“And when we contact her, she’ll insist one of us come here. No ‘link conversations that can be turned around on her. Face-to-face. Give me the money, or I ruin you. But it doesn’t get that far.”
“Because her delivery boy took her out.”
“Had to come in the door. I just don’t buy the window, not with this scenario. Security’s not heavy here. Anybody wants to walk in, they walk in. Or he could’ve been staying at the hotel. Keep him close that way, under her thumb that way. At her beck and call. We’ll run the registration list again, go deeper there. Find a connection. Better if your minion’s close by. She tells him to come up.”
“She couldn’t be feeling her best, even with the blockers, the alcohol.”
“No, and she’d want to be able to complain to somebody. Fix me a drink. Get me some soup. Maybe bitching if she’d sent the disc with him why we hadn’t jumped already. What’s taking us so long? Maybe she slips about the amount she’s going to demand, or maybe she just pushes the wrong button. But she’s not concerned. Pacing around in her nightgown. She’s there.”
Eve pointed so that Peabody would assume Trudy’s position.“Back to him. He picks up the sap, takes her down. Rug burns on the heels of her hand. Get down, Peabody.”
“Cops have no dignity.” Peabody went down on her knees, shot her hands out as if catching herself.
“And again, from above. One more to make sure. Blood. Had to get some blood on him. Now he’s got to figure it out, cover his tracks. Take the weapon, take the ‘link, take the camera. Record would be on the hard drive, if anyone decided to look. Make sure. Washcloth, towel, sock. Anything with her blood on it. Wrap everything up in a towel. Go out the window. Leave the window open. Logic says the killer came in that way.”
By the window now, Eve looked out.“Down and gone, no problem. Or …” She studied the distance to the window of the next room, the emergency platform.“Next room was empty. Maybe …”
She turned back.“Let’s have the sweepers take a look next door. I want those drains checked for blood. Bring them in now. I’ll go down and deal with the desk droid.”
He wasn’t happy about it. The room was occupied, and moving guests generally made them unhappy.
“They’ll be a lot unhappier if they’re in there while my crime scene team’s tearing up the room. You’ll be a lot unhappier if I go through the trouble of getting a warrant to shut down this establishment until my investigation is closed.”
That did the trick. While she waited, she checked in with Baxter.
“What’s the status?”
“They’re making up for lost time. I think we’ve walked five fricking miles. And it’s spitting some wet snow.”
“So button up. What are they doing?”
“Shopping mostly. Just bought a little tree after looking at all the little trees in the borough of Manhattan. They’re talking about heading back, thank the tiny baby Jesus. If anyone’s tailing them but me and my faithful sidekick, I’m a monkey.”
“Stick with them.”
“Like glue.”
In Midtown, Baxter shoved his communicator back in his coat pocket. On his earpiece he heard Zana talk about lunch. Should they buy some dogs and stay out a while longer? Or go drop off their things, have lunch at the hotel?
“Hotel,” he mumbled.“Go to the hotel. The one with a nice warm coffee shop across the street.”
Trueheart shrugged.“It’s nice being out. Being able to see all the decorations. The snow just adds.”
“You kill me, kid. It’s thirty degrees, windy, and this snow is more like sleet. The sidewalks are jammed, and we’re walking the soles of our shoes thin. Shit. Damn it. They’re going for the dogs.”
“And glide-cart coffee.” Now Trueheart shook his head.“They’ll be sorry.”
“And now she’s window-shopping. Typical female. He’s got to haul the bags, buy the dogs, juggle it all so she can sigh over a bunch of sparklers they’ll never be able to afford.”
“If they’re blackmailers they can.”
Baxter gave Trueheart a look of pride and approval.“Now that’s the kind of cynicism I like to hear. Take the point, move on the cart once he’s got his dogs. Order up a couple. It’s crowded. Hard to keep a visual going. I’ll hang back in case she talks him into going in the store.”
Baxter eased right, toward the buildings, and caught a glimpse of Zana looking over her shoulder, smiling as Bobby came over, balancing food and packages.
“I’m sorry, honey!” She laughed, took one of the bags, one of the dogs.“I shouldn’t have left you with all that. I just wanted a peek.”
“You want to go in ?”
She laughed again.“I can hear the pain in your voice. No, I just wanted to look. I wish I’d thought to wear a hat, though. My ears are cold.”
“We can go back, or we can buy a hat.”
She beamed at him.“I’d really like to stay out just a little while more. There’s a place across the street.”
“The one we walked by to get to this side of the street?”
“I know, I know,” she said with a giggle.“But they had hats and scarves. On sale. You could use a hat, too, honey. Maybe a nice warm scarf. And I just can’t face that hotel room again right now, Bobby. I feel like I’ve been let out of prison or something.”
“I know. I guess I feel the same way.” He shifted the bag holding their tree.“We’ll go buy hats. Then we could walk over, watch the skaters, get another look at the big tree.”
“That’d be just perfect. What makes a soy dog taste so good when it’s cooked outside on a cart in New York? I swear you can’t get a real grilled dog anywhere on the planet outside of New York.”
“Pretty damn good,” he agreed around a bite of it.“Especially if you don’t think about what’s in it.”
Her laugh was light and blissfully happy.“Let’s not!”
When they got to the corner, squeezed in by the crowd, he managed another bite.“I didn’t know I was so hungry. Should’ve gotten two.”
They made it to the curb. He started to step out, when Zana gasped. His fingers closed over her arm like a vise.
“I spilled my coffee, that’s all. Damn.”
“You burned?”
“No. No.” She brushed at the stain on her coat with her hand.“Just clumsy. I got bumped a little. Gosh, I hope this doesn’t stain. Oh, now we missed the light, too.”
“There’s no hurry.”
“Tell that to everyone else,” she murmured.“People weren’t pushing so much, I wouldn’t have coffee on my coat.”
“We’ll get something and”
He pitched forward, straight into the path of an oncoming cab.
The bag he held went flying. The last thing he heard before he hit the pavement was Zana’s screams and the shrill shriek of brakes.
 *
While Eve waited for the room to be cleared and the sweepers to arrive, she ran a check on Trudy’s debit and credit statements. The charges and withdrawals had just been put through. Spent a few bucks on Friday at the drugstore, she noted. Time stamp confirmed that that came after the socks, after the bank.
Lining up your ducks.
Market, too.
What happened to the bags?
As she was working out a theory, her communicator beeped.
“Dallas.”
“We’ve got a problem.” Baxter’s face held none of its usual sarcasm.“Male subject’s been hit by a cab, corner of Fifth and Forty-second.”
“Well, Jesus Christ. How bad?”
“Don’t know. MTs are on-scene. Wife’s hysterical. They were on the sidewalk, waiting for the light. I had them on audio, Trueheart had a reasonable visual. But the corner was packed. He only got a look at the guy doing a header into the street. He got clipped pretty good, Dallas, I know that. Damn near run over. I got the cabbie here.”
“Have some uniforms take him down to Central until we can get his statement. Stick with the subjects. Where are they taking him?”
“ER at Boyd Health Center. Straight shot down Fifth.”
“I’ll meet you there. One of you go in the ambulance with him. I don’t want either of them out of your sight until I’m there.”
“You got that. Jesus, Dallas. Guy was eating a dog, drinking bad coffee. Then he just flew. MTs are giving the wife something to calm her down.”
“Make sure she’s coherent. Damn it, Baxter, I don’t want her put out.”
“Let me get on that. I’m out.”
She whirled toward the door, pulling it open just as Peabody pushed from the other side.“Sweepers are heading up.”
“We’ll get them started. We’ve got to go. Bobby’s heading to the hospital. Hit by a cab.”
“Hit by what the hell”
“Don’t ask, I can’t tell you. Let’s just get this moving, and get there.”
She went in hot, dodging clogged traffic as her sirens blasted. And doing her best to ignore quick, sharp pinches of guilt.
Had she put Bobby in a position to be hurt? Two cops on him, a homer with audio. Still not enough?
“Could just be an accident.” Peabody tried not to whimper as they threaded between a van and a cab with a layer of cheap paint to spare.“People, especially out-of-towners, have road accidents in New York every day. Step out too far, don’t look where they’re going. Gawking at the buildings instead of watching the lights.”
“There’s no point in hurting him. No point.” She rapped her fist on the wheel.“What does it get you? Roarke’s not going to cough up two mil because some guy he doesn’t know is in the path. Why should he? Why would he? It serves no purpose to hurt Bobby.”
“You said Baxter reported he was eating and drinking, at the curb. He gets bumped, or slips. It’s sleeting, things are slippery. Dallas, sometimes things just happen. Sometimes it’s just bad luck.”
“Not this time. No bullshit coincidence.” Her voice was fierce and furious.“We missed it, that’s all. We missed something, someone, and now we’ve got a witness in Emergency.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I made the call, so it’s on me. You make copies of the recording. Get a copy shot down to the lab. I want to be able to hear everything, every voice.”
She pulled up to the emergency entrance.“Park it,” she ordered, jumping out.“I need to get in there.”
She strode to the doors, through.
It was the usual place of pain. Victims waiting to be heard, to be helped. The sick slumped in chairs. The healthy waiting impatiently for whoever they’d come with to be treated, released, admitted.
She spotted Trueheart, somehow younger in a sweatshirt and jeans. He sat close to Zana, holding her hand, murmuring to her as she wept.
“Eve! Eve!” Zana jumped up, threw herself into Eve’s arms.“Bobby. Oh, my God. It’s all my fault. Bobby’s hurt. He’s hurt so bad. I don’t know”
“Stop.” Eve pulled back, gave Zana one brisk shake.“How bad is he hurt?”
“They didn’t say, they won’t tell me. He was bleeding. His head. His head, and his leg. He was unconscious.” Tears spurted.“I heard them say concussion, and something broken, and maybe”
“Okay, what happened?”
“I just don’t know.” Now she sank back into the chair.“We were just waiting for the light. We’d gotten some soy dogs and coffee. It was cold, but it felt so good to get out. And I said I wanted to buy a hat, and they were across the street. Then I spilled my coffee, so we missed the light and couldn’t go. We were waiting and he just fell. Or slipped. I just don’t know. I tried to grab his coat. I got my hand on it. I think I did.”
She stared down at her hand. Eve noted the light bandage.“What happened to your hand?”
“I spilled the coffee. It splashed all over when I grabbed for him. Burned my hand a little. I started to fall. I think. Somebody pulled me back. But Bobby …”
Zana wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked.“The cab hit him. It tried to stop, but it was too quick, and it hit him, and then he flew back, and fell. So hard.”
“Where is he?” She looked at Trueheart.
“They took him to Treatment Room Two. Baxter’s on the door.”
“Zana, stay here. Trueheart, stand by.”
She strode through the waiting area, straight by a nurse who called out for her to stop, and swung right when she saw Baxter at a pair of double swinging doors.
“Goddamn it, Dallas. We were ten feet away. One on either side.”
“Wife thinks he slipped.”
“Yeah, yeah, maybe. What are the odds? They’re working on him. Arm’s broken, that’s for certain. Maybe the hip, too. Head took a hard crack. I couldn’t tell how bad, and the MTs wouldn’t say.”
Eve rubbed her hands over her face.“You get any sense somebody helped him in front of that cab?”
“Second-guessing myself now. We had a good tail on them, good observation. But it’s insane out there, Dallas. You know how it is this time of year. Sidewalk is a sea of people, and everybody’s either in an all-fired hurry, or they’re gawking and taking vids. You got street thieves making more this holiday week than they do in six regular months. If I had to swear nobody got by us, I couldn’t. The thing is …”
“What?”
“Just before, she spilled coffee on herself. Said she got bumped. And I got this little tingle, started moving in a little. Then our guy’s airborne.”
“Fuck.”
15
EVE SENT BAXTER BACK TO STAND WITH Trueheart, then paced in front of the treatment room doors as the sharp scents and harried sounds washed over her.
She hated hospitals, health centers, emergency treatment centers. Places, she thought, full of sickness and pain. Of death and misery.
Of waiting.
Had she put Bobby here? Had her need to push things forward put him in harm’s way? A personal need, she thought now. She wanted to slam the door on this part of her past, lock it away again. Not only for her own peace of mind, she admitted, but to prove she could. Because of that, she’d taken a risk a calculated one, but a risk nonetheless.
And Bobby Lombard was paying the price.
Or was it just some ridiculous accident? Slippery, crowded streets, people in a hurry, bumping, pushing. Accidents happened every day. Hell, every hour. It could be just that simple.
But she couldn’t buy it. If she ran it through a probability program and it came up one hundred percent, she still wouldn’t buy it.
He was unconscious, broken and bloody, and she’d sent him out so she could sniff the air for a killer.
It could be him, even now, it could be Bobby who’d done murder. People killed their mothers. A lifetime of tension, irritation, or worse, and something snapped inside them. Like a bone, she thought, and they killed.
She’d killed. It hadn’t been only the bone in her arm that had snapped in that awful room in Dallas. Her mind had snapped, too, and the knife had gone into him. Over and over again. She could remember that now, remember the blood, the smell of it harsh and raw the feel of it wet and warm on her hands, her face.
She remembered the pain of that broken bone, even now through the mists of time. And the howling his and hers as she killed him.
People said that sound was inhuman, but they were wrong. It was essentially human. Elementally human.
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.
God, she hated hospitals. Hated remembering waking in one, with so much of herself such as it was gone. Evaporated.
The smell of her own fear. Strangers hovering over her. What’s your name? What happened to you? Where do you live?
How could she know? And if she’d remembered, if her mind hadn’t closed up and hidden away, how could she have told them?
They’d hurt her to heal her. She remembered that, too. Setting the bone, repairing the tears and scars inside her from the repeated rapes. But they’d never found those secrets behind the wall her mind had built.
They’d never known that the child in the hospital bed had killed like a mad thing. And howled like a human.
“Dallas.”
She jerked herself back, but didn’t turn.“I don’t know anything yet.”
Peabody simply stepped up beside her. Through the porthole of glass, Eve could see the emergency team working on Bobby. Why, she wondered, did places like this have glass? Why did they want people to see what they did in those rooms?
Hurting to heal.
Wasn’t it bad enough imagining without actually seeing the splash of blood, the beep of machines?
“Go back and check with Baxter,” Eve said.“I want whatever witness statements he has. Names of the wits. I want to verify the cabbie’s license. Then send him and Trueheart back. I want that record into the lab. You stay with Zana. See what else you can get out of her for now.”
“Should we get uniforms for his room? For when they finish in there?”
“Yeah.” Think positive, Eve decided. He’d be moved to a room, and not the morgue.
Alone, she watched, made herself watch. And wondered what the girl she’d been lying in a room so much like the one beyond the glass had to do with what was happening now.
One of the med team rushed out. Eve grabbed her arm.“What’s his status?”
“Holding. The doctor will give you more information. Family members need to stay in Waiting.”
“I’m not family.” Eve reached for her badge.“Your patient is a material witness in a homicide. I need to know if he’s going to make it.”
“It looks good. He’s lucky. If getting hit by a cab a couple days before Christmas counts as luck. Got some broken bones, contusions, lacerations. Some internal bleeding we’ve stopped. He’s stabilized, but the head trauma’s the main concern. You’re going to need to talk to the attending.”
“His wife’s in Waiting, with my partner. She needs to be updated.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve got a material witness on that table in there. I’m at the door.”
Irritation flashed over the nurse’s face, then she brushed a hand through the air.“Okay, okay. I’ll take care of it.”
Eve stood by. She heard the rush and confusion of the ER behind her, the beeps and the pages, the clop of feet with somewhere urgent to go.
At some point someone began to call out”Merry Christmas!” in slurred, drunken tones, laughing and singing as he was carted off. There was weeping, wailing, as a woman was hurried down the hall on a gurney. An orderly streamed by with a bucket that smelled of vomit.
Someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned, only to have homemade brew and poor dental hygiene waft into her face. The man responsible wore a filthy Santa suit with a white beard hanging off one ear.
“Merry Christmas! Want a present? Got a present for you right here!”
He grabbed his crotch, and flipped out his penis. At some more sober yet equally crazed time, he’d painted it up like a candy cane.
Eve studied the red and white stripes.
“Gee, that looks delicious, but I don’t have anything for you. Wait, yes, I do.”
His wide grin faded when she held up her badge.
“Aw, c’mon.”
“The reason I don’t haul you in for lewd and lascivious behavior, for indecent exposure though, hey, nice paint job and for possibly having the foulest breath on or off planet, is I’m busy. If I decide I’m not busy enough, you’re going to be spending Christmas in the tank. So blow.”
“Aw, c’mon.”
“And put that thing away before you scare some kid,”
“Santa, there you are.” The nurse who’d come out earlier rolled her eyes at Eve, then got a good grip on Santa’s arm.“Let’s go over here.”
“Want a present? I got a present for you right here.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s all I want for Christmas.”
Eve turned back as the doors opened. She grabbed the closest pair of scrubs.
“What’s his status?”
“You the wife?”
“No, I’m the cop.”
“Cab versus man, cab usually wins. But he’s stable.” The doctor veed his fingers, slid them up his nose to rub the inside corners of his eyes.“Broken arm, fractured hip, bruised kidney. Head trauma’s the worst of it. But barring complications, he should do. He got off lucky.”
“Need to talk to him.”
“He’s loaded up. We’ve got him stabilized. Going to send him up for some tests. Couple hours, maybe, things go right, he’ll be able to hold a conversation.” Curiosity washed over the fatigue in his eyes.“Don’t I know you? The cop, right? I’ve worked my magic on you before.”
“Dallas. Probably.”
“Yeah, Dallas. You get around. Look, I need to talk to the wife.”
“Fine. I’m going to put a man on him. I don’t want anyone talking to him but me until I clear it.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Material witness. I’m Homicide.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah! Icove case. Crazy bastards. Well, your material witness should live to sing. I’m that good.”
She shifted, watching as they wheeled Bobby out. He’d left some of his skin on the street, she noted. What was left was white as bone. When they cut back the drugs, he was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, but he was breathing on his own.
“I’m going up with him, until the uniform reports.”
“Suit yourself. Just stay out of the way. Happy holidays and so forth,” the doctor added as he headed toward the waiting area.
 *
Eve stood outside again, another floor, another door, while they ran their scanners and diagnostics. And while she waited, the elevators opened. Zana rushed out, Peabody on her heels.
“The doctor said he was going to be okay.” Tears had tracked through Zana’s makeup, leaving their trail. She grabbed Eve’s hands, squeezed.
“He’s going to be okay. They’re just running some tests. I was afraid … I was afraid” Her voice hitched.“I don’t know what I would’ve done. I just don’t know.”
“I want you to tell me what happened.”
“I told the detective. I told her I”
“I want you to tell me. Hold on.”
She walked to the uniformed officer as he got off the elevator.“Subject is Bobby Lombard. Material witness, homicide. I want you with him every step. You check the room they put him in, you check ID on everyone I mean everyone who attempts access. He grunts the wrong way, I want to hear about it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, she went back to Zana.“Okay, we’re going to find a place, have a seat. I want everything. Every detail.”
“Okay, but… I just don’t understand any of this.” She chewed her lip, looking over her shoulder at the doors while Eve hauled her away.“Can’t I just stay, wait until”
“We’re not going far.” She hailed a nurse simply by holding up her badge.
“Good,” he said.“I’m under arrest. That means I can sit down for five minutes.”
“I need your break room.”
“I have a vague recollection of the break room. Chairs, a table, coffee. Down there, make a left. Oh hell, you need a key card. Security’s getting to be a bitch. I’ll take you.”
He led the way, keyed them in, then stuck his head in.“Okay, I smelled the coffee. It’s not all bad.” He headed off down the hall.
“Sit down, Zana,” Eve told her.
“I’ve just got to move around. I can’t sit still.”
“I get that. Go over what happened.”
“Just like I told you before. Like I told the detective.”
“Repeat it.”
As she did, Eve picked apart the details.“You got bumped, spilled coffee.”
“On my coat.” Zana picked up the coat she’d tossed in a chair.“It wasn’t this bad. The first time. More spilled when Bobby … God, I can still see it.”
“Was it a bump or a push?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A bump, I guess. So many people. In part of my head I was thinking it was so exciting. Being out, the crowds, the windows, the noise. We had the soy dogs, and the packages. We should’ve gone back. I know Bobby wanted to. But”
“You didn’t. Did Bobby say anything? Did you see anything, before he fell?”
“No … I was fussing with my coat, looking down and thinking how I hoped it would come out. I think he held a hand out, like he was going to take the coffee so I could deal with the stain. Then he was falling. I I grabbed for him,” she managed, as her voice began to break.“Then the horn, and the squealing. It was horrible.”
Her shoulders shook as she dropped her face in her hands. Peabody stepped up with a cup of water. Zana took a sip and a couple of shuddering breaths.“People stopped to help. Everyone says how New Yorkers are cold and kind of mean, but they’re not. People were nice, they were good. They tried to help. The police came up. The ones who came with us. Bobby was bleeding, and he wouldn’t wake up. The MTs came. Do you think they’ll let me see him soon?”
“I’ll check.” Peabody turned toward the door, stopped.“Do you want some coffee?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever drink another cup.” Zana dug in her pocket, pulled out a tissue. And buried her face in it.
Eve left her there, stepped out with Peabody.
“I didn’t get any more out of her either,” Peabody began.“She’s clueless about the fact that it may have been a deliberate attack.”
“We’ll see what Bobby says. The record?”
“Baxter was taking it to the lab personally and I got the homers off the coats.”
“Good thinking.”
“I’ve got his list of wits, and copies of statements taken on-scene. The cabbie’s holding at Central. His license is valid. Been hacking for six years. Few traffic bumps. Nothing major.”
“Head down there now. Get his initial statement, and his particulars for followup. Spring him. Write it up, copy to me, copy to Whitney.” Eve checked the time.“Shit. Nothing more to be done. I’m sticking here until I interview Bobby. Get it wrapped back at the house, then go home. Merry Christmas.”
“You sure? I can wait until you report in.”
“No point. If there’s anything, I’ll let you know. Finish packing, go to Scotland. Drink … what is it?”
“Wassail. I think it’s wassail, especially over there. Okay, thanks. But I’ll consider myself on call until the shuttle takes off tomorrow.
“Merry Christmas, Dallas.”
Maybe, she thought, and looked back toward the break room as Peabody walked away. But some people were going to have the crappiest of holidays.
She waited an hour while Bobby was tested, transferred, and set up in a room. When she walked in, he turned his head, tried to focus with glassy eyes that were rimmed with red.“Zana?” he said in a voice slurred with drugs.
“It’s Dallas. Zana’s fine. She’ll be here in a minute.”
“They said …” He licked his lips.“I got hit by a cab.”
“Yeah. So how’d that happen?”
“I dunno. It’s mixed up. I feel really weird.”
“It’s the meds. The doctor says you’re going to be fine. Got some broken bones, and took a good crack on the head. Concussion. You were waiting for the light. To cross the street.”
“Waiting for the light.” He closed his bruised eyes.“Packed in on the corner like, what is it, sardines. Lots of noise. Zana made a noise. Scared me.”
“What kind of noise ?”
He looked up at her.“Like, ah …” He sucked in his breath.“Sorta. But she just spilled some coffee. Coffee and dogs and bags. Arms loaded. Gonna get a hat.”
“Stick with me here, Bobby,” she said as his eyes fluttered closed again.“What happened then?”
“I… she gave me that smile. I remember that smile like, ‘Oops, look what I did now.’ And I dunno, I dunno. I heard her scream. I heard people yelling, and horns blasting. I hit something. They said it hit me, but I hit, and I don’t remember until I woke up here.”
“You slip?”
“Musta. All those people.”
“Did you see anyone? Did anyone say anything to you?”
“Can’t remember. Feel weird, out of myself.”
His skin was whiter than the sheets that covered him, so that the bruises and scrapes seemed to jump out and slapped straight into her guilt.
Still, she pressed.“You’d been shopping. You bought a tree.”
“We had the tree. Cheer ourselves up some. What happened to the tree?” His eyes rolled, then refocused on her.“Is this really happening? Wish I was home. Just wish I was home. Where’s Zana?”
Useless now, Eve decided. She was wasting her time and his energy.“I’ll get her.”
Eve stepped out. Zana stood in the corridor, wringing her hands.“Can I go in? Please. I’m not going to upset him. I’ve got myself settled down. I just want to see him.”
“Yeah, go on in.”
Zana straightened her shoulders, put a smile on her face. Eve watched her go in, heard her say, in cheerful tones,“Why, just look at you! You got some way of getting out of buying me a hat.”
While she waited, she tried the lab. Bitched when she was informed she couldn’t have what she wanted until the twenty-sixth. Apparently Christmas overrode even her wrath.
She might not be able to make a dent there, but Central was another matter. From there, she ordered up uniforms in rotation to stick with Zana at the hotel, with Bobby at the hospital, twenty-four hours.
“Yes,” she snapped.“That includes Christmas.”
Irritated, she tagged Roarke.“I’m going to be late.”
“Aren’t you cheerful. What are you doing in the hospital?”
“It’s not me. Fill you in later. Things have just gone to shit, so I have to shovel it clear before I clock out.”
“I have a considerable amount to clear myself in order to take time off. Why don’t I meet you somewhere for dinner? Get back to me when you’ve made a path.”
“Yeah, okay. Maybe.” She glanced over as Zana came out.“Gotta go. Later.”
“He’s tired,” Zana said,“but he was joking with me. Said how he was off soy dogs for life. Thanks for staying. It helped to have somebody here I know.”
“I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
“Maybe I could stay with Bobby. I could sleep in the chair by his bed.”
“You’ll both do better if you’re rested. I’ll have a black-and-white bring you back in the morning.”
“I could take a cab.”
“Let’s take precautions now. Just to be on the safe side. I’ll put a cop back on the hotel.”
“Why?”
“Just a precaution.”
Zana’s hand shot out, gripped Eve’s arm.“You think somebody hurt Bobby? You think this was deliberate?”
Her voice rose several octaves on the question, and her fingers dug through to skin.
“There’s nothing to substantiate that. I’d just rather be cautious. You need to pick up anything for back at the hotel, we’ll get it on the way.”
“He slipped. He just slipped, that’s all,” Zana said definitively.“You’re just being cautious. You’re just taking care of us.”
“That’s right.”
“Could we see if they have a store, like a gift shop here? I could get Bobby some flowers. Maybe they even have a little tree. We bought one today, but I think it got smashed.”
“Sure, no problem.”
She fought back impatience, went downstairs, into the gift shop. Waited, wandered, while Zana appeared to agonize over the right flowers, and the display of scrawny tabletop trees.
Then there was the matter of a gift card, which meant more agonizing.
It took thirty minutes to accomplish what Eve figured she could have done in thirty seconds. But there was color back in Zana’s cheeks as she was assured the flowers and tree would be delivered upstairs within the hour.
“He’ll like seeing them when he wakes up,” Zana said as they walked outside. With the wind biting, she buttoned her stained coat.“You don’t think the flowers are too fussy? Too female? It’s so hard to pick out flowers for a man.”
What the hell did she know about it?“He’ll like them.”
“Gosh, it’s cold. And it’s snowing again.” Zana paused to look up at the sky.“Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas. That’d be something. It hardly ever snows where we are in Texas, and if it does, it usually melts before you can blink. First time I saw snow, I didn’t know what to think. How about you?”
“It was a long time ago.” Outside the window in another nasty little hotel room. Chicago, maybe.“I don’t remember.”
“I remember making a snowball, and how cold it was on my hands.” Zana looked down at them, then tucked them in her pockets out of the chill.“And when you looked outside in the morning, if it had snowed at night, everything looked so white and clean.”
She waited by the car while Eve unlocked the doors.“You know how your stomach would get all tied up with excitement, because maybe there’d be no school that day?”
“Not really.”
“I’m just babbling, don’t mind me. Happens when I’m nervous. I guess you’re all ready for Christmas.”
“Mostly.” Eve maneuvered into traffic, resigned herself to small talk.
“Bobby wanted to have his mama’s memorial before the end of the year.” As if she couldn’t keep her hands still, Zana twisted the top button of her coat.“I don’t know if we can do that, now that he’s hurt. He thought we thought it’d be good to do it before. So we’d start off the new year without all that sorrow. Are we going to be able to go home soon?”
Couldn’t keep them, Eve thought. Could stall, but couldn’t reasonably demand they stay in New York once Bobby was cleared for travel.“We’ll see what the doctors say.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever come back here.” Zana looked out the side window.“Too much has happened. Too many bad memories. I guess I’ll probably never see you again either, after we go.”
She was silent a moment.“If you find out who killed Mama Tru, will Bobby have to come back?”
“I’d say that depends.”
Eve went into the hotel, up to the room to satisfy herself nothing had been disturbed. She asked for and received a copy of lobby security, posted her man, and escaped.
She went back to Central and found two gaily wrapped boxes on her desk. A glance at the cards told her they were from Peabody and Mc-Nab. One for her, one for Roarke.
Unable to drum up enough Christmas spirit to open hers, she set them aside to work. She wrote her report, read Peabody’s, and signed off on it.
For the next half hour, she sat in the relative quiet, studied her murder board, her notes, and let it all circle.
Before she left, she hung the prism Mira had given her.
Maybe it would help.
She left it shimmering dully against the dark window as she pulled out her ‘link, tucked the presents under her arm, and left the office. I’m clear.
“What are you hungry for?” Roarke asked her.
“That’s a loaded question.” She held up a hand, acknowledging Baxter, and stopped.“Let’s keep it simple.”
“Just as I thought. Sophia’s,” he told her, and rattled off an address.“Thirty minutes.”
“That’ll work. If you get there first, order a really, really big bottle of wine. Big. Pour me a tumbler full.”
“Should be an interesting evening. I’ll see you soon, Lieutenant.”
She pocketed her ‘link, turned to Baxter.
“Don’t suppose I could tag along, share that really, really big bottle.”
“I’m not sharing.”
“In that case, can I have a minute? Private?”
“All right.” She walked back to her office, called for lights.“I’ll spring for coffee if you want it, but that’s my best offer.”
“I’ll take it.” He went to the AutoChef himself. He was still wearing his soft clothes, Eve noted. Light gray sweater, dark gray pants. He’d gotten some blood Bobby’s blood, she imagined on the pants.
“I don’t know what to think,” he told her.“Maybe I was too loose. Maybe I’m just fucking losing it. I’ve gone over it in my head. I wrote it up. I still don’t know.”
He took out the coffee, turned.“I let the kid take point. Not blaming him, it was my call. I sent him down for dogs, for Christ’s sake. Figured they were just getting theirs, and it put him in a decent position. And screw it, Dallas, I was hungry.”
She knew guilt when she saw it, and at the moment, it was like looking in a mirror.“You want me to ream you for it? I’ve got some left.”
“Maybe.” He scowled into the coffee, then downed some.“I’m listening to them, and there’s nothing. Just chatter. Can’t get a full visual, but he’s tall enough I can see the back of his head, his profile when he turns to her. I moved forward when she spilled the coffee, then I relaxed again. If they’re at noon, Trueheart’s at ten o’clock. I’m at three. Then she’s screaming in my ear.”
Eve sat on the edge of her desk.“No vibe?”
“None. Blimps are blasting overhead. One of those street-corner Santas ringing his damn bell. People are streaming by, or crowding in to get the light.”
He drank more coffee.“I pushed in, soon as she screamed. I didn’t see anybody take off. Bastard could’ve stood there. Could be one of the wits, far as I know. Or he could’ve just melted back. It was a freaking parade on Fifth today. And some people slipped, tumbled.”
Her head came up, lips pursed.“Before or after?”
“Before, during, after. Putting it back, I see this woman red coat, big blonde ‘do. She slips a little. Right in back of where Zana was standing. That’d be the initial bump. Spilled coffee. I can see the male sub turn. I hear him ask her what happened. Anxious. Then he relaxes when she says she got coffee on her coat. So do I. Then he pitches forward. Chaos ensues.”
“So maybe we’re both beating ourselves up because the guy lost his footing.”
“Coincidences are hooey.”
“Hooey.” At least she got a short laugh out of it.“Yeah, they are. So we’ll run the record backward and forward. He’s tucked up. Nobody’s getting near him. So’s she. We’ll run it when the damn lab stops playing Christmas carols. No point slapping ourselves, or me slapping you, until we know if this is the one in a million that actually is coincidence.”
“If I screwed this up, I need to know.”
She smiled thinly.“On that, Baxter, I can promise you. I’ll let you know.”
16
ROARKE WATCHED HER COME IN, HIS TALL, lanky cop in the rather spectacular black leather coat. Her eyes were tired, the stress showing in them even as he noted the way she scoped the room.
Cops were cops, he knew, 24/7. She’d be able to tell him, should he ask, how many were in the booth at the opposite corner, what they were wearing, possibly what they were eating. And she’d be able to do so with her back to them.
Fascinating.
She checked her coat, brushed off the waiter who must have offered to escort her to their table. And crossed the restaurant alone, in that long, loose stride he loved.
“Lieutenant,” he said, rising to greet her,“you make a picture.”
“A picture of what?”
“Confidence and authority. Very sexy.” He kissed her lightly, then gestured to the wine he’d poured when he’d seen her come in.“It’s not a tumbler, but you can consider it a bottomless glass.”
“Appreciate it.” She took a good slug.“Crappy day.”
“So I gathered. Why don’t we order, then you can tell me about it?”
She glanced up at the waiter who materialized at her side.“I want spaghetti and meatballs, with the red sauce. You got that here?”
“Of course, madam. And to start?”
She lifted her wine.“I’ve started.”
“Insalada mista,” Roarke told him.“Two. And I’ll have the chicken Parmesan.” He dipped some bread in the herbed oil already on the table, handed it to her.“Sop some of that wine up, why don’t you?”
She stuffed the bread in her mouth.
“Describe the waiter for me.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s entertaining. Go ahead.” And it would settle her down, he thought.
She shrugged, took another good swallow of wine.“Caucasian male, mid-thirties. Wearing black pants, white shirt, black loafer-style shoes. Five eight, a hundred and fifty. Brown and brown. Smooth complexion. Full bottom lip, long nose with a good-sized hook to it. Crooked eyetooth on the left. Straight, thick eyebrows. Bronx accent, but he’s working on losing it. Small stud, right earlobe some kind of blue stone. Thick silver band, ring finger, left hand. Gay. He’s probably got a spouse.”
“Gay?”
“Yeah, he checked you out, not me. So?”
“So. As I said, entertaining. What went wrong today?”
“What didn’t?” she answered, and told him.
The salads arrived before she’d finished, so she stabbed at hers.
“So, that’s where I’m at. Can’t beat up Baxter or Trueheart, because as far as I can see they did the job. Wouldn’t have been a job if I hadn’t worked it.”
“Which means you beat up on yourself. What’s the point, Eve? If he was pushed, where does it come from? Where’s the gain?”
“You can go back to money. Trudy was pretty well set, and he’s doing okay. Or you go back to revenge. He was there, living in the house, her blood relation, when she was fostering.”
“He brought you food,” Roarke reminded her.“You wouldn’t have been the only one he’d done that for.”
“Probably not. But he didn’t stand up. Maybe somebody figures he should have.” Do you?
She stabbed more salad, drank more wine.“No. Blood’s thicker, and so’s self-preservation. I don’t blame him for anything. But he was a kid when I was there, just another kid. He was older before she gave up fostering. Someone could figure he should pay, too.”
“His silence makes him an accessory?”
“Something like that. And damn it, it would be easier to erase them at home, wouldn’t it? Yeah, you got a strange city, more people, so that’s a plus. But you’d be able to scope their routines more back in Texas. Which takes me back, at least part of the way, to impulse.”
“Have you considered Bobby’s pretty new wife?”
“Yeah, and still am. Maybe she wasn’t as tolerant of her mother-in-law as she claims. From my side, it would take a hell of a lot of tolerance. So she sees an opportunity, takes it. Get rid of Mama Tru, and put the money in Bobby’s pocket. Then, hey, why not ditch the middle man? He’s out, I’m in. Could she be stupid enough to think I wouldn’t look at her for it?”
“When you look, what do you see?”
“Nothing that pops up and screams ‘I’m a murderer,’ not on evidence, not on her record. But she’s a little too sweet and sissy for me.”
He smiled a little.“Can girls be sissies?”
“In my world. All that pink and pastel and ‘Mama Tru.’” Eve stuffed more bread in her mouth.“Cries if you look at her.”
“Well now, you’ve a dead mother-in-law, an abduction, and a husband in the hospital. Seems a few tears are justified.”
Eve just drummed her fingers.“There’s nothing in her record that leans toward this. I don’t see anyone marrying Bobby for money just not enough of it, even if she’d known about Trudy’s dirty little nest egg.”
“A million or so makes a comfortable life in some circles,” he reminded her.
“Now you sound like Peabody. I’m not jaded about money,” she muttered.“But marrying somebody to get your hands on it, when you’re going to have to off him, and his mother. It’s a big stretch. And I don’t see how she could have known, beforehand, that Trudy had dough stashed here and there.”
“A connection to one of the women who’d been blackmailed?” he suggested.
She had to give him credit. He thought like a cop, something he’d wince over if she mentioned it.“Yeah, that was a thought. I did some digging, trying to see if I could find something there. Nothing, so far anyway. I read the witness reports, and two say she grabbed for him, tried to grab his arm as he went into the street. Just like she said.”
“But you still wonder.”
“Yeah, you gotta wonder. She’s the one, on the spot, for both incidents. She’s the one connected to both victims. And at this point, she’s the one who stands to gain the most if money is the motive.”
“So you have guards on her, as much to keep track of her as for her protection.”
“Can’t do much more until the twenty-sixth. Lab won’t push, half my men are out or their minds are. There’s no immediate danger to the populace, so I can’t get the lab to push. Even the sweepers didn’t get back to me on the results from the room next to my scene. Christmas is bogging me down.”
“Bah, humbug.”
“I get that,” she said and pointed a finger at him.“I turned down a candy cane today.”
She told him about drunken Santa while their entrees were served.
“You meet the most interesting group of people in your line of work.”
“Yeah, it’s what you’d call eclectic.” Put it away, she told herself. Put the day away and remember you have a life.“So, you got things squared away in your world.”
“More or less.” He poured them both more wine.“A bit of business tomorrow, but I’m closing the office at noon. There are a few little details I want to see to at home.”
“Details.” She eyed him as she wound pasta around her fork.“What else could there be? You importing reindeer?”
“Ah, if only I’d thought of it sooner. No, just a bit of this and that.” He brushed a hand over hers.“Our Christmas Eve was interrupted last year, if you recall.”
“I recall.” She’d never forget the manic drive to get to Peabody, and the terror of wondering if they’d be too late.“She’ll be in Scotland this time. Have to take care of herself.”
“She contacted me today, she and McNab, to thank me. She was surprised, and touched both of them were when I told them it had been your idea.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was your idea.”
“It’s your shuttle.” She squirmed a little.
“It’s interesting that you have as difficult a time giving gifts as you do receiving them.”
“That’s because you always go overboard.” Frowning at him, she stabbed a meatball.“You went overboard, didn’t you?”
“Are you fishing for a hint?”
“No. Maybe. No,” she decided.“You just love stringing me along, seeing as you’re such a smart ass.”
“What a thing to say. You might end up with a lump of coal in your stocking.”
“Few thousand years, I’ll have a diamond, so … What was she going to do with the money?”
He sat back, smiled. The cop was back.
“Tuck it away? For what? She had funds tucked. Didn’t live high because she didn’t want anyone to know. But she had her pretty baubles, locked up so she could look at them. Had jewelry insured,” she told him.“I got the paperwork on that. Over a quarter mil in sparkles. And she had her tune-ups. But that’s all piddly. Because the money was coming in in what you could call dribbles. But this was her big score. Big, fat lump sum, she’s figuring on. Must’ve had a plan for some of it.”
“Property, perhaps. Or a trip. Art, jewelry.”
“Got jewelry, and can’t wear it too much outside her own house. People would get ideas. But if she planned to relocate … I’ve got to check, see if she had a valid passport. When she got it, or renewed it. She’s got Bobby, but he’s grown up now, married now. Not so much at her beck and call. That’s a pisser.”
“A new home, a new location. Somewhere she can live in the manner she deserves to live. A staff of some kind.”
“Need someone to boss around, sure. This isn’t the kind of stake you just put in a bank somewhere. Especially since you can put money on it she planned to keep tapping you. Can’t stick around good old Texas, where people know you. You’re freaking rich now. Gotta enjoy it.”
“What does that tell you regarding the investigation? If you find she’d made inquiries about a property, or travel, what does it give you besides busywork?”
“Busywork’s underrated. Maybe she let something slip, to Bobby, to Zana, to someone else. Maybe we use Peabody’s favorite there’s a hot young lover out there, someone she had by the short hairs, or someone who got greedy. Can circle back to revenge. One of her former charges is keeping tabs on her, or is being used by her, and gets wind she’s got a big deal going.”
She nudged her plate aside.“I want to play this angle. You finished?”
“Nearly. No dessert?”
“I’m fine as is.”
“They have gelato.” His grin was quick, brilliant.“Chocolate.”
“Bastard.” She fought her inner war, her weakness.“You think we can get it to go?”
 *
It was interesting, Eve decided, when you looked in a direction that didn’t seem relevant. The little pieces that shuffled down. Maybe not into the puzzle yet, but waiting for you to find the fit.
“Her passport’s current.” She scooped up the decadent delight of rich chocolate.“Had one for twelve years. And she traveled. Funny nobody mentioned that. Spain, Italy, France. She liked Europe, but there’s Rio, and Belize, and Bimini. Exotic locales.”
“Nothing off planet?” he asked.
“Nothing she used this passport for. I’m betting she liked sticking to terra firma. Off planet takes a lot of time, and a lot of money. And while she traveled, she was in and out with few exceptions in a few days. Longest I find here’s ten days in Italy. Went in through Florence. And had another trip there, one day, the week before she came to New York.”
“Maybe a weakness for Tuscany,” Roarke suggested.
“Quick trips, though.” She drummed her fingers, ate more gelato.“Could be she made them on the q. t. Didn’t tell her son. I’ve got to go back, find out if she traveled alone or with a companion.”
She studied the data.“Had a reason for going back to Italy right before she came here to make her score. Looking over there, you bet your ass. Thinking she might like to find herself a villa.”
“It would take some time, but I could find out if she made inquiries about property with a realtor over there.”
“She’d know something about the ins and out, wouldn’t she, with a son in the business.”
She sat back, sighed.“So here’s one way. She’s looking to relocate, plop herself down to live the high life after she skins you.”
“I object to the term. No one skins me.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t get that. Time to start enjoying her hard-earned nest egg. Deck herself out in all those glitters she’s been paying insurance premiums for. Time to kick up her heels. Got herself in tune for it. She’s tapped out a couple of her income sources, but they’re finite anyway. She hits the jackpot, and she can move on. Retire.”
“What does she tell her family?”
Think like her, Eve ordered herself. It wasn’t so hard to do.“Her son’s replaced her with a wife. Ungrateful bastard. Doesn’t have to tell him a damn thing. If she intended to tell him, you can bet she’s got something worked out: She won the lottery, got some inheritance, something out of the blue. But she doesn’t need Bobby anymore because she’s got someone on her string, someone who can do the grunt work when she needs it. They should be with her in New York, just in case.”
She rolled her shoulders.“Or she’s going to shake her minion off, hire somebody fresh when she relocates. Who do you know in that area of Italy who handles real estate, could give us a hand with this?”
“One or two people. However, it’s after one in the morning there.”
“Oh, right.” She scowled at the clock.“I hate the whole time difference crap. It’s irritating. Okay, that waits until the morning.”
“I hate to remind you, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. We’re unlikely to find offices open, particularly in Europe where they believe in taking holidays. I can pull strings, but unless this is urgent, I hate to push this into someone’s holiday.”
“See, see” she waved her spoon”Christmas is bogging me down. It can wait, it can wait,” she repeated.“More important to find out if she had a travel companion. It could just be the one little mistake. One little detail that moves this along.”
“Then I’ll help you with that.”
“What I want is to plug in all her flights.”
“All?”
“Yeah, all. Then we’re going to run the manifest through, each one, see if any dupe names pop. Or any name on my case file list.” She licked ice cream off her finger.“And yeah, I’m aware the transpo company offices are closed. Lazy bastards. And that accessing passenger information generally requires authorization.”
He smiled, easily.“I didn’t say a thing.”
“I’m just looking is all I’m doing. And if anything pops, then I’ll backtrack, go through channels. But I’m sick to fucking death of running in place.”
“Still said nothing.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“What I’m thinking is you need to move. I want your chair.”
“Why?”
“If I’m going to get this data, and we both know I can access it faster than you, I want the chair and the desk. Why don’t you deal with those dishes?”
She grumbled, but got up.“You’re lucky I’ve got some holiday spirit and didn’t clock you for the ‘deal with those dishes’ crack.”
“Ho, ho, ho.” He sat in her place and rolled up his sleeves.“Coffee’d be nice.”
“Thin ice, Ace. Cracking under your expensive shoes.”
“And a cookie. You ate most of my gelato.”
“Did not,” she called from the kitchen. Well, yes, she had, but that was beside the point.
Still, she wanted coffee herself, so she could as easily get two mugs. To amuse herself she got out a single minicookie, barely the size of her thumb. She put it and his mug on a plate.
“I guess the least I can do is get you coffee and a cookie when you’re putting the time in for me.” She came up behind him, leaned down to plant a wifely kiss on the top of his head.
Then she set the plate down. He glanced over at it, then up at her.“That’s cold, Eve. Even for you.”
“I know. And fun, too. What’ve you got?”
“I’m accessing her account, to determine what transportation company she used for her trips. When I have that, I’ll do a search on the dates that coordinate for her passport. Then I’ll get your manifests, and run a search there. I think that deserves a bleeding cookie.”
“Like this one.” From behind her back she pulled a decorated sugar cookie. Whatever else she could say about Summerset, and there was plenty, the man could bake.
“That’s more like it. Now why don’t you come and sit on my lap?”
“Just get the data, pal. I know it’s insulting to ask, but are you going to have any trouble with CompuGuard on this?”
“I’m ignoring that as you provided the cookie.”
She left him to it, set up at her auxiliary comp.
What, she wondered, did other married couples do after dinner? Hang and watch screen maybe, or go to their separate areas and fiddle with their hobbies or work. Talk on the ‘link to pals or family. Have people over.
They did some of that. Sometimes. Roarke had gotten her hooked on vids, especially the old black-and-whites from the early and mid-twentieth century. There were nights, here and there, they whiled away a couple hours that way the way, she imagined, most considered normal.
If it was normal to while away a couple hours in a home theater bigger certainly lusher than most of the public ones.
Before Roarke had come into her life, she’d spent most nights alone, going over notes, gnawing at a case. Unless Mavis had pried her out for fun and games. She couldn’t have imagined herself like this, socked in with someone. So in tune with someone despite some of their elemental differences.
Now she couldn’t imagine it any other way.
With marriage on her mind, she moved to Bobby and Zana. They hadn’t been married long, so the assumption would be they’d spend a good deal of their time together. They worked together, lived together. Traveled, as least on this fatal trip, together.
Her search turned up a passport for Bobby. The last stamp four years earlier. Australia. A couple of other, earlier trips, each spaced about a year apart. One to Portugal, one to London.
Vacations, she decided. Annual jaunts. But nothing that required a passport since Australia.
Other travel, maybe. Starting a new business maybe shorter, cheaper trips.
No passport for Zana, maiden name or married. Well, a lot of people never left the country. She hadn’t herself, before Roarke.
But she sat back, considered. Wouldn’t Bobby want to take his new bride on some big trip? Honeymoon, whatever. Show her some part of the world, especially one he’d traveled to and enjoyed.
That was one of Roarke’s deals, anyway. Let me show you the world.
Of course, maybe they hadn’t had the time, or wanted to spend the money. Not yet. Maybe he’d decided to start with New York once the idea was popped by his mother. It made sense enough.
But it was something to wonder about.
She poked at the other fosters again, looking for some connection, some click. One in a cage, one dead, she thought.
But what if
“Got your manifests here.”
Distracted, she glanced over.“Already?”
“One day you’ll afford me the awe I so richly deserve.”
“You’re rich enough to afford your own awe. What about matches?”
“If you’re in a hurry, you take half.” He tapped keys.“There. Transferring to you. Handle it from there?”
“I know how to do a search and match,” she muttered, and set it up to run. She swiveled around to look at him.“I’ve got these two long shots. Just plucking out of the air. One of the fosters is in a cage. Assaults, mostly. No family, no known associates in particular. Nothing in her jacket to indicate any real smarts, or connections. But maybe Trudy tried to hit her up along the line. So this career violent tendency decides to get back some of her own. Works a deal with somebody who’s close, or can get close to the mark. Take her out got your revenge make some money while you’re at it.”
“How would this person know Trudy was going to New York now, with the idea of shaking us down, and be able to put this kill together so quickly?”
“The kill’s of the moment. I still say that. Could’ve had the shill in place already. And yeah, I know it’s a long one. But I’m going to have another chat with the warden after Christmas. Maybe reach out to her last arresting officer.”
“And the other shot in the dark?”
“One of the fosters worked as a dancer in that club that was bombed a few years ago. Miami. Remember, a couple of bonzos got through the door, protesting sin or something. Things went wrong and the boomers blew. Took out over a hundred and fifty people.”
“I don’t remember, sorry. Before you, I can’t say I paid as much attention to that sort of thing.” But he stopped what he was doing, considered it.“So she survived?”
“No. At least she’s listed among the dead. But it was an underground club, and they run loose. Explosions, body parts flying. Blood, terror, confusion.”
“I get the picture, thanks.” He sat back, walking his mind along the path she was taking.“So, she somehow survives, is misidentified, and lives to plot Trudy’s eventual demise?”
“It’s an angle,” Eve said stubbornly.“There are others. Somebody close to her comes back on Trudy. Revenge again. A lover or a close friend. I can talk to some of the survivors anyway, some of the people she worked with. Maybe get a clearer picture of her at least.”
She got up to pace.“And there’s this other thing going through my head. Did Trudy ever catch Bobby sneaking food to one of the girls? If so, what did she do about it? To her, to him. Or later, when he was older, did he ever get in contact with one of them? Or did one of them ever approach him? He never said anything about that. Easiest way to get to Trudy, it seems to me, would be through him.”
“You’re back to Zana.”
“Yeah.”
“Try this. What is it about Zana Lombard that keeps you circling back?”
“Well, like I said, she cries a lot.”
“Eve.”
“It’s irritating. But beyond that personal annoyance, she’s on the spot, both incidents. She’s the only one who saw her alleged abductor.”
“Why make up a story like that? It only brings her to the foreground. Wouldn’t she prefer to stay in the back?”
She rose to walk over, study her murder board.“Criminals are always complicating things, saying or doing more than they should. Even the smart ones. Add ego. Look what I pulled off, but nobody knows. Nobody can say, ‘Wow, that was pretty damn clever of you. Let me buy you a drink.’”
He lifted his eyebrows.“You think she did it.”
She drew a line with her finger from the photograph of Trudy, to Bobby, to Zana. A very handy triangle, she decided. Neat and tidy.
“I’ve thought she did it since I opened the door and found Trudy dead.”
He turned in the chair now, studying her face.“Kept that one close to the vest, didn’t you?”
“No need to get pissy.”
“I never get pissy.” He rose, deciding it was time for a brandy.“I do, occasionally, become irked. Such as now. Why didn’t you say earlier?”
“Because every time I circled around her, she’s come up clean. I’ve got no facts, no data, no evidence, no clear motive.”
She stepped closer to Zana’s photo. Big blue eyes, wavy blond hair. The guileless milkmaid, whatever the hell a milkmaid was.
“I’ve run probabilities on her, and they come up low. Even my head tells me it’s not her. It’s my gut saying otherwise.”
“You generally trust your gut.”
“This is different, because my gut’s already involved because of my connection to the victim.” She walked away from the board, back to her auxiliary station.“And the suspect on the top of my gut list hasn’t given me any solid reason to have her there. Her actions and reactions, her statements, her behavior are pretty much what they should be under the circumstances. But I look at her, and I think: It ought to be you.”
“And Bobby?”
“Could be working with her. One or both of them knew what Trudy was up to. One or both of them seduces the other, uses sex, love, money all of the above.”
She stopped, pulled the fresh scene photos of Bobby’s injuries out of her file, and moved over to tack them to her board.
“But this, the incident that landed him in the hospital, doesn’t fit with that. I made sure I saw him before she did. He gave no sign she’d pulled a double-cross on him. They were wired on their walk around the city, and Baxter’s oral indicated they talked about shopping and lunch. Nothing about Trudy, nothing about any plot or plan. It just doesn’t feel like him, doesn’t feel like teamwork. But”
“You’re afraid your memory of him colors your instincts.”
“Maybe. I need to push the pieces around some more.”
Task completed. There are no matches in the manifest with files currently on record …
“Well, that was a bust,” Eve complained.“We can try name combinations, look for aliases.”
“I’ll set it up.”
Eve poured more coffee, waiting until his back was turned to avoid a caffeine lecture.“You’re married to someone and you work with them, live with them, sleep with them don’t you figure you’d get an inkling if they were stringing you? I mean, day after day, night after night. The stringer’s got to make a slip sometime and put the stringee on guard.”
“You’ve heard the expression ‘love is blind.’”
“I think it’s bullshit. Lust dazzles, sure, at least for the short term. But love clears the vision. You see better, sharper, because you feel more than you did before.”
His lips curved as he stepped to her, touched her hair, her face.“That, I think, is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
“It’s not romantic, it’s”
“Hush.” He laid his lips on hers briefly.“Let me enjoy it. You have a point, but love can also cause you to see things as you prefer to see them, as you want them to be. And you haven’t factored in if we stick with your gut, and she’s responsible that she may love him. Part of her motive might have been to free him from what she saw as a destructive, even dangerous influence.”
“Now who’s being romantic? If I put her in as the killer, then she pushed her husband in front of a cab a few hours ago. No way if she did Trudy that was an accident, a coincidence.”
“You have me on that one.”
“No, what I have is nothing. I’ve got one material witness/suspect in the hospital. Another in a hotel room, under watch. I have no evidence that points to either of them, or anyone else at this time. I need to pick at it, that’s all. Shuffle things up and keep picking at it.”
She thought of the recording, and Roarke’s skill, his fancy computer lab. She could ask him to work it for her, put in the time.
Not right, not fair. Not starting so late.
“Guess we’ll pack it in for now. Check the results of that last run in the morning.”
“That suits me. What about a swim first? Work out the kinks.”
“Yeah, that’d be good.” She started for the elevator with him, then narrowed her eyes.“Is this some ploy to get me wet and naked?”
“Love certainly doesn’t blind you, Lieutenant. You see right through me.”
17
IT WASN T SNOW FOR CHRISTMAS EVE, BUT another bout of nasty, freezing rain that made gleeful skittering sounds against the windows. It would, Eve thought in disgust, coat the streets and sidewalks and give the city employees who were on a shift another excuse to blow the day off.
She was tempted, nearly, to join them. She could drag on a sweatshirt and work from home, avoid the ice rink of the streets. Stay warm and comfortable. It was sheer contrariness that had her preparing to go in.
Knowing that didn’t bother her a bit.
“You have everything you need here,” Roarke reminded her.
“Don’t.” She shouldered on her weapon harness.“Don’t have Feeney, for one. Don’t have Mira. And I’m going to try to snag her long enough to get a profile on Zana and Bobby. Don’t have whoever’s bad luck has them in the lab today. And I want to go by the hotel, the hospital, do followups there.”
“Perhaps you haven’t heard.” He stretched out his legs to enjoy another cup of coffee.“There’s a marvelous invention called the telelink. Some, as we have here, are also equipped for holo-conferences.”
“Not the same.” She pulled a jacket over her weapon.“You sticking home today?”
“If I said I was?”
“You’d be lying. You’re going in, same as me, finishing things up personally. Going to let your staff go early, you softie, but you’re heading in.”
“I’ll stay if you do.”
“I’m going, and so are you.” But she walked over, framed his face, and kissed him.“See you in a few hours.”
“Well, have a care, will you? The roads are bound to be treacherous.”
“So’s a chemi-head with a lead bat, but I’ve handled those.”
“Figuring as much, I had one of the all-terrains brought around.” He lifted a brow when she frowned.“I’ll be using one myself, so you’ve no argument there.”
“Fine, okay.” She glanced at the time.“Well, while you’ve got your worrywart on, maybe you could check with the shuttle, see if Peabody got off okay.”
“Already did, they’re in the air and already out of the weather. Wear your gloves,” he called out as she went through the door.
“Such a nag,” she mumbled under her breath.
But she was grateful for them, and the thin, soft fur lining that had somehow found its way into her coat. How did he manage that stuff?
Whatever was spitting out of the sky felt like nasty little needle pricks as cold as Mars. She climbed into the muscular vehicle, found its efficient heater already running. The man missed nothing. It was almost spooky.
Even warm, and in a vehicle with the traction and power of a jet tank, she had an ugly fight on her hands all the way downtown. Where before she’d cursed people who ditched work for an extended holiday as lazy wimps, now she cursed them for not staying the hell home. Or for driving a vehicle that couldn’t handle the icy roads.
Twice she came upon fender benders, felt obliged to stop and get out, determine if there were injuries before calling it in to Traffic.
When traffic stalled, again, she imagined what it would be like just to roll over the cars in her path. The tank she was in could handle it, she thought.
When she arrived at Central, she calculated that more than twenty percent of the slots on her level were empty.
One of the detectives hailed her when she walked into Homicide.
“Slader, aren’t you on graveyard?”
“Yes, sir. Caught one a couple hours before end of tour. Got the guy in the cooler. Vic’s his brother, who was visiting from out of town for the holidays. Ends up with a broken neck at the bottom of the stairs. Guy in the cooler has some swank place over on Park. Vic’s a loser, no fixed address, no visible means of employment.”
“He get helped down the steps?”
“Oh, yeah.” Slader’s smile was thin and wry.“Guy claims the brother was stoned and we’ll get the tox on that but he did have some Juice on him. Suspect said he was in bed, heard the noise of the fall, and found his brother at the bottom of the steps. Thing is, he apparently didn’t think we’d notice the vic’s facial bruises, or hoped we put them off on the fall. But seeing as our guy’s got scraped knuckles, and a split lip, we’re figuring otherwise.”
Eve scratched the back of her neck. People, she thought, could be unbelievably stupid.“You work him toward the self-defense or accidental angle?”
“Yeah, but he’s sticking to his story. He’s an exec for an ad company. Figure he doesn’t want to get his name onscreen. We’re going to go at him again after he sweats a little more. Guy broke down and cried twice, but he’s not moving off the story. Thing is, Lieutenant, we’re into overtime.”
“Keep at him, get it wrapped. I’ll clear the OT. Half the damn squad’s out. I’m not passing it off. He call for a lawyer?”
“Not yet.”
“You run into a wall, tag me. Otherwise, just put it to bed.”
She left her coat in her office after skimming the waiting paperwork and what had accumulated overnight. It bred, she thought as she headed to EDD, like rabbits.
For once, the walls of EDD weren’t bouncing with voices, music, or electronic chatter. There were a handful of detectives in cubes or at desks, and some of the machines humped away, but it was, for this division, eerily quiet.
“Crime could run rampant with the number of cops at home hanging their damn Christmas stockings.”
Feeney looked up.“Things are mostly quiet.”
“That’s what happens before things blow up,” she said darkly.“Things get mostly quiet.”
“You’re cheerful. Here’s something that’s going to put a kink in your hose.”
“You still haven’t pinned down the account.”
“I haven’t pinned down the account, because there is no account. Not with those numbers, in that order.”
“Maybe she mixed up the numbers. If you do a random search, utilizing the numbers in any order, then”
“You’re going to stand there, tell me how to do e-work?”
She blew out a breath, dropped into his visitor’s chair.“No.”
“Thing is, we got too many numbers. At least one extra. So you run a random, taking out any number, or numbers, what you’ve got, Dallas, is a hell of a lot of accounts.”
“Well, shit” was the best she could think of.
“No way to pin it, I can pin the random accounts, but it’s going to take time if you want all of them. ‘Cause what you’re doing this way, is pulling rabbits out of hats.”
She drummed her fingers on her thigh.“I’ll take them when you get them. Start cross-referencing.”
He gave her one of his hangdog looks.“Gonna be a headache of major proportions. Thing is, Dallas, you’re getting the data from a woman who was under duress and stress. No telling if she got the numbers she gave you right in the first place.”
“Why didn’t he make her record them? Write them down. Have some way of being sure she got them right? He’s got two million on the line, and he trusts the memory of a terrified woman?”
“People are stupid more than half the time.”
It was God’s truth, to her mind, but it wasn’t helping her.“He’s smart enough, allegedly, to kill, remember the details to cover himself for the murder, get out and away undetected. He’s smart enough, allegedly, to be on the spot in order to get another woman into a closed establishment, without anyone they passed noticing the abduction. He leaves no trace there either. But he flubs up the main deal? He screws up on what we would be led to believe was the motive for murder? You buy that, Feeney?”
“Well, you put it that way, I’ll save my money.” He pulled on his bottom lip.“You think she made it up?”
“I think it’s a possibility that needs to be explored. You know, it doesn’t put a kink in my hose so much as it adds weight to a theory I’ve been working on.”
“Want to walk it by me? Got time, got coffee.”
He’d trained her, she thought. She could remember countless times they’d talked through a case, picking over, niggling over the details over bad food and worse coffee.
He’d taught her how to think, how to see, and most of all how to feel an investigation.
“Wouldn’t mind, but I don’t see why I should have to suffer through that sludge you call coffee. Figure maybe you could share the holiday token I brought you.”
She tossed a gift bag on his desk, and watched his eyes light up like Christmas morning.“That coffee in there? The real deal?”
“No point in bringing you the fake stuff if I’m going to be drinking it.”
“Hot damn! Thanks. Hey, close the door, will you? Don’t want anybody getting wind while I set this up. Jesus, I’m going to have to put a lock on my AC, or my boys will be swarming in here like locusts.”
Once the door was safely shut, he moved to the AutoChef to begin the homey tasks of loading and programming.“You know, the wife’s trying to stick me with decaf at home. Might as well drink tap water, you ask me. But this …”
He took a long, deep inhale through his nose.“This is prime.” He turned his head, sent her a quick grin.“Got a couple of doughnuts in here. Logged ‘em in as pea soup so the boys don’t get wise.”
“Smart.” She thought of her travails with the candy thief who continually unearthed her office stash. She might give Feeney’s method a shot.
“So what do you got pointing to the female wit?”
She ran it through for him while he dealt with the coffee, shared his doughnuts.
He listened, sipping his coffee, taking an occasional generous bite out of the glazed doughnut. Sugary crumbs dotted his shirt.“Probability’s going to favor the son, if it’s a family job. Blood kills quicker. Could be he brought the wife into it, pressured her. Hey, guess what, honey? I just killed Mom. So I need you to say I was in here with you, sleeping like a baby.”
“Could’ve gone that way.”
“But woman on woman, that’s another hot button.” He gestured with the last of his doughnut, then popped it in his mouth.“In-laws add to it. Sick and tired of you interfering, you old bat. Then she throws herself on the son. Oh, my God, there was a terrible accident. You have to help me.”
“Doesn’t explain the scam, the supposed abduction, or Bobby in the hospital.”
“Yeah, it could. You got one or both of your suspects either wanting nothing to do with the scam, or wanting all the cupcakes. The abduction is frills. Maybe just frills. That’d be on her. Trying to put a bow on it. Maybe it goes back, Dallas, like you think. Shit happens when you’re a kid, it sticks with you.”
She said nothing to that, and he stared into his coffee. Each let the subject of her own childhood slide away.
“You’ve got to get something on her or him. Something you can use to put the pressure on. You’ve got yourself an onion.”
“I’ve got a what?”
“An onion. You’ve gotta start peeling away the layers.”
 *
An onion, Eve thought. Leave it to Feeney. But it had given her a fresh idea.
She headed to Mira’s, caught Mira’s admin at her desk, dealing with busywork while Christmas carols played on low.“How’s her schedule today?”
“It’s very light. We’re closing the office at noon until start of business hours on the twenty-sixth. She’s with another officer now.” The admin checked her watch.“Nearly done. She has another appointment in fifteen minutes, then she’s fairly well clear.”
“I could use a minute with her between appointments. I can wait.”
“All right, but I hope you don’t plan to add to her schedule. She and her husband have plans.”
“I won’t keep her,” Eve began, then stepped back as another cop came out of the office.
“Just a minute.” The admin held up a finger, got up to walk to Mira’s door herself.“Doctor, Lieutenant Dallas is here. She’d like a moment.”
“Of course.” Mira got up from her desk as Eve entered.“I didn’t expect to see you again until after the holidays.”
“Need a favor. I’m looking for a profile, maybe even just an impression of a suspect.”
“On the Lombard matter.”
“Yeah. I’m looking at the daughter-in-law.”
“Oh?” Mira sat, leaned back while Eve ran quickly through her angle.
“What I’d like is for you to go with me to her hotel, or the hospital. I don’t know yet where she’ll be in an hour. I’m going to try to corner her at the hotel first. I know you’ve got plans. I can run you home myself after.”
“I suppose I could”
“Good. Great.” Eve backed toward the door before Mira changed her mind.“I’ll come back and get you in an hour. I’m going to set it up.”
She hurried out, using her ‘link to connect with Zana’s room at the hotel.
“I’m swinging by in about an hour,” Eve told her.
“Oh. I was hoping to go to the hospital. I just called, and they said Bobby was still sleeping, but”
“I’ll make sure you get there.” Eve waited a beat.“How’s his condition?”
“Stable. They said he was stable. But they want to keep him another twenty-four hours at least. Observation. And we need to make some arrangements here before they’ll release him. I need to get a wheelchair, and these medications, and”
“Why don’t you start arrangements for what you need from there? That way you’ll be set for him tomorrow. I’ll have a uniform take you to the hospital, get you home.”
“Well, all right, I guess. Since he’s asleep anyway.”
“Good. I’ll be there in an hour.”
She headed back to her office to write up an update for her commander. Halfway through, Slader stuck his head in the door.
“Got him wrapped, Lieutenant.”
“The brother? You got a confession?”
“Junkie brother comes home, see, and the other guy’s waiting for him. He’s found out some stuff’s missing from the apartment. His pricey wrist unit, some electronics, that kind of deal. Gonna confront his brother, kick him out. Brother comes in late, stoned to the eyeballs.”
“You got the tox to substantiate?”
“Yeah. Vic had enough shit in him to fly all the way to Pluto and back. Looks like he pawned the shit he took from his brother to buy the stuff. Guy tells him to take a hike, and they get into it. Now our guy says the dead brother threw the first punch. Maybe yes, maybe no.”
Slader shrugged.“But there’re swings on both sides. Asshole brother takes a header down the stairs, snaps his neck. Other guy panics, tries to set it up like he’d been in bed and the dead brother just took a tumble. We can squeeze him maybe on Man Two, but the PA doesn’t like it. Guy’s willing to cop to Man Three. So that’s how we’re doing it.”
“Good enough. Make sure the dead guy’s the one who pawned the merchandise. Check that before you sign off on the deal.”
“Partner’s doing that now. Checks out, we’re clearing it. Stupid bastard the live brother could’ve saved himself a lot of time and trouble he’d just copped to the fight. People just like lying to cops.”
Truer words, Eve mused as another thought occurred. Layers. Yeah, she might try peeling one.
 *
In the garage, Mira studied the all-terrain.“This can’t be your city issue.”
“No. Roarke. Icy roads.” Eve shrugged as she climbed in.“This thing would probably transverse the Arctic Circle, so he’s satisfied I can navigate New York in it.”
“Well, I feel better in it.” Mira settled in.“I imagine there’s so little he can control regarding your safety, he pushes on the things he can.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“Dennis made noises about me staying home today.” Mira adjusted the softly patterned scarf around her neck.“I ended up having to arrange for a driver to satisfy him. It’s nice to have someone who’ll worry.”
“You think ?” Eve glanced over as she reversed.“Maybe,” she decided.“Maybe it is. But it’s hard to know you’re always worrying them.”
“It used to annoy me.”
“Really?”
“Charlie, he’d say, why do you take such chances, dealing with people who revel in that kind of darkness? If you’re inside them, don’t you see they can get inside you?” She smiled a little, stretching out her legs luxuriously in the warmth.“We went around that one, and variations on the theme, quite a bit when I took the position with the department.”
“You had fights? You and Mr. Mira?”
“We’re married, of course we had fights. Have them. He may seem easygoing, but he’s got a mile-wide stubborn streak in him. I love it.”
She brushed her hair back as she turned her head to look at Eve.“I imagine we’ve had a few bouts that could compete with the rounds you and Roarke have. But they bought the package, didn’t they? Yours and mine, just as we bought theirs. So we find ways of dealing, of making it work. So you drive this big machine on a nasty day. Which, by the way, is a very sexy ride.”
Eve had to grin.“It is, isn’t it? So, how soon did the two of you bump heads?”
“Oh, God, we went at each other over buying our first sofa for our first apartment. You would have thought it was the most vital purchase we’d ever make. We ended up buying nothing for nearly a month because neither of us would give in. Then we settled on something completely different, opened a bottle of wine, and made very enthusiastic love on it.”
“It’s stress, right? Mostly stress and figuring each other out. People who haven’t been hooked up long, they’re starry-eyed, sure, and spend a lot of time boinking like bunnies, but they snipe at each other over little stuff. And you add major stress, and there ends up being some tension.”
“Generally speaking. Specifically speaking about the Lombards, I’d be surprised if there haven’t been some difficulties over the last several days. But often, most often, people tend to keep those private battles private.”
“But they show, especially to a trained observer. And these two look smooth as glass. She’s like the poster girl for wifely behavior. It just hits me wrong.” She shifted in her seat.“I know I’m not much in the wifely department, but it makes me want to take another sniff at her. Going out for coffee and bagels, the morning after your mother-in-law’s been bludgeoned to death? Come on.”
“It’s not unusual to do something basic, something everyday, to compensate for trauma.”
“Well, how about tapping room service, then? Sure, it was an economy hotel, but it ran to room service.”
“Devil’s advocate,” Mira said, holding up a hand.“She’s not used to that sort of thing, more used to doing the food shopping and preparation. I agree, it would’ve been simpler and more sensible under the circumstances, but it’s difficult to see that as suspicious behavior.”
“It’s more the ball of it. Of her. She does everything just so. Like she’s got some checklist. Okay, turn on the tears. Now be brave, bite your lip, turn the guileless, supportive look on your husband. But don’t forget your makeup and hair. There’s a certain vanity in there that doesn’t click with the rest of her.”
“You don’t like her.”
“You know, I don’t.” Stopped at a light, Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel. Naked fingers, she realized. She’d forgotten her gloves back at Central.“And there’s no reason not to like her, on the surface. So it’s my gut telling me she’s off. Something about her is off, that’s all. And maybe I’m just full of shit, maybe I’m reaching. So your impression’s going to weigh.”
“But no pressure,” Mira murmured.
“I’m telling her I’m bringing you along to counsel,” Eve continued as she parked.“Just to offer a hand since she’s had a couple of tough blows back-to-back.”
“And she’ll believe that?”
Eve smiled thinly.“She’s not the only one who can put on a show. You want to be careful getting out. That sidewalk’s going to be slick.”
“It’s nice,” Mira said easily,“to have someone worry.”
Vaguely embarrassed, Eve waited until the street was clear to climb out. Inside, she nodded toward security, then logged Mira in.“Any movement upstairs?” she asked the woman on duty.
“None reported.”
“She order any food?” At the security woman’s raised brow, Eve spoke casually.“Just want to make sure she’s taking care of herself. Also, if my men have been hitting room service, I need to keep tabs for the budget.”
“I can check on that for you.”
“Thanks.” She moved to the elevator, got on with Mira.“Just want to see how well she’s taking care of herself,” she said to answer Mira’s unspoken question.“Be interesting to see what she’s been eating.”
She acknowledged her man on the door.“I want transportation for the witness to and from the hospital, but I want a delay. I don’t want her leaving for thirty minutes after I do. Got that?” Yes, sir.
Eve knocked, waited. Zana opened the door with a quick, tremulous smile.“I’m so glad you’re here. I just talked with Bobby’s nurse, and she said he’s awake, so… Oh.” She stopped when she spotted Mira.“I’m sorry. Hello.”
“Zana, this is Dr. Mira. She’s a friend of mine.”
“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you. Please come in. I can, uh, get some coffee?”
“That’s all right, I’ll take care of that in a minute. Dr. Mira’s a counselor. I thought, under the circumstances, you might want to talk to someone. Maybe Bobby, too. Mira’s the best,” Eve added with a smile, laying a hand on Mira’s shoulder to make it seem more friendly than official.“She’s helped me a lot with … issues.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thanks so much for thinking of me, of us.”
“You’ve been through some hard knocks. Survivors of violence don’t always understand the full extent of the stress they’re under. Talking to me, well, even though Bobby and I go back, you’re still talking to a cop. But if you think it’s out of line, then”
“No, God. It’s so thoughtful of you. I’ve just been wandering around here, most of the night. No one to talk to. I’ve never talked to a counselor before. I don’t know where to start.”
“Why don’t we sit down?” Mira suggested.“Your husband’s condition has improved?”
“Yes. They said he’ll need to stay in the hospital another day, maybe two, then we can go to out-patient status. I don’t really understand all the medical terms.”
“I can help you with that, too.”
“Look, I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll get the coffee, get out of the way.”
“I don’t mind if you stay,” Zana told Eve.“You know everything.”
“I’ll get the coffee anyway, give you a minute.”
Eve moved across the room, into the narrow alcove. And gee, she thought, if she pushed the wrong buttons on an unfamiliar AC unit, who could argue?
She could hear Zana’s voice, the thickness in it of suppressed tears. Oh, you’re good, she decided. But I’m better.
She ran a quick scan, replaying orders over the last twenty-four hours.
Cheese, raspberries, popcorn extra butter. Bet somebody watched vids last night, Eve thought. And a hearty breakfast this morning: Ham omelette, toast, coffee, and orange juice.
She programmed for coffee, then eased open the minifriggie. Bottle of red wine, she noted. Maybe two glasses left in it. Soft drinks. Frozen nondairy dessert, double chocolate half gone.
Trauma and tragedy didn’t seem to be affecting Zana’s appetite.
When she came back with the coffee, Zana was mopping at her face with a tissue.“It’s just one thing after the next,” she told Mira.“I can’t find my balance, I guess. We were coming here to have fun. Bobby wanted to treat me to a trip, to somewhere exciting I’d never been. Part of my Christmas present since his mama was so hot to come, you know. To talk to Eve, after all the years. And then, everything’s been so awful.”
She began to shred the tissue so pieces of it fell like snow into her lap.“Poor Bobby, he’s been trying to be so strong, and now he’s hurt. I just want to make it easier on him. Somehow.”
“I’m sure you are, just by being there for him. Still, it’s important that you look after yourself as well, and let yourself grieve for a woman you were close to. To go through that process, Zana. And to get rest, keep your health.”
“I can’t even think of myself right now. How can I?”
“I understand. It’s human to put ourselves to one side at times of crisis. Especially for women to do so,” Mira added and gave Zana’s hand a pat.“Bobby will need you, emotionally and physically in the days and weeks to come. It’s difficult thank you, Eve it’s difficult to lose a parent, any family member. But to lose one through violent means adds another layer, even more stress and grief. You’ve both had a shock, several in fact. I hope when you’re able to go back to Texas, you’ll find someone there to talk to. I can certainly give you a list of recommendations for counselors in your area.”
“I’d so appreciate that. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’ve never talked to a counselor before.”
“You didn’t go to grief counseling when your mother died?” Eve asked.
“Oh, no. I didn’t even think about it. It’s just not the kind of thing I was raised to think about, I guess. I just… I don’t know, went on, I guess. But this is different, I can see that. And I want to do what’s best for Bobby.”
“Then you will.”
“If I could have a minute, Zana. We’re having trouble with the numbers you gave us. The ones your abductor made you memorize.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re not finding anything with those numbers. Actually, there are too many numbers. Do you think you could’ve gotten them mixed up, or added some?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her hands fluttered up from her lap.“I was so sure. I kept repeating them over and over, like he said to. I even said them in my head after … after he left. But I was so scared. What should we do? What can I do?”
“We could try hypnosis.” Eve took a sip of coffee, met Mira’s eyes over the cup.“That’s another reason I brought Dr. Mira by today, so you could meet her, feel comfortable with her if we went this route. Dr. Mira often assists the department with this kind of thing.”
“It could be helpful.” Mira picked up the ball.“We could, under hypnosis, take you back to the abduction, take you through it, while making certain you feel safe and secure.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know. Hypnosis.” She reached up, tangling her fingers in the trio of thin gold chains she wore around her neck.“I don’t know. The idea scares me some. I need to think about it. It’s hard right now to think of anything but Bobby.”
“It would be a way to help us find whoever killed Bobby’s mother.” Eve pressed a little harder.“And knowing the person responsible has been identified, apprehended, and will pay for what was done helps the healing process. Dr. Mira?”
“Yes, that’s very true. Why don’t I send you some information so you can see how this is approached? Help you understand the process a little better.”
“That’d be okay, I guess. But gosh, I don’t know. Just the thought of going through that again, even in my mind. It really scares me. I’m not strong like you,” she said to Eve.“I’m just ordinary.”
“Ordinary people do extraordinary things, every day.” But Mira smiled, rose.“I’ll get you that information, Zana, and I’d be happy to talk with you again, if you think I can help.”
“Thank you so very much. Thank you. Both of you.” Zana got to her feet, held out both her hands to Eve.“It means a lot to know you’re working so hard for us.”
“I’ll be in touch. I’ll arrange for transportation to the hospital. Someone will call up when it’s here. I’m going to try to get by to see Bobby, but if I don’t make it, give him my best.”
“I will.”
Eve waited until they were on the elevator.“What’s your take?”
“I don’t know how helpful I’m going to be to you. Her actions and reactions are well within the expected range. Her responses plausible. I will say that with your voice niggling in my ear they were a bit too textbook. But the textbook was written simply because of these actions and reactions to trauma and violence.”
“She balked at hypnosis.”
“So do you,” Mira pointed out.“It’s often the first reaction to the suggestion.”
“Me going under isn’t going to help find a killer. If she’d agreed to it, I’d’ve lost a million-dollar bet with myself. She had popcorn last night.”
“Comfort food.”
“And a bottle of wine’s in there, nearly empty.”
“I’d be surprised if she hadn’t had a few drinks.”
“You’re right,” Eve said irritably.“You’re not being helpful. She had herself a big, fat breakfast, and I’m betting she hit room service for a nice meal last night.”
“Not everyone goes off food with stress. People often use food as comfort, often overeating, in fact, to compensate. It can swing either way, Eve. We both know what you’ve got is instinct, and no evidence. Not even circumstantial at this point.”
“Shit. See if I give you a ride home next time.”
Eve got off the elevator, headed straight for security.“Have you got those room service orders?”
“I do. Nothing from your men. Our guest ordered roast chicken with new potatoes and carrots. She also had a starter of crab salad, and ended with key lime pie. A bottle of merlot went with that, as well as a bottle of spring water.”
“Good appetite,” Eve commented.
“Yeah. Sounds like she’s working to keep her strength up.”
Eve heard the cynicism, appreciated it.“I’m going to want a record of any calls she made on the room ‘link.”
“I thought you would. Three outgoing. One to the hospital last evening, two to the hospital this morning. No incoming.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Eve strode out.“Goddamn if somebody lolls around drinking wine and eating pie when her husband’s racked up in the hospital. Would you?”
“No. And neither would you. But eating pie isn’t a crime, and I can’t tell you it’s out of the normal scope of reactions.”
“How come she didn’t contact Bobby’s pal and partner to tell him Bobby was hurt?”
“She might very well have done so, on her personal ‘link.”
“Yeah, we’ll check that. I’m betting she didn’t. Didn’t get in touch because she didn’t want him heading out here, or keeping her tied up talking out the details, buzzing her back for updates. She wanted a little alone time with her fucking pie.”
Mira laughed out loud before she could cough it away, and earned a scowl.“I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, it was just such an image. You want a profile, I’ll give you one.”
She got back in the car, strapped in.“The subject is a young, inexperienced woman, who appears used to and amenable to being told what she should do. She looks to her husband to make decisions, while she deals with the more domestic areas. This is her comfort zone. She enjoys attention while having a tendency to be skittish and shy. She has an orderly, tidy, and, I would say, submissive nature.”
“Or she’s slipped that persona on like a skinsuit.”
“Yes, or, if you’re right, Eve, this is a very clever, very calculating woman. One who would be willing to subvert her own nature for a considerable length of time in order to reach her goal. She’s been married to this man for several months, which brings them into a very intimate relationship every day. She knew and worked for him before that, was courted by him. Maintaining a pose contrary to her nature would be a very impressive feat.”
“I’m prepared to be impressed. I’m not pushing aside other possibilities, other suspects,” she added.“I’m just adding her in.”
And keeping her at the top of my list, Eve thought.
18
BOBBY WAS SITTING UP IN BED WHEN EVE stepped into his room. His eyes were closed, and the entertainment unit was set, she assumed, for a book on disc. In any case, there were voices spilling out of it in what seemed to be an intense and passionate argument.
If he was sleeping, he didn’t need to hear it. If he wasn’t, she needed his attention. So she stepped closer to the unit.“Pause program,” she ordered.
In the sudden silence Bobby stirred, opened his eyes.
“Zana? Oh, Eve. I must’ve nodded off. Sort of listening to a book. Crappy book,” he added with an attempt at a smile.“The nurse told me Zana was coming in soon.”
“I just left her a little while ago. I’m having a couple of uniforms drive her to and from. It’s nasty outside.”
“Yeah.” He looked out the window, his expression brooding.
“So. How’re you feeling?”
“I don’t know. Clumsy, stupid, annoyed to be here. Sorry for myself.”
“You’re entitled.”
“Yeah, that’s what myself s telling me. The flowers, the tree. It’s nice.”
He gestured toward the little fake pine decorated with miniature Santas. To Eve’s mind, it looked like the jolly old elf had been hanged, multiple times, in effigy.
“Zana told me you helped pick them out.”
“Not really. I was just there.”
“She thinks of stuff like that. Little things like that. This is a really, really shitty Christmas for her.”
“For you, too. It sucks out loud, Bobby, and I’m going to add to it by asking you if you’ve thought of anything else, remembered anything. About what happened to your mother, about what happened to you.”
“Nothing. Sorry. And I’ve had a lot of time to think, lying here like an idiot who can’t cross the damn street.” He let out a sigh, lifted the hand of his good arm, then let it fall.“A lot of time to think, about what you said, about what you said my mother did. Wanted to do. She really asked for money?”
Eve moved closer to the bed so she could stand at its side and watch his face.“How much shit can you take?”
He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, she hoped what she saw in them was strength.“I might as well get it all dumped on me. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Your mother had several numbered accounts, which were fed by funds she extorted from women she’d fostered as children.”
“Oh, God. Oh, my God. There has to be a mistake, some kind of mix-up, misunderstanding.”
“I have statements from two of these women that verify that your mother contacted them, threatened to expose their juvenile records unless they paid the amounts she demanded.”
She watched the blows land on his already battered face, until he was staring at her, not with disbelief or shock, but with the focused concentration of a man fighting pain.
“Statements,” he repeated.“Two of them.”
“There’re going to be more, Bobby, when it’s done. She also informed my husband that she had copies of my files and would sell them to interested media sources unless he paid her. She’s been blackmailing former charges for a number of years.”
“They were just kids,” he said under his breath.“We were all just kids.”
“It’s possible she used one of her former fosters to aid her in her attempt to blackmail me, through Roarke, and was killed by this individual.”
“I would never have let her do without. Whenever she wanted something I did what I could to get it for her. Why would she do this? I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and looked beyond her, toward the window again.“I understand what you’re thinking. You think she used and mistreated you when you were in her care, when you were a kid. So why not use and mistreat you now?”
“Am I wrong, Bobby? Is something wrong with my memory?”
His breath shuddered out softly.“No. She used to say, used to tell me that you the kids she took in were lucky to have someone offer them a decent home. Care enough to take them, to teach them manners and discipline and respect. That’s what she said it was when she locked you up. Consequences for unacceptable behavior. Things would be a lot worse if you were on the streets.”
“Did you buy that, Bobby?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some. She never hurt me.” He turned his head now, met Eve’s eyes.“She never treated me that way. She said it was because I did what I was told. But I didn’t, not always. If she caught me, she’d usually laugh and say, ‘Boys will be boys.’ It was the girls she … I don’t know why. Something inside her. She hated her mother. Used to tell me we were lucky to be rid of the old bitch. Maybe I don’t know maybe her mother did those things to her. It’s a cycle, right? Isn’t that what they say about abuse? It’s a cycle.”
“Yeah, it often is.” Maybe that comforted him, she thought.“What about you, Bobby? Did you cycle around, take care of your mother? She must’ve been a hardship on you. New wife, new business, and here’s this demanding woman, prying into your life. A demanding woman with a big pile of money stashed away.”
His eyes filmed over for a moment. Tears he blinked away.“I don’t blame you for saying it, thinking it. And you can put on record that I’ll take a Truth Test. I’ll take one voluntarily, as soon as you can arrange it. I want you to find who hurt her.”
He took a long breath.“I loved my mother, Eve. I don’t know if you can understand, but even knowing what she was, what she did, I loved her. If I’d known what she was doing, I’d have found a way to make it stop. To make her give the money back, and stop. That’s what I want to do. Give the money back. You have to help me get the money back to the people she took it from. Maybe it won’t make it right, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“Yeah, I can help you with that. How would you have made her stop, Bobby?”
“I don’t know. She’d listen to me. If she knew I was really upset, she’d listen to me.” Now he sighed a little.“Or pretend to. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know how to tell Zana all this. I don’t know how to tell her this is true. She’s already been through so much.”
“She was tight with your mother.”
“They got along. Zana gets along with everyone. She made a real effort with my mother it takes one.” He tried another smile.
“You know, women get tight in a certain way. When they do, they tend to tell each other things they might not tell a man. Could it be your mother told Zana about what she was doing?”
“Not possible.” He tried to sit up straighter, as if to emphasize his point, and cursed the restriction of his broken arm.“Zana’s… she’s scrupulous. I don’t know anyone as intrinsically honest. She might not have argued with my mother about it, but she’d have been horrified, and she’d have told me. We don’t have secrets.”
People said that, Eve knew. But how did they know the other party didn’t have secrets? How did they know there’d been full disclosure?
“Zana the type to keep her word?”
His face was full of love.“Probably cut off a finger before she’d break it.”
“Then she’d be in a tough spot if she’d given your mother her word not to tell you, or anyone.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and Eve could see him wrestling with this new possibility.“I don’t know how she’d have dealt with it. But she’d have told me, at least after my mother was killed. She’d never have kept that to herself. I wonder where she is.” His fingers began to tug at the sheet.“I thought she’d be here by now.”
“I’ll check in a minute, make sure she’s on her way. They say when they’re springing you?”
“Not before tomorrow, but I’m pushing for that. I want to salvage something of Christmas. It’s our first, probably told you that. At least I bought a couple of things here, so Zana will have something to open. Man, this how did you put it? Oh, yeah, this sucks out loud.”
Reaching into the pocket of her coat, Eve brought out a little bag.“Thought you might like these. Cookies,” she said as she put the bag in his good hand.“I figure they might not run to Christmas cookies around here.”
“Appreciate it.” He peeked inside, nearly smiled again.“Really. The food’s fairly crappy around here.”
He’d brought her food once, and now she’d returned the favor. She thought that made them even, or wanted to think it.
Eve checked with her uniforms, assured Bobby his wife would be there shortly.
Then she let it all shuffle around in her mind during the long, ugly drive uptown.
Her pocket ‘link signalled, causing her to fumble a moment as she interfaced it with the unfamiliar system on the all-terrain so her hands stayed free to fight the fight.“Dallas, and this better be good because I’m stuck in lousy traffic.”
“I’m not!” Peabody’s voice shot out thrills and excitement completely in contrast with the icy rain. On the dash screen, her face glowed like a damn candle.“I’m in Scotland, and it’s snowing. It’s snowing in big, fat, mag flakes.”
“Yippee.”
“Aw, don’t be that way. I just had to tell you we’re here, and it’s so beyond frosty. The McNabs have this amazing house, kinda like a really big cottage, and there’s a river and mountains. McNab’s dad has a burr.”
“Well, why doesn’t he pull it out?”
“No, no, the accent. It’s total. And they like me, Dallas. I mean, they just slathered, like, all over me.”
“Again, I repeat: Yippee.”
“I don’t know why I was so nervous and freaky. It’s just piles of fun on top of more. The shuttle ride was so uptown, and then, wow, the scenery is so completely mag. It’s like a vid or something, and”
“Peabody, I’m glad you’re having a good time. Seriously. But I’m trying to get home here, so I can grab a little Christmas cheer myself.”
“Sorry, sorry. Wait, first, did you get the presents I left on your desk?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Oh.” Peabody’s face went through several expressions, ending on a pout.“You’re welcome.”
“We didn’t open them yet.”
“Oh! Oh, okay.” The pout turned into a nervous grin.“You want to wait until tomorrow. I just wondered. So, well… Anything I should know on the case?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until you get back. Go eat some what is it haggis.”
“I might. I’ve already had a really big whiskey, and it’s dancing in my head. But I don’t care! It’s Christmas. And last year you and I were mad at each other, and now we’re not. I love you, Dallas, and Roarke, and every bony inch of McNab. And his cousin Sheila. Merry Christmas, Dallas.”
“Yeah, you bet.” She cut off before Peabody could get started again. But she was smiling as she rolled through the gates toward home.
The house was lit as if it were night, and an icy mist rolled over the ground, sparkled just a little in the lights. She could see trees shimmering, candles glowing, and heard the patter of that cold, hard rain on the roof of her vehicle.
She stopped, just stopped in the middle of the drive. Just to look, and to think, and remember. Inside was warmth, fires burning with the crackle of real wood. Everything in her life had somehow navigated her here. Whatever the horrors had been, the pain and blood, whatever dogged her dreams like a hound, had brought her here. She believed that.
She had this because she’d survived the other. She had this because he’d been waiting on the other side of the road. Navigating his own trenches.
She had home, where the candles were lit and the fires were burning. It was good, she thought, to take a moment to remember that, and to know, whatever else she faced, this was here.
And if she couldn’t just enjoy it for twenty-four hours, what was the point?
She dashed into the house, shook rain from her hair. For once, Summerset wasn’t lurking in the foyer, but even as she tugged off her coat, Roarke strolled out of the parlor.
“And there you are.”
“Later than I thought, sorry.”
“I only got in a few minutes ago myself. Summerset and I are having a drink by the fire. Come, sit down.”
“Oh, well.” Summerset. They’d have to be civil to each other. It was like a holiday law.“I have to take care of something first.” She concealed a small bag behind her back.“Need a few minutes.”
“Secrets.” He wandered over to kiss her. And to peek over her shoulder. She shifted, poked a finger in his belly.
“Cut it out. I’ll be down in a minute.”
He watched her go up, then walked back into the parlor to sit by the fire with Summerset and enjoy his Irish coffee.“She’s smuggling in some last-minute gift.”
“Ah. I’ll garage the vehicle she no doubt left out in this weather, in a moment.”
“Of course. And as much as I believe the two of you enjoy your mutual sniping, we might try a moratorium on that until Boxing Day.”
Summerset lifted a shoulder.“You look relaxed.”
“And so I am.”
“There was a time, not that long ago, when you’d have been out hounding some deal right up until the last moment. At which time, you’d have been off with the woman of the moment. Christmas in Saint Moritz or Fiji. Wherever your whim took you. But not here.”
“No, not here.” Roarke picked up one of the little frosted cookies Summerset had arranged on a glossy red dish.“Because, I realize now, here would have made it impossible for me not to understand I was alone. Lonely. Despite all the women, the deals, the people, the parties, what have you. I was alone because there was no one who mattered enough to keep me here.”
He sipped his coffee, watched the flames.“You gave me my life. You did,” he insisted when Summerset made a protesting sound.“And I worked in my fashion to build this place. I asked you to tend it for me. You’ve never let me down. But I needed her. The one thing, the only thing that could make this place home.”
“She’s not what I’d have chosen for you.”
“Oh.” With a half-laugh, Roarke bit into the cookie.“That I know.”
“But she’s right for you. The one for you.” His smile was slow.“Despite, or maybe due to, her many flaws.”
“I imagine she thinks somewhat the same about you.”
When he heard her coming, Roarke glanced back. She’d taken off her weapon, changed her boots for skids. She took a package to the tree, placed it there with the others.
He saw the expression on her face as she scanned the piles he’d stacked. Consternation, bafflement, and a kind of resignation that amused him.
“Why do you do this?” She demanded with a wave at the gifts.
“It’s a sickness.” I’ll say.
“We’re having Irish in our coffee.”
“If that means whiskey, I’ll pass. I don’t know why you want to muck up perfectly good coffee that way.”
“Just another sickness. I’ll pour you some wine.”
“I’ll get it myself. Peabody tagged me on the way home. She’s not only safe and sound in Scotland, she was half-piss-faced and insane with delight. She loves you, by the way, and me, and McNab’s bony ass and even his cousin Sheila.” She gave Summerset a small smile.“She didn’t mention you, but I’m sure it was an oversight.”
She sat down, stretched out her legs.“That’s one present that hit the mark, big time. You clear everything you needed to clear?”
“I did,” Roarke told her.“You?”
“No, but screw it. I tried to get the lab and got a recording of ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’ Why don’t songs like that ever die? Now it’s stuck in my head.”
The cat deserted Summerset to jump into her lap, complain loudly, and knead his claws into her thighs.
“He’s trying you.” Roarke gestured with his cup.“He wants the cookies, and got nowhere with me or Summerset in that area.”
“Well, you can forget it, Fatso.” She lifted him, went nose-to-nose.“But I’ve got something for you.” She dumped him, then went to the tree, pawed around, and came up with a gift bag.
She dug out a pair of feline-sized antlers, and a toy mouse.
“He’s much too dignified to wear those, or bat about some ridiculous toy,” Summerset protested.
Eve just snorted.
“Catnip.” She held the mouse up by the tail in front of Galahad’s face.“Yeah, that’s right,” she said as Galahad reared up on his hind legs and grabbed the mouse with his front claws.“Zeus for cats.”
“And you, a duly designated officer of the law,” Roarke said,“dealing.”
“I’ve got my sources.” While the cat rolled deliriously with his new toy, Eve stuck the antlers in place.“Okay, you look really stupid, so this is only for tonight. We humans have to get our kicks somewhere.”
“Is he trying to eat it,” Roarke wondered,“or make love to it?”
“I don’t want to think that hard about it. But he’s not thinking about cookies anymore.”
She sat again, propped her feet on Roarke’s lap. And when Roarke ran an absent hand up her calf, Summerset took it as his cue.
“I’ve prepared something simple for dinner, assuming you’d enjoy having it in here. I’m having mine with some friends in the city.”
“You have friends?” nearly popped out of Eve’s mouth, but Roarke squeezed her ankle in anticipation.
“Everything is in the kitchen unit.”
“Enjoy your evening, then.”
“I will, and you, too.”
Another ankle squeeze had Eve wincing.“Um, yeah. Merry.”
When they were alone, she shoved at Roarke’s arm.“Take it easy, will you? I was going to say something.”
“I know very well what you were going to say. We’re having peace on our particular square of Earth until Boxing Day.”
“Fine, I can do it if he can. Besides, I plan to get really drunk.”
“Why don’t I help you out with that?” He rose, and poured her more wine.
“What about you?”
“I’ll have some, but I think one of us has to keep his wits. That cat is stoned,” he commented, glancing down at the floor where Galahad rubbed himself lasciviously over the mouse.
“Well, seeing as he’s fixed, he can’t ever have sex. I just figured he should have a little thrill for the holiday. I’m counting on getting some thrills myself.”
Roarke lifted a brow.“I can help you with that, too.”
“Maybe I was talking about cookies.”
He dropped onto the couch, full-length beside her. And fastened his mouth on hers.
“Not drunk yet,” she murmured.
“Not done yet, either.”
“You gotta close those doors if you’re going to start fooling around. He may be going out, but the spirit of Summerset haunts these halls.”
“I’m simply kissing my wife.” He propped them both up, longways, so that they could watch the fire, sip wine. And neck.
“Nice.” She took a breath, breathed him, and let every cell in her body relax.“I may not leave this room, hell, this couch, until after Christmas.”
“We’ll have to take turns getting provisions. Feeding ourselves and the fire.”
“Okay. You first.”
He laughed, brushed his lips over her hair.“You smell delicious.” He sniffed down to her neck.“You’ve put something on.”
“I can take a minute now and then.”
“And it’s appreciated.”
“Did you get in touch with your people in Ireland?”
“I did, yes. It appeared to be a madhouse of baking and babies, which suits them very well. They wish you a happy Christmas.”
“You’re okay, not being over there?”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.” He turned her face up to his, met her lips.“Exactly. And you need more wine.”
“Already got a buzz going.”
“Likely because you didn’t have lunch.”
“Oh, yeah, I knew I forgot something.” She took the wine he poured.“After I get plowed, and make love to every square inch of you, I’ll eat a ton.”
Since he was up, he went over, closed the parlor doors.
From the sofa, Eve grinned.“Come over here, and start unwrapping me.”
Amused, aroused, he sat at her feet.“Why don’t I start down here?” he suggested, and slipped off her shoes. Then he pressed his thumbs to her arch, made her purr.
“Good spot.” She closed her eyes, drank a little more wine.“Tell you what, later, you can get plowed and I’ll do you.”
“Someone has the Christmas spirit.” He kissed a bracelet around her ankles.
“You can’t avoid it, it’s winging around out there left and right.” Lovely little sensations shimmered up her legs.“You can dodge, but eventually it beans you.”
She opened one eye when he unhooked her trousers.“Quick work.”
“Want slow?”
“Hell, no.” She grinned, reared up and grabbed him, spilling wine on both of them.“Uh-oh.”
“Now look what you’ve done. We’ll have to get out of these clothes. Hands up,” he said, and tugged her sweater over her head.“Here.” He handed her back her wine, put both her hands on the bowl of the glass.“Mind that now.”
“Prolly had enough.”
“I haven’t.”
He stripped her, then himself. He took the glass from her, upending it so drops scattered over her breasts, her torso.
She looked down, looked up.“Uh-oh,” she said again and laughed.
He licked wine and flesh, letting the combination go to his head while she moved and moaned under him. She arched up, a trembling bridge, when his hands roamed over her.
Then she locked around him, arms, legs. And rolled hard. She plopped on top of him, giggling.“Ouch.”
“Easy for you to say.” She’d stolen his breath in more ways than one. To pay her back he rolled her over. With lips and fingers he tickled her into shrieks, aroused her into gasps.
She was riding on foolishness and passion, a giddy combination with the wine flowing through her. When he was inside her, still laughing breathlessly, she chained her arms around his neck.
“Merry Christmas,” she managed.“Oh, God.” She came on a gasping laugh, then dragged him with her.
“Merry Christmas,” he said and shot her over, one last time.
She lay, all but cross-eyed, staring up at the tree.“Jesus, talk about putting a bow on it.”
Later, at his insistence, she opened her first gift. So she’d be comfortable, he’d said. It was hard to be otherwise in the long cashmere robe of forest green.
They ate by the fire, washing down Summerset’s simple lobster with champagne. When he asked about the case, she shook her head. She wouldn’t bring it into this. She was they were entitled to one night where blood and death stayed locked outside their world. A world where they sat like children, crosslegged under a tree, ripping at colored paper.
“The Universe According to Roarke?” He read the label on a cased disc.
“Feeney helped me put it together. Okay, Feeney mostly put it together, but I came up with the concept. It’ll go for holo or comp.”
She reached up for another cookie. She was making herself half-sick with sugar, but what was Christmas for?“Personalized game, and what you do is start out at the bottom. Pretty much wits only. Then you can earn money, arms, land. Build stuff, fight wars. You can pull in other people we’re all in there. And take on famous foes and stuff. You can cheat, steal, barter, and bloody. But there are a lot of traps, so you can end up broke, destitute, in a cage or tortured by your enemies. Or you can end up ruling the known universe. The graphics are very chilly.”
“You’re in here?”
“Yeah.”
“How can I lose?”
“It’s tough. Feeney’s had it up and running for a couple weeks and said he couldn’t get by level twelve. It’s pissing him off. Anyway, I figured since you don’t get to steal in real life anymore, you’d get a kick out of virtual.”
“The best present is having a woman who knows me.” He leaned over to kiss her, tasted wine and sugar cookies.“Thanks. Your turn.”
“I’ve already opened a million.” Which, she thought, ran the gamut from the sparkly to the silly, the sumptuous to the sexy.
“Nearly done. This one.”
She tugged the ribbon from the box he gave her, and though he winced, draped it around his neck. Inside was a magnifying glass with a silver handle.
“It’s old,” he told her.“I thought, ‘What’s a detective without a magnifying glass?’”
“It’s great.” She held up her hand, studied it through the glass, then grinning, shifted closer to Roarke, peered at him through it.“Jeez. You’re even prettier.” Then she turned it on the snoring cat.“You’re not. Thanks.”
When he tapped a finger to his lips, she pretended to sigh before she leaned over to kiss him.
“Here, do this one, it sort of fits.” She pushed a box at him while she played with the glass.“If I’d had one of these when I was a kid, I’d’ve driven people crazy.”
“Rather the point of toys and tools.” He glanced up, found himself being inspected again. He tossed a bow at her.“Here, see what you make of that.”
He opened the box, gently took out the pocket watch inside.“Eve, this is wonderful.”
“It’s old, too. I know how you rev on old stuff. And I figured you could put it on a shelf somewhere with all the other old stuff. It was already engraved,” she added when he opened it.“But I thought…”
” ‘Time stops.’” He said it quietly, then just looked at her with those stunning blue eyes.
“I thought, yeah, it does.” She reached for his hand.“It does.”
He gathered her in, pressing his lips to her throat, her cheek, just holding on.“It’s a treasure. So are you.”
“This is good,” she murmured. Not the things, she thought, and knew he understood. But the sharing of them. The being.“I love you. I’m really getting the hang of it.”
He laughed, kissed her again, then drew away.“You’ve one more.”
It had to be more jewelry, she noted from the size of the box. The man just loved draping her in sparkles. Her first thought when she opened the box was that they not only sparkled, they could blind you like the sun.
The earrings were diamond drops three perfect round stones in graduated sizes that dripped from a cluster of more diamonds that formed the petals of a brilliant flower.
“Wowzer,” she said. When he only smiled, it hit her.“Big Jack’s diamonds, from the Forty-seventh Street heist. The ones we recovered.”
“After they’d stayed hidden away nearly half a century.”
“These were impounded.”
“I didn’t steal them.” He laughed, held up his game disc.“Remember? Only virtually these days. I negotiated, and acquired them through completely legal means. They deserve the light. They deserve you. Without you, they might still be shut up in a child’s toy. Without you, Lieutenant, Chad Dix wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas right now.”
“You had them made for me.” That touched her, most of all. She picked up the magnifying glass.“Let’s check them out,” she said, and pretended to inspect the gems.“Nice job.”
“You can think of them as medals.”
“A lot jazzier than any medals the department hands out.” She put them on, knowing it would please him. Seeing the way it did.
“They suit you.”
“Glitters like these would work on anybody.” But she wrapped her arms around him, snuggled in.“Knowing where they came from, why you had them made for me, that means a lot. I”
She jerked back, eyes wide.“You bought them all, didn’t you?”
He cocked his head.“Well, aren’t you greedy.”
“No, but you are. You bought them all. I know it.”
He smoothed a finger down the dent in her chin.“I think we need more champagne. You’re entirely too sober.”
She started to speak again, then buttoned it. The man was entitled to spend his money as he liked. And he was right about one thing. Big Jack’s diamonds deserved better than a departmental vault.
“There’s one more under there,” he noticed as he started to rise.“The one you brought in today.”
“Oh. Right.” Part of her had hoped he’d forget that one.“Yeah, well, it’s nothing much. No big.”
“I’m greedy, remember? Hand it over.”
“Okay, sure.” She stretched out for it, dumped it in his lap.“I’ll get the champagne.”
He grabbed her arm before she could get up.“Just hold on a minute, until I see what I have here.” He shoved aside tissue paper, drew it out, and said only,“Oh.”
She struggled not to squirm.“You said you wanted a picture, you know, like from before.”
“Oh,” he repeated, and the expression on his face had color rising up her neck.“Look at you.” His eyes moved from image to woman, so full of pleasure, of surprise, of love, her throat went tight.
“I just dug it out, and picked up a frame.”
“When was it taken?”
“Right after I went into the Academy. This girl I hung with a little, she was always taking pictures. I was trying to study, and she”
“Your hair.”
She shifted, a little uncomfortable. In the picture she was sitting at a desk, discs piled around her. She wore a dull gray Police Academy sweatshirt. Her hair was long, pulled back in a tail.
“Yeah, I used to wear it long back then. Figured it was less trouble because I could just tie it back out of my way. Then in hand-to-hand training, my opponent grabbed it, yanked, and took me down. I lopped it off.”
“Look at your eyes. Cop’s eyes even then. Hardly more than a child, and you knew.”
“I knew if she didn’t get that camera out of my face so I could study, I was going to clock her.”
He laughed, took her hand, but remained riveted on the photograph.“What happened to her?”
“She washed out, made it about a month. She was okay. She just wasn’t”
“A cop,” he finished.“Thank you for this. It’s so exactly what I wanted.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, let the lights of the tree dazzle her and thought, Who needs champagne?
19
SHE WOKE, THOUGHT SHE WOKE, IN THE brilliantly lit room with the glass wall. She was wearing her diamonds, and the cashmere robe. There was a towering pine in the corner, rising up to the ceiling. The ornaments draping its arching boughs, she saw, were corpses. Hundreds of bodies hung, covered with blood red as Christmas.
All the women, only women, were gathered around it.
“Not very celebratory,” Maxie, the lawyer, said, and gave Eve a little elbow poke.“But you’ve got to make do, right? How many of those are yours?”
She didn’t need the magnifying glass weighing down her pocket to identify the faces, the bodies, the dead.“All of them.”
“That’s a little greedy, don’t you think?” Maxie turned, nodded toward the body splayed in the center of the room.“She hasn’t been put up yet.”
“No, she can’t go up yet. She isn’t finished.”
“Looks done to me. But here.” She tossed Eve a white sock weighed with credits.“Go ahead.”
“That’s not the answer.”
“Maybe you just haven’t asked the right question.”
She found herself in the glass room with the children. The child she’d been sat on the floor and looked up at her with tired eyes.
“I don’t have any presents. I don’t care.”
“You can have this.” Eve crouched down, held out her badge.“You’ll need it.”
“She has all the presents.”
Eve looked through the glass and saw that gifts were piled now around the body.“Lot of good they’ll do her now.”
“It’s one of us, you know.”
Eve glanced back, studied the room full of little girls. Then looked into her own eyes.“Yes, I know.”
“What will you do?”
“Take the one who did it away. That’s what happens when you kill someone. You have to pay. There has to be payment.”
The girl she’d been held up her hands, and they were smeared with blood.“Am I going, too?”
“No.” And she felt it, even in the dream she knew was a dream, she felt the ache in her belly.“No,” she said again,“it’s different for you.”
“But I can’t get out.”
“You will one day.” She looked back through the glass, frowned.“Weren’t there more presents a minute ago?”
“People steal.” The child hooked the bloodied badge on her shirt.“People are just no damn good.”
Eve woke with a hard jolt, the dream already fading. It was weird, she thought, to have dreams where you talked to yourself.
And the tree. She remembered the tree with the bodies draped like morbid tinsel. To comfort herself she turned, studied the tree in the window. She ran a hand over the sheet beside her, found it cool.
It didn’t surprise her that Roarke was up before her, or that he’d been up long enough for the sheets to lose his warmth. But it did give her a shock to see that it was nearly eleven in the morning.
She started to roll out of her own side, and saw the blinking memo cube on the nightstand. She switched in on, heard his voice.
“Morning, darling Eve. I’m in the game room. Come play with me.”
It made her smile.“Such a sap,” she murmured.
She showered, dressed, grabbed coffee, then headed down. Proving, she decided, she was a sap, too.
He had the main screen engaged, and it gave her yet another jolt to see herself up there, in a pitched and bloody battle. Why she was wielding a sword instead of a blaster, she couldn’t say.
He fought back-to-back with her, as he had, she remembered, in reality. And there was Peabody, wounded, but still game. But what the hell was her partner wearing?
More important, what was she wearing. It looked like some soft of leather deal more suited for S and M than swordplay.
Iced, she decided, when she lopped off her opponent’s head. Moments later, Roarke dispatched his, and the comp announced he’d reached Level Eight.
“I’m good,” she announced and crossed to him.
“You are. And so am I.”
She nodded at the paused screen.“What’s up with the outfits?”
“Feeney added costume options. I’ve had an entertaining hour fiddling with wardrobe as well as taking over most of Europe and North America. How’d you sleep?”
“Okay. Weird dream again. I can probably blame it on champagne, and the chocolate souffle I pigged out on at two in the morning.”
“Why don’t you stretch out here with me? This game’s programmed for multiple players. You can try to invade my territories.”
“Maybe later.” She ran an absent hand over his hair.“I’ve got this dream on my brain. Sometimes they’re supposed to mean stuff, right? There’s something in there. I’m not asking the right question,” she murmured.“What’s the right question?”
Playtime, he decided, was over for now.
“Why don’t we have a little brunch? You can talk it through.”
“No, go ahead and play the game. I’m good with coffee.”
“I slept in myself, didn’t get up until about nine.”
“Has anyone looked outside, checked to see if the world is still spinning on its axis?”
“At which time,” he continued dryly,“I had a workout I had souffle, too. Then, before I came down here to enjoy one of my gifts, I worked about an hour in my office.”
She studied him over the rim of her cup.“You worked.”
“I did.”
“On Christmas morning.”
“Guilty.”
She lowered the cup, grinned hugely.“We’re really sick people, aren’t we?”
“I prefer thinking we’re very healthy individuals who know what suits us best.” He rose, lithe as a cat in black jeans and sweater.“And what would suit us, I believe, is something light, up in the solarium where we can lord it over the city while you talk through your latest weird dream.”
“You know what I said last night?”
“Drunk or sober?”
“Either. I said I loved you. Still do.”
They had fresh fruit at the top of the house, looking through the glass at a sky that decided to give New York a break and coast over it bright and blue.
She didn’t argue with his notion that as it was Christmas they should have mimosas.
“You gave her you, that is your badge.”
“I don’t know why exactly. Mira’d probably have interpretations and all that shrink stuff. I guess it was what I wanted most. Or would, eventually, want most.”
“The tree ornaments are easy enough.”
“Yeah, even I can get that. They’re dead, so they’re mine. But Trudy wasn’t up there.”
“Because you haven’t finished with her. You can’t put her up with the others I won’t say ‘aside’ because you never put them aside. You won’t put her up until you’ve closed the case.”
“This lawyer keeps showing up. She’s not in it. I know she’s not, but she’s the one I talked to. Both times.”
“She’s the one you understand best, I’d say. She was up-front with you on her feelings toward Trudy, didn’t quibble about them. And she fought back, eventually.”
He offered her a raspberry.“She stood up, as you would.”
“One of us. I knew it, or the kid did.”
“A cop even then, in some part of you.”
“She also knew people mostly aren’t any damn good.” She said it lightly, tried another raspberry. Then sat up straight.“Wait a minute, wait a minute. The presents. Let me think.”
She pushed out of the chair, roamed the solarium with its potted trees, musical fountain.
“Presents and greed and Christmas and shopping. She bought stuff. I know Trudy bought stuff before she hit on either of us. I went through her credits and debits. She went on a fast, hard spree.”
“And?”
“Bags in her room, shopping bags. I’ve got the stuff in inventory, but I never checked all the contents, one by one, with the accounts. She didn’t buy anything like, you know, diamonds. Clothes, some perfume, shoes. She wasn’t killed for new shoes, so I didn’t go through it all, do a checklist. Just a quick skim. Some of it wasn’t there, but she had some shipped from stores. I checked that. But I didn’t go through it all, every piece.”
“Why would you?”
“Greed, envy, coveting. Women are all the time, ‘Oooh, I love your outfit, your shoes, those earrings.’ Whatever.” She circled a hand in the air when he laughed.“They went shopping together, the three of them, when they got in. Zana knew what she bought. Some of the stuff got shipped. Why would we bother to make sure some damn shirt made it to Texas? Gives her open season, doesn’t it?”
She whirled back.“She’s vain, under it. Always puts herself together. I bet Trudy bought some nice things for herself, and they’re close enough to the same size. Who’s going to know if her killer helped herself to a couple of things she liked best? Bobby’s not going to notice. Men don’t. Present company excepted.”
“And you get that from dreaming about a corpse surrounded by presents.”
“I get that because I’m groping. And I don’t know, maybe my subconscious is working something out. The thing is, it fits with my sense of her, of Zana. Opportunistic. If she took something, if I can prove she had something from the room … it’s still wild circumstantial evidence any PD in his first week could blow holes in, but it’s something to needle her with.”
She sat again.“She was one of us,” Eve continued.“And we didn’t get the good stuff. Handouts, hand-me-downs. Crumbs from the table when everyone else is having a big, fat slab of cake.”
“Baby.”
“I don’t care about that.” She rubbed her hand over his shoulder.“Never really did. But I’m betting she does, and did. Opportunity.” She closed her eyes, sipped the mimosa without thinking.“Here in New York big, bad city where anything can happen to anybody. Mark’s running a scam that just makes it easier. It’s like she’s putting herself on a platter. Weapon’s right there, easily used, easily disposed of. Gotta go out the window, but that’s no trouble. Room next-door is empty. She had to wash up somewhere, and it wasn’t in her own room or Trudy’s. Had to be there, in the empty room.”
She pushed up again.“Shit, shit. She stowed the weapon there, her bloody clothes, the towels. It’s perfect opportunity again. Stow the stuff, go back to your own room clean, where Bobby’s sleeping. He’d never know the difference. And who’s right on the spot the next morning, knocking on a dead woman’s door?”
“Then you walk in.”
“Yeah, she’s not expecting that, but she adjusts. She’s quick and she’s smart. Patient, too. Ducks out the next morning, gets the stuff from the empty room. She could’ve ditched it anywhere, any recycler from the hotel to the bar where she staged the abduction, left her purse to add a flourish. Gone now. Son of a bitch. We didn’t canvass that far, not for the weapon or bloody clothes.”
“Keep going,” he said when she paused.“I’m fascinated.”
“It’s speculation, that’s all it is. But it feels right.” For the first time since the beginning, it felt exactly right.“Now she has the cops out looking for some guy, and chasing down an account that doesn’t exist. Gives her time. Now she’s a victim. She’s got Trudy’s discs. The case files, and the record Trudy made of her injuries.”
Yes, she could see it, Eve thought. Gather stuff up, take what you need, what you want, don’t leave any trace of yourself behind.
“Does she keep the discs? Hard to toss away that kind of opportunity for a future date. You could try the squeeze down the road.”
“She didn’t squeeze now, when it’s ripe for it,” Roarke pointed out.“Anonymous delivery of a copy of the recording if it exists an account number and instructions.”
“It’s too ripe. Yeah, too hot. Why push her luck? She needs time to think that angle through. Is it worth taking on a cop and a guy with your resources? Maybe not. Maybe later. But if she’s smart, and she is, she checks, sees if we’re alibied tight for the times in questions. And we were. Could’ve hired somebody to do it, back to that, but she’s going to think if that’s going to fly. If we’re going to pay big piles of money over it or tough it out. More, go after her with a vengeance.”
She paused.“Waiting’s smarter. Isn’t that what you’d do? It’s what I’d do.”
“I’d have destroyed the camera and the discs. Anything that tied me to that room. If it could be tracked to me, I’m in a cage.” Roarke poured coffee for both of them.“Not worth it, especially not when I’m going to rake in whatever Trudy’s socked away.”
“There’s that. Of course, you’d get it all if Bobby’s gone. More important, if he has an accident, fatal or otherwise, the cops’re going to investigate, looking for that invisible man again. Meanwhile, you play it like it was an accident altogether. Gee, it had to be an accident, and it’s all my fault for making him go shopping. I spilled my coffee. Boo-hoo.”
He had to laugh.“You really dislike her.”
“From the get. Just one of those itches between the shoulder blades.” She moved them now as if to relieve it.“Now you’ve got Bobby in the hospital, and everyone including him is all there. So you’re center, just where you deserve to be. Taken a backseat to that bitch long enough, haven’t you?”
She looked back at him. Jeans and a sweater today, she thought. Day off, easy does it. Well, hell.“Listen, I’m going to ask, and it’s crappy to ask, but I’m going to. The record from the tail. I’ll be lucky to get them on it tomorrow. If I could just hear it clean, individual voices, tones, separate the sounds.”
“Computer lab.”
“Look, I’ll make it up to you.”
“How? And be specific.”
“I’ll play that game with you. Holo-mode.”
“There’s a start.”
“I’ll wear the getup.”
“Really?” He expanded the word, lasciviously.“And to the victor will go the spoils?”
“Which would be me.”
“It’s medieval at the moment. You’ll have to call me Sir Roarke.”
“Oh, step back.”
He laughed.“That may be going too far. We’ll see how it goes.” He pushed to his feet.“Where’s the disc?”
“I’ll get it. I’ll start on the shopping spree. Thanks. Really.”
He handed her the coffee so she could take it with her.“How else would we spend our Christmas afternoon?”
 *
She went to work, happy, she realized, to be back at it. With a hot pot of coffee and reams of data. Whatever she found, or didn’t, this angle was going to mean interviewing sales clerks. Which meant the horror of going into retail establishments on the day after Christmas when everyone and their mothers would be in them exchanging gifts, looking for bargains, arguing about credit.
Trudy’d done pretty well for herself, Eve decided. Six pair of shoes in one spot. Jesus, what was it with people and shoes? Shipped all but two pairs home. Well, she was never going to wear them.
She cross-checked her inventory list, and came up with six pairs.
And here were three handbags from the same shop. Two sent home, one taken with customer. When she checked her list, she smiled.
“Yeah, I bet it was hard to resist a six-hundred-dollar purse. Six bills.” She shook her head.“Just to lug stuff around in, most of which no rational human being has a need to lug anywhere. Let’s see what else you helped yourself to.”
Before she could continue, Roarke beeped on the house ‘link.
“I’ve got this for you, Lieutenant.”
“What? Already? It’s only been about a half hour.”
“I believe it was mentioned before: I’m good.”
“On my way, and I seriously overpaid for this service.”
“Pay to play,” he said and clicked off.
She found him in the lab where he’d set up a group of units to handle individual commands.“This way,” he told her,“you can ask for any mix you want, or a combination. I’ve also got her voiceprint, in case you want to try to match it at some point.”
“Might be handy. Let’s just run it through as it was first. I haven’t taken the time to listen to it all the way through.”
Now she did, hearing the gaggle of voices. Her own, Baxter’s, Trueheart’s. Checks and rechecks. Zana’s, Bobby’s discussing where they might go. The rustling as they donned their outdoor gear.
I’m so glad we’re getting out. It’ll do us both good. Zana.
Hasn’t been much of a trip for you. Bobby.
Oh, now, honey, don’t worry about me. I just want you to try to put all this awful business aside for just a couple hours. We’ve got each other, remember. That’s what counts.
They went out with Zana chattering about Christmas trees.
She heard New York as they went outside. Horns, voices, air blimps, the unmistakable belching of a maxibus. It was all a backdrop for more chatter. The weather, the buildings, the traffic, the shops. Interspersed were Baxter and Trueheart, commenting on direction, making small talk.
Man, you see the rack on that one? God is a man, and he’s on my side. Baxter.
God might be a woman, sir, deliberately tempting you with what you can’t have. Trueheart.
“Not bad, kid,” Eve mumbled.“God, you could die of boredom listening to this crap. ‘Oooh, look at this, honey. Oh, my goodness,’ blah, blah, blah.”
“Do you want to move forward?” Roarke asked her.
“No. We’ll stick it out.”
She drank coffee, and stuck, through the incessant shopping for and purchasing of a table tree, the extra ornaments. The giggles when Bobby made her turn around and close her eyes while he bought her a pair of earrings. Then the cooing about not opening them until Christmas.
“This may make me sick.”
They discussed lunch. Should they do this, do that?
“Jesus, do something! Tourists,” she said.“They kill me.”
More giggles, she thought, more excitement over soy dogs. Over a tube of fake meat, Eve thought in disgust, then straightened in her chair.
“Wait, stop. Run that back. The bit she just said.”
“If we must, but rhapsodizing about the menu of a glide-cart is a bit much, even for me.”
“No listen, listen to what she says. How she says it.”
“What makes a soy dog taste so good when it’s cooked outside on a cart in New York? I swear you can’t get a real grilled dog anywhere on the planet outside of New York-”
“Stop record. How does she know that?” Eve demanded.“She doesn’t say, ‘I bet there’s no place.’ Or, ‘I’ve never tasted a damn dog that tastes like …’ whatever. She makes a statement: ‘You can’t get.’” Nostalgic, knowing. Not the statement, not the tone of a woman having her first corner dog in Manhattan which is what she said it was, what decided them on the cart. Oh, gee, I’ve never had one before, it’d be fun. Bitch is lying.”
“I won’t argue, but it could easily have been a slip of the tongue.”
“Could, but isn’t. Resume play.”
She listened, talk of hats, scarves, of just a little longer. Have to cross the street. Spilled coffee. Concern, just a hint of fear in his voice, the relief.
Now screams, shouts, horns, brakes. Sobbing.
Jesus, Jesus, somebody call an ambulance. Lady, don’t move him, don’t try to move him.
Now Baxter moving in, moving fast, identifying himself, dealing with the mess.
“Okay, what I want is just the two of them. No background noises, from the time they get the dogs until Baxter’s on-scene.”
Roarke set it up, hit play.
Conversation again, easy, breezy. Indulgent on his part, Eve thought. Then the little gasp, his immediate response. Irritation in her voice. Then the screams.
“His,” Eve ordered, from the coffee spill on.
She watched the graphic readout as well breathing, volume, tone.“There, there, did you hear it?”
“Breath sucked in. Expected as he’s falling into the street.”
“A second before. An instant. Maybe a slip, sure, but maybe a push, too. Now hers. Same sequence.”
She leaned forward, and she saw it, heard it.“Deep breath in. Quick, fast. Just a second before the record shows his. Then that little hesitation before she squeaks his name, starts screaming.”
Eve’s gaze was flat and hard.“She helped him into the street. I’d bet on it. Opportunity. Of the moment again. Let’s go through the background voices, the noises, individually that same sequence. See if anything else pops out.”
It was tedious, but she listened to every variant before she was satisfied.
“It’s building up,” she stated coldly.“Building for me. Can’t charge her. The PA’d laugh me out of his office, if I got this past Whitney. But I know what I know. Now it’s how to make it stick to her.”
“He loves her.”
“What?”
“He loves her,” Roarke repeated.“You can hear it in his voice. It’s going to level him, Eve. This on top of his mother. If you’re right, and I have to believe you are, it’s going to take him out at the knees.”
“I’m sorry. But better he take a shot than be duped every day by a murderer.”
She couldn’t wouldn’t think how this would hurt him. Not now, not yet.
“I didn’t get far on my checklist, but I’ve already found one handbag missing. I’ll get a full description of it, and anything else that doesn’t check, tomorrow. We’re going to find them in Zana’s possession. I’m bringing her into Interview. That’s where I’ll get her on this. Interview. I’ve got no proof, scattered piles of circumstantial. So it’s going to be me against her in the box, and that’s where I’ll turn it.”
He was studying her face as she spoke.“You have, on occasion, commented that I can be scary. So, Lieutenant, can you.”
She smiled, hard and thin.“You’re damn right.”
20
SHE STARTED THE MORNING POKING, PRODDING, bitching, and bellowing at the lab. She thought about bribing, and had courtside Knicks tickets as backup. But fear brought her quicker results.
The minute it started to signal, Eve leapt toward her comp.“Computer, display incoming data onscreen, and produce hard copy.”
Acknowledged. Working …
She skimmed, then punched a fist into her palm.“Got you, bitch.”
“I’ll take that as good news.” Roarke leaned on the jamb of the door between their offices.“Let me say first that the unfortunate lab tech is going to need therapy. Possibly years of therapy.”
“It lit up.” She had to hold herself back from doing a victory dance.
“Blood on the bedroom carpet, bathroom floor, shower of the empty room at the time in question. They haven’t typed it yet, but it’s going to be Trudy’s.”
“Congratulations.”
“Haven’t bagged her yet, but I will. Even better than the blood, so much better neither Zana nor Housekeeping did what you could call a thorough cleaning job. I’ve got a print on the inside windowsill. And it’s hers. Another on the door leading to the hall.”
“Pays to be thorough, or in her case, it doesn’t pay not to be.”
“Yeah, you got that. Didn’t think that far ahead. Didn’t think we’d look there. Why bother when she’d left that nice blood trail leading down the emergency escape?”
“And now?”
“Now I dodge the laser stream of hassling with store clerks the day after Christmas.” Now she did do a quick dance.“The prints are going to be enough to get me a search warrant. Enough for me to bring her into Interview. I just want to check on a couple other things first, settle on my initial approach.”
“Busy day for you.”
“I’m ready for one. I’m going to start out here, where it’s quiet. Peabody’s not due in for a few hours anyway.”
“I’ll leave you to it. I need to go.” But he crossed to her first, cupped her chin to kiss her.“It was nice having you to myself for a couple of days.”
“Nice being had.”
“Remember that, because I’m going to wheedle you into a few days away. Sun, sand, sea.”
“That doesn’t sound like a hardship.”
“Why don’t you mark down January second, then. We’ll make it work.”
“Okay.”
He started out, stopped at the door.“Eve? Will you ask her why? Does it matter?”
“I’ll ask. It always matters.”
Alone, she brought up the data and images on all former fosters. Once again, she looked for any connection between them. A school, a job, a case worker, a teacher. But there was only Trudy at the core of it.
“One dead,” she said softly.“Everyone else alive and accounted for.”
So she worked with the dead.
Ralston, Marnie, mother deceased, father unknown. Just, she thought, as Zana’s records listed her mother deceased, with father unknown. It was smart to keep data close to the truth when switching IDs.
She ordered Marnie’s files onscreen.
Diverse juvenile record, Eve noted. Shoplifting, petty thefts, vandalism, malicious mischief, possession. Raised those stakes to grand theft auto at the tender age of fifteen.
Psychiatric eval claimed recalcitrant, pathological liar with sociopathic tendencies. Strong IQ.
She read the psychiatrist’s notes.
Subject is extremely bright, clever. Enjoys pitching her wits against authority. She is an organized thinker who excels at becoming what she believes is most expedient to her goals.
“That’s my girl,” Eve murmured.
While she can and does appear cooperative for periods of time, this has proved to be a deliberate and conscious adjustment of behavior. Though she understands right from wrong, she chooses whatever course she believes will gain her the most, i. e., attention, privileges. Her need to deceive is twofold: One, for gain. Two, to illustrate her superiority over those in authority, which would be rooted in her history of abuse and neglect.
“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe she just likes lying.” People like lying to cops, she remembered. For some, it was almost knee-jerk.
Eve brought up the history, including the medical.
Broken hand, broken nose, contusions, lacerations. Black eyes, concussions. All of which, according to reports medical, police, child protection were eventually hung on the mother. Mother did time, kid was tossed into the system. Landed in Trudy’s lap.
But those injuries had been suffered before the psychiatric report. Before the worst of the criminal offenses. And Marnie Ralston had spent nearly a year with Trudy from the age of twelve to thirteen.
Ran away, eluded authorities for nearly two years before the pop on GTA. Yeah, yeah, clever girl. A young girl had to be smart, resourceful, and just plain lucky to last on the streets that long.
And when they’d snapped her up, the clever girl despite the shrink’s findings was placed in another foster home. Ran off weeks later, and stayed underground until turning eighteen.
Kept out of trouble or off the radar, Eve noted. Several short-term employments. Stripping, dancing, club work, bar work.
Then, according to the records, boom.
“I just don’t think so.”
Eve brought up the last known ID image of Marnie Ralston, split-screened it with Zana’s. Brown hair on Marnie, worn short and straight, she mused. And there was a hard look to her, a kind of edge that said she’d been there and done it, and wouldn’t mind doing it all again.
She toyed with the idea of calling in Yancy or another police artist, but decided to fiddle awhile on her own.
“Computer, magnify eyes only, both images.”
When the task was complete, she sat back, studied. The eye color was nearly the same and any variant could be attributed to fluctuations in the imaging, or the subject’s enhancements. The shape was different. Downturned on Marnie, wide, more rounded on Zana’s.
She tried the eyebrows more of an arch on Zana’s. The nose more narrow, slight uptilt.
Was it reaching, she thought, to see those changes as improvements? The sort a vain woman might pay for if she believed they’d make her more attractive? Especially one who might want to change her appearance for other reasons?
But when she tried the mouths, her own curved up.“Oh, now, I guess you liked your lips. Computer, run comparison of current images. Are they a match?”
Working … Current images are a match.
“Changed your hair, your eyes, your nose. Planed down the cheeks, but you left your mouth alone. Put on a few pounds,” she said aloud as she checked height and weight.“Softened yourself up. But you couldn’t do anything about your height.”
She wrote it up, exactly as she saw it, listed all supporting evidence. She was going personally to the PA, to a judge, and pressing for the warrants.
Her ‘link signalled on her way down the steps.“Dallas, talk fast.”
“Hey, I’m back, I’m here. You’re not. We had”
“Contact the PA’s office,” she interrupted Peabody’s cheerful greeting.“Get Reo if you can. She’s their golden girl right now.”
“What”
“I need a consult ASAP, and their recommendation for a judge who’ll be most apt to sign a couple of warrants.”
“For who? For what?”
“For Zana. Search of the hotel room, her belongings. Suspicion of murder, suspicion of attempted murder. That’ll start the ball.”
“Zana? But”
“Do it, Peabody.” She grabbed her coat from the newel post, swung it on as she walked by Summerset.“I’ll run the game for the PA. You want to catch up, read the reports I sent to your desk unit. I’ve got to run this by the commander. I’m on my way in.”
“Jeez, every time I take a day off, something happens.”
“Get it moving. I want her in Interview this morning.”
She disconnected. Her car was, like her coat, already waiting. At the moment, she decided she was just juiced enough to be grateful for Summerset’s annoying efficiency.
Her blood was up. Maybe it was running hotter than it should, but she’d analyze that later. Right now she knew she was on track. She’d have surprise on her side; something she thought she could use with an opponent like Zana. Like Marie, she corrected. It was time to start thinking of her by that name.
She was going to close this down, then it would be over. Something she would set aside and forget. Trudy Lombard and all those awful months, locked away again where they belonged.
And when it was done, she thought, as she slid into traffic, sure, she’d take a few days off with Roarke. Go to their island, run around naked as monkeys, screw each other brainless in the sand. Grab some sun and surf and gear up for the long, cold winter to come.
Her link signalled again.“Dallas, what?”
“Hey, hi! Did you have a magolicious Christmas?”
“Mavis.” Eve had to switch her mind, do a mental one-eighty.“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I’m heading to work. Why don’t I tag you later?”
“Okay, no prob. Just mostly wanted to be sure you and Roarke remember the coaching classes. Coming up in a couple weeks.”
“No, I remember.” The horror of it was etched on her mind like laser art on glass.
“Leonardo and I can go with you, if you want. Have some dinner or whatever after.”
“Um. Sure. Sure. Ah, isn’t this a little early for you to be awake?”
“Baby gets me up early. I guess it’s good practice. Look, look what my honey pie made me with his own two hands!”
She held up some sort of short, footed thing a kind of miniature skinsuit, Eve decided, in bloody-murder red with a lot of silver hearts and squiggles on it.
“Yeah. Wow.”
“Because the baby’ll be here before Valentine’s Day. We’re getting so close. What do you think of Berry?”
“What kind of berry?”
“No, for a name, because the baby will be like our sweet little berry, and it could go for a boy or a girl.”
“Fine, as long as it doesn’t mind being called Blueberry or Huckleberry or Boysenberry once it hits school-age.”
“Oh, yeah. Ick. Well, we’ll keep thinking. Catch you later.”
Imagining an enormous piece of fruit with eyes and legs inside her friend’s belly, Eve shuddered. To get rid of it, she contacted Whitney’s office.
“Commander,” she began when she was put through,“I’ve had a break in the Lombard homicide.”
 *
She took the elevator straight up from the garage, taking on the body jam for the sake of speed. She wanted to move now, move fast. It must’ve shown on her face, as Peabody jumped up from her desk the minute Eve came into the bull pen.
“Sir. Reo’s on her way. I shot her the data, up to current, so she’d have a sense before you spoke with her. Aw, you’re wearing the sweater I made you.”
Baffled for a moment, Eve looked down. She’d been too distracted that morning to pay attention to something like wardrobe. But saw now she was wearing Peabody’s sweater.
“Ah … it’s warm, but light. I like it. It’s… You made it?”
“Yeah. Both of them Roarke’s, too. And I made this really mag jacket for McNab. Worked on that up at Mavis’s, so he wouldn’t catch on. Been awhile since I did any serious weaving.”
She reached out to fiddle with Eve’s sleeve.“McNab sprang for the material, and we worked on the colors together. It looks good.”
Momentarily baffled, Eve looked down at the sweater, soft and warm and in shades of heathery blue.“It’s great.” She didn’t think anyone had ever made her a sweater, or much of anything else for that matter. Leonardo didn’t count, she decided. It was his business.
“It’s really great,” she added.“Thanks.”
“We wanted to do something unique, you know? Because you guys are. And personal. So I’m glad you like it.”
“I do.” Or did now that she knew it was Peabody’s own work. Before that, it had just been a sweater.
“Baxter, Trueheart. With me.” She headed into her office. It was too small for the four of them, but she didn’t want to take time to book a conference room.
“I’m working on warrants. Zana Lombard.”
“The Texas housewife?” Baxter interrupted.
“The Texas housewife, who I believe I can prove was once fostered by Trudy Lombard. Who changed her identity for the purpose at least in part of ingratiating herself with the victim’s son in order to exact revenge on the mother. I want this bumping, so when those warrants come through, I’m having the subject escorted here. Ostensibly to go over her statements, update her, blah, blah. Once her hotel room’s clear, I want you in there. Here’s what I’m looking for.”
She took out a disc.“Descriptions here of a handbag, perfume, a sweater, and some enhancements purchased by the victim. I think Zana, who is in actuality one Marnie Ralston, helped herself to them after she killed Trudy Lombard. Find them, and let me know when you do.
“Peabody.”
“We’re rolling.”
“Contact the investigators of the Miami bombing. Club Zed, spring of 2055. Data’s in the file. I want to know exactly how body was ID’d. Exactly. Send Reo through when she gets here.”
“She pushed him into the street,” Baxter said.“That’s why we didn’t see anybody tailing them, didn’t see anyone approach. She did it herself.”
“That’s what I get.” She saw, too, both relief and anger wash over his face.“And what happened there’s on me because I didn’t see that step. Find those goods, and anything else that puts her with Trudy the night of the murder.”
She shoved them out, shut her door. Sitting at her desk, she took a moment to smooth herself out, then contacted Zana at the hotel.
“Hey, sorry. I woke you up.”
“It’s okay. I’m not sleeping very well. Gosh, it’s after nine.” She rubbed her eyes like a child.“I think Bobby’s going to get out of the hospital this afternoon. It may not be until tomorrow, but I’m hoping for today. They’re going to call me, so I can have everything ready for him.”
“That’s good news.”
“The best. We had a really nice Christmas.” She said it, Eve noted, with the tone of a brave little wife, making the best of the bad.“I hope you did, too.”
“Yeah, really nice. Listen, Zana, I hate to put you out, but I need to go over some things with you for reports. Paperwork, routine red tape that got bogged down with the holidays. It would really help me out if you could come down here. I’m buried under it. I can have you driven down.”
“Oh … well, it’s just that if Bobby needs me…”
“You’ve got some time before they release him, even if it’s today. And you’ll be downtown, nearer the hospital. Tell you what, if there’s anything you need to pick up, I’ll have the uniforms take you around. Then give you a hand getting Bobby home.”
“Really? I could really use the help.”
“I’ll try to get clear here, give you a hand myself.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done without you the last few days.” Those big blue eyes went predictably damp.“It’ll take me a little while to get dressed and everything.”
“No rush. I’ve got things I’ve got to get out of the way first. I’ll just have the uniforms bring you down when you’re ready. How’s that?”
“Okay.”
At the knock on her door, Eve sighed.“Gotta go. It’s crazed around here this morning.”
“I can’t even imagine it. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“Yeah, you will,” Eve muttered when she cut transmission.“Come on in. Reo.” She nodded at the curvy blond APA.“My Christmas was great, yours was, too. Blah, blah, blah, let’s get down to it.”
“Nice sweater, blah, blah, blah. Everything you’ve got is circumstantial and speculative. We can’t charge, much less prosecute.”
“I’ll get more. I need the warrants first.”
“I can wrangle the search. Items missing from victim’s room, victim’s daughter-in-law’s prints, as well as the blood and the prints in the room next door. Getting the match on the mouth is good, it’ll give it a nice push, but it’s still in that speculative area. A pair of lips aren’t solid ID.”
“I’ll get more,” Eve repeated.“I’m getting more. Get me the search and seizure. I’ve got her coming in for Interview. I know how to work her.”
“You’re going to need a confession to lock this up.”
Eve smiled.“I’m going to get one.”
“Sounds like something I’ll want to watch. I’ll get the search warrant. Bring her in.”
When it was done, she rounded up Baxter and Trueheart.“She’s on her way in. Go in, find me what I need. When you’re back here with it, give me a beep on my communicator. When I’m ready, I’ll send Peabody out for it.”
“She seemed so normal,” Trueheart commented.“Nice, too.”
“Bet she thinks she is. But that’s for Mira,” who was someone else Eve wanted to bring in.
She called Mira’s office, plowed her way through the admin.“I need you in Observation, Interview Room A.”
“Now?”
“In twenty. I’m bringing Zana Lombard in. I believe she’s actually Marnie Ralston, who assumed a new identity in order to get inside the Lombard household. I’m sending you my report now. I’ve got the PA’s office moving with me. I need you on this.”
“I’ll do what I can to shuffle things around.”
That would have to do, Eve decided. She made a few more contacts, then sat back, cleared her mind.
“Dallas?” Peabody stepped to the office door.“They’re bringing her up.”
“Okay. It’s showtime.”
 *
She went out, met Zana and her escorts in the busy corridor outside her division.
Dressed for it, Eve thought. If she wasn’t mistaken and she was getting good at bull’s-eyeing wardrobe Zana was wearing a light blue cashmere crew neck, with floral embroidery on the cuffs. And that matched the description of one of Trudy’s purchases.
Ballsy, Eve decided. Smug.
“I really appreciate you coming down. Things are wonky with the holidays.”
“After everything you’ve done for me and Bobby, it’s the least I can do. I talked to him right before I left, told him you were going to try to help me bring him back to the hotel from the hospital.”
“We’ll try to make that happen. Listen, I’m going to use one of the rooms to finish this up. It’ll be more comfortable than my office. You want something? Really bad coffee, vending drink?”
Zana looked around the busy corridors like a tourist at a street fair.“Oh, I wouldn’t mind a fizzy, any flavor but lemon.”
“Peabody? Would you take care of that? I’m going to take Zana into A.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Eve shifted the file folder as she walked.“Paperwork’s a killer,” she said casually.“And mostly a pain in the ass, but we want to have all the t’s crossed on this, so you and Bobby can get back home.”
“We are getting anxious. Work’s really piled up, and Bobby wants to get back to it. Plus, I guess we’re just not big-city types.”
She walked into the room after Eve opened the door, then hesitated.“Oh, is this an interview room, like you see on the cop shows onscreen ?”
“Yeah. Most efficient way to go through the statements. You okay with that?”
“Oh, I guess. Actually, it’s kind of exciting. I’ve never been in a police station before.”
“We’ll sign off on Bobby’s statements at the hotel, seeing as he’s injured. But we can get yours out of the way, start moving you back toward Texas. Have a seat.”
“Have you brought many criminals in here?”
“My share.”
“I don’t know how you do it. Did you always want to?”
“As long as I can remember.” Eve sat across the table from her, slouched back.“I guess Trudy’s part of that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That lack of control I felt when I was with her. Being defenseless. It was a pretty rough time for me.”
Zana lowered her eyes.“Bobby told me she wasn’t very nice to you. And now, here you are, working so hard to find out who killed her. It’s …”
“Ironic? That’s crossed my mind.” She glanced over as Peabody stepped in.
“Got you a cherry,” she told Zana.“Tube of Pepsi for you, Dallas.”
“I love cherry, thanks.” Zana accepted the tube, and a straw.“What do we do now?”
“To keep everything official and part of the formality, Zana, is my former relationship with Trudy I’m going to read out the Revised Miranda.”
“Oh. Oh, well, gee.”
“It’s for your protection, and mine,” Eve explained.“If this case ends up in the cold file”
“Cold file?”
“Unsolved.” Eve shook her head.“It’s tough to realize that may be what happens. But if it does, it’s better all around if we have everything very official.”
“Well, okay.”
“I’m going to set the record.” Eve read off the time, the date, the names of those in the room, the case file, then recited the Revised Miranda.“Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”
“Yes. Boy, I’m a little nervous.”
“Relax, it won’t take long. You are married to Bobby Lombard, the son of the victim, Trudy Lombard. Correct?”
“Yes. We’ve been married nearly seven months.”
“You were well acquainted with the victim.”
“Oh, yes. I worked for Bobby and his partner before Bobby and I got married. I got to know Mama Tru. That’s what I called her. Um, well, after Bobby and I got married, that’s what I called her.”
“And your relationship with her was friendly.”
“Yes, it was. Am I doing this right?” she added in a whisper.
“You’re doing fine. The victim was, according to your previous statements and statements on record from others, a difficult woman.”
“Well… she could be, I guess you could call it demanding, but I didn’t mind so much. I lost my own mother, so Mama Tru and Bobby are my only family.” She stared at the wall, blinked her eyes.“It’s just me and Bobby now.”
“You’ve stated you moved to Copper Cove, Texas, looking for employment, sometime after the death of your mother.”
“And after I finished business school. I wanted a fresh start.” Her lips curved.“And I found my Bobby.”
“You had never met the victim or her son before that time.”
“No. I guess it was fate. You know how you see somebody, and you just know?”
Eve thought of Roarke, of the way their eyes had met at a funeral.“Yeah, I do.”
“It was like that for me and Bobby. D. K., um, Densil K. Easton, Bobby’s partner, used to say every time we talked to each other, little hearts flew out of our mouths.”
“Sweet. Whose idea was it to come to New York at this time?”
“Um, well, Mama Tru’s. She wanted to talk to you. She’d seen you on media reports, about that cloning business, and recognized you.”
“Who selected the hotel where you were staying at the time of her death?”
“She did. I guess that’s just awful when you think about it. She picked the place where she died.”
“We could call that ironic, too. At the time of the murder, you and Bobby were in the room across the hall and three doors down from the victim’s.”
“Um, gee. I know we were across the hall. I don’t remember how many doors down, but that sounds right.”
“And at the time of the murder, you and Bobby were in your room.”
“Yes. We’d gone out to dinner, Mama Tru said she wasn’t up for it. And we got a bottle of wine. After we got back, we …” She blushed prettily.“Well, we stayed in the room all night. I went down in the morning, to her room, because she wasn’t answering the ‘link. I thought maybe she was sick, or a little irritated with us for going out on the town. Then you came, and and you found her.”
She lowered her eyes again, worked up a few tears, Eve noted.“It was awful, just so awful. She was lying there, and the blood … You went in. I don’t know how you can do that. It must be so hard, being a policewoman.”
“Has its moments.” Eve opened her file, pushed through some hard copies as if checking facts.“I’ve got my time line here. I’m just going to read through it, on record, and see if you concur.”
While she did, Zana got busy biting her lip.“That sounds right.”
“Good, good, now let’s see what else we need to go over. Nice sweater, by the way.”
Zana preened, looked down.“Thanks. I just liked the color so much.”
“Goes with your eyes, doesn’t it? Trudy’s were green. Wouldn’t have looked nearly as good on her.”
Zana blinked.“I guess not.”
There was a knock on the door. Feeney stepped in. Right on schedule, Eve thought. He held a pocket ‘link, bagged for evidence, keeping his hand over it so that it couldn’t be clearly seen.“Dallas? Need a minute.”
“Sure. Peabody, go ahead and go over the events and time line of the Monday after the murder.” Eve rose, walked over to Feeney while Peabody took the ball.
“How long you want me to stand here jawing?” he said under his breath.
“Just glance over at the suspect.” Eve did the same, over her shoulder. Then, taking Feeney’s arm, drew him out of the room.“Let’s give her a minute to think about that. You’re sure this is the same type registered to the victim.”
“Yep, make, model, color.”
“Good. She’d have gotten just enough of a look for that to register. Appreciate it.”
“Could’ve sent one of my boys down with it, you know.”
“You look more official and scary.” Since she wanted Zana to sweat another minute, Eve dipped her hands in her pockets.“So how’d it go yesterday? Fancy dress dinner.”
“Had one of my grandsons tip the gravy boat. He’s a good kid, and we got a nice bond.” He smiled wide.“Plus I paid him twenty. Worth it. See, the wife can’t get too pissed at the kid, and I got to lose the suit. That was a winner, Dallas. Appreciate it.”
“Happy to help.” Her communicator beeped.“Dallas.”
“Baxter. Couldn’t find the sweater, but”
“She’s wearing it.”
“No shit? Cocky little bitch. But we’ve got the handbag, the perfume, and the enhancements. Also and you’re going to love this since the warrant included communications and electronics, I had Trueheart take a look at her ‘link log. We’ve got her scanning about flights to Bali. She’s got a hold on a reservation on one, under the name Marnie Zane, next month. Single. One way. Out of New York, not Texas.”
“Isn’t that interesting? I’m sending Peabody out for the bag, and other items. Nice work, Baxter.”
“Me and the kid had to make up for botching the tail.”
“Got her in a corner, Dallas,” Feeney commented when she clicked off.
“Yeah, but I want her in a cage.”
She stepped back into the room, her expression sober.“Detective Peabody, I need you to retrieve some items from Detective Baxter.”
“Yes, sir. We’ve completed the Monday time line.”
“Okay.” Eve sat as Peabody went out.“Zana, did you communicate, by ‘link, with the victim at any time on the day of her death?”
“With Mama Tru? On that Saturday? She called our room, told us she wanted to stay in.”
Eve laid the ‘link on the table briefly, put the file over it.“Did you have further ‘link communication with her, later that evening?”
“Ah, I can’t really remember.” She nibbled on her thumbnail.“It’s all sort of muddled.”
“I can refresh you on that. There were more communications from her ‘link to yours. You had a conversation with her, Zana. One you didn’t tell me about during your previous statements.”
“I guess maybe I did.” She looked warily at the folder.“It’s hard to remember all the times we talked, especially after everything that’s gone on.” She offered Eve a guileless smile.“Is it important?”
“Yeah, a little bit important.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry. I was so upset, and it’s hard to remember everything.”
“It doesn’t seem like it should be so hard to remember going to her room that night, the night of her murder. She must’ve looked pretty memorable with her face all busted up.”
“I didn’t see her. I”
“Yes, you did.” Eve nudged the folder aside so there was nothing between them.“You went down to her room that night while Bobby was asleep. That’s how you got that sweater you’re wearing, one she bought on the Thursday before her death.”
“She gave me the sweater.” Tears swam, but Eve swore she saw a light of amusement behind them.“She bought it for me, an early Christmas present.”
“That’s a pile of bullshit, and we both know it. She didn’t give you anything. Not the sweater…” She looked over at Peabody who’d brought in another evidence bag.“Not that purse, the perfume, the lip dye, and eye gunk. But you had to figure they wouldn’t do her any good, seeing as she was dead. Why shouldn’t you enjoy them? Why shouldn’t you have it all?”
Eve leaned forward.“She was a stone bitch, you and I both know it. You just seized an opportunity. That’s something you’re good at. Have always been good at, haven’t you? Marnie.”
21
IT WAS IN HER EYES, JUST FOR AN INSTANT.
Not just shock, Eve thought, but excitement. Then they rounded again, innocent and wholesome as a baby’s.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. I don’t want to be here anymore.” The lips she’d liked too much to change trembled.“I want Bobby.”
“Did you ever?” Eve wondered.“Or was he just handy? But we’ll get to that. You’re going to want to drop the act now, Marnie. We’ll both be happier, as I can’t imagine you found someone as boring as Zana fun to cart around.”
Marnie sniffled pitifully.“You’re being so mean.”
“Yeah, I get that way when somebody lies to me. You’ve been having some fun with that. But you also got a little sloppy in the room next to Trudy’s, where you cleaned up. Left some blood. Better, left your prints.”
Eve rose, walked around the table to lean over Marnie’s shoulder. She caught the subtle floral scent and wondered if Marnie had dabbed on Trudy’s new perfume that morning. How she’d felt spritzing on a dead woman’s choice.
Probably just fine, Eve decided. Probably giggled while she sprayed.
“You did a good job on the identity switch,” she said quietly.“But it’s never perfect. Then there’s Trudy’s ‘link. Little things, Marnie, it’s always the little things that trip you up. You just couldn’t resist lifting a few things from her. You’ve got sticky fingers, always did.”
She reached over, flipped open the file on the table, exposed the split-screen photos she’d generated, along with Marnie Ralston’s data and criminal record.
“Busy, busy girl. That’s what I saw in you, I think, the first minute, outside Trudy’s room. The busy, busy girl inside the housewife.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Marnie said under her breath.
“Didn’t I? Well, in any case, you shouldn’t have kept the perfume, Marnie, shouldn’t have taken that pretty sweater, or that really nice purse.”
“She gave me those. Mama Tru”
“That’s crap, and see now you’re lying stupid. Smarter, smarter if you worked up those tears again and told me you took them, just couldn’t help yourself. You’re so ashamed. You and I both know Trudy never gave anybody a damn thing.”
“She loved me.” Marnie covered her face with her hands and wept.“She loved me.”
“More crap,” Eve said easily.“More lying stupid. The problem is you ran into a cop who knew her, who remembers her. You didn’t count on me showing up that morning before you finished setting things up, cleaning things up. You didn’t count on me heading the investigation.”
She gave Marnie a pat on the shoulder, then eased a hip on the table.“What were the odds of that?” Eve glanced over at Peabody.“I mean, really.”
“Nobody could’ve figured that one,” Peabody agreed.“And it’s a really great purse. Shame to let it go to waste. You know what I think, Lieutenant? I think she overplayed it with that faked abduction. She’d’ve been smarter to stay in the background. But she just couldn’t resist grabbing a little spotlight.”
“I think you’re right. You like being in the shine, don’t you, Marnie? All those years you had to play the game. Cops, Child Protection, Trudy. Busted out awhile, got your own back. Never enough. But you’re smart. Opportunity plants a boot in your ass, you know how to turn around and grab it.”
“You’re just making things up because you don’t know what happened.”
“But I do know. I admire you, Marnie, I have to say. All the planning, all the playacting. You really know how to pull it off. Of course, she walked right into it. Coming here, going after me. Then following her old pattern of messing herself up so she could blame somebody else. It might’ve taken you months more of being the good little wife, the sweet little daughter-in-law, before you could wrap it up. Come on, Marnie.” She leaned forward.“You know you want to tell me. Who’d understand better than somebody who’d been through it? She make you take those cold baths every night? Scrub up after her? How many times did she lock you in the dark, tell you that you were nothing?”
“What do you care what happened to her?” Marnie said softly.
“Who says I do?”
“I don’t think you have anything. Those things?” She gestured to the evidence bag.“Mama Tru gave them to me. She loved me.”
“She never loved a soul on or off planet but herself. But maybe you can swing that with a jury. You think, Peabody?”
Peabody pursed her lips as if considering.“She’s got a shot, especially if she turns on the waterworks. But when you put them with the rest, chances drop sharply. You know, Lieutenant, there’s the case for lying in wait the big picture. Assuming a false identity not a big hit, but added up.” Peabody lifted a shoulder.“Assuming it’s for the purposes of murder. Man, you give the jury that, the fact that she married the victim’s son just to get in position to kill her former foster mother. ‘Cause that’s fricking cold. Then factor in the money, murder for gain. She’s looking at life, off-planet facility. Hard time.”
Peabody looked at Marnie.“Maybe you can convince us the actual murder was unpremeditated. Maybe you could make a case of self-defense for yourself. While you’ve got our sympathy.”
“Maybe I should call a lawyer.”
“Fine.” Eve pushed off the table.“No skin off mine, ‘cause I’ve got you. You spring the lawyer, Marnie, that’s your right. Once you do, it cuts deep into my sympathy and admiration. You got a name?” Eve asked easily.“Or do you want court-appointed?”
“Wait. Just wait.” Marnie picked up her fizzy, sipped. When she sat it down again, the guilelessness was replaced by calculation.“What if I tell you she was going to rake you to the bone, you and your man? I stopped her. That’s got to be worth something.”
“Sure it is. We’ll talk about that.” Eve sat back down.“But you’re going to want to lay it out for me. Why don’t we start at the beginning?”
“Why not? God knows I’m sick to death of Zana, you hit on that one. You got my sheet, there. Juvie, the works?”
“Yeah.”
“It doesn’t tell the whole story. You know how that goes. I got kicked around, since I was a kid.”
“I saw your medicals. You had it rough.”
“I learned to kick back. I looked after myself, because nobody else was going to.” In disgust, she shoved the remainder of the fizzy aside.“Can I get some coffee? Black.”
“Sure, I’ll take care of it.” Peabody walked to the door, slipped out.
“The system blows,” Marnie continued.“Beats me to hell and back how you can work for it, after what it did to you.”
Eve kept her gaze level.“I like being in charge.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that. Got yourself a badge, that frosty weapon. Kick some ass regular. I can see how that could work for you, how you get some of your own back.”
“Let’s talk about you.”
“My favorite subject. So, they finally get me clear of my bitch of a mother, and what do they do? Dump me with Trudy. First, I figure, Hey, I can work this. Nice house, nice things, do-gooder and her boy. But she’s worse than my mother. You know.”
“I know.”
“She was strong. I was puny back then, and she was strong. Cold baths every night every fucking night like it was her religion. Locked up in my room every night afterward. I didn’t mind that, it was quiet. Plenty of time to think.”
Peabody came in with the coffee, set it on the table.
“You know, she put something in my food once to make me sick after I took a pair of her earrings?” Marnie sipped the coffee, made a face.“Been awhile since I’ve been in a cop shop. You guys still can’t come up with decent coffee.”
“We suffer in our fight against crime,” Peabody said dryly, and made Marnie laugh.
“Good one. Back to me. So, the second time the bitch caught me, she cut my hair off. I had nice hair. Wore it shorter back then, but it was nice.”
She lifted a hand to it, shook it back.“She cut it off to the scalp like, I don’t know, I was some kind of war criminal or something. Then she told the social worker I’d done it to myself. Nobody did a damn thing about it. That’s when I knew there’d be payback. One day, somehow. She cut my damn hair off.”
Eve allowed herself a trickle of sympathy.“You ran away.”
“Yeah. Thought about setting the house on fire, with her inside, but that wouldn’t’ve been smart. They’d come after me harder if I’d done that.”
And the trickle went dry.“Arson, murder, yeah, they’d’ve come after you hard.”
“Anyway, I was young. Plenty of time for payback. But they came after me anyway. You cops ever think about just letting somebody be?”
She shook her head, took another sip of coffee.
“You got away from her when you were thirteen. That’s half a lifetime ago for you, Marnie. Long time to hold a grudge.”
Mamie’s voice was as bitter as the coffee.“What good’s a grudge if you don’t hold it? She told me I was a whore. Born a whore, die a whore. That I was ugly, useless. That I was nothing. Every day I was with her, she told me. She wanted new living room furniture, so she busted it up, said I did it. The state wrote her a check and put me on restriction. She made my life hell for damn near a year.”
“You waited a long time to pay her back for it.”
“I had other things to do. Kept my eye on her, though, just in case opportunity knocked. Then it did.”
“The night of the bombing in Miami.”
“Sometimes fate just drops it in your lap, what can I say? I was sick that night, got somebody to cover for me. Nobody gave a shit, joint like that. Had to give her my ID and pass code so she could get in the back, into my locker for costumes. Then I hear about it onscreen. Place is blown up, nearly everybody’s dead, and in pieces. Well, Jesus, lucky break for me, wasn’t it? I’d gone in, I’d be in pieces. Shook me up, let me tell you. Really made me think.”
“And you thought, ‘Why not be someone else?’”
“Well, here’s the thing. I owed a little money here and there. Can’t pay if I’m dead. I took the dead friend’s ID, what money we had between us, and lit out. She had a nice stash.”
“You got a name on her?”
“Who? Oh, shit, what was her name? Rosie, yeah. Rosie O’Hara. Why?”
“She might have next of kin looking for her.”
“Doubt it. She was a street LC with a funk habit.” She dismissed the woman who’d died in her place as callously as she’d dismissed the coffee.“Her ID wasn’t going to hold me long, so I knew I needed to ditch it, get fresh. That’s when I came up with the idea for Zana. It’s not so hard to get fresh ID and data if you know where to go, whose palm to grease. Had some work done, face work. Off the books. Good investment, the way I looked at it. Especially when I checked out Bobby.”
“Nice-looking guy, single, ambitious.”
“All that, and still tight with Mama. I wasn’t figuring on killing her, let’s get that straight.” She lifted both hands, pointed the index fingers across at Eve.“Let’s get that real clear. None of this ‘lying in wait’ crap. I just figured on stealing her boy, then making her life a misery, like she’d done to me. Maybe getting a nice nest egg out of it.”
“Just a long con,” Eve supplied.
“That’s right. Bobby was easy. He’s not a bad guy all in all. Boring, but he’s okay. Plus he’s got some moves in the sheets. And Trudy?”
Marnie sat back, grinning ear-to-ear.“She was a pleasure. Figured she had a new slave, meek little Zana. Oh, Mama Tru, I’d be happy to do that for you. You got dirty work needs doing, I’m your girl. Then I get the big surprise. She’s got money tucked away. Pretty big money, too, so why shouldn’t I get some of it? I’ve got the run of her house, seeing as I’m her little helper. She’s got good stuff in there, stuff that costs. Now where’s this coming from? Just takes a little research, a little detecting. Blackmail. I can turn the tables on her with this. Just need a little time, need to figure it all out.”
Propping an elbow on the table, Marnie set her chin on her fist.“I was looking for the best way to siphon off some of the money, then expose her. They’d lock her up, like she’d locked me up.”
Enjoying this, Eve thought, enjoying every minute of this.
“Then she sees you on that media report, and gets all worked up about going to New York. I was going to wrap this up in shiny paper, drop it right in your lap. Then I’d stand back, big wide eyes, horrified that my husband’s mother turned out to be a blackmailer. I’d be laughing my ass off.”
“A good plan,” Eve acknowledged,“but opportunity jumped out at you again.”
“If you’d fallen in, it would’ve turned out differently. You want to think about that,” Marnie said, and gestured with her drink.“I figured you’d pay her off, or at least take a couple days to think it over. Then I’d come to you, all dewy-eyed and upset, tell you what I’d found out about my darling husband’s mama.”
Marnie nudged the coffee aside.“You and me, we’d both have gotten something out of that. Every kid she ever screwed with would’ve gotten something out of that. But you pissed her off good. Roarke? He shot her through the ozone. She was going to make you pay, and pay big. That’s all she could think about. Somebody screwed with her, she’d do anything to screw them back, and bigger. You saw what she did to herself.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“Not the first time, like you said. You ask me, that woman had some serious issues. She’d already bunged herself up good when she called me. Not Bobby he wouldn’t put up with what she wanted to do. He’d have stopped her, or tried. But me? Her sweet, biddable daughter-in-law? She knew she could count on me, she knew she could bully me. It wasn’t much of a stretch to act stunned when I went into her room. Her face was a freaking mess. You know what she told me? You want to know?”
“I’m riveted,” Eve answered.
“She said you’d done it.”
Eve sat back, as if stunned.“Really?”
“Oh, yeah, she put it on thick. Look what she did to me. After I took her in, gave her a home. And she’s a policewoman! So I played the part right back. Oh, my, oh, gosh. We have to get you to the hospital, tell Bobby, call the police! But she lays it out. No, no, no. A cop did this, and she’s married to a powerful man. She’s afraid for her life, see? So she gets me to make the recording. For protection, she says, and I see just how she’s wheeling it. It’s all there, subtle-like. If you don’t do the right thing, she’ll send a copy of the recording to the media, to the mayor, the chief of police. They’ll know everything. I’m supposed to make a copy so she keeps the original and hand-carry it to you at Cop Central. No telling Bobby. She makes me swear.”
Laughing, Marnie swiped a finger over her heart.“So I make her some soup, and I put a nice tranq in it, add some wine. And she’s out. Could’ve killed her then, you know. You want to think about that, too.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“I searched the room, found the sap she’d made. Found a copy of the file she had on you, too. Interesting stuff. I took all of it. She called me later, but I said I couldn’t talk. Bobby was right there. I’d call her when we got back from dinner, after he was asleep. She didn’t care much for that, let me tell you. Well, you got the ‘link right there, so you’ve heard.”
“She pushed you,” Eve prompted.“Trudy didn’t like being told to wait.”
“Nope. But I’m like, Oh, let me tell Bobby. We won’t go out, we’ll come down and take care of you. I know she won’t go for that, so she takes another pill, and I go out on the town. Long night for me, but God! It was fun. Just bat my eyes, ask Bobby if we can have champagne, and he pulls out all the stops in his middle-class way. I’m so juiced, you know?”
She drew breath in her nose, letting her head fall back, closing her eyes as she relived it.“Lay him just right when we get back, give him a little something extra to make him sleep. Then I go on down the hall to have my talk with Trudy.”
“You took the weapon with you?”
“Sure. Not to use it,” she added quickly.“Get that straight. I’m putting that on record. What I figured was I’d show it to her, stay in character at least awhile. What have you done? You lied to me! I’m going to tell Bobby. I’m going to the police!”
Marnie laid her hands on her belly and laughed.“God! You should’ve seen her face. She never expected it. So, she slapped me. Told me I was hysterical, and slapped me. Said I was going to do just what she told me, and no back talk. If I wanted to keep my cozy nest, I’d shut my mouth and do what she said. Otherwise I’d be out on my ass, she’d see to it.”
Her face was grim now, and full of hate.“She said I was nothing, just like she did when I was a kid. ‘You’re nothing,’ she said, ‘and you’d better remember who’s in charge.’ Then she turned her back on me. I still had the sap in my hand. I didn’t think about it, didn’t even think. It just happened. I let her have it good. And she went down, right down to her knees, and I let her have it again. Nothing in my life ever felt better. Who was nothing now?”
She held up her coffee.“Hey, can I get another? It’s crap, but it gives you a buzz.”
“Sure.” Eve signaled to Peabody, then rose herself to get water from the jug kept in the room.
“I didn’t plan it,” Marnie continued.“But sometimes you can’t stick to the plan. You got anybody behind the mirror?”
Eve studied her own reflection.“Does it matter?”
“Just like knowing if I have an audience. I didn’t murder her. I just lost my head for a minute. She slapped me, right across the face.”
“Open palm,” Eve murmured, remembering.“Quick sting, not hard enough to leave a mark. She was good at it.”
“She liked pain. Liked to give it, liked to get it.” Marnie scooted around in the chair, facing Eve so their eyes met in the mirror in a gesture of intimacy.
Inside Eve, something twisted. She understood what it was to find a weapon in her hand, and to use it. Blindly, ferociously.
“She was one of those S and M types, without the kick of sex,” Marnie went on.“That’s what I think. She was one sick bitch. But I didn’t set out to kill her. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her who I was. Watch her face when I did. Too damn bad. I used to dream about doing that.”
“That must’ve been a disappointment.” Eve turned back as Peabody came in with fresh coffee, kept her face neutral.“You had to think fast after it was done.”
“Thought about just running. But I kept my head. Probably shouldn’t have taken the sweater and stuff.” Marnie glanced down at the sweater, smiled.“But I couldn’t resist. Should’ve waited, gotten them later. But it was spur of the moment.”
“You knew the room next door was empty.”
“Yeah. The maid mentioned it. Thought we might want to take that room so we could be next door to each other. No, thank you. The window wasn’t locked on it, otherwise I’d have had to clean up on the escape platform, change, and walk around, go in the front. Crappy hotel, crappy security. Didn’t figure anyone would look next door. I left a trail leading down the escape. Open window, dead woman, blood trail. I was careful.”
“Not half bad,” Eve agreed.“You shouldn’t have pushed it. You should’ve let Bobby find her.”
“It was more fun the way I did it. You’ve got to get in a few kicks. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when you and Roarke showed, though. Last people I expected to see come knocking on the old bitch’s door. Had to improvise.”
“You must’ve sweated some, having to leave the ‘link, the weapon, the bloody towels next door while we went over the scene.”
“Some, yeah. But I figured if you found them, you still didn’t have reason to look at me. The business the next day was a little insurance. I get the stuff, head out, dump everything in different recyclers while I walk around, find the right spot. I used to live in New York. I knew that bar.”
“I knew that.”
Marnie snorted.“Come on.”
“You slipped up with the dogs, made the wrong comment. I had a homer on both of you that day. A little insurance for me.”
Marnie’s face went blank, then there was a snap of irritation before she shrugged.“Bobby slipped.”
“You’re in it this far, Marnie, and you’re going to get points for cooperating. Don’t start bullshitting me now. Trudy’s dead, and she’s got all that money. Bobby’s sitting between you and it. Boring Bobby.”
“You think this was about money? Money’s a little icing, but it’s not the cake. It’s payback. She deserved it, you know damn well she deserved it. Bobby’s an idiot, but he’s okay. If I gave him a little nudge, it was impulse, that’s all. Just a little something to keep you looking for the invisible man. And I tried to pull him back. I got witnesses.”
She sulked over her coffee.“Tally it up, why don’t you? You’ve got one dead blackmailer. And she hit me first. I destroyed the discs of the recording she had me make. All of them: I destroyed the copies of your file as a favor. If I was after money, I could’ve come after you with them. But I didn’t, ‘cause the way I saw it, she put us in the same boat back then. I could’ve waited, and screwed with Bobby when we were back in Texas. I’ve got nothing but time.”
“But you aren’t going back to Texas. Bali, isn’t it?”
A smile glimmered again.“I’m thinking about it. A lot of people she screwed with are going to be glad I took care of her. You ought to thank me. She messed with us, Dallas. Preyed on and played with us. You know it. You know she got what she deserved. We come from the same place, you and me. You’d have done the same thing.”
Eve thought of the way their eyes had met in the mirror. What she’d seen in Marnie’s. What she’d seen in her own.“That’s how you figure it.”
“That’s how it is. I’m not going down for this. Not when it comes out what she was, what she did. Assault, maybe. I do a couple years for that and the ID gambit. But murder? You can’t make that stick.”
“Watch me.” Eve pushed to her feet.“Marnie Ralston, you’re under arrest for the murder of Trudy Lombard. Further charges are attempted murder of Bobby Lombard. We’ll toss in the ID fraud, giving false statements to the police. You’ll do more than a couple years, Marnie. You’ve got my word on it.”
“Oh, cut the crap,” Marnie insisted.“Turn off the record, shove your partner out so it’s just you and me. Then tell me how you really feel.”
“I can tell you how I feel, Marnie, on or off record.”
“You’re glad she’s dead.”
“You’re wrong.” What had clutched inside of her loosened. Because Marnie was wrong. Completely.“If it was up to me, she’d be in a cage, the same as you’ll be. She’d be in a cage for what she did to me, to you, to every kid she ever abused, to every woman she ever exploited. That’s justice.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, that’s the job,” Eve corrected.“But you didn’t leave it up to me. You picked up that sap, and you cracked her skull open.”
“I didn’t plan it”
“Maybe you didn’t,” Eve interrupted.“But you didn’t stop there. While she was lying there, bleeding, you stole from her. To get to that point, the point where you could exact your revenge, you used an innocent man. You left the bed where you’d made love with him, and killed his mother. Then you watched him grieve. You put him in the hospital, for kicks, for a little insurance. You did to him what she tried to do to us. You made him nothing. If I could, I’d send you over for that alone.”
She braced her hands on the table, leaned over so their faces were close.“I’m not like you, Marnie. You’re pathetic, taking and ruining lives for something that’s over.”
There were tears now, real ones, angry ones, glimmering in Mamie’s eyes.“It’s never over.”
“Well, you’ll have a long time to think about that. Twenty-five to life, I’d say. I’m nothing like you,” Eve repeated.“I’m the cop. And I’m going to give myself the pleasure of taking you down to booking personally.”
“You’re a hypocrite. You’re a liar and a hypocrite.”
“You can think that, but I’ll be sleeping in my own bed tonight. And I’m going to sleep really well.”
She took Marnie’s arm, pulled her to her feet. Pulling out her restraints, she snapped them on Marnie’s wrists.“Peabody, finish up here, will you?”
“I’ll be out in six months,” Marnie said when Eve escorted her into the hall.
“Keep dreaming.”
“And Bobby’ll pay for my lawyers. She deserved it. Say it! She deserved it. You hated her, just as much as I did.”
“You just piss me off,” Eve said wearily.“You robbed me of the chance to face her down, to do my job and see she paid for everything she’d done.”
“I want a lawyer. I want a psych eval.”
“You’ll get both.” Eve nudged her into an elevator, headed down to booking.
When she was back in her office, Mira came in, closed the door.“You did a good job in Interview.”
“I got lucky. Her ego was on my side.”
“And you recognized that. She didn’t recognize you.”
“She wasn’t off by much. I’ve killed, and I know I’ve got the violence in me that makes me capable of it. Then. Now. But murder’s got a different face. I don’t see that in my mirror.
“Thing is,” she added,“she won’t see it in hers, either.”
“But you’ll see the truth. She won’t. I know it wasn’t easy for you, to do what you did. To do it from the start of this. How do you feel?”
“I’ve got to go to the hospital and tell that poor son of a bitch what she did, and why. I’ve got to go there and break his heart, leave that scar on him. I could feel a hell of a lot better.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“He’s going to need something, somebody, after. It’ll be up to him. But I think I have to do this, just the two of us. I think I owe him that. What do you think if I contacted the partner, they seem to be tight. Tell him to get his ass up here.”
“I think Bobby’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”
“Friends give you a cushion for the fall, even when you think you don’t need or want one. I appreciate you stopping by here, to see if I needed one. I’m okay.”
“Then I’ll let you finish.”
 *
An hour later Eve was sitting beside Bobby’s hospital bed, helpless and miserable as tears tracked down his cheeks.
“There has to be a mistake. You’ve made a mistake.”
“There’s not. I haven’t. And I’m sorry, but I don’t know how else to tell you but straight out. She used you. She planned it. Parts of it maybe since she was thirteen. She claims she didn’t plan to kill your mother, and that may be true. It was of the moment. It always looked that way, so it could be that way. But beyond that, Bobby, and I know it’s a punch in the face, she planned, she covered up, she used. She wasn’t the woman she pretended to be. That woman never existed.”
“She she just isn’t capable …”
“Zana Kline Lombard wasn’t capable. Marnie Ralston was and is. She confessed, Bobby, she walked me through it.”
“But we were married, all these months. We lived together. I know her.”
“You know what she wanted you to know. She’s a pro, a manipulator with a sheet as long as my arm. Bobby. Look at me, Bobby. You were raised by a manipulative woman, primed to be taken by another.”
“What does that make me?” His hand fisted, punched lightly on the bed.“What the hell does all that make me?”
“A target. But you don’t have to keep being one. She’s going to try to play you. She’s going to cry and apologize and tell you things like she started all this before she really knew you, that she fell for you on the way. She’ll say that part was never a lie. She’ll say things like she did this for you. She’ll have all the right words. Don’t be a target for her again.”
“I love her.”
“You love smoke. That’s all she is.” Impatient, a cinder of anger burning in her belly, Eve got to her feet.“You’ll do what you do. I can’t stop you. But I’m saying that you deserve better. I figure it took guts for a twelve-year-old kid to sneak me food, to try to make things a little easier for me. It’s going to take guts for you to face what you’re going to have to face. I’ll make it easier for you if I can.”
“My mother’s dead. My wife’s in prison, charged with her murder. With maybe trying to kill me. For God’s sake, how can you make it easier?”
I guess I can’t.
“I need to talk to Zana. I want to see her.”
Eve nodded.“Yeah, fine. You’re free to go down for visitation once they spring you.”
“There’ll be an explanation. You’ll see.”
You won’t, she decided. Maybe you can’t.“Good luck, Bobby.”
 *
She went home, hating that she’d closed a case and still carried a sense of discouragement, of failure. The man would be manipulated. Maybe the system would as well.
She’d closed the case, but it wasn’t over. Sometimes, she thought, they never were.
She walked in, glanced at Summerset.“Let’s just keep this moratorium going another few hours. I’m too damn tired to screw around with you.”
She went straight to the bedroom. And there he was, stripped to the waist, pulling a T-shirt out of a drawer.
“Lieutenant. I don’t have to ask you about your day. It’s all over your face. She slipped through?”
“No, I got her. Full confession, for what it’s worth. PA’s going with Murder Two on Trudy, reckless endangerment on Bobby. She’ll go over, and for a long time.”
He pulled on the shirt as he crossed to her.“What is it?”
“I just left the hospital. Told Bobby.”
“You would do that yourself,” Roarke murmured, and touched her hair.“How horrible was it?”
“As much as it gets. He doesn’t believe it, or part of him does. You could see part of him knew I was giving it to him straight. It’s more he won’t see it, won’t accept it. He’s going to go down there, talk to her. She claimed he’d end up paying for her lawyers, and you know, she’s going to be right.”
Roarke slid his arms around her.“Love. Who can argue with it?”
“He’s a victim.” She dropped her forehead to his.“And one I can’t reach.”
“He’s a grown man, making his own decisions. Not helpless, Eve.” He tipped her face up.“You did your job.”
“I did my job. So what am I bitching about? It didn’t tie up the way I wanted. That’s the breaks. Nice that you’re here, though. Good that you’re here.”
She turned, wandered over toward the tree.
“What else?”
“She said we were alike. We’re not, I know we’re not. But there’s a piece of me like her, and that piece knows how she could pick up that sap and whale away. There’s a piece of me that understands that.”
“Eve, if you didn’t have that piece, didn’t understand why some use it and you don’t, you wouldn’t be such a damn good cop.”
Weight simply slid off her shoulders as she turned and looked at him.“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
She walked back to him, tugged on the sleeve of his T-shirt.“What’s this for, ace?”
“I thought I’d grab a workout, but my wife got home earlier than expected.”
“I could use one myself. Burn off some of this annoyance.” She stepped back to remove her weapon harness, then angled her head.“If you found out I’d been putting on a sham, that I’d hooked you just to get to your bottomless vault of moolah, what would you do about it?”
He gave her that wicked smile, that bolt of blue from the eyes.“Why now, darling Eve, I’d kick your sorry ass, then invest a great deal of that moolah in making the rest of your life bloody hell.”
More weight lifted, and she grinned at him.“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m a very lucky woman.”
She tossed her weapon on the chair, dropped her badge beside it. Then she reached for his hand, linked fingers, and for a little while, put the job away.
BORN IN DEATH.
J. D. ROBB.
1
THE WAYS AND MEANS OF FRIENDSHIP WERE murderous. In order to navigate its twisty maze, a friend could be called upon to perform inconvenient, irritating, or downright horrifying acts at any given time. The worst, the very worst requirement of friendship, in Eve Dallas’s opinion, was sitting through an entire evening of childbirth classes. What went on there - the sights, the sounds, the assault on all the senses - turned the blood cold.
She was a cop, a Homicide lieutenant with eleven years on the job protecting and defending the hard, merciless streets of New York. There was little she hadn’t seen, touched, smelled, or waded through. Because people, to her mind, would always and could always find more inventive and despicable ways to kill their fellow man, she knew just what torments could be inflicted on the human body.
But bloody and brutal murder was nothing compared to giving birth.
How all those women with their bodies enormous and weirdly deformed by the entity gestating inside them could be so cheerful, so freaking placid about what was happening - and going to happen - to them was beyond her scope.
But there was Mavis Freestone, her oldest friend, with her little pixie body engulfed by the bulge of belly, beaming like a mentally defective while images of live birth played out on the wall screen. And she wasn’t alone. The other women had more or less the same God-struck look on their faces. Maybe pregnancy stopped certain signals from getting to the brain.
Personally, Eve felt a little bit sick. And when she glanced over at Roarke, the wince on his angel-kissed faced told her he was right there with her. That, at least, was a big red check in the Pro-Marriage column. You got to drag your spouse into your personal nightmares and into that twisty friendship maze right along with you.
Eve let the images blur. She’d rather study a crime scene recording - mass murder, mutilation, severed limbs - than look up some laboring woman’s crotch and watch a head pop out. Roarke had horror vids in his collection that were less gruesome. She could hear Mavis whispering to Leonardo, the entity’s expectant father, but blocked out the words.
When, dear God, when would it be over?
Some setup here, all right, she thought, trying to distract herself by evaluating the birthing center. The whole damn building was a kind of cathedral to conception, gestation, birth, and babies. She’d managed to duck Mavis’s attempt to give her a tour of the entire place by pleading work. Sometimes a well-placed lie saved friendships, and sanity. The educational wing was enough. She’d sat through a lecture, several demonstrations that would haunt her dreams for decades, been forced as part of Mavis’s coaching team to assist in a mock birth with the labor droid and squealing droid infant.
And now there was this hideous vid.
Don’t think about it, she warned herself, and went back to studying the room. Pastel walls covered with pictures of babies or pregnant women in various stages of bliss. All filmy and rapturous. Lots of fresh flowers and thriving green plants arranged artistically. Comfy chairs, supposedly designed to aid the women in hauling their loaded bodies up. And three perky instructors who were available for questions, lectures, demos, and serving healthy refreshments. Pregnant women, Eve noted, were constantly eating or peeing. Double doors at the back, one exit in the front, left of the vid screen. Too bad she couldn’t make a run for it.
Eve let herself go into a kind of trance. She was a tall, lanky woman with a choppy cap of brown hair. Her face was angular, and paler than usual, with whiskey-brown eyes currently glazed. The jacket she wore over her weapon harness was deep green and, because her husband had bought it, cashmere. She was thinking about going home and washing the memory of the last three hours away in a full liter of wine when Mavis grabbed her hand.
“Dallas, look! The baby’s coming!”
“Huh? What?” Those glazed eyes popped wide.“What? Now? Well, Jesus. Breathe, right?”
Laughter erupted around them as Eve lurched to her feet.
“Not this baby.” Giggling, Mavis stroked her basketball belly.“That baby.”
Instinct had Eve glancing in the direction Mavis pointed, and getting a wide-screen blast of the bellowing, wriggling, gunk-covered creature sliding out from between some poor woman’s legs.
“Oh, man. Oh, God.” She sat down, before her own legs went out from under her. No longer caring if it made her a sissy, she groped for Roarke’s hand. When he gripped it, she found it as clammy as her own.
People applauded, actually clapped and cheered when the wailing, slippery-looking form was laid on its mother’s deflated belly, and between her engorged breasts.
“In the name of all that’s holy…” Eve muttered to Roarke.“It’s 2060, not 1760. Can’t they find a better way to handle this process?”
“Amen” was all Roarke said. Weakly.
“Isn’t it beautiful? It’s the ult, the extreme ult.” Mavis’s lashes - currently dyed sapphire blue, sparkled with tears.“It’s a little boy. Awww, look how sweet….”
Dimly she heard the lead instructor announce the end of the night’s coaching class - thank God - and invite people to stay for refreshments or questions.
“Air,” Roarke murmured into her ear.“I’m in desperate need of air.”
“It’s the pregnant women. I think they suck up all the oxygen. Think of something. Get us out of here. I can’t think. My brain won’t work right.”
“Stand with me.” He hooked a hand under her arm, pulled her up.
“Mavis, Eve and I want to take you and Leonardo out for a bite. We can do better than the offerings here.”
Eve could hear the strain in his voice, but imagined anyone who didn’t know him as well as she would only hear that easy, fluid stream of Irish. There was a lot of chatter going on and women were making a bee-line for the food or the bathrooms. Rather than thinking about what was being said or done, Eve focused on Roarke’s face. If it couldn’t distract a woman, she was too far gone to worry about it. He might have been a little pale, but the white skin only intensified the wild blue of his eyes. His hair was a black silk frame around a face designed to raise a woman’s heart rate. And that mouth of his. Even in her current state it was tempting to just lean in a little and take a good bite of it. And the body only added to the fantasy: tall, leanly muscled, and slickly presented in one of his perfectly tailored business suits. Roarke wasn’t just one of the richest men in the known universe, he also looked the part. And at the moment, because he was taking her arm and leading her out of that nightmare, he was her ultimate hero. She grabbed her coat on the fly.
“We’re sprung?”
“They wanted to see if a friend of theirs could join us.” He still had Eve’s hand, and was rapidly walking toward the exit.“I told them we’d get the car, bring it around to the front. Save them steps.”
“You’re brilliant. Freaking white knight. If I ever recover from this trauma, I’ll screw your brains out.”
“I hope, eventually, my brain cells regenerate enough to make that possible. My God, Eve. My God.”
“Total tandem here. Did you see how it sort of slithered out when -”
“Don’t.” He pulled her into the elevator, called for their level of the parking garage.“If you love me, don’t take me back there.” He leaned back against the wall.“I’ve always respected women. You know that.”
She rubbed at an itch on the side of her nose.“You’ve nailed plenty of them. But yeah,” she added when he just gave her a bland stare.“You’ve got respect.”
“That respect has now risen to admiration of biblical proportions. How do they do that?”
“We’ve just seen how. In graphic detail. Did you see Mavis?” Eve shook her head as they walked out of the elevator.“Her eyes were all glittery. And it wasn’t fear. She can’t wait to do all that.”
“Leonardo looked a bit green, actually.”
“Yeah, well, he’s got that thing about blood. And there was blood - and other stuff.”
“That’s enough. There’ll be no talk of other stuff.”
Because the late January weather was lousy, he’d driven one of his all-terrains. It was big and black and muscular. When he uncoded the locks, Eve leaned back against the passenger door before he could open it.
“Look here, ace. We gotta face this, you and me.”
“I don’t want to.”
Now she laughed. She’d seen him face death with more aplomb.“What we did in there, that was just a preview. We’re going to be in the room with her when she pushes that thing out. We have to be there, counting to ten, telling her to breathe, or to go to her happy place. Whatever.”
“We could be out of town, or the country. No, we could be called off planet. That would really be best. We’ll be called off planet to save the world from some criminal mastermind.”
“Oh, if only. But you know and I know we’re going to be there. Pretty soon, probably, because that bomb inside her’s just ticking away.”
He sighed, then leaned down to rest his brow to hers.“God pity us, Eve. God pity us.”
“If God had any pity on us, He’d populate the world without the middle man. Middle woman. Let’s go drink. A lot.”
The restaurant was casual, a little noisy, and exactly what the midwife ordered. Mavis sipped some sort of exotic fruit punch that was nearly as sparkly as she was. Her riotous silver curls were tipped in the same sapphire as her lashes. Her eyes were a vivid, unearthly green tonight to match - Eve supposed - the tone of the sweater that fit over her breasts and belly like neon elastic. Numerous loops and squiggles hung from her ears and shot sparks of light as she moved her head. Her sapphire blue pants fit like a second skin.
The love of Mavis’s life sat beside her. Leonardo was built like a redwood, and as he was a fashion designer neither he nor Mavis were ever at a loss for an eye-popping ensemble. He’d gone with a sweater as well, a crazed and intricate geometric pattern of colors against gold. Somehow - Eve could have said - it suited his strong form and burnished copper complexion.
The friend they’d brought along was every bit as knocked-up as Mavis. Maybe even more so, if such things were possible. But in contrast to Mavis’s out-of-orbit style, Tandy Willowby wore a simple black V neck over a white tee. She was a tea-and-roses blonde, with pale blue eyes and a blunt-tipped nose. During the drive over, Mavis had chattered out introductions, explaining that Tandy was from London, and had only been in New York a few months.
“I’m so glad I saw you tonight. Tandy wasn’t there for class,” Mavis continued as she mowed through the appetizers Roarke had ordered.“She dropped by toward the end to give the midwife the vouchers for the White Stork. It’s this completely mag baby boutique where Tandy works.”
“It’s a lovely shop,” Tandy agreed.“But I didn’t expect to drop by, then get fed and watered.” She offered Roarke a shy smile.“It’s awfully kind of you. Both of you,” she added to Eve.“Mavis and Leonardo have told me so much about you. You must be so excited.”
“About what?” Eve wondered.
“Being part of Mavis’s coaching team.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. We’re…”
“Speechless,” Roarke concluded.“What part of London are you from?”
“Actually, I’m from Devon originally. I moved to London as a teenager, with my father. Now here I am in New York. I must have a bit of the wanderlust. Though I expect I’ll be grounded for a while now.” Dreamily, she stroked a hand over her belly.“And you’re a policewoman. That must be brilliant. Mavis, I don’t think you ever told me how you and Dallas met.”
“She arrested me,” Mavis said between bites.
“You’re having me on. No?”
“I used to work the grift. I was good at it.”
“Not good enough,” Eve commented.
“I want to hear all about it! But now, I have to make my way to the loo. Again.”
“I’ll go with you.” Like Tandy, Mavis levered herself up.“Dallas? Coming with?”
“I’ll pass.”
“I remember - vaguely - what it’s like not to have something planted on my bladder.” Tandy sent the table a smile, then waddled off with Mavis.
“So…” Eve turned to Leonardo.“You met Tandy in the class?”
“Orientation,” he confirmed.“Tandy’s due about a week before Mavis. It’s nice of you to let her come along. She’s going through all this without a partner.”
“What happened to the father?” Roarke asked him, and Leonardo shrugged.
“She doesn’t talk about it much. Just says that he wasn’t involved, or interested. If that’s the way it is, he doesn’t deserve her or the baby.” Leonardo’s wide face went tight and hard.“Mavis and I have so much, we want to help her as much as we can.”
Eve’s cynic antennae hummed.“Financially?”
“No. I don’t think she’d take money, even if she needed it. She seems okay there. I meant support, friendship.” He seemed to pale a little.“I’m going to be part of her coaching team. It’ll, ah, it’ll be like a dress rehearsal for Mavis.”
“Scared shitless, aren’t you?”
He glanced in the direction of the restrooms, then back at Eve.“I’m terrified. I could pass out. What if I pass out?”
“Make sure you don’t land on me,” Roarke told him.
“Mavis isn’t nervous. Not even a little bit. And the closer we get, the more my insides…” He lifted his big hands, shook them.“I don’t know what I’d do if the two of you weren’t going to be there. Backing me up.”
Oh, hell, Eve thought, and exchanged a glance with Roarke.“Where else would we be?” She signaled the waiter for another glass of wine.
Two hours later, after dropping Leonardo and Mavis home, Roarke drove south and east toward Tandy’s apartment building.
“Really, I can take the tube. Subway. It’s too much trouble, and only a few blocks.”
“If it’s only a few blocks,” Roarke said,“it’s hardly any trouble.”
“How can I argue?” Tandy let out a laugh.“And it’s so nice to sit in a warm car. It’s so bloody cold out there tonight.” She settled back with a sigh.“I feel pampered, and fat as a whale. Mavis and Leonardo, they’re the best. You can’t be around either of them for five minutes and not feel happy. And I see they’re lucky in their friends. Oops.”
Eve’s head spun around so fast it might have flown off her shoulders.“No oops. No oopsing.”
“He’s just bumping around in there a bit. Not to worry. Oh, you know, Mavis is just giddy about the baby shower you’re hosting for her next week. She bubbles over it.”
“Baby shower. Right. Next week.”
“Here we are. Just down the middle of this block. Thank you both so much.” Tandy adjusted her scarf, hauled up a purse the size of a suitcase.“For the lovely food and company, and the luxurious ride. I’ll see you both on Saturday, at the baby shower.”
“Need any help, ah…”
“No, no.” Tandy waved Eve off.“Even a whale must fend for itself. And even if I can’t see my feet these days, I remember where they are. Good night now, and thanks again.”
Roarke waited, engine idling, until Tandy had keyed herself into the building.“Seems a nice woman. Stable and sensible.”
“Not like Mavis. Except for the whale factor. Gotta be tough, being knocked up, on your own, and not even in your own country. She seems to be dealing. You know, Roarke, how come just because you’re pals you have to go to coaching classes, witness births, and give baby showers?”
“I don’t have the answer to that question.”
She heaved out a breath.“Neither do I.”
Eve was dreaming of fang-toothed, many-armed babies bouncing out of Mavis to tear around the room, sending the midwife into screaming retreat while Mavis cooed: ‘Aren’t they mag? Aren’t they the ult?’
The signal of the bedside ‘link had her popping out of the dream. She shuddered once.
“Block video,” she ordered.“Lights on ten percent. Dallas.”
Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. See the officers at 51 Jane Street, apartment 3B. Possible homicide.
“Acknowledged. Contact Peabody, Detective Delia. I’m on my way.”
Acknowledged. Dispatch out.
Eve glanced over, saw Roarke’s laser blue eyes were open and on hers.“Sorry,” she said.
“I’m not the one being pulled out of a warm bed at four in the morning.”
“You’re right about that. People ought to have the courtesy to off each other at reasonable hours.”
She rolled out of bed and into the bathroom for a lightning-quick shower. When she rolled back out, naked and warm from the drying tube, he was sipping a cup of coffee.
“Why are you up?”
“I’m awake,” he said simply.“And look what I’d’ve missed if I’d turned over and gone back to sleep.” He handed her the second cup of coffee he’d programmed.
“Thanks.” She took it with her to the closet where she pulled out clothes. Had to be freaking freezing out there, she mused. And detoured to her dresser to yank out a V neck to go over the shirt, under the jacket. Twice they’d put off tentative plans to take a couple of days in the tropics. Mavis, plus baby, equalled a pregnant woman wigging out at the thought of part of her coaching team dancing off to sand and surf this close to delivery time. What could you do?
“Babies don’t come out with teeth, do they?”
“No. I don’t see how…” Roarke lowered his cup, gave her a baffled look.“Why do you put thoughts like that in my head?”
“They’re in mine, pal, they’re in yours.”
“See if I make you coffee again.”
She dressed quickly.“Maybe this murder is the work of a criminal mastermind that will take me off planet. You’re nice to me, I could take you along.”
“Don’t toy with me.”
She laughed, strapped on her weapon.“See you when I see you.” She crossed to him, and because - hell, he was so damn pretty even at four in the morning - gave him a peck on both cheeks, then a long warm one mouth-to-mouth.
“Stay safe, Lieutenant.”
“Plan on it.”
She jogged down the stairs, where her coat was draped over the newel post. She tossed it there habitually because it was handy - and because she knew it irritated Summerset, Roarke’s majordomo and the blight of her world. She swung it on, discovered a miracle had happened and her gloves were actually in the pocket. Because it was there, she tossed on the cashmere scarf. And still the cold was a shock to the system when she stepped outside. Hard to complain though, she decided, when you got yourself married to a man who thought to remote your vehicle to the front of the house with the heater already running. She strode through the cold, climbed into warm. She glanced in the rearview as she drove toward the gates. The house that Roarke built filled the mirror, stone and glass, juts and turrets - and the light glowing in their bedroom window. He’d have a second cup of coffee, she thought, while reviewing stock reports, early media bulletins, business news, on the bedroom screen. Probably make some overseas or off-planet transmissions. Starting the day before dawn wasn’t a biggie to Roarke, she knew. Lucky her again, to have ended up with a man who fell so easily into the crazed cop rhythm she often ran by. She drove through the gates that closed quietly behind her. This sector of prime and pricey real estate was quiet - the rich, privileged, or fortunate snuggled under the covers in their atmosphere-regulated homes, condos, apartments. But within a few blocks, the city burst into jittery, jumping life. Heat gushed up in steam from the grates as the underground world of the city moved and shook under the streets and sidewalks. Overhead ad blimps were already touting their bargain of the day. Who the hell cared about Valentine’s Day sales at the Sky Mall at this hour? Eve wondered. What sane person would push themselves into the insanity of a mall crowd to save a few bucks on a candy heart? She passed an animated billboard running a loop of impossibly perfect people frolicking over white-sugar sand into blue surf. That, at least, was more like it. The yellow streaks of Rapid Cabs were already darting. Runs to transpo centers, mostly, she mused. Early flights to somewhere. A couple of maxibuses belched along, likely carrying the poor suckers on early shifts, or the luckier ones heading home to bed after a graveyard tour. She detoured around the endless party on Broadway. Day or night, blistering or freezing, tourists and the street thieves who loved them thronged to that mecca of noise, light, movement. A few of the after-hours joints were still open down Ninth. She spotted a huddle of street toughs in their over-filled rip jackets and jump boots loitering - and most likely ingesting illegal substances. But if they were looking for trouble, they’d have a hard time finding it before five A . M. with the temps hovering around twelve degrees. She skirted through a working-class section of Chelsea, then into the more arty flavor of the Village.
The black-and-white was nosed to the curb in front of a rehabbed townhouse on Jane. She took a loading zone a half block down, flipped her On Duty light, then stepped back out into the cold. By the time she retrieved her field kit and set her locks, she spotted Peabody hoofing it from the corner.
Her partner looked like an Arctic explorer wrapped in a thick, puffy coat the color of rusted metal with a mile of red scarf wrapped around her neck and a matching cap tugged down over her dark hair. Her breath puffed out like engine steam.
“Why can’t people kill each other after the sun comes up?” Peabody gasped out.
“You look like an ad blimp in that coat.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s wicked warm and it makes me feel thin when I take it off.”
Together they walked to the townhouse, and Eve turned her recorder on.“No security cams,” Eve observed.“No palm plate. Door lock’s been tampered with.”
There were riot bars on the lower windows, she noted. And the paint on the door and window trim was graying, peeling. Whoever owned the building wasn’t big on maintenance and security.
The uniform on the door gave them a nod as she opened it.“Lieutenant, Detective. Bitching cold,” she said.“Nine-one-one came in at oh three forty-two. Vic’s sister made it. My partner’s got her upstairs. We responded, arrived ‘bout three forty-six. Observed the entrance door to the building’d been compromised. Vic’s on the third floor, bedroom. Hallway door lock’s compromised, too. Put up a fight from the looks of it. Hands and feet bound with your old reliable duct tape. Worked her over some before doing her. Looks like she was strangled with the tie of her robe, since she’s still wearing it around her neck.”
“Where was the sister while this was going on?” Eve asked.
“Said she just got in. Travels for work. Uses her sister’s place as a flop when she comes into New York. Name’s Palma Copperfield. Shuttle attendant for World Wide Air. She mucked up the scene some - sicked up on the floor in there, touched the body before she ran outside again to place the nine-one-one.”
The officer glanced toward the elevator.“She was sitting on the steps out there, bawling, when we pulled up. Pretty much been bawling since.”
“That’s always fun. Send in Crime Scene when they get here.”
Thinking of the shoddy maintenance, Eve turned to the stairs, unpeeling her cold-weather gear as they climbed. One unit per level, she noted. Decent space, privacy. On the third floor she saw that the unit boasted what looked to be a spanking new security peep and cop-lock system. Both were broken in a way that indicated amateur - and effective. She stepped inside, into a living area where a second female officer stood over a woman who was bundled under a blanket, trembling. Early twenties, by Eve’s gauge, with a long blond tail of hair sleeked back from a face where tears had washed through the makeup. She held a clear glass of what Eve assumed to be water in a two-handed grip. She choked out a sob.
“Ms. Copperfield, I’m Lieutenant Dallas. My partner, Detective Peabody.”
“The Homicide police. The Homicide police,” she babbled in a flattened-vowel accent that told Eve Midwest.
“That’s right.”
“Somebody killed Nat. Someone killed my sister. She’s dead. Natalie’s dead.”
“I’m sorry. Can you tell us what happened?”
“I - I came in. She knew I was coming. I called her this morning to remind her. We got in late, and I had a wind-down drink with Mae, the other attendant. The door, downstairs… the door was broken or something. I didn’t need my key. I have a key. And I came up, and the lock - she had a new lock, and she gave me the code for it this morning, when - when I called? But it looked broken. The door wasn’t even locked. I thought, ‘Something’s wrong, something has to be wrong,’ because Nat wouldn’t go to bed without locking up. So I thought I should check, just look in on her before I went to bed. And I saw… Oh, God, oh, God, she was on the floor and everything was broken and she was on the floor, and her face. Her face.”
Palma started to cry again, the tears running fat and steady down her cheeks.“It was all bruised and red and her eyes… I ran over and I called her name. I think I called her name and I tried to wake her up. Pull her up. She wasn’t sleeping. I knew she wasn’t sleeping, but I had to try to wake her up. My sister. Someone hurt my sister.”
“We’re going to take care of her now.” Eve thought of the time it would take for her, then the sweepers, to process the scene.“I’m going to need to talk to you again, in a little while, so I’m going to have you taken down to Central. You can wait there.”
“I don’t think I should leave Nat. I don’t know what to do, but I should stay with Nat.”
“You need to trust us with her now. Peabody.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Eve glanced at the uniform who nodded toward a doorway. Eve walked away from the weeping. Then, sealing up, walked into death.
2
IT WAS A GOOD-SIZED BEDROOM WITH A COZY little sitting area on the street side. She imagined Natalie had sat there to watch the world go by.
The bed looked female and fussy. Lots of pillows scattered around the room - some of them bloody now - that had likely been piled on the lacy pink-and-white spread, as some women loved to do.
There was a small wall screen angled to be seen from either bed or sitting area, framed pictures of flowers, a long dresser. There were bottles and whatnots on the floor - several broken - that had probably sat in some girlie arrangement on the dresser.
A couple of fluffy rugs graced the floor. Natalie was sprawled over one of them, legs twisted and bound at the ankles, her hands bound in front and clenched together as if in desperate prayer. She wore pajamas, blue-and-white checked. They were spotted and streaked with blood. A robe, also blue, was tossed in a corner. The matching tie was wrapped around the woman’s throat. Blood stained both fluffy rugs, and a splotch of vomit pooled near the door. The room reeked of both, and of urine.
Eve moved to the body, crouched to do the standard ID test and gauge for time of death.
“Victim is Caucasian female, age twenty-six, identified as Copperfield, Natalie, residing this location. Facial bruising indicates trauma perimortem. Nose looks broken. Two fingers of the right hand also appear broken. There are burns visible on the shoulder where the pajama top is torn. More burns on the bottoms of both feet. Skin has a blue-gray cast consistent with strangulation. Eyes are bloodshot and bulging. Wit touched the body upon discovery, some scene contamination. TOD, one forty-five A . M., approximately two hours before discovery.”
She shifted as Peabody started in.“Watch the puke,” she warned.
“Thanks. I’ve got two uniforms and a departmental counselor picking up the sister.”
“Good. Vic’s still wearing her pj’s. Sexual assault isn’t likely. Look here, around the mouth. See, was gagged at one time. Got some of the tape adhesive on her face. See the right pinky and ring fingers?”
“Ouch. Snapped them.”
“Broke her fingers, broke her nose. Burned her. Lot of damage to her things that could have been caused in a fight, or by the killer to make a point.”
Peabody crossed to a doorway.“Bath through here. No ‘link in place by the bed, and one on the floor here.”
“What does that tell you?”
“It looks like the vic grabbed the ‘link, made a run for the bathroom. Maybe hoping to lock herself in, call for help. She didn’t make it.”
“Looks like. Wakes up, hears somebody in the apartment. Probably figures it’s the sister. Maybe she calls out, or just starts to roll back over. Door opens. Not the sister. Grabs for the ‘link, tries to run. Could be. New lock on the door - a good one, with a security peep. Maybe somebody’s been bothering her. Run her, see if she’s made any complaints in the last couple months.”
She rose, walked to the hall door.“Killer comes in this way, she’d see him from the bed. Smart to grab the ‘link, sprint off in the opposite direction toward a room with a lock. Pretty smart - quick thinking, too, if you’ve just woken from a sound sleep.”
She moved back to the bed, walked around it, judging the distance toward the bath, and saw something glint just under the bed. She crouched down, then lifted a kitchen knife with her sealed fingers.“Now why would she have a carving knife in the bedroom?”
“Big-ass knife,” Peabody returned.“Killer’s?”
“Then why not use it? I bet it’s from her kitchen. New locks,” Eve continued,“and a knife by the bed. She was worried about someone.”
“No complaints on file. If she was worried, she didn’t report it.”
Eve searched the bed, under the mattress, shook the pillows. Then walked into the bath. Small, tidy, girlie again. Nothing to indicate the killer had been in it. But Eve pursed her lips when she went through the cabinet and found men’s deodorant, Beard-B-Gone, and men’s cologne.
“She had a guy,” Eve said, moving back in to riffle through the nightstand drawers.“Condoms here, edible body oil.”
“Bad breakup, maybe. New lock’s a given if you’d given an ex access prior to. Could be he didn’t like being dumped.”
“Could be,” Eve repeated.“That sort of deal usually includes sexual assault. Check her ‘link for the incomings and outgoings last couple of days. I want to see the rest of the place.”
She stepped out, reexamined the living area. Bad breakup, she’d expect the ex to bang on the door awhile. Come on, Nat, goddamn it! Let me in. We gotta talk. Guy’s pissed enough, and the door’s flimsy enough, most likely kick it down. But you never knew. She went into the kitchen. Good-sized, and from the looks of it, a place the vic had used. A knife block, with one missing, sat on the spotless white counter.
She worked her way into the second bedroom, set up as a home office. Lifted her brows. The place had been thoroughly tossed. The data-and-communication center Eve imagined had sat on the glossy steel desk was missing.
“No d-and-c unit in the office,” she told Peabody.
“What kind of office is that?”
“Exactly. Not a single disc in there, either. As other electronics, just as easily lifted and hocked, are still on-scene, the comp was the target. The comp and the vic. So what did Natalie have that someone else wanted?”
“Not only enough to kill her, but to make sure she hurt first.” Pity edged Peabody’s voice as she glanced back toward the body.“Nothing on this ‘link but the call from the sister, ten this morning, and a call out, at seven-thirty A. M., to Sloan, Myers, and Kraus. She called in sick. It’s an accounting firm, offices on Hudson. Entries prior to this - actually yesterday morning - were deleted. EDD can dig them out. You want to listen to what there is?”
“Yeah, but let’s take them in. I want a run at the sister again.”
On the way to Central, Peabody read off background data on the victim from her PPC.“Born, Cleveland, Ohio. Parents - both teachers - still married. One sib - the sister, three years younger. No criminal. Accountant with Sloan, Myers, and Kraus the past four years. No marriages, no cohabs on record. Resided the Jane Street address past eighteen months. Previously on Sixteenth in Chelsea. Previous to that was Cleveland, parents’ addy. She worked for an accounting firm there, part-time. Looks like a kind of internship while she was in college.”
“Numbers cruncher, moves to New York. What’s the lowdown on the firm here?”
“Hold on. Okay, big-deal firm,” Peabody began, reading the data from her PPC.“High-dollar clients, several corporations. Three floors at the Hudson Street addy, employing about two hundred. Been around for over forty years. Oh, the vic was a senior account exec.”
Eve chewed on it as she angled into the underground parking at Cop Central.“Guess she could get the skinny on some of those high-dollar clients. If somebody was running a second book, laundering. Tax evasion. Mobbed up. Another employee skimming. Blackmail, extortion, embezzlement.”
“Firm’s got a good rep.”
“Doesn’t mean all their clients or employees do. It’s an angle.”
They parked, headed toward the elevators.“We need the name of the boyfriend - past or present. Do the knock-on-doors at her building. See what she may have mentioned to her sister about work, or personal troubles. Way it looks, the vic was expecting or prepared for a problem - and one she didn’t want to report, or hadn’t decided to report. To the cops, anyway.”
“Maybe to a coworker, though, or a superior, if it was work-related.”
“Or a pal.”
The higher they rose in the elevator, the more people jammed on. Eve could smell minty soap from someone coming on tour, and old sweat from someone going off a long one. She muscled her way off on her level.
“Let’s set up an interview room,” Eve began.“I don’t want to talk to her in the lounge. Too many distractions. She needs the grief counselor, she can have him with her.”
Eve swung through the bull pen, and on into her office first. Ditched her coat, then did a check on the witness’s alibi. Palma Copperfield had worked the shuttle in from Las Vegas, and had been touching down in the downtown flight center just about the time her sister was strangled.
“Dallas.”
Eve glanced over at Baxter, one of the detectives in her squad.“I haven’t had coffee in two hours,” she warned.“Or maybe three.”
“I heard you had a Palma Copperfield up in the crib.”
“Yeah, witness. Sister was strangled early this morning.”
“Ah, shit.” He scooped a hand back through his hair.“I was hoping I got it wrong.”
“You know them?”
“Palma, a little. Not the vic. Met Palma a few months back - friend of a friend of a friend - at a party. We went out a couple times.”
“She’s twenty-three.”
He scowled.“I’m not filing for frigging retirement any time soon. Anyway, it was nothing major. Nice woman. A real nice woman. Was she hurt?”
“No. Found her sister dead in the sister’s apartment.”
“Rough. Damn it. They were tight, I think. Palma said how she stayed with her sister when she came to New York. I dropped her off at the building - Jane Street - after we had dinner once.”
“You still involved?”
“No - we weren’t. Went out a couple of times, that’s all.” As if he didn’t know quite what to do with them, Baxter slid his hands into his pockets.“Listen, if a familiar face would help, I can talk to her.”
“Maybe. Yeah, maybe. Peabody’s setting up an interview room. Lounge is too public for this. She was in bad shape when I took her initial statement. She mention if her sister was involved with anyone?”
“Ah, yeah. Had a guy - money manager, broker, something like that. Serious, I think, maybe engaged. Can’t say that I paid much attention to that. I wasn’t after the sister, you know?”
“You catch the wit, Baxter?”
“Nah.” He smiled a little.“Like I said, she’s a nice woman.”
Which translated to they hadn’t slept together, and made it less sticky to have him in on the interview.“Okay, let me get Peabody working the ‘link. We’ll take the wit.”
Eve let Baxter walk into Interview ahead of her, studied Palma’s tear-splotched face when the woman looked over. She blinked a few times as if trying to process new information, then a series of emotions streaked over her face. Recognition, relief, dismay, and finally the grief settled on it again.
“Bax. Oh, God.” She held out both her hands, so when he crossed to the table, he took them in his.
“Palma, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do. Nat. My sister, somebody killed her. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’re going to help you.”
“She never hurt anybody. Bax, she never hurt anybody in her whole life. Her face…”
“This is hard. The hardest thing. But you can help us help her.”
“Okay. Okay, but you can stay, right? He can stay?” she asked Eve.
“Sure. What I’m going to do is turn the recorder on, and ask you some questions.”
“You don’t think that I… You don’t think that I hurt her?”
“Nobody thinks that, Palma.” Baxter gave her hand a quick squeeze.“We have to ask questions. The more we know, the faster we can find the person who did this.”
“You’re going to find them.” She said it slowly, as if that, too, had to process. Then she closed her eyes for a moment.“You’ll find them. I’ll tell you everything I can.”
Eve engaged the recorder, read in the necessary data.“You landed in New York early this morning, is that correct?”
“Yes, on the Vegas run. We got in around two, clocked out, I don’t know, about twenty minutes later maybe. That’s about right. Then Mae - she had the run with me - we stopped at the bar in the airport for a glass of wine. Unwind a little. We shared a cab into the city. I dropped her first. She keeps a place with a couple other attendants, over on the East Side. Then I went on to Nat’s.”
She stopped, took a breath, then a sip from the plastic cup of water on the table.“I paid off the cab, and started in. Had my key out, and I know Nat’s code. But the lock was broken. It happens sometimes, so I didn’t think that much about it. Not then. But when I got to her apartment, her lock - she told me she’d put in a new lock - that was broken, too. I had this little jump in my belly. But I thought, I don’t know, I told myself she hadn’t gotten the lock installed right.”
“Did you notice anything off when you went inside - the living area’s first,” Eve said.
“I didn’t really pay attention. I put the security chain on - she’d have left that off for me. And I left my overnight bag there by the door because I thought I’d just peek in, make sure everything was okay. But it wasn’t.”
Tears trembled, spilled again, but she kept going.“She was on the floor, and there was blood, and the room was - it was like there’d been a fight. Broken glass from her perfume bottles and the little bowls she liked to collect. She was on the floor. The pink rugs. I was with her when she bought them. They were soft, like a cat. She couldn’t have pets. The rugs were soft. I’m sorry.”
“You’re doing fine,” Baxter told her.“You’re doing just fine.”
“I ran. I think - it’s all blurry. Did I scream? I think I screamed her name and I ran and I tried to lift her up, to shake her awake, even though I knew… I didn’t want her to be dead. Her face was bruised and bloody, and her eyes. I knew she was dead. There was tape around her hands.”
As if she’d just remembered, she sent Eve a shocked look.“Oh, God, her hands, her ankles. They were taped.” Palma pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.“I needed to call for help, but I got sick before I could get out, get my ‘link out of my bag, I got sick. Then I ran out. I couldn’t stay in there, so I ran out and called nine-one-one, and I sat down on the steps. I should’ve gone back in, stayed with her. I shouldn’t have left her alone like that.”
“You did exactly the right thing.” Baxter picked up the water cup, handed it to her again.“Exactly the right thing.”
“Did she tell you anyone was bothering her?” Eve asked.
“No, but some thing was bothering her. I could tell. She looked upset when I talked to her earlier, but when I asked what was wrong, she said it was nothing to worry about. She just had a lot on her mind.”
“She was seeing someone? A man?”
“Bick! Oh, my God, Bick. I didn’t even think of him.” Eyes flooded again; she pressed both hands to her mouth.“They’re engaged. They’re going to be married next May. Oh, my God, I have to tell him.”
“What’s his full name?”
“Bick, Bick Byson. They work together - well, for the same company. Different departments. Nat’s a senior account executive at Sloan, Myers, and Kraus - accounting. Bick’s a money manager there. They’ve been together almost two years now. How can I tell him?”
“It’d be better if we did that.”
“And my parents.” She began to rock, back and forth, back and forth.“I have to tell them. I don’t want to do it over the ‘link. Do I have to stay here? I need to go home, to Cleveland, and tell them Nat’s gone. Nat.”
“We can talk about that after we’re done here,” Eve told her.“Were your sister and her fiancé having any problems?”
“No. I don’t know of any. They’re crazy about each other. I guess I thought maybe they’d had a fight and that’s why she was upset earlier. All the wedding plans, you get stressed out. But they’re really happy together. They’re great together.”
“Did she have an engagement ring?”
“No.” Palma took another long breath.“They decided against one - saving their money. Bick’s great, but he’s pretty frugal. Nat didn’t mind. Well, Nat’s the same way, you know? Save it for a rainy day.”
“He didn’t live with her? Save money paying rent.”
“She wouldn’t let him.” For the first time Palma smiled again, and Eve could see how Baxter had been attracted.“She said they were going to wait for that until they were married. We’re pretty old-fashioned in my family. I think my parents like to believe Nat wasn’t even having sex with Bick. They loved each other,” she murmured.“They were good together.”
“Were there any problems at work?”
“She never said. I haven’t seen her for about three weeks. I had a chance to take the New L. A. to Hawaii run for ten days, then I took a vacation out there with a couple of girlfriends. I’d just gotten back on the Vegas to New York run. I talked to her a couple of times, but… We were going to catch up, go shopping, go over wedding plans. She never said anything about a problem, work or otherwise, but I know something was wrong. I just wasn’t paying enough attention.”
Eve stepped out with Baxter.“You know anything about this fiancé of the vic’s?”
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck.“Palma said something about her sister getting engaged. She was lit up about it, which is why… I backed off. Those things can be catching.”
“Your commitment issues don’t enter in, so set them aside. It helped you being in there with her, familiar face leveled her out some. Why don’t you get her to a shuttle - stay on the clock. See she gets off to her parents.”
“Appreciate that, Lieutenant. I can take lost time to do it.”
“Stay on the clock,” she repeated.“Make sure she understands I need her available. I want to know where she is, when she comes back. The usual routine.”
“No problem. Feel so damn sorry for her. You’re going to look at the boyfriend.”
“Next stop.”
Byson didn’t show at the office.” Peabody hoofed it onto a glide behind Eve.“Which, according to his assistant, isn’t the norm. Hardly ever misses, and always checks in if he’s going to take off or be late. She tried him at home, and on his pocket ‘link, being concerned, and couldn’t reach him.”
“Got his home addy?”
“Yeah, he’s on Broome in Tribeca. According to his chatty assistant, he and the vic just bought the loft, and he’s staying there while they’re having some reno done before the wedding.”
“We’ll try him there.”
“Could have rabbited,” Peabody said as she hustled off one glide and hotfooted to the garage elevator.“Fights with fiancé, goes off on her, runs home. Runs away.”
“It wasn’t personal.”
Peabody’s eyebrows knitted as they clipped off the elevator and across the garage.“Those kind of facial injuries, and face-to-face strangulation often are.”
“We find any tools on the crime scene?”
“Tools?”
“Screwdriver, hammer, laser scope?”
“No. What does… Oh.” Nodding now, Peabody slid into the passenger seat.“The duct tape. If she didn’t have any basic tools, why would she have duct tape? Killer brought it with him, which lessens the possibility of crime of passion.”
“No sexual assault added to that. Broken locks. When the vic’s sister talked to her hours before the murder, she got no indication of trouble in paradise. It wasn’t personal,” Eve repeated.“It was business.”
The loft was in an old, well-preserved building in a neighborhood where people painted their stoops and sat out on them on warm summer evenings. The windows facing the street were wide, to afford the tenants a view of the traffic, and the shops ran from the mom-and-pop bakery/deli to the snazzy little boutiques where a pair of shoes cost the equivalent of a quick trip to Paris and would turn your feet into a study in misery. Some of the units sported the luxury of balconies where, Eve imagined, people stuck plants and chairs in the good weather so they could sit and sip something cold while they watched their world go by. From the looks of the exterior, it was a major step up from the Jane Street address, and one suited to the combined incomes of a couple of young, urban professionals on the rise.
Byson didn’t respond to the buzzer, but before Eve could use her master, a woman’s voice piped through the speaker.“You looking for Mr. Byson?”
“That’s right.” There was a security screen, and Eve held up her badge.“Police. You want to buzz us in?”
“Hold on.”
The door buzzed; the locks clicked. They stepped into a tiny communal lobby where someone had gone to the trouble to set a leafy green plant in a colorful pot. Because she heard the elevator clanging its way down, Eve waited.
The woman who stepped off was dressed in a red sweater and gray pants, with her brown hair pulled back in a stubby tail from a pretty face. She had a baby of indeterminant age and sex perched on her hip.
“I buzzed you in,” she said.“I’m Mr. Byson’s neighbor. What’s the problem?”
“That’s something we need to discuss with him.”
“I don’t know if he’s home.” She jiggled the baby as she spoke. The kid stared owlishly at Eve, then plugged its thumb in its mouth and sucked as if it contained opium.“He should be at work this time of day.”
“He’s not.”
“It’s weird, because I usually hear him leave. We’re on the same floor, and I hear the elevator. Didn’t catch it today. And he had the plumber scheduled, turns out. When they’re having one of the crews in - they’re rehabbing - he stops by, asks me if I can let them in, you know? He didn’t do that today, so I didn’t. You can’t be sure. Might be somebody with a pipe wrench just going in to rob the place.”
“So you’ve got the key to his place?”
“Yeah, key and code. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? You want me to let you in? You’ve got to give me some idea. I wouldn’t feel right letting you in if I don’t know something’s up.”
“Something’s up.” Eve held up her badge again.“Mr. Byson’s fiancée was killed.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head slowly from side to side.“No. Come on. Not Nat.”
Her voice rose and cracked. In response, the baby unplugged its mouth and wailed.
“You knew her.” Eve took a subtle side step away from the baby.
“Sure. She was here a lot. They’re getting married in a few months.” The woman’s eyes filled as she shifted to hold her baby closer.“I liked her a lot. We’re all looking forward to being neighbors. Bick and Nat, me and my husband. We… I can’t believe it. What happened? What happened to Nat?”
“We need to talk to Mr. Byson.”
“God. God. Okay, okay.” Obviously shaken, she turned to call for the elevator.“It’s going to kill him. Ssh, Crissy, ssh.” She bounced and jiggled and patted the baby as they jammed into the elevator.“They were nuts about each other - but not sickening about it, if you get me. I liked her so much. Maybe there’s a mistake.”
“I’m sorry” was all Eve said.“Did she mention any problems? Anything, anyone bothering her?”
“No, not really. Some wedding jitters, just typical stuff. They were getting married up in Cleveland, where she’s from. Hunt and I were going - our first trip since Crissy came. Hunt’s my husband. Look, I’ll go get the key,” she added when the doors opened into a hallway.“That’s his place, there. We share the floor.”
“Just the two units up here?”
“Yeah. Nice space. Good light. Hunt and I bought our apartment when I got pregnant. It’s a nice neighborhood, and we’ve got three bedrooms.”
She unlocked her own door, tirelessly jiggling the baby who now had the slack-jawed, glaze-eyed look of a satisfied junkie. Holding the door open with one hip, she snatched a set of keys from a bowl on a table by the door.
“We didn’t get your name,” Eve told her.
“Oh, sorry. Gracie, Gracie York.” She turned the key in the lock, typed a code in on a minipad over it.“Maybe Bick had errands to run or something. I didn’t hear him go out before, so he must’ve left early. Crissy’s been fussy so I slept in a little this morning. She’s teething.” Gracie started to open the door, but Eve held up a hand to block her.
“Just a minute.” Eve knocked.“Mr. Byson,” she called out.“This is the police. Open the door, please.”
“I really don’t think he’s home,” Gracie began.
“Even so, we’ll wait a minute before going in.” Eve knocked again.“Mr. Byson, this is Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. We’re coming in.”
The minute she opened the door, Eve knew Byson was home, and that his neighbor’s earlier words had been right on the mark. Natalie Copperfield’s murder had killed him. Or, Eve was banking, her murderer certainly had.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” Gracie babbled the words so that they came out in a single high-pitched hysterical stream as she pressed her baby’s face to her shoulder and stumbled back from the doorway.
“Ms. York, go back inside your apartment,” Eve ordered.“Go back in, lock your door. Either my partner or I will be over in just a minute.”
“It’s Bick. Is it Bick? Right across the hall. We’re right across the hall.”
At a wordless signal from Eve, Peabody took the woman’s arm.“Take Crissy back home,” Peabody said gently.“Take her on in. Nothing’s going to happen to her. Just go inside and wait.”
“I don’t understand. He must be dead. Right across the hall.”
Peabody got the neighbor inside, turned back to Eve with a resigned look on her face.“I guess you want me to take her.”
“You’re damn right. Call it in first, Peabody, then go in, get a formal statement from the neighbor. I’ll get the field kits and start on the scene.”
3
ONCE SHE’D RETRIEVED THE KITS, EVE SEALED her hands, sprayed sealant on her boots. With her recorder engaged, she entered the crime scene.
Side window, she noted, facing the neighboring building, and with a narrow balcony.“South-facing window is open,” she said for the record, and moved around the outer edge of the room for a closer look.“Appears to have been forced open from the outside. Emergency evac here, probably used to gain access. Possibly exited by the same route.”
Safer that way, Eve thought. No chance of the next-door neighbors catching you coming or going. She turned from where she believed the killer had entered.“The body’s face up, hands and feet bound with duct tape, as previous vic. Second vic is mix-race male, late-twenties, wearing only a pair of white boxers. Woke up, didn’t you, Bick, heard somebody out here. Gave him some trouble. Signs of struggle apparent. Overturned table, broken lamp. Not all of this blood’s going to be the victim’s, so there’s a break for our side. Victim’s face and body show bruises and lacerations.”
She worked her way in, then crouched by the body.“Some burn marks here, too, but these look like contact burns from a stunner mid-chest. They fight, killer incapacitates Byson with a stun, binds him, beats him. Questions him? Blue plastic cord of some kind used for strangulation.”
Hunkered where she was, she scanned the room again.“There are some building materials in the north corner of the room, tied with blue plastic cord, like that around the vic’s neck.”
She took the prints for confirmation of ID, bagged his hands.“Time of death,” she said as she read her gauge,“two forty-five A. M. Came here after doing Copperfield.” She bent closer.“Traces of adhesive around the mouth, as per previous victim. Why yank it off? Needed you to tell him something? Wanted to hear you choke as he strangled you? Maybe some of both.”
She straightened to move from the body into the room off the living area. Bachelor’s bunking area, she deduced. Probably not the master, but where he was sleeping during the rehab. Mattress on a pallet, and the mate of the broken lamp on one of the two tables by the bed. Clothes strewn around, but in a way that said messy guy rather than search.
“Woke up. Grabbed one of the lamps for a weapon. The woman, she grabs for her ‘link and tries to run, but the guy’s got a different instinct. Protect the cave. Goes out, tangles with the killer. Surprises him maybe. Fight. Bruising on vic’s knuckles indicate he got a couple hits in anyway. Full-contact stun, and he goes down.”
She walked back out, studied the positioning again.“Killer tapes hands and feet, gags him. Doesn’t kill him straight away, then. Why gag him if he’s stunned? Has something to say or do first, then. Questions to ask. Did you tell him what you did to Natalie? Bet you did.”
She did a quick preliminary walk-through. The loft had three bedrooms, as the neighbor said hers did. The largest of them was empty but for more building supplies. The last was set up as an office. But there was no comp unit. She could see where there’d been one, probably covered with a protective cloth when construction was on the slate. There was a coat of dust on the folding table standing as a desk, and a clear spot on it where a computer would have stood.
She was back in the living area studying the open window when Peabody came in.
“Neighbor’s shook, but she’s solid. I let her contact her husband, ask him to come home from work. He left, by the way, about seven this morning. Wit says her husband and the vic here sometimes hit the health club together before work. They obviously didn’t hook up this morning.”
“His TOD’s about an hour after Copperfield’s. Same MO. No comp on premises, no discs.”
“They had something on someone,” Peabody concluded.“Work-related probably. Knew something, heard something, worked on something. That how he got in?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the window.
“It’s been forced. Evac’s here on this level, but he likely exited that way. Could have sent it back up from the ground. We’ll want the sweepers to dust the controls. Won’t be prints, but it keeps them busy.”
She ran through the scene, and her take of it, for her partner.
“Maybe some DNA on the pieces of the lamp, some on the vic’s fists.” Peabody looked down at the body.“Guy was in good shape. Looks like he gave his attacker some trouble.”
“Not enough.”
They left the crime scene in the hands of the sweepers and headed for the accounting firm.
“You know, seeing the kid back there reminded me. How’d the coaching class go last night?”
“It’s not to be discussed,” Eve said.“Ever.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Ever.”
To hide a smirk, Peabody glanced out the side window and looked longingly at a corner glide-cart.“Baby shower’s coming right up. You set?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Or she hoped she was.
“I made her this sweet baby blanket while I was in the weaving mode over the holidays. It’s all rainbow colors. I’m doing these cute little booties and a hat, too. What’d you get her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You haven’t gotten her shower gift yet? Cutting it close.”
“I got a few days.” Considering, Eve glanced over.“You could go buy something to cover it. I’ll pay you.”
“Uh-uh. It’s not right.” Peabody folded her arms.“She’s your oldest friend, your best pal, having her first baby. You have to buy it yourself.”
“Damn it. Damn it, damn it.”
“I’ll go with you, though. We can swing by this baby place she’s been haunting after we hit the offices. Grab some lunch, too, maybe.”
Eve imagined the process of shopping in a baby boutique, and had to fight off a shudder.“I’ll give you a hundred dollars to go on your own.”
“That’s hitting below the belt,” Peabody replied.“But I’m too strong to be bribed. You have to do the thing, Dallas. It’s Mavis.”
“Coaching classes, baby showers, now shopping. Is there no end to the price of friendship?”
Eve put it aside - buried it - and made her way to the main reception area of Sloan, Myers, and Kraus.
In keeping with their service of high-end clients, the area was plush, glass-walled, and full of green, leafy plants. The wide stone-gray counter served as a work area for three receptionists, all of whom wore headsets and worked busily on keyboards. A trio of waiting areas fanned out like sunbeams, boasting deep chairs, media screens, and a selection of entertainment discs.
Eve laid her badge on the counter in front of a three-piece-suited man with streaked blond hair worn in short, tight curls.“I want to see someone in charge.”
He gave her a cheerful smile.“That certainly wouldn’t be me. In charge of a specific department, or altogether in charge?”
“Let’s start small. I want Natalie Copperfield’s and Bick Byson’s supervisors.”
“Let’s see. Copperfield’s Senior Account Exec, Corporate, Foreign and International. That’s this floor. You’ll want Cara Greene. And ah, Byson, Byson. Byson, Bick,” he all but sang as he read his screen.“Vice President, Personal Finance, Domestic. That’s up a level, and it would be Myra Lovitz.”
“We’ll take Greene first.”
“She’s in a meeting.”
Eve tapped her badge.“Not anymore, she’s not.”
“Okay by me. I’ll call through. You want to have a seat?”
“No, just Greene.”
Swank place, Eve thought as she waited. A lot of money came through these doors. And nothing tempted murder so much as lots of money.
Cara Greene wore a dark red suit, and though it buttoned to the throat, it was cut in such a way that showed she had a nice, perky rack. She also had an impatient expression on a smooth, caramel-toned face, and clipped out into reception on ice-pick heels.
“You’re the police?” she demanded and shot an accusing finger at Eve.
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. You’re Greene?”
“That’s right, and you’ve just pulled me out of an important meeting. If my son’s hooked school again, I’ll deal with him. I don’t appreciate the cops coming to my office.”
“We’re not here about your son. We’re here about Natalie Copperfield, and if you’d prefer, you can come to my office. Now.”
The irritation shifted immediately to wariness.“What about Natalie? You’re not going to tell me she’s in any trouble. She’d never break the law.”
“Can we take this into your office, Ms. Greene?”
The expression changed again, and this time there were hints of fear in bottle-green eyes.“Something happened to her? Was there an accident? Is she all right?”
“Your office would be best.”
“Come with me.” Moving fast, Cara skirted around the reception desk, through a pair of glass doors that swished open on her approach. She kept up the brisk pace, past a jungle of cubes where the drones slaved away, past offices where accountants crunched their numbers, to the corner office that suited her position.
She shut the door behind them, turned to Eve.“Tell me fast. Please.”
“Ms. Copperfield was murdered early this morning.”
Her breath hitched, a quick in and out before she held up a hand. She moved, not so briskly now, to a refreshment station along one wall, pulled out a bottle of chilled water. And sank to a chair without opening it.
“How? How? I don’t understand. I should have known something was wrong when she called in sick yesterday and didn’t make this meeting this morning. I should have known. I was so mad at her. This meeting…” She held up her hand again.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s such a shock.”
Before Eve could speak, she lurched to her feet.“Oh, God, Bick. Her fiancé. Does he know? She’s engaged to one of the VP’s in personal finance. He should be upstairs. Oh, God. They’re getting married in May.”
“She worked for you directly?”
“She’s one of my senior account execs and on a fast track. She’s good. I mean… Oh, God, oh, God, she was good. Excellent. Personable, smart, hard-working. I planned to promote her, offer her a VP slot.”
“You were friends,” Peabody put in.
“Yes. Not best pals. I have to keep some distance being her boss, but yes.” Closing her eyes, she pressed the chilled bottle to her forehead.“We were very friendly. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Why don’t you tell us where you were between midnight and four this morning.”
“You don’t think…” Cara sat again, and this time she opened the water bottle and drank.“I was home, with my husband and our twelve-year-old son. My husband and I went to bed just after midnight. God, how was she killed?”
“We’re not releasing the details of that at this time. Since you were friendly, and you were in a position of authority, did she say anything to you about being worried or bothered? Threatened?”
“No. No. No. I’d say she seemed a little off the past couple of weeks, but I put that down to distraction. Wedding plans. She’d have told Bick if someone was bothering her. She told him everything.”
Yeah, Eve thought, most likely she did. And that’s why he was dead.
“What was she working on?”
“She had several accounts, heads quite a number and is on teams that hold others.”
“We’re going to need a list of all her accounts, and we’ll need to see her files.”
“I can’t do that. I can’t. We have to protect our clients’ privacy. We’d be sued up the butt if I turned confidential files over to the police.”
“We’ll get a warrant.”
“Please do. I mean that, sincerely. Please get a warrant and I’ll personally see that you have any and all data the law demands. I need to contact Mr. Kraus,” she continued as she got back to her feet.“I need to tell him what’s going on. What’s happened. And Bick. You’ll need to talk to Bick.”
“Bick Byson was also murdered early this morning.”
She lost all of her color, every drop of it.“I - I can’t think. I don’t know what to say. This is horrible.”
“I’m sorry. I understand it’s a shock. We need to speak with Mr. Byson’s supervisor.”
“Um, that’s - oh, God, I can’t think. Myra. Myra Lovitz. I can contact her for you.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t talk to her until we have. Who else would have worked on accounts with Ms. Copperfield?”
“I’ll get you a list of names. Sorry.” She clipped to her desk, yanked open a drawer, pulled out a tissue.“Sorry, it’s starting to sink in. I can call upstairs, have Myra’s admin tell her you’re coming. Would that help?”
“That’d be good. Thanks for your cooperation. We’ll be back, with a warrant, for the files.”
Upstairs, they were met by the admin and escorted straight back into an office similar to Cara’s.
Myra Lovitz sat behind a desk covered with files, discs, notes. She was into her early sixties, Eve judged, and had let her hair go stone gray in a way that suited her tough, sharp-angled face. She wore a suit - blue pinstriped and all business. She smiled sourly as Eve and Peabody came in.
“Okay, what is this, a raid?”
“We’re here concerning Bick Byson.”
Even the sour smile faded.“Something happen to the boy? We’ve been trying to reach him all morning.”
“He’s dead. He was murdered last night.”
Her lips folded in, her hands fisted on the desk.“Goddamn city. Goddamn it. Mugged?”
“No.”
Eve let Peabody take point on this one, ask the questions, get the statements. It was nearly a replay of the first interview, but with Myra’s more acerbic style.
“He’s a damn good kid. Smart, reliable. Knows how to schmooze the clients when they need it, how to be all biz when they want that. Good reader of people, you know? He and that sweet kid from accounts downstairs? Both of them? God, what a world.”
“What were they working on?” Peabody asked her.
“They? Bick and Natalie didn’t work on the same accounts. He did individuals, domestic, she did corporate, primarily foreign.”
“How did he seem to you the last couple of weeks?”
“A little jumpy, now that you mention it. Wedding coming up, and they just bought a place in Tribeca. Having it rehabbed, doing decorating, furniture shopping. Man’s bound to be jumpy.”
“He didn’t mention any concerns to you?”
“No.” Her eyes sharpened.“This wasn’t just some random killing, was it? Are you telling me someone deliberately murdered those two kids?”
“No, ma’am,” Eve interrupted.“We’re not telling you anything just now.”
After starting the ball rolling on the warrant, Eve wanted only one thing. To get back to Central, and from there do both her written and oral reports, write up her timeline, start her murder board.
But Peabody would not be denied.
“You put it off, you’ll be sorry, and you’ll have to shop by yourself for baby stuff.”
“I’m not shopping, with or without you. I’m just going to buy something. And it better not take over ten minutes.”
“Then we can get food, right?”
“It’s always something with you. There probably won’t be anywhere to park. I should just get something online. You can just tell me what I should get and I’ll get it. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
“Bitch.”
“You’ll thank me when Mavis gets all soft and gooey.”
“I don’t like soft and gooey unless it comes in chocolate.”
“Speaking of chocolate, what kind of cake are we having for the shower?”
“I don’t know.”
Sincerely shocked, Peabody jerked around in her seat.“You didn’t get cake?”
“I don’t know. Probably.” Because the idea of the shower, what she had to do, hadn’t done, should do, made her stomach jitter, Eve squirmed.“Look, I called the caterer, okay? I did it myself. I didn’t dump it on Roarke, I didn’t ask - God forbid - Summerset to handle it.”
“Well, what did you ask for? What’s the theme?”
The jitters escalated into a roiling.“What do you mean, theme?”
“You don’t have a theme? How can you have a baby shower without a theme?”
“Jesus Christ, I need a theme? I don’t even know what that means. I called the caterer. I did my job. I told her it was a baby shower. I told her how many people, more or less. I told her when and where. She started asking me all kinds of questions, which gives me a fucking headache, and I told her not to ask me all kinds of questions or she was fired. Just to do whatever needed doing. Why isn’t that enough?”
Peabody’s sigh was long and heartfelt.“Give me the caterer’s info, and I’ll check in with her. Does she do the decorations, too?”
“Oh, my God. I need decorations?”
“I’m going to help you, Dallas. I’m going to run interference with the caterer. I’m going to come over early on the day and help get it set up.”
Eve narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore the joy and relief bubbling in her breast.“And what’s this going to cost me?”
“Nothing. I like baby showers.”
“You’re a sick, sick woman.”
“Look, look! That car’s going to pull out. Get the space! Get the space! It’s first level, almost at the door. It’s a sign from the goddess of fertility or something.”
“Damn Free-Ager,” Eve mumbled, but beat out a Minibug for the parking slot.
She thought she’d hate shopping in a baby boutique. And Eve was a woman who knew herself well. There were gargantuan stuffed animals and mind-numbing music. There were tiny little chairs, strange mesh cages, other animals, or poofy stars hanging from the walls and ceiling. Racks were full of odd miniature outfits. There were shoes no bigger than her thumb. Thumb-sized shoes, she thought, were unnatural. Nothing that small should be able to walk on two legs, so why did it require shoes? Things rocked and swayed and played more tinkling music if you looked at them crooked. And there were a number of gestating women, and others who carried the fruit of their wombs in colorful slings or strange padded seats that hooked over their shoulders. One of those fruits was wailing in a thin, alien cry. And there were others, bigger ones, who sat in pushcarts or wandered around free to pummel the animals or climb on everything in sight.
“Courage,” Peabody soothed, and clamped a hand on Eve’s arm before Eve tried to bolt.
“Just point at something and I’ll buy it. Whatever it is. Cost is no object.”
“It doesn’t work like that. We go to one of the screens, see? She registered. So we find out what she wants, and what people already bought for her. They have great stuff here.”
“Why does something that can’t walk, talk, or feed itself need so much stuff?”
“For exactly those reasons. And babies need stimulation, and comfort. Here we go.” Peabody engaged a screen. A fresh-faced young woman popped on, smiling cheerfully.
“Welcome to the White Stork! How can we help you?”
“Registration list for Mavis Freestone, please.”
“Right away! Would you like to see the entire list of Ms. Freestone’s choices, or what is left to be fulfilled?”
“What’s left,” Eve said quickly.“Just what’s left.”
“Just one moment!”
“Why does she talk like that?” Eve questioned Peabody.“Like I’m brain dead.”
“She’s not -”
“Dallas?”
Such was the state of Eve’s nerves she nearly jumped at the sound of her name. Turning, she saw Tandy Willowby waddling toward her.“Oh, and it’s Peabody, right? We met at Mavis’s once.”
“Sure, I remember. How you doing?”
“Really good.” Tandy patted her belly.“Nearly coming to countdown. Are you here for Mavis?”
“Just tell me what to buy.” Eve was ready to beg.“I’m on the clock.”
“No problem. Actually, I’ve got just the thing. Cancel registration search,” she ordered.“It may be more than you want to spend -”
“I don’t care about that. Just wrap it up.”
“It’s a little too big. You know, I’ve had to waylay Mavis a dozen times, convince her not to buy the place out, to wait until after the shower. She’s got her heart set on this rocker system.”
Tandy moved through the aisles, leading the way through forests and meadows of baby merchandise with her long tail of sunny hair swinging.“I talked my boss into ordering one in, in Mavis’s colors. I knew if she didn’t get it as a gift, she’d snag it after the shower. I’ll show you our display model, then you can look at the one we ordered on screen. It’s in the warehouse.”
“It’ll be fine. Great. I’ll just pay for it. Hey!” Eve snapped when Peabody elbowed her.
“At least look at it.”
“Oh, you’ve got to see it,” Tandy agreed, her baby blue eyes wide and guileless.“It’s absolutely mag.”
What Eve saw when Tandy gestured was a minty green cushy deal sort of shaped like a long S, that for some reason made Peabody coo.
“It reclines, rocks, sways, vibrates, and plays music. There are twenty tunes in the default, and you can record and playback or download others. Or just the sound of the mother’s voice, the father’s voice, whatever you like.” Tandy ran a gentle hand over the top curve.“The material is stain and water resistant, and so soft. Just feel.”
Because it was obviously a requirement, Eve patted the chair.“Nice. Soft. Cushy. I’ll take it.”
“You have to sit in it,” Tandy insisted.
“I don’t -”
“Go on, Dallas.” Peabody gave Eve a nudge.“Try it out. You have to.”
“Jesus, all right, all right.” Feeling idiotic, Eve lowered to the chair, and felt it shift, just a bit, like a live thing.“It moved.”
“The gel cushions mold to your shape.” Tandy beamed.“It’ll adjust to you, or you can program a preferred setting - manually, or by voice recognition. Positions, movements, all can be adjusted manually or by voice - controls are under both arm pads - for right-or left-hand use. Just flip it open with a finger.”
Tandy demonstrated, revealing the board.“And there’s a new feature on the Delux model Mavis is loopy for. Baby sleeping, Mum’s tired?” Tandy tapped three buttons, and the chair hummed gently as its side opened and a small padded box lifted out and up.
“You just shift, lay the baby in the chair-side cradle, and both of you can take a little nap.”
“That is so completely uptown.” Peabody cooed again, like a mourning dove.
“It’s safe for up to twenty pounds, will also rock independent of the chair. There’s also a small storage compartment on the other side, to hold burp cloths, nursing pads, extra receiving blankets. I swear, it’ll do everything but feed and change the baby for you.”
“Okay.” With some relief, Eve pulled herself out of the chair.
“It got top ratings from Baby Style, Parenting, and Today’s Family magazines. The Mommy Channel had it as their top pick last year.”
“Sold.”
“Really?” A happy flush pinked Tandy’s cheeks.“Oh, that’s brilliant. That’s mag.”
“You can get it to the house, right, for the shower?”
“Absolutely. And since I have some pull around here, I’ll arrange for the second delivery to Mavis’s apartment to be included. No extra charge.”
“Appreciate it.” As an afterthought, Eve studied the chair again.“How much is this thing?”
When Tandy named the price, Peabody gulped audibly. Eve just stared and said,“Holy crap.”
“I know, it’s awfully dear, but it’s really worth the price. And I can offer you a ten percent discount on anything purchased today if you open a White Stork account.”
“No, no thanks.” That, Eve thought as she rubbed her hands over her face, might just be tempting fate.“I’ll pay the full shot. The one in the colors Mavis likes.”
“It’s a fully awesome gift, Dallas,” Peabody told her.
“It is. It really is.” Tandy’s eyes actually went damp.“She’s so lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Damn right.”
It’s only money, Eve reminded herself as she completed the transaction. Only a whole shitload of money. While she reeled from sticker shock, Peabody and Tandy bubbled on about babies, the shower, baby gadgets. When they segued into breast-feeding, Eve drew her line.
“We gotta go. Crime and stuff.”
“I’m so glad you stopped in, and not just because of the sale. I just can’t wait until the shower on Saturday. My social life’s a little thin these days,” she added with an easy laugh.“Mavis’s baby shower is the highlight on my calendar. Except for this one’s birthday.” She patted her belly.“The rocker system will be delivered the day before, by noon. Any problems, any at all, just contact me here.”
“Will do. Thanks, Tandy.”
“See you soon!”
It was with gratitude that Eve stepped out of the warm, scented, musical air and into the cold, windy noise of the city.“What time is it, Peabody?”
“Ah, about thirteen-thirty.”
“I want to go lie down in a dark room.”
“Well…”
“On duty, no rest for the traumatized. Soy fries will have to substitute for the comfort of oblivion.”
“We eat?” Peabody nearly did a dance.“We should go shopping more often.”
“Bite your tongue.”
4
EVE WASN’T SURE WHAT IT SAID ABOUT HER that she was more comfortable in the morgue than in a baby boutique. And she didn’t actually care. The cold white walls, the scent of death under the piney odors of cleansers were the familiar. She pushed through the thick door into Autopsy as Morris, the chief medical examiner, transferred Bick Byson’s brain from his skull to a scale.
“A two-for-one sale, I see.” Morris - his spiffy suit of the day protected with a clear plastic cape - paused to enter data. Then he set the brain in a tray.
He wasn’t tall, but he was built in a way the chocolate brown suit and dull gold T-shirt exploited. He was oddly sexy with those dark, slightly slanted eyes and the ink black hair scooped back in a tight, intricate braid.
“That’s how I see it,” Eve agreed.“You concur. Same method, same killer?”
“Physical force and trauma. In technical terms, he whaled away on them. Binding, ankles, wrists. I’d be very surprised if the CSIs don’t find the tape came from the same roll for both your vics. Death by strangulation on each. Male vic was stunned - full contact just above the sternum. He also has, as you noted in your on-scene, bruises and lacerations on his knuckles. He fought back. I removed a few bits of ceramic from his back and buttocks.”
“Broken lamp. Looks like he grabbed it from the bedroom, came out into the living area, tried to use it as a weapon on the intruder.”
“No postmortem trauma on either. When your killer was done, he was done. No sexual assault on either. Your female vic…”
Morris wiped his sealed hands, then skirted around to where Natalie lay, cleaned, naked, and tagged.
“That’s not your Y-cut,” Eve observed with a frown as she studied the body.
“Quite an eye you have there, Dallas.” And his own twinkled with amusement.“No, I supervised a new ME. Our motto around here is Die To Learn. The female was tortured before death. Broken fingers. The angle and position of the breaks indicate a backward thrust.”
Morris held up his own hand, gripped his pinky with the other, and pulled it back and down.“Effective, and painful.”
Eve remembered the breathless, shocking pain when her father had snapped the bone in her arm.“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“Burning - shoulder, belly, bottoms of the feet. Looks like contact burns with a laser pointer or something very similar. See the circular shape? It had to be pressed down very hard, very firm to not only burn the skin, but to leave that defined a burn.”
To get a better look, she slid on a pair of microgoggles.“No blurring, or very little on these. Her feet were bound tight at the ankles, but she’d jerk and struggle when he burned her. Had to clamp onto her foot with his hand, hold it still. Very serious about his work.”
She pulled off the goggles.“Her nose is broken.”
“Yes, but when we use the micros, you can see the detail bruising, both sides of the nostrils.” He picked up the pair Eve had laid aside, then offered them to Peabody when Eve jerked a thumb at her partner.
Putting them on, Peabody leaned down.“I just see a big mess of bruising.” She focused, frowning, as Morris shined a pinpoint light over the side of Natalie’s nose.
“Okay, yeah. I get it. I don’t think I’d have seen it, but I get it now. He had her mouth taped, then he clamped her nose closed - hard, with his thumb and finger. Cut off her air.”
“With the broken nose she’d have had considerable trouble breathing. He made it harder.”
“Interrogating her,” Eve said to Morris.“If it was a straight torture killing, he’d have done more. Cut her up some, broken more bones, burned her more severely and over more of her body. There’d most likely be some sexual abuse, or trauma to the breasts and genitals.”
“Agreed. He just wanted to hurt her. On the male, he skipped the interrogation portion of the program. Went from beating to strangling.”
“Because the woman told him what he needed to know, gave him what he needed to have,” Peabody concluded.
“And the second vic had to die because the first told the killer her boyfriend knew what she knew, or had seen what she’d seen. The motive’s in her,” Eve murmured.
At Central, Eve sat at her desk downing coffee and adding data and notes to her initial reports. She put in another call to the PA’s office to check on the warrant, got the runaround.
Lawyers, she thought. The accounting firm’s lawyers had knee-jerked a motion to block the warrant. Not unexpected, Eve mused, but they’d get it - not likely before the end of the business day, however.
She knee-jerked herself and called to harass the lab. The evidence had been gathered, was being processed. They weren’t miracle workers. Blah, blah.
What she had was two DBs - a couple - killed in their separate homes a few blocks apart, about an hour apart. Female first. Same employer, different departments. Violent deaths, missing comp units and data discs.
No known enemies.
The killer had to have personal transportation, she mused. Can’t go hauling d-and-c units from murder scene to murder scene.
Frowning, she checked her incoming to see if Peabody had determined the types of units the victims owned. And found her efficient partner had copied her the list of units registered to both. Two desk units, two PPCs. And that didn’t include the memo books - no required registration with CompuGuard - they must have owned, which, like the comps, hadn’t been on either scene. Good equipment and fairly compact, she thought as she took a look at the models, but she couldn’t see the killer hauling Copperfield’s machines up Byson’s emergency evac.
No, he’d had a vehicle to transport them, to lock them safely away while he finished his night’s work.
Where did he park? Did he live close to either scene? Did he work alone? Brought the binding tape with him, and probably the stunner, the laser pointer or whatever tool he’d used for the burns - preparation. Used weapons on hand for the killings. Opportunistic.
Knew female vic’s building lacked security cams, alarms. And that the second scene had better security. Scoped them out first, preparation again. And/or had personal knowledge of the scenes.
Had he been inside before the murders?
Prior personal contact with the victims?
She rose, set up her board, then sat again, angling her chair so she could study the faces of her dead.
“What did you know, Natalie? What did you have? What did you figure out? Had you worried, whatever it was.”
Called in sick the morning of the murder. Put on an extra lock, security peep, in a place you were moving out of in a few months. Yeah, you were worried.
But not enough to tell the sister, or the boss she was allegedly friendly with.
But Bick went into work that morning. Maybe not as worried, maybe to keep an ear to the ground.
And not worried, not scared enough to have the boyfriend come over, stay the night.
Not scared for your life, Eve concluded, despite the knife in the bedroom. Shook, upset, nervous - careful. But not scared for your life. Probably felt stupid, even a little embarrassed when you brought that knife into the bedroom with you. But you’re not scared enough to call the cops, even move in with the fiancé for a few days.
Maybe working on something. Liked your space, your quiet. But it gets dark, you’re a little wiggy.
To refresh herself, she called up the replay from Palma’s pocket ‘link, reviewed the transmission to her sister.
‘Hey, Nat!’
‘Palm. Where are you?’
‘Somewhere over Montana. Vegas/New York runs, remember. We’re loaded with them today. Back and forth, full shuttles. I’m getting into New York late. Still okay if I crash with you, right?’
‘Sure. I really want to see you. I’ve missed you.’
‘Me, too. Hey, something wrong?’
‘No. No. Just a lot on my mind.’
‘You had a fight with Bick.’
‘No. We’re fine. I’m just… there’s a lot going on. It’s… listen, you’re off tomorrow, right?’
‘After a shift like this, you bet. Want to ditch work and have a girl day?’
‘I really do. We could do some shopping.’
‘Wedding plans.’
‘Yeah. And I could clear my head, maybe run something by you.’
‘You’re not changing your colors?’
‘What? No, no. It’s nothing to do with that. It’s about - ‘
‘Damn, Five A’s beeping me again.’
‘You go. We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning. Oh, you’ve got the new key, the code I sent you this morning?’
‘Right here. Sweetie, you look so tired. What - oh, for God’s sake. Beep, beep, beep. Sorry, Nat.’
‘It’s okay. You go. I’ll see you soon. Palma, I’m really glad we’ll have some time.’
‘Me, too. Pancakes for breakfast?’
‘You bet.’
‘Bye!’
Stress level up on the vic, Eve thought. No need to run a voice analysis. She could hear it plainly and see it in the vic’s eyes. Not fear, but tension and fatigue. She was going to tell her sister, whatever it was. Lay it out for her as she’d laid it out, Eve was sure, for her fiancé. Lucky for Palma, she’d been out of the loop at the time of the murders.
Looking for advice, someone to share the burden. I know this thing, found this thing, suspect this thing. I’m not sure what I should do.
Closing her eyes, Eve brought Natalie’s apartment back into her mind. Female, tidy, matching this and matching that. The clothes Eve had pawed through had been the same. Definite style. Hard-working accountant. Practical and organized. New lock. Careful and cautious.
Whatever she’d known or had that had killed her, she hadn’t known or had it long. Eve judged Natalie Copperfield as a woman who knew her mind. Shared the information with someone else besides the boyfriend, maybe. If so, it had been the wrong person.
Taking the list provided, Eve began a standard run on the victim’s coworkers, superiors, and the heads of the firm. Then she tagged Peabody on the interdepartment ‘link.“Do a search and run on the other tenants in Copperfield’s building. Maybe she saw something at home, or in the neighborhood.”
“I was heading there. Just went over the statement from the neighbors, both scenes. Nothing on the surface on either.”
“So we go under. I got the click on a search of their financials. I’ll look there.”
“They weren’t blackmailers. There’s no vibe.”
“We look anyway.”
No vibe, Eve agreed, but brought up Natalie’s data. What she found was, she supposed, what should be expected for a number cruncher. Organized, frugal, balanced accounts. The occasional spree, and a big, fat chunk laid out three months before at White Wedding for a dress, veil, undergarments.
There hadn’t been any fancy wedding dress in the apartment. Eve relayed the same to Peabody.
“It would have to be fitted,” she was informed.“They’d probably keep it at the shop, and schedule fittings up to a week or so before the big day.”
“Oh. Right. Let’s check anyway, be sure.”
“Got a couple minor possessions - illegal substance - on the first-floor tenant, first scene. Pauli, Michael. Last one three years back. A D-and-D, and a shoplifting charge on tenant on second scene. Neither recent.”
“I’ve been running the office. I’m going to shoot that data to you - you keep at it - and head up to EDD. See if they’ve dug anything off her pocket ‘link.”
“I can go to EDD.”
“I’m not sending you up there to play grab-ass with McNab.”
“Aw.”
“Run the names, Peabody. Anything pops, tag me. Otherwise, send the results back to my unit here, and at home. Clock out when you’re done. You can go home and play grab-ass.”
“He doesn’t have much to grab, but what there is -”
To save herself, Eve cut the transmission. She saved herself again by taking the glides rather than the elevator to EDD. At change of tour, the elevators were a box of bodies and odors. The glides were bad enough, jammed with cops coming on, going off, bringing in subjects for questioning, hauling others down to Booking. Eve squirmed her way off and took the stairs to the last level. She came out into the corridor of the EDD unit and was all but blinded by the wild squiggly pattern of blue lightning bolts on violent pink that only Ian McNab would call a shirt.
“I want to know where you shop,” she demanded.
“Huh? Hey, Dallas.”
“Because I never want to make the lethal mistake of going there.” She dug out credits.“Get me a tube of Pepsi from that sarcastic, sadistic thing people call a vending machine.”
“Sure.” He caught the credits she tossed him.
Peabody was right, at least about the fact he didn’t have much ass. He was built like a reed, dressed like a circus star, and had the soul of an e-geek. His hair was slicked back in a blond tail leaving his thin, pretty face unframed. There were countless silver hoops in his left ear. She wondered why he didn’t list to that side when he walked.
“I caught your case,” he told her, and tossed her the tube.“Just on my way back from making a pit stop. About to tag you.”
“You got something for me?”
“Got the first vic’s trans, seven days back. Can get you more. See, even when you clear the ‘link, the trans are on the hard drive for -”
“I don’t want a nerd lesson, just the results.”
“Come on back.”
If Homicide was business casual, EDD was haute couture. On Venus. McNab’s lightning bolts sizzled among a storm of clashing colors, shiny materials, gel-boots, and pounds of body adornments. Where Homicide hummed, EDD sang. Shrieked, actually, Eve thought, with beeps and buzzes, voices, music, and electronic whistles. She’d go mad in an hour under these conditions and often wondered how her old partner, Feeney, captain of the division, survived. In fact, she corrected, thrived among the peacocks and passion flowers.
McNab grabbed a disc from his workstation.“We’ll take a booth.”
He wound his way through the jungle. Most of EDD danced around, talking on headphones. It gave her the jitters. She followed McNab through glass doors where a dozen clear booths were lined up like soldiers. More than half of them were occupied.
McNab snagged one, then slid the disc into a slot on a sleek little comp unit.“Most of the trans are to the second vic. Some to her mother, her sister, the office. Others to shops and stuff - she was getting married, right?”
“That was the plan.”
“Yeah, doing checks on flowers, the dress, that kind of stuff.”
“Can we skip those?”
“Figured as much so I made two files. This one just has the trans to the boyfriend. You can review the other if you need it. Replay,” he ordered.
The computer recited the date of the transmission, the time, the codes used. Byson came on screen, as he would have on Natalie’s pocket unit.
He’d been a good-looking guy, Eve mused, before he’d had his face smashed in.
‘Hey, Nat.’
‘Bick. Are you alone?’
‘Yeah, I’m about to head into a meeting. What’s up?’
‘I need to talk to you - about… what I’ve been looking into. Can you take lunch?’
‘I can’t. I’ve got one scheduled. What is it?’
‘I don’t think we should talk about it on the ‘link. After work - we’ll go to my place. I need to show you. Come down when you’re finished for the day, okay? I think this is really important.’
‘Okay, see you later.’
The computer announced end of transmission, time elapsed.
“A little stressed, a little jumpy, but excited, too,” Eve mused.“Like, Look what I found.”
The next was a day later, an incoming.
‘Hey, babe. I’m trying to move this dinner meeting along, but it’s dragging. Do you want me to come by after?’
‘No, no, that’s okay. I’m working. Bick, I’m finding more. I think a lot more. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Meet me for breakfast maybe? Our spot.’
‘I’ll be there. Seven-thirty good?’
‘Perfect. God, Bick. I just can’t believe all this. We have to find it all. It has to be stopped.’
‘We could go to the cops.’
‘Not yet. We have to be absolutely sure. We don’t know who’s involved, not on this end. Not for certain. We have to be careful. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.’
‘Don’t work too late. Love you.’
‘Love you right back.’
There were a handful of others, increasingly tense, equally cryptic, ending with one near midnight, only a couple of hours before the first murder.
‘Just wanted to talk to you. See your face.’
‘Nat, listen, I’ll just come over.’
‘It’s late, and you had such a long day. I’m fine, really. Just edgy, I guess. And Palma will be here later. I always feel so odd having you sleep here when she’s staying over.’
‘You puritan.’
‘Guess I am.’
‘But she laughed a little.’
‘I’m going to tell her, Bick, talk it through with her.’
‘I don’t like the way you were approached. Nat, they tried to bribe you.’
‘And as far as they know I’m thinking about it.’
‘It was more ultimatum than bribe. They might try to hurt you.’
‘I asked for forty-eight hours to think about it. I’ve got time. There’s no reason for them to try anything before I give them my answer. I’ve got the new lock, the security peep, Palma’s coming. I’m in this now, Bick. I want to finish it. I just want to put it all together, talk to Palm. Tomorrow, we’ll take everything to the authorities.’
‘I’ll come over in the morning. We’ll go together.’
‘Don’t bring your file copies. Let’s just… like insurance, you know. If cops don’t work, we’ll go to the media. This has to be exposed.’
‘One way or the other, Nat. We’ll fry their asses.’
‘And get back to our lives. I can’t wait to marry you.’
‘Crazy about you. Sleep tight, babe. This’ll be over tomorrow.’
‘I can’t wait for that either. Love you. Night.’
“Civilians,” Eve said with a churning mix of pity and anger.“Playing detective. They’d gone to the cops, they’d be alive.”
“Had something hot,” McNab agreed.“Bribes and threats, ending in bloody murder. I’ll push back further, maybe she dropped more detail earlier in the game. Seems pretty clear it was something she came across at her work.”
“Still waiting for the fucking warrant for her files. Lawyers. Damn it. Somebody wants to, they’ve had plenty of time to pull incriminating, do some major covering up.”
“Everything leaves a trail. EDD bloodhounds will sniff it out.” He pulled out the disc, passed it to Eve.“Damn shame about them. You could see they had the real thing going.”
“They’d stuck with numbers, left the bad guys to us, they’d still have it going.”
But she was heavy with that pity as she pushed out of the booth.
“Go back,” she said to McNab.“Keep going back. Seems to me if someone had contacted her via ‘link on this thing, she’d have kept a record of the transmission. She thought she was setting up a case. Accountants, they’re all about columns and balancing things out, keeping records. If there was electronic contact, she’s got it somewhere.”
Or had it, Eve thought as she gratefully headed out of Club EDD. She’d have told her killer anything he wanted to know before he was done with her.
Eve hit the lab on her way home. Her goal was to pin down Dick Berenski, chief lab tech, into passing on whatever they had to this point. But as she moved through the tunnels and glass-walled labs and cubes, she spotted Harvo, a tech she’d worked with before.
Harvo’s short, spiked red hair was covered with a protective cap painted, Eve noted, with naked men.“Nice hat.”
“Fun where you find it.” Harvo snapped gum the color of healthy lungs.“You looking for Dickhead, he’s gone. Got leave, a few days south - probably half-juiced by now and hitting on some unfortunate woman who just wants to drink her pińa colada in peace.”
“Who’s running the asylum?”
“Yon’s got this tour, but he’s in the field. Pulled up a floater from the East River. Being that’s his favorite variety, he went out to the scene. You want, I can run you through what we’ve got on your double murder.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Live to serve.”
Instead of taking Eve to Berenski’s domain, Harvo wound her way through the maze to her own workstation.“You looking to do field work, Harvo?”
“Nah. I like my hive.” She boosted onto her stool, hooked her thick-soled, high-topped black and green sneakers on the rung.“And the whole dead body thing isn’t big on my list of appeals. I just cruise on the evidence, you know?” Wiggling her butt on the stool, she played her long, varnished nails over a keyboard.
“I didn’t process your tape. Tech who did just left for the day. Prob’ly shot you the report before, but since you’re here…”
“Since I’m here.”
“Tape on both murders came from the same roll. See here? You got your end from female vic’s ankles, dead match with the end from the male vic’s hands. Took hours to straighten those suckers out, but you got your match. Garden variety duct tape.”
“Don’t suppose we got a miracle and found prints.”
“Not a one. Some DNA though. None on the female DB, nothing under her nails. Prints on the scene - murder one - vic’s, second vic, sister of first vic. Blood spatter, all vic’s. She didn’t do any damage. But your male DB got some licks in.”
“You got DNA from scene two.”
“Not all the blood at the second scene was your vic’s. Got nice samples off the second vic’s knuckles. He popped the bastard. You get him, we can match him. Prints up the waz, second scene.”
“Doing reno there.”
“Yeah, we got that. You got plenty there to clear. We’ll run them for you, give you names and locations. Nothing on the body, as per your first. But what we got on your male vic was blood and saliva - not his. Cord used to strangle second vic was cut from binding on scene.”
“Took his fun where he found it, too.”
“You could say. Here’s a little something. Outside locks on female’s building were complete shit. Broke ‘em in with a smooth, round object. Little hammer maybe. Whack, whack, you’re in. Better locks upstairs. Used locksmith tools on those.”
She’d seen that for herself, but Eve nodded.“Came prepared. Knew about the fresh lock.”
“So, anyways, we’ll get your ID on the prints, second scene, so you can run ‘em.”
“Appreciate it.”
Kept an eye on her, Eve thought as she battled her way home through the cranky wall of traffic. Bribed her first - probably going to kill her anyway. Copperfield thought the bribe bought her time, but it bought her killer time, too. Planning and prep time. Something hot enough to kill for twice was too hot to take chances with a payoff. Back to the accounting firm - just had to be. She needed those damn files. Using the dash ‘link, she contacted Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Cher Reo.
“I’m on my way out,” Reo said.“I have an actual date. Don’t screw with me.”
“I have two bodies in the morgue. I want my warrant. Don’t screw with me.”
“Do you know how much paper a lawyer can generate in a few hours?”
“Is that one of those questions like how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”
Reno smiled sourly.“Runs down the same channel.”
“Why would angels dance on a pin? Wouldn’t they rather boogie in the clouds?”
“I would.” Reo’s lips curved slyly.“But I’m not an angel.”
“Me either. Now, enough of this philosophizing. About those lawyers, about my warrant.”
“I’m going to get it, Dallas, but I’m not going to get it before morning. We’re not just talking lawyers, we’re talking really rich lawyers with big, fat retainers and hordes of legal drones who can find a precedent in a haystack.”
“A haystack? What does that mean?”
“Never mind.” Reo sighed, long and deep.“It’s been a day, that’s the best I can say about it. I’ve got a judge reviewing their last block right now. If he’s not too big on having, say, an actual meal or a life, he may rule on it within a couple hours. I hear, you hear.”
“The minute,” Eve said, then cut off.
Too much time, she thought. Too much time screwing around the system. Whoever killed Natalie and Bick - or ordered them killed - had probably started deleting or adjusting the files immediately.
She hoped McNab was right about the EDD hounds digging up the scent she had a feeling was being covered up even as the lawyers dug through their haystack.
But if EDD let her down, she had a very sleek, very smart hound of her own.
So thinking, she drove through the gates of home.
5
BECAUSE HER MIND WAS ON OTHER THINGS, Summerset caught Eve off guard as she came in the door.
“Do you require change-of-address forms?”
“Huh? What?” She yanked herself back to the moment, then immediately regretted it. He was in her moment, the bony, black-suited pain in her ass.“Can’t you find another place to haunt? I hear there’s one available down on East Twelfth.”
His lips thinned - if, she thought, it was possible for what passed as his lips to compress in an even tighter line.“I assumed as you no longer appear to live here, you’d need the proper forms.”
She pulled off her coat, tossed it on the newel post.“Yeah, get those forms, I’ll fill them out.” She started up the stairs.“How many M’s in Summerset anyway?”
She left him behind in the grand foyer. Roarke was probably home, she decided, but she’d wait until she was out of the hearing of those demon ears before she checked on one of the house scanners. She was tempted to go straight into the bedroom, fall flat on the bed for twenty minutes. But with the case weighing on her, she continued up to her office.
He was there, pouring wine.
“Long day for you, Lieutenant. Thought you could use this.”
“Couldn’t hurt.” Either the man was psychic or she was pretty damn predictable.“Been home long?”
“A couple of hours.”
She frowned, checked the time.“It’s later than I thought. Sorry. I should have done the call home thing, probably.”
“Couldn’t have hurt.” But he moved to her, handed her the glass. Then he took her chin in his free hand, studied her face before he touched his lips to hers.“Long, hard day.”
“I’ve had shorter and easier.”
“And from the look of you, you’re going to make it longer. Red meat?”
“Why is everyone speaking in code around here?”
He smiled, ran his fingertip along the dent in her chin.“You could use a steak. Yes, pizza would be easier to eat at your desk,” he continued, anticipating her.“Consider having a meal that requires utensils payment for not checking in.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
“We’ll have it up in the conservatory.” To avoid protest, he simply took her arm and led her to the elevator.“It’ll clear your head.”
He was probably right, and in Roarke’s world it was a simple matter to order real meat and all the trimmings, have a meal with wine, even candles, in a lush setting where the lights of the city twinkled and gleamed beyond black glass, and a cheerful fire crackled away.
There were times she wondered that she didn’t get whiplash from the culture shock.
“Nice,” she said and tried to adjust her mind, her mood.
“Tell me about the victim.”
“Victims. It can wait.”
“They’re in your head. We’ll both do better if you talk it through.”
“So, you don’t want to chat about politics, the weather, the latest celebrity gossip over dinner?”
He smiled, sat back, gestured with his glass.
She told him, going step by step through both murders, the timing, the method, the background.
“Listening to them talk to each other? It just hit. They had something. It went beyond the surface, you get me? Beyond that gooey first stage of attraction.”
“The potential they had… It’s not just one or even two people being snuffed out, but the potential of what they might have made together.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” She stared through that black glass to the lights of a city that offered the very best, and the very worst.“Pisses me off.”
“You’re rarely anything but pissed at murderers.”
“That’s a given. I mean they piss me off, the vics. What the hell were they thinking?” Frustration rippled through her, into her eyes, her voice.“Why didn’t they go to the cops? They’re dead not only because somebody wanted them dead, but because they were playing at something they couldn’t possibly win.”
“Many of us don’t automatically run to the police.”
“Some of you run from them,” she said dryly.“She had that new lock installed just two days before. Tells me she’s got some concerns. She takes a knife into the bedroom with her - or I have to assume she did from my read of the scene. Tells me she was scared. But…” She stabbed viciously at a bite of steak.“At the same time she says nothing to her defenseless sister who’s coming to spend the night. She doesn’t, at the very least, hole up with her boyfriend.”
And you’re suffering some, Roarke thought, because it could have been prevented if she’d come to someone like you.“She had a sense of independence, then, and an underlying certainty she was handling and could handle the situation.”
Eve shook her head.“It’s that ‘It can’t really happen to me’ attitude. The same one that gets people to stroll around in bad neighborhoods or flip off the expense of decent security. Violence happens to the other guy. And you know what else?” she added, waving her fork.“They were into it. Wow, look what we’ve uncovered. We’re going to blow it open - and do interviews, be important.”
“Ordinary people, ordinary lives, and then something that pulls them out of that. The accounting firm has an excellent reputation.”
“But you don’t use them. I checked. Mostly because I thought what a big, complicated mess if you did.”
“I considered them once upon a time. I found Sloan too stuffy and rigid.”
“Isn’t that the definition of accountants?”
“Shame on you,” he said with a laugh.“Such a cliché. There are people, darling Eve, who enjoy and are skilled with numbers and finance who are neither stuffy nor rigid.”
“And here I figured you were the exception to the rule. No, I’m just being pissy,” she admitted.“Feel pissy. The firm’s had their lawyers tangling up the warrant all damn day. They’ve got two employees murdered and they’re blocking me from doing my job.”
“By doing theirs,” he pointed out.“Sorry, Lieutenant, but if they didn’t use their muscle, and the law, to do whatever possible to protect their clients’ privacy, they wouldn’t have the reputation they hold.”
“Somebody in there knows what Copperfield and Byson knew. They were cogs, moving into the center of the wheel, but still cogs. Somebody closer in knows.”
He cut another slice of steak.“It wouldn’t be impossible for someone with superior hacking skills to access the files on Copperfield’s office unit.”
She said nothing for a moment because she’d thought the same. She’d considered this streamlined approach.“Can’t do it.”
“Didn’t think you could. And the why is the same as why the firm is paying their lawyers to paper the PA. It’s the job. At this point, you aren’t aware of other lives on the line. You can’t justify the shortcut.”
“No, I can’t.”
“You would be, I imagine, working your way into the wheel. Copperfield’s immediate supervisor.”
“Interviewed her, ran her. I’m not crossing her off, but if she wasn’t genuinely shocked and distressed about Copperfield’s death she’s missed her calling. Doesn’t mean she isn’t aware of, potentially, part of what Copperfield discovered. Why wouldn’t Copperfield go to her supervisor, with whom she had - allegedly - a friendly relationship? Had to assume Greene, the supervisor, knew the secret. Or was afraid of that.”
“You’re so sure it was something discovered at the firm?”
“It all points there. Money laundering, tax evasion, fraud, skimming? Some legit front for something not legit.” She shrugged.“Could be all manner of things. You probably know people who use the firm.”
“I’m sure I do.”
“Something for the back pocket,” she added.“Not just a little skimming or whatever,” she continued.“Not with the level of nerves and excitement it generated, not with the violence of the murders. A big deal. Something that drew an offer of a bribe, and ended with two deaths.”
He considered topping off their wine, but it would be wasted. His dedicated cop wouldn’t indulge herself in a second glass if she was going back to work.“Are you looking at professional hits?”
“Doesn’t feel like it, doesn’t look like it. And why cover that up, if so, and not go further? Make it look like burglary. Rape, personal vendetta. But it wasn’t sloppy either. When I get him, I’m going to be surprised if these were his first kills.”
Down in her office again, she set up a board as she had at Central. With the cat ribboning between his legs, Roarke stood and watched. And studied.
“Hot-tempered and cowardly.”
She stopped, turned.“Why do you say that?”
“Her face, for one. It took several blows to do that to her face. That wouldn’t have been necessary. Would it?”
“No. Keep going.”
Roarke lifted a shoulder.“Binding her hands and feet tightly enough to leave those bruises. That’s anger, I’d think. The burns, bottoms of her feet. There’s a meanness there. And it’s cowardly to strangle her when she was bound - same with the male victim. And the use of the stunner. It just strikes me.”
“Struck me the same. But you missed one. He got some kick out of it. No point seeing their faces when he killed them otherwise. Makes it intimate. Not sexual, but intimate. And he pulled the tape off their mouths before he killed them. Took that extra step. It’s powerful to watch the life go out, to see it and hear it while you cause it. Could’ve done it a lot of other ways, but this method?”
Her eyes flattened as she looked at the pictures she’d tacked up.“You feel it, your muscles, your hands. You hear the chokes, the gasps the tape would’ve muffled. Yeah, there’s temper here, but the power’s bigger.”
She settled into work, unsurprised when the cat padded out after Roarke - who would no doubt be more attentive than she would for the next couple of hours.
She studied the data Peabody had sent to her unit. Copperfield’s neighbors were low on the list, in her opinion. Why bother with a new lock when your potential problem could just make a grab at you in the hallway, in the elevator?
As for Byson’s, they didn’t fit for her either. The source was Copperfield, not her fiancé.
International accounts, Eve thought. That had been Copperfield’s bailiwick. Smuggling was always popular. A glossy client fronting illegals, arms, people smuggling?
She replayed the conversations between the two victims, watched faces, tuned in to voices. Upset, she concluded, some shock, excitement, but not horror or real fear.
Wouldn’t there have been if what they’d found had involved loss of life?
It said white-collar crime to her. High-dollar, white-collar, and at least to their knowledge, nonviolent.
A thought occurred that had her getting up, walking to the door between her office and Roarke’s. But his was empty. Even as she frowned, he spoke from behind her.
“Looking for me?”
“Jesus, you make less noise than the damn cat.”
“Tubs of lard aren’t particularly stealthy. Come to bed.”
“I just wanted to -”
“Twenty hours is enough.” Once again, he took her arm.“Did your warrant come through?”
“About a half hour ago. I’m just going to -”
“Get back to it in the morning.”
“Okay, okay.” She agreed because if he could drag her off without her blocking the move, fatigue was slowing her reaction time.“I was just wondering, as a mogul and all, how many layers does one of your minions have to go through to get to you?”
“It would depend on the minion and the reason he or she wanted to get through to me.”
“But whatever, whoever, there’d be the Caro layer, right?” she asked, referring to his admin.
“Yes, in all probability.”
“Even if the minion made up a bullshit reason, Caro would know there was an appointment, a meeting.”
“Certainly.”
“And each one of those top guys at the firm would have a Caro.”
“There’s only one Caro, and she’s mine. But again, yes, they’d have an admin, and I’d assume an efficient one.”
In the bedroom, she pulled off her boots, then began to undress in a haze that told her whatever she’d had left had dropped out when she’d walked away from the work.
“Going there bright and early,” she mumbled.“Get my hands on those damn files. Asshole lawyers cost me a damn day. Like to kick their asses.”
“That’s right, darling.”
“I heard that smirk.”
She slid into bed, let him draw her in so they were close and warm.“Bought the baby shower present thing today.”
“Good.”
She had a little smirk of her own in the dark.“If Mavis goes into labor during the deal here, you have to drive her to the birth center.”
There was utter silence for a solid ten seconds.“You’re trying to give me nightmares. Very small of you.”
“Somebody told me today you take your fun where you find it.”
“Is that so? Well then.” His hand slid slickly under her nightshirt and cupped her breast.“Look what I found.”
“Sleeping here.”
“I don’t think so.” His thumb stroked over her nipple as his teeth nipped into the nape of her neck.“But go on to sleep if you must. I’ll just have my fun and ward off nightmares. Multitasking.”
As his mouth and hands were all very busy, she could state without question the man knew how to multitask. And the slow, steady simmer of arousal burned away at fatigue until she arched from the pleasure of it.
Her mind went quiet; her blood went hot.
She turned to him, reached for him, her mouth seeking his.
The taste of it, of her, seeped into him until he was drenched in her. With the long line of her pressed against him, her hands gliding, the feel of her seduced the seducer.
He wanted her skin, the rapid beat of the pulse in her throat, the firm curve of her breast. Soft and strong and warm. Her breath caught, released on a low sound of approval; her hips rose in both invitation and demand.
As she moved with him, trembled for him, the need inside him that was never quite tamed leaped free.
Yes, now, she thought. Right now.
It was flash and burn when he plunged inside her, the glorious shock of being taken. She could see his eyes, watching her, even as she flew over the crest. Over it and into a storm of speed and heat.
“With me,” she managed.“Come with me.”
When his lips crushed down on hers, and the storm reached its peak, she felt him fly with her.
Breathless, with her system starting its long slide back, she blinked up at the dark sky window over the bed. He lay over her, his weight pressing hers into the mattress, his heart drumming with hers.
She felt wonderfully sleepy again, as she imagined Galahad might if he came across an unexpected bowl of cream and gorged himself.
“Guess you never know where you’ll find the fun.”
His lips brushed her hair, then he shifted, drawing her back against him again.“I do.”
Snuggled against him, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.
When she woke, Roarke was in the sitting area of the bedroom, scanning the morning reports as was his habit. She smelled coffee, but headed in to shower first.
When she stepped out of the shower, the scent struck her again. Sniffing like a hound she turned and saw a thick mug of it sitting on the counter by the sink.
It made her smile, and go a little soft inside just as she had as she’d drifted into sleep. She took the first glorious hit of coffee naked and dripping, then left it to use the drying tube and pull on a robe.
Carrying the mug with her, she came out, went directly to him. Bending down, she gave him a kiss nearly as strong as the coffee.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I did consider joining you and getting your blood moving in a different manner, but I’m already dressed.” Still looking at Eve, Roarke shot out a finger to his left, and warned Galahad as the cat tried to belly his way toward a bowl of berries.“You look fairly well rested.”
“Sleepy sex then six solid. Not shabby.”
“Said with a smug smile, just to finish off your alliteration.”
“Hah. You’re a sharp, sexy son of a bitch. See, I finish my own alliterations.”
He had to laugh.“Now that you have, sit and have some breakfast, and I’ll tell you what I learned of your top accountants from a business associate.”
“What associate?” She lowered the coffee she’d started to drink.“When?”
“You wouldn’t know him, and shortly ago.”
“Tell me while I get dressed.”
“Eat.”
She heaved a sigh, but dropped down and scooped some of the berries into a smaller bowl.“Spill.”
“Jacob Sloan founded the firm with Carl Myers, the father of the current Carl Myers on the letterhead. Sloan has a very small handful of accounts he continues to oversee personally. He does, however, according to my source, take a very active part in the running of the firm.”
“His ball, he wants to watch where it bounces.”
“I’d say so, yes. Myers handles domestic, corporate, and individual - as did his father - more of the very top individual accounts. Robert Kraus - who was made partner about a decade ago - heads up the legal department, and oversees some of the cream of the foreign and international.”
Roarke nudged a bowl of what looked suspiciously like flakes of tree bark toward her.
“Does he, your associate, know how active any or all of them are in the day-to-day?”
“He tells me very. While they are a layered and multifaceted firm with various departments, department heads, and so forth, they hold a weekly partners’ meeting - that would be only the three of them - a daily briefing, and there are quarterly account reports and employee evals, which each partner is copied on. Very hands on.”
“And if so, difficult for one to slip something shaky by the other two.”
“It would seem, but difficult isn’t impossible or even improbable.”
“Sloan’s the top dog,” Eve muttered.“Probably the hardest for an account exec to get to, one-on-one. And the one who’d make the most sense to try to seek out if you hit on something that seemed off. At least if you believed he wasn’t in on it.”
“And if you did, or weren’t sure, a reason to try to gather as many facts and as much evidence as possible before you went to the authorities.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She ate some of the tree bark without thinking about it.“Bio data I got on Sloan is that self-made stuff. Worked his way up, took risks, beat his own drum, built his firm and rep brick by brick. One marriage - and she has some family dough and prestige - one male offspring, conservative bent. Got a second home in the Caymans.”
“Makes excellent sense, tax-wise,” Roarke said.“And a good way to shelter income. He’d know all the ins and outs there.”
“Copperfield handled foreign accounts. Might be she stumbled on something he was into. Guy founds a firm that takes on a big shine over the years, puts all that time and effort into it, he’d have a lot of pride in it - and a lot at stake.”
She pushed up.“Well, I’m going to go see what I think of him.” Leaning over, she kissed him.“If I need help interpreting some of the numbers, are you up for it?”
“I could be.”
“Good to know. Later.”
She had Peabody and McNab meet her in the lobby of the building that housed the accounting firm. As ordered, four uniforms with banker’s boxes for transporting items were already in place.
McNab wore a coat that looked as if it had been used as a canvas for fingerpainting by a hyperactive toddler.
“Couldn’t you just try to look like a cop?”
He only grinned.“We get up there, I’ll wear a really stern expression.”
“Yeah, that’ll make a difference.”
She strode across the lobby, flashed her badge and the warrant at Security. He was already wearing a stern expression, and kept it in place as he scanned IDs and paperwork.
“My orders are to have you escorted up.”
“See these?” Eve tapped both badge and warrant.“These override your orders. You want to hitch onto the elevator with us, no problem. But we’re going up now.”
He signaled quickly to another guard, then fell in step behind Eve as she crossed to the elevators. They rode up in silence. When the doors opened there were two suits, one of each gender, waiting.
“Identification and authority, please.” The woman spoke snippily, then studied the three badges and the warrant.“These appear to be in order. My associate and I will accompany you to Ms. Copperfield’s office.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Mr. Kraus is on his way. If you’ll just wait -”
“Did you just read this?” Eve lifted the warrant again.“It doesn’t require me to wait.”
“Simply courtesy -”
“You should have thought about courtesy before you held my investigation hostage for more than twenty-four hours.” Eve headed off in the direction she and Peabody had taken the day before.
“Privacy matters,” the woman began as she quickened her pace to match Eve’s stride.
“Yeah, so does murder. You bogged me up. Kraus wants to talk to me, he can talk while we’re getting the files and electronics.” She swung into Natalie’s office.“This warrant authorizes me to confiscate any and all data, disc, and hard copy, any and all files, notes, communications, personal property - hell, let’s cut it down. I’m authorized to take everything inside this room. Let’s load it up,” she said to Peabody and McNab.
“Our client files are highly sensitive.”
In a flash, Eve rounded on her.“You know what else is sensitive? The human body. You want to see what was done to Natalie Copperfield’s?” Eve made a move to reach into her file bag.
“No, I don’t. And we’re very distressed about what happened to Ms. Copperfield and Mr. Byson. We’re very sympathetic to their families.”
“Yeah, I slapped up against your distress and sympathy a few times yesterday.” Eve pulled open a desk drawer.
“Lieutenant Dallas.”
The man who entered was well turned-out, middle fifties in a stone-gray suit and blinding white shirt. He had a prominent nose and dark eyes in a strong face with an olive complexion. His hair was ink black, brushed back in waves that made wings out of the silver he’d either let come into his temples or had put there for effect.
She recognized him from the ID shot she’d accessed as Robert Kraus.
“Mr. Kraus.”
“I wonder if I could impose on you for a short time. If your associates could continue to deal with this business, my partners and I would like to speak with you in our conference room.”
“We’ve got Byson’s office to do next.”
He looked just a little pained, but nodded.“Understood. We’ll try not to keep you long.”
Eve turned to Peabody.“Everything. Boxed and labeled. Uniforms to transport if I’m not back before you’re done. I’ll find you.”
“First let me apologize for the delay,” Kraus began as he gestured Eve into the corridor.“Ethically and legally we’re obliged to protect our clients.”
“Ethically and legally I’m obliged to protect the rights of the victims.”
“Understood.” He walked past the bank of office elevators to a private car.“I knew both Natalie and Bick, and they had both my professional and personal respect. Kraus to sixty-five,” he said into the speaker.
“Did either of them speak with you about a potential problem, personal or professional?”
“No. But it would have been highly unusual for either of them to do so, certainly if it was personal. If there was a problem or question with one of their accounts, they would have gone to their department head, who - if necessary - would have reported to me or one of the other partners. Certainly, the partners would expect a report or memo on such a circumstance, even if it was resolved.”
“And did you receive such a report or memo?”
“No, I did not. I’m puzzled why you believe or suspect that what happened to them has anything to do with Sloan, Myers, and Kraus.”
“I haven’t told you what I believe or suspect,” Eve said evenly.“Investigating all areas of their lives, their movements, their communications, is standard and routine.”
“Of course.”
The car stopped, and once again he gestured Eve ahead of him.
Here was the power center, she realized. As was so often the case, power - like heat - rose to the top.
A wall of glass with a pale gold sheen let in the city with a gilded light that made statements of industry and wealth. Plush carpeting of deep red was bordered with dark, thick wood. There was no reception area here, no waiting alcove. Eve imagined any client worthy of this floor would never be expected to check in or cool heels.
Instead there was a seating area of lush sofas, thick tables, obviously arranged for informal or personal chats. It boasted a small, stylish bar where she assumed the tony clients could request their drink of choice.
Space and silence were the watchwords here. Office doors were few and distant, and all were dominated by an inner wall of that golden glass. Kraus escorted her over to the wall, subtly waving a hand in front of a small security eye. Glass whisked open to reveal the large conference room behind it.
With the city rising behind them, the other two partners sat at a mile-long table.
The younger, Carl Myers, rose. His black suit was softened by a thin silver chalk stripe. There was a black mourning band around the left sleeve. His hair was a wavy, medium brown brushed high off his forehead. His eyes, a soft hazel, met Eve’s directly as he came around the table and extended his hand.
“Lieutenant Dallas, I’m Carl Myers. We’re sorry to meet you under such tragic circumstances.”
“I meet most people under tragic circumstances.”
“Of course.” He never missed a beat. Handsome, fit, he gestured toward the head of the table where Jacob Sloan sat.“Please, have a seat. Is there anything we can get for you?”
“No, thanks.”
“Jacob Sloan, Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Roarke’s cop.”
It was a term she was used to now, even when it was said with a hint of derision. Still, she tapped the badge she’d hooked on her belt.“This makes me the NYPSD’s cop.”
He acknowledged that with a faint lift of silver eyebrows. He struck her as honed, face and body, as though he whittled himself down to sheer power. His eyes were stone gray, his suit stark black. Like his face, his body, his hands were thin but with a look of steely strength.
He didn’t offer one to Eve.
“You, as a representative of the police department, are infringing on the rights of our clients.”
“Somebody really infringed the hell out of the rights of Natalie Copperfield and Bick Byson.”
His mouth tightened, but his eyes never wavered.“This firm takes both of those difficult circumstances very seriously. The death of two of our employees -”
“Murder,” Eve corrected.
“As you say,” he agreed with a nod.“The murder of two of our employees is shocking and tragic, and we will cooperate with your investigation to the letter of the law.”
“Not much choice there, Mr. Sloan. How about the spirit of it?”
“Please, let me get you some coffee,” Myers began.
“I don’t want any coffee.”
“The spirit of the law is subjective, isn’t it?” Sloan continued.“Your concept of it may very well veer from mine, and certainly is bound to veer from our clients’ - who expect, who demand, that we protect their privacy. The circumstances of this terrible thing will reverberate throughout this firm. The concern that sensitive financial data will be viewed by eyes not cleared by this firm to do so will distress our clients. I’m sure as the wife of a powerful, influential, and wealthy man, you understand that.”
“First, I’m not here as anyone’s wife but as the primary investigator of a double murder. Second, the distress of your clients, whoever they may be, isn’t a priority for me.”
“You’re a sarcastic, difficult woman.”
“Having a couple of dead bodies on my hands that were beaten, tortured, and strangled just doesn’t bring out my sunny side.”
“Lieutenant.” Myers spread his hands.“We understand completely that you have a responsibility to fulfill. As we do. And believe me, everyone here wants those responsible for what happened to Natalie and Bick caught and punished. Our concerns on a secondary front are for our clients who trust and depend on us. There are people - competitors, if you will - business adversaries, ex-spouses, the media, who would go to considerable lengths to learn the contents of the files you’re confiscating today.”
“Are you insinuating I’d be open to a bribe by one of these parties to pass on that information?”
“No, no, not at all. But others who lack your integrity may be tempted.”
“Any and all who’ll have access to the information in those files will be hand-picked by me or my commander. You want reassurance that the data will remain secure, you have it. On my word. Unless such information is determined to be the motive behind or connected to the murders of Copperfield and Byson. That’s the best you get.”
She waited a beat.“Since we’re all here, let’s clear up some business. I’ll need your whereabouts for the night of the murders. Midnight to four A. M.”
Sloan laid his hands on the table in front of him.“You consider us suspects?”
“I’m a cynical so-and-so. Your whereabouts, Mr. Sloan.”
He drew breath through his nose, expelled it.“Until approximately twelve-thirty, my wife and I were entertaining our grandson and his friend. At that time, they left our home and my wife and I retired. I remained home with my wife until the following morning when I left for the office. At seven-thirty.”
“Names, please? Grandson and his friend.”
“His name is mine. He was named for me. His friend is Rochelle DeLay.”
“Thank you. Mr. Myers?”
“I was entertaining out-of-town clients - Mr. and Mrs. Helbringer from Frankfurt, their son and daughter-in-law - until sometime after one A. M. We were at the Rainbow Room.” He smiled wanly.“And, naturally, I have the receipts. My wife and I returned home, went to bed just before two, I believe. I left for work the next day about eight-thirty.”
“And how can I contact your clients?”
“Oh, God.” He pushed a hand through his hair.“I suppose you must. They’re staying at the Palace. Your husband’s, I believe.”
“Small world. And Mr. Kraus.”
“Also entertaining clients with my wife, in my home. Madeline Bullock, and her son Winfield Chase, of the Bullock Foundation. They were our guests for a couple of days while they were in New York. We had dinner and played cards. Until about midnight, I believe.”
“I’ll need to contact them.”
“They’re traveling. I believe they’re making a stop or two on their way back to London, where the Foundation is based.”
So, she’d track them down.
“Mr. Kraus has stated that neither of the victims approached him with any questions or any problems pertaining to their jobs, or their personal lives. Did they approach either of you?”
“No.” Sloan said it flatly.
“I spoke with Bick a few days before this happened,” Myers began.“Regarding the execution of a trust fund for a client’s new grandchild. He never mentioned a problem.”
“Thank you. It may be necessary for me to speak with all of you again, and will certainly be necessary for me to interview the supervisors and associates of the victims in this matter.”
“Gentlemen, would you excuse us.” Sloan lifted a hand.“I’d like a word with Lieutenant Dallas in private.”
“Jacob,” Kraus began.
“I don’t need legal counsel, for God’s sake, Robert. Leave us alone.”
When they were, Sloan pushed away from the table, walked to the wall of glass.“I liked that girl.”
“Excuse me?”
“Natalie. I liked her. Fresh, bright, had a spark in her. She was friendly with my grandson. Friendly,” Sloan repeated as he turned.“They worked in the same department. Her department head was about to put her up for promotion. She would have gotten it. I spoke with her parents this morning. You think there’s no compassion here? No sympathy? There’s more.”
Those thin hands fisted.“There’s rage. This firm is a home to me. I built it. Someone came into my home and killed two of my people. I want you to find the bastard. But if, in the course of your investigation, confidential data regarding clients of this firm leaks, I’ll have your job.”
“Then we understand each other, Mr. Sloan. As long as you understand that if, during the course of my investigation, I learn that you had any part - directly, indirectly - in those murders, I’ll have you in a cage.”
He crossed to her, and this time, held out his hand.“Then we have a perfect understanding.”
6
EVE FOUND PEABODY AND THE REST OF THE team finishing up in Byson’s office.
“McNab, I want you to go with the officers to transport all these items to Central. I want you with the boxes and their contents every step of the way. You personally log them in. And lock them up - conference room five. I’ve cleared that with the commander. Take the electronics directly to Feeney.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Those electronics are to be logged a second time into EDD, with your code and with Feeney’s.”
He lifted his brows.“We got national security in here?”
“We’ve got our asses in there, so if you don’t want yours in a sling, log and document every step. Peabody, you and I are going to get some statements from associates. You take this department, and Byson’s people. Do another round with his supervisor. I’ll take Copperfield’s.”
She started out.“Every step of the way, McNab,” she repeated, then took the elevator to Natalie’s department. She knew just where she wanted to start.
“I need to speak with Jacob Sloan, the grandson.”
This time around the receptionist didn’t hesitate, but simply beeped an interoffice ‘link.“Jake? A Lieutenant Dallas would like to speak with you. Of course.”
“Third door, left,” Eve was told.“Excuse me? Would you - do you know anything about a memorial?”
“No. Sorry. I’m sure the family will make an announcement.”
She followed the direction and found Jake Sloan waiting just outside his office door. He was built like his grandfather, but youth made him lanky. His hair was a dark blond, pulled back in a fat little tail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a bleak sea foam.
“You’re the one who’s in charge of Natalie and Bick’s murders. Investigating their murders, I mean. I’m Jake Sloan.”
“I’d like to speak to you. Privately.”
“Yeah, come on in. You want something?” he asked as he closed the door behind her.
“No, thanks.”
“I can’t settle.” He paced around a small office with posters in geometric shapes and primary colors on the walls. There were toys on his desk - or what she thought of as toys, in any case. A bright red squeeze ball mocked up like a devil with horns, a cartoon dog on a fat spring, a curly tube that rocked on a string and changed colors with the movements.
He walked to a tiny refreshment area and pulled a bottle of water from a minifriggie.
“I almost didn’t come in today,” he told Eve.“But I couldn’t stand the idea of staying home. Staying alone.”
“You and Natalie knew each other well.”
“We were pals.” His smile was shaky and brief.“Had lunch together a couple days a week maybe, with Bick if he could make it. Gossip in the break room, hang out. We’d go out together a couple of times a month, usually. Nat and Bick, me and whatever girl I was seeing. One girl the last six months.”
He dropped down in his chair.“I’m rambling. You don’t care about any of that.”
“Actually, I do. Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Natalie?”
“No.” She saw the gleam of tears before he turned his head to stare hard at the image of a blue circle inside a red triangle framed on the wall.“People liked Nat. I don’t understand how this could happen. Her and Bick. Both of them. I keep thinking it’s going to be some awful mistake and she’ll poke her head in the door and say, ‘Skinny latte?’”
He turned back, tried that smile again.“We’d get lattes in the break room.”
“Were you and Natalie ever involved romantically, sexually?”
“Oh, jeez, no. It wasn’t like that.” Spots of color rode on his cheeks now.“Sorry, it’s kind of like thinking about nailing my sister, you know? We just hit it off, day one. Friends, like we’d known each other already. And I don’t guess either of us were what the other was looking for that way. Nat, she was looking for Bick. They were, like, fated, you know? You could just see it. God.”
He propped his elbows on the desk, lowered his head to his hands.“It just makes me sick to think what happened to them.”
“Did she say anything to you about any concerns, any problems? Since you were close, would she have told you if something was bothering her?”
“I’d have thought she would, but she didn’t. And something was.”
Eve zeroed in.“How do you know?”
“Because I knew her. I could see it. But she wouldn’t talk about it. Said she was handling it, not to worry. I teased her that she was getting wedding jitters, going to do a runaway bride, and she played along. But you know, that wasn’t it.” He shook his head.“She was anxious about the details of the wedding, but not getting married, if you get what I mean.”
“So what was it?”
“I think it was an account. I think she was having trouble with one of her accounts.”
“Why?”
“Worked with her door locked a lot the last couple weeks. That wasn’t Nat.”
“Any idea which account?”
He shook his head again.“I didn’t push. All of us have at least a couple of accounts that we can’t discuss with other people in the department. I guess I thought she was losing a big client and trying to put out the fire. Happens.”
He looked away again, back to the blue circle inside the red triangle.“We were all supposed to go out this Saturday. The four of us. I don’t know how they could be dead.”
There was a knock, then the door opened.“Jake. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Dad.” Jake pushed to his feet.“Ah, this is Lieutenant Dallas, with the police. My father, Randall Sloan.”
“Lieutenant.” Randall took her hand, held it firm.“You’re here about Natalie and Bick. We’re all in… I guess we’re in a daze.”
“You knew them.”
“Yes, very well. It’s such a shock, such a loss. I’ll come back later, Jake. I just wanted to see how you were.”
“It’s all right,” Eve told him.“I’m about done.” She flipped through her memory of the pecking order.“You’re a vice president of the firm.”
“That’s right.”
But not a partner, Eve thought, despite his expensive suit, his glossy looks.“As such, did you have much contact with either victim?”
“Not much, not at the office. Of course, Nat and Bick were friends of my son’s, so I knew them better outside the office than most of our account execs.” Randall moved to his son, laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder.“They were a lovely couple.”
“Did either of them express any concerns to you, inside or outside the office?”
“Why, no.” Randall’s brow furrowed.“They were both excellent at their work, and happy - as far as I know - in their personal lives.”
“I need to ask - it’s routine - about your whereabouts on the night of the murders.”
“I was entertaining clients. Sasha Zinka and Lola Warfield. We had cocktails and dinner at Enchantment downtown, then went on to Club One to hear some jazz.”
“What time did you pack it in for the night?”
“It must have been close to two when we left the club. We shared a cab uptown, I dropped them off. I can’t be sure, but I think it was nearly three when I got home.”
“Thanks.”
“My girlfriend and I were at Pop’s - my grandfather’s,” Jake said when Eve looked at him.“I guess we left there around midnight, twelve-thirty. Went to my place from there. She stayed over.”
“Appreciate the time.” Eve got to her feet.“If I have any more questions, I’ll be in touch.”
Eve went from office to office, interrupting meetings and ‘link calls, wading through tears and anxiety. Everyone liked Nat and Bick, nobody knew of any problems. She got a little more out of the account assistant Natalie had shared with two other execs.
She found Sarajane Bloomdale in the break room, sniffling over a cup of tea that smelled like wet moss. She was a tiny woman with a short black balloon of hair that cut across her eyebrows in thick, ruler-straight bangs. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her nose pink.
“Been out for a couple days,” Sarajane told Eve.“Caught a head cold. Sucks, you know? Mostly, I was sleeping it off, and then yesterday Maize - she’s one of the other assistants - she called me. Hysterical, crying. She told me. I didn’t believe her. I kept saying, ‘That’s just bullshit, Maize.’ I kept saying that, and she kept saying how it’s true, they’re dead. And I’d say -”
“I get it. How long did you work with Natalie?”
“About two years. She was great. Didn’t expect me to run around doing all the grunt work likesome. They’ll run your feet off around here. But Natalie was great. Organized, you know? You didn’t have to forever find where she forgot she put something. And she’d remember stuff like your birthday, or just bring in pastries now and then. And when I broke up with my boyfriend a couple months ago, she took me out to lunch.”
“Was she working on anything specific the last couple weeks? Did she make any unusual requests?”
“Nothing out of the usual. She was working on something, locked her door a lot lately.” Sarajane glanced around Eve, checking the doorway.“I sort of figured she was doing wedding stuff,” Sarajane whispered.“We’re not supposed to do personal business on company time, but, you know, your wedding and all.”
“How about transmissions made through you, correspondence she asked you to send?”
“Just the routine stuff. But you know, she logged back in after hours a couple times lately. I happened to notice when I checked her daily calendar on her office unit. Just noticed the log-in. I guess I said something to her about it. Like I said, ‘Gee, Natalie, your nose is going to fall off if you keep it to the grindstone.’ And she looked kinda funny about it and asked if I wouldn’t mention it to anybody. She was just catching up on some work.”
“Did you mention it to anyone?”
“I might’ve. Just in passing.”
“To?”
“I dunno. Maybe to Maize, or to Ricko down in Legal. We’re kind of going out, me and Ricko. I might’ve said how she was working too hard and it was too bad, ‘cause it was making her tired. I could tell. And she should relax more with her guy. And watch out for that piranha who worked with him.”
“Which piranha would that be?”
“Lilah Grove. Quinn - she’s an assistant down there - she says Ms. Grove’s flirting with Mr. Byson every chance, asking him to come into her office and help her out, discuss clients over coffee or lunch.”
Sarajane managed an expression between a scowl and a sneer.“Got her sights on him, you know? Guys can fall for that crap. I even told Natalie about it. She was my boss, right? So I told her, but she just laughed it off.”
“Okay. Do you know if Natalie made any appointments to talk to one of the brass around here? If she intended to have a meeting with any of them?”
“Didn’t ask me to set anything up. Um, you cops have mostly taken all my work stuff. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Couldn’t tell you.”
Eve finished up with Cara Greene, stepping to the office doorway just as the woman was popping a tiny blue pill.
“Blocker,” she said.“Vicious headache. It’s a completely horrible day.”
“Do you know why Natalie logged back into the office unit after working hours?”
“No.” Cara frowned.“We all work late, and this time of year we’ve revved up into tax season. But… I’ve certainly known Natalie to work late, to stay at her desk for a couple of hours after end of business. And we won’t even talk about the four weeks before April fifteen when most of us just live here. But it wasn’t her usual routine to go then come back.
“Do you want to sit? I need to sit. I’m not feeling very well.” She lowered to a chair.“Fielding frantic or angry calls from clients about their accounts being pawed over by the police is very unpleasant. Trying to play mother to the staff here when they come by to cry on my shoulder about Natalie, or allay their fears that something might happen to them. And trying to think, to think if you’re right and this horrible thing has anything to do with her work, what I missed. What I should know.”
“And nothing comes to mind.”
“Nothing does. I have to think it was some sort of personal business. Someone who wanted to hurt them, was jealous or angry. I don’t know.”
“Was there jealousy here in the office?”
“A sense of competition, certainly. And certainly not everyone is best friends. But I honestly can’t think of anyone who held a grudge or genuinely bad thoughts about Natalie.”
“Do you know Lilah Grove?”
“The Femme Fatale of Individual Accounts.” Cara’s lips curved in a little smile.“And, yes, I’ve heard the gossip that she was overly friendly with Bick. It didn’t worry Natalie, and I never heard anything about Lilah and Natalie arguing or even having strong words.”
Maybe they saved them for end of business, Eve thought as she went down to meet Peabody.
“Did you get a statement from a Lilah Grove?”
“What is this, a sixth sense thing?” Peabody demanded.“She was the first I was going to brief you on.”
“Department’s sex queen. Hit on Byson. What’s your take on her?”
“A little hard, with a very sharp edge. Vain, ambitious. Likes to flaunt both. Claimed the flirtation was mutual and harmless and expressed disgust and annoyance - both seemed false - that anyone in her department of the firm would gossip about her that way. Watered up a few times when talking about the vics, but never smeared her enhancements - which appear to be expertly applied and really pricey. She wears Do Me.”
“What?”
“It’s perfume. The real thing, not the off-brand or the cheaper eau de whatever. I like to go in and get sprayed with it when I troll the higher-end department stores.”
“You’re the one?”
“The one what?”
“The one person in the known universe who likes to get sprayed by those spritz guerrillas.”
Peabody stiffened her shoulders, lifted her head high.“We are more than one. We are a small, yet sweet-smelling army.”
“Yeah, I bet Do Me smells like a sweet, sunny meadow. I’m going to do a quick followup with Grove before we head back.”
“Second office, right.”
“I’ll do it solo. Check in with McNab.”
“Yes, sir. And, Dallas?” Peabody’s smile was sly.“When I wear Do me, he does.” She strolled off, whistling.
“Asked for that one,” Eve mumbled.
The door to the office was open. Eve saw a blonde with long, sleek waves, tipped back in a caramel-colored leather chair, examining her manicure as she talked on a headset.
There were flowers in the office, and a chrome coat rack held a long red coat and white scarf. The coffee mug on the desk was also red with a flashy white L scripted on it.
The blonde wore a blue suit with a frill of lace in the V in lieu of a blouse. The eyes that flicked to Eve were a bold cat green.“Hang on. Can I help you?”
Eve held up her badge, and Lilah cast her eyes to the ceiling.“I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to get back to you. I’ll have that information for you before two o’clock. Absolutely. Bye.”
She pulled off the headset, laid it on the desk.“I’ve already talked to one of you.”
“Now you can talk to me. Lieutenant Dallas.”
“At least I’m going up the ladder. Look, I’m sorry about Bick and Natalie. It’s an awful shock for everyone who knew them. But I’ve got work.”
“Funny, so do I. You and Bick have something going on the side?”
“Well, you’re certainly more direct than the other detective I spoke with. Just a little office flirtation. Harmless.”
“And out of the office?”
She shrugged, a careless and fluid gesture.“Didn’t get that far. Maybe with a little more time.”
“No problem poaching, then.”
Smiling, Lilah took another look at her nails.“He wasn’t married yet.”
“What’s the problem, Lilah? Can’t get a man of your own?”
Eve saw it, a flash of temper - hot and sharp.“Anyone I want.”
“Except Bick.”
“You’re a bitchy one, aren’t you?”
“You bet. Why Bick?”
“He was great to look at, going places, terrific body. Looked to me like he’d be good in the sack. We might’ve made a good team, in and out of it.”
“Must have pissed you off he wasn’t biting.”
“He didn’t want to bang me, that was his problem, and his loss. If you think I killed him and his little sweetheart because of that, you should check with your detective. I’ve got two alibis. Twins. Six-two, two-twenty, and dumb as posts. I wore both of them out, but it took me until after three in the morning.”
“What was Bick’s top account?”
“Wendall James, LLC,” she said without a second’s hesitation.
“And who gets that account now that he’s dead?”
Lilah angled her head.“Officially? It hasn’t been decided. Unofficially? I’ll make sure I do. I don’t have to kill for accounts, honey. I just have to be good at what I do.”
“I bet you are,” Eve said, and leaving it at that went back to join Peabody downstairs.
She’s what my granny calls a tough cookie.”
“I don’t get that.” Eve whipped away from the curb and headed back to Central.“If a cookie’s tough, you throw it away. She’s the type that knows how to stick.”
“It just means… never mind. You think she’s in it?”
“Could be. But that kind doesn’t have to kill to get what she wants. She’d use her brains, her sex, cheat, maybe steal. She could seduce someone else into doing her dirty work, but what’s the point here? Byson’s out of the picture, maybe she cops some of his accounts, gets promoted quicker. But why Copperfield? And she was primary target. What did you get on the alibis?”
“Okay, on Jake Sloan it’s DeLay, Rochelle. Twenty-five, single, works in Catering at the Palace.”
“She’s one of Roarke’s?”
“Well, sort of. Her father’s DeLay, hot-shot head chef at the Palace. She’s been employed there for about two years. No criminal.”
Eve hung a left.“We’ll drop by, confirm the alibi face-to-face. Next?”
“On Randall Sloan. Sasha Zinka and Lola Warfield. Forty-eight and forty-two respectively. Married for twelve years. Big money - generational money on Zinka. They’re Femme.”
“Which is?”
“Extreme high-end enhancements. The company was founded by Zinka’s great-grandfather, and remains one of the few independent companies of its size and scope. They own designer spas, where their products are used and sold. Few little brushes here and there on Zinka. Assault, property damage. Punched a cop.”
“Really?”
“No time served. Lots of big fines, a number of civil suits. Nothing in the last decade on her.”
“Youthful hijinks. Got a temper.”
“More big money on Kraus’s alibis, Madeline Bullock and Winfield Chase. Mother and son. Bullock, Sam, was her second husband - no offspring from there. Bullock, Sam, died at the age of one-twelve. They’d been married five years. She was forty-six.”
“Isn’t that romantic?”
“Heart-tugging. First husband was younger, a callow seventy-three to her twenty-two.”
“Wealthy?”
“Was - not Sam Bullock wealthy, but well-stocked. Got eaten by a shark.”
“Step off.”
“Seriously. Scuba diving out in the Great Barrier Reef. He was eighty-eight. And this shark cruises along and chomp, chomp.”
She gave Eve a thoughtful look.“Ending as shark snacks is in my top-ten list of ways I don’t want to go out. How about you?”
“It may rank as number one, now that I’ve considered it a possibility. Any hint of foul play?”
“They weren’t able to interview the shark, but it was put down as death by misadventure.”
“Okay.”
“While Bullock, the company, is varied, it started out primarily with pharmaceuticals. The Foundation, which the widow heads since her husband’s death eight years ago, is a whopper, and annually disburses multiple millions to charities. Children’s health care is priority. Nothing criminal on the widow, sealed juvie on the son, who is now thirty-eight. No marriage or cohabs on record.”
“London-based, right?”
“Yep. They do have other homes, but none in the States. Mother and son share the same address. He’s VP of the Foundation.”
“Ought to be able to afford his own place.”
“Last from this: For Myers we have Karl and Elise Helbringer, Germany. Married thirty-five years, three offspring. Karl went into business with Elise when they were both in their twenties. Making boots, which led to shoes and skids and bags and all sorts of things. Including romance, apparently, as they married shortly afterward. Hit big in the fashion and the outdoorsy-type worlds and built a nice little German empire. So, as bootmakers, I wouldn’t say they’re rolling in it, but stomping in it.”
“Boots.”
“Their foundation, and the original Helbringer is still their top seller. You’re wearing a pair right now.”
“Of boots.”
“Helbringer boots. Very distinctive in their simplicity. Anyway, nothing on them or their offspring.”
“We’ll check for corroboration when we get back to Central.”
Eve pulled up in front of the grand front entrance of Roarke’s Palace. The doorman started over immediately. Eve saw recognition and then resignation flicker into his eyes as she climbed out of the car.
“Good morning, Lieutenant. Would you like me to have your vehicle parked?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you want it to stay exactly where it is.”
“There you go.” She jogged up the steps and into the glossy marble, the elaborate and enormous flowers, the sparkling fountains.
She wound her way under the waterfall of crystal chandeliers to the desk. When she saw another flicker of recognition on the face of one of the sleek, nattily uniformed desk clerks, she decided Roarke had called a staff meeting with her picture.
Regardless, she took out her badge.“I need to speak with Rochelle DeLay.”
“Certainly, Lieutenant. I’ll contact her immediately. If you’d care to have a seat.”
At the gesture, Eve considered. Since everyone was being so cooperative, she could take the same page.“Sure.”
Eve took one of the high-backed velvet chairs arranged in the elegant jungle of flowers.
“If my granny - the tough-cookie granny - ever gets out here, I’m going to take her to tea at the Palace.” Peabody drew deep of the floral-scented air as she sat.“I think she’d get a charge out of it. Anyway, so while we’re waiting it’s a good time to talk about Mavis’s shower.”
“It couldn’t possibly be.”
“Come on, Dallas. We’re on serious countdown now. Anyway, I got the theme. Thinking it’s Mavis, and then with that chair you bought, I went with rainbow. I hit this party store on the way home last night and got all kinds of mag stuff.”
“Great. Go you.”
“Then there’s the flowers. I figured on bopping by this place I know. But the thing is, um… I can’t really afford to you know, pay.”
Though she’d been trying to tune Peabody out, the last hit a chord.“Well, Jesus, Peabody, you don’t have to pay. You’re not supposed to pay.”
“I want to help and everything, but -”
“Not with the dough.” Eve forced herself to focus and deal with it.“Listen, you’re right. There should be stuff. The more stuff, the more of the large charge Mavis gets. You’re willing to get the stuff, I’ll pay for it.”
“That’s good, that’s great. Um, I never asked about, like, a budget.”
Eve just sighed.“I guess the sky’s the freaking limit.”
“Yay. It’s just completely ult. I mean, it’s a total event.”
“Put the squealy girl away,” Eve said as she got to her feet.“Be a cop.”
Eve spotted the pretty young thing headed toward them. Willowy build in a streamlined, almost military-style suit. The leafy green shade suited the coffee-and-cream complexion, and the hair - worn in a sleek updo - was dense brown.
Her lips curved in a polite, restrained welcome, but even that small smile didn’t reach the melting chocolate eyes.
“Lieutenant Dallas, and…”
“Peabody. Detective,” Peabody told her.
“I’m Rochelle DeLay. You must be here about Natalie. Is it all right if we sit out here? My office is a little box of a thing, and currently loaded with supplies for a party.”
“This is fine.”
“I just talked to Jake. I wish he’d go home. I don’t think he’s ready to be there, see everyone, not where he saw and talked to Nat almost every day.”
“You were friends.”
“We were. We got to be good friends when Jake and I started seeing each other. But Nat and Jake?” She looked away a moment, as people did when their composure wavered.“They were like family to each other.”
“It didn’t bother you that the guy you’re dating was so tight with another woman?”
“It might have if there’d ever been anything romantic between them, or maybe it would have if it had been anyone but Nat. She was so into Bick, and I liked her so much. We had a lot of fun together, the four of us. We just clicked. I don’t know what to do for Jake.”
“Ms. DeLay,” Peabody said,“sometimes women tell their women friends things they don’t tell a man, no matter how close they are. Did Natalie say anything to you about being worried, concerned?”
“I can’t think of anything. But… we were supposed to have lunch the day before she… the day before. She called and told me she wasn’t feeling very well, was staying home from work, just going to stay in, catch up with things. Chill. I was busy. I was busy,” Rochelle repeated in a voice that broke.“So I was kind of relieved. And now, when I think back, she sounded, I don’t know, a little shaky, maybe nervous. I didn’t think about it at the time. I could’ve gone over, taken her something to eat. It’s what I do, but I didn’t because I was busy. If there was something wrong, she might have told me. I keep thinking that.”
“Hindsight’s a choke chain,” Eve told her.“You need to let that go. Tell me where you were the night she and Bick died.”
“We had dinner at his grandparents’. We played bridge afterward. Well, they played,” she said with a weak smile.“They’re teaching me, and I blow at it. It was after midnight when we left, and we went back to Jake’s. We’re sort of cohabbing - unofficially. Sliding into it, I guess you could say. I was in the East Ballroom.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The next morning. I was in the East Ballroom helping to set up for a luncheon. Jake came in, came to find me. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry before. And he told me. We sat on the floor, right on the floor in the ballroom.”
7
EVE TOOK ONE LOOK AT THE BOXES COVERING the table in the conference room she’d ordered and felt a headache coming on.
“Okay, here comes the monkey work. We’re going to go through the discs and hard copies, memo, memo books, appointment books, everything, going back - for now - two weeks. From the wit statements it was two weeks, ten days, when people started noticing something off with Copperfield, and just under two weeks when the transmission went from Copperfield to Byson that she had something she needed to show him.”
“We’ll get through the names, the notes - eventually,” Peabody said.“But the accounts? We could probably use a numbers guy on this.”
“Probably could,” Eve agreed.“But for now, it’s you and me. We’ll look for repetition, a file or account she went back to repeatedly during the time frame. Any of them copied to her home unit, or any data she copied to Byson.”
Eve glanced unhappily at the conference room’s AutoChef, knowing it wasn’t loaded with her personal stash of coffee.
“Any mention of meetings or appointments with the higher-ups,” she continued.“Appointments with reps of accounts.”
“Going to be awhile,” Peabody commented.“Maybe I should order in some sandwiches.”
“Whatever. Her assistant said she logged in after hours a couple times recently. Let’s find what she accessed after business hours.”
She turned as the door opened.
“Anything?” Baxter asked her.
“It’s looking like she found something off at work, was pursuing it on her own, and shared her concerns with her fiancé. We’re digging there.”
“Want another shovel?”
Eve dipped her hands into her pockets.“What’s on your desk?”
“A few things, mostly leg and ‘link work. Nothing the boy can’t handle,” he added, referring to his trainee, Trueheart.“Look, the kid’ll let me know if he needs me on anything active. I’ve got some personal time coming. I can take it to work this.”
“You work it, you work it on the clock. Anything of your own heats up, you’re on that.”
“No problem.”
When her communicator beeped, she glanced at the readout.“Peabody, fill Baxter in. It’s Whitney’s office. I need to update him.”
She was ordered up, and found Commander Whitney behind his desk. She thought he looked tired, maybe burdened was the better word. His big shoulders carried considerable weight.
Gray was sprinkled generously through the dark hair that was closely cut around his wide, coffee-colored face. He watched her, saying nothing, as she ran through the movements and details of the investigation.
“The data you confiscated is secured?”
“Yes, sir. Detectives Peabody and Baxter are starting the search. Captain Feeney is supervising the e-work, using Detective McNab.”
“Other avenues?”
“Sir?”
“Exploration of this being personal business. Jealous ex?”
“I haven’t eliminated the possibility, Commander, but nothing points to that. While everything points to this being a double murder motivated by something the female vic discovered at her place of employment.”
He nodded.“You understand the sensitivity of the data now in the possession of this department?”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes stayed on hers.“Have you considered the sensitivity of you, personally, having access to that data?”
“Personally, Commander?”
“You’re married to a powerful businessman who has interests in many areas of industry and finance - interests that most certainly will be in competition or conflict with some of the parties whose data you now have in your possession.”
Something hot formed a tiny ball in Eve’s belly.“I have potential evidence in my possession.”
“Don’t be naive, Dallas.”
“I never was. I’m the primary investigator on two murders looking for evidence of motive and culpability. I’m not looking, and have no interest in, inside information on my husband’s business competition.”
“There’s concern that, should this data come into his hands, it might be used to his advantage against those competitors.”
The hot little ball expanded.“He doesn’t need my help to compete in business. And he wouldn’t walk over two dead bodies to make some extra bucks. Respectfully, sir” - though her tone had taken on an edge that had nothing to do with respect -“to imply otherwise is an insult to me and to him.”
“It’s not a matter of a few extra dollars, but the potential of millions. Perhaps more than millions. And yes, it’s insulting. It’s also necessary to be understood. If the information now at your disposal should be used in any way unrelated to your investigation, you, this office, this department, will be responsible.”
“My understanding of my responsibility to the victim, to the people of New York, and to this department is and always has been crystal.” It wasn’t a ball in her belly now, but a flood. Like lava.“If you have any doubts of my understanding of that responsibility or my ability to fulfill it, you’re not only obliged to remove me from this investigation, but you should be asking for my badge.”
“You want to be pissed, be pissed. Now, Lieutenant, go back to work.”
She turned on her heel, struggling to keep that fury down, hold it in. But she didn’t quite block all of it. She looked back as she yanked open the door.“I’m not Roarke’s goddamn stooge,” she snapped, and shut the door behind her.
She hauled the temper with her back down to Homicide and into the conference room. One look at Eve’s face made whatever bright comment Peabody was about to utter wither and die.
“Sir,” she said instead,“Baxter’s taking Byson’s data. So far we’ve found nothing transferred to his data records from Copperfield’s.”
“We keep looking.”
“On the e-front, McNab reports that files have been deleted from Copperfield’s office unit.”
“Is Detective McNab now reporting to you? Was there a change in command during the last twenty minutes?”
Knowing that tone, Peabody kept her own very even.“Detective McNab believed we were together, sir, either here or in the field. As I understood you were with the commander, I took his report, and am now reporting same.”
“I’m in EDD.”
Baxter and Peabody exchanged eye rolls behind her back. And fortunately for their welfare, had instincts quick enough to have those eyes focused on the work when she spun around.
“Nobody enters this room or approaches these files without my authority. Clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
When the door was slammed, Peabody let out a long, whistling breath.“Whitney put a really nasty bug up her butt.”
Eve stormed into EDD and through to the comp lab to find McNab. He was hunkered over Copperfield’s office unit. A handful of other detectives or techs worked on various comps in the same area.
“You’re to use a privacy cube at all times when working on this case.”
“Huh? What?” He dragged off a headset.
“This case is now flagged Blue. Privacy cube, verbal reports. Need-to-know basis.”
“Oooo-kay.” He stepped back, just a little, as if he felt the heat pumping off her and was afraid he’d get burned.“I’ve got some deletions. They were -”
“Privacy cube,” she snapped.“Now.”
“Yes, sir. It’s going to take me a few minutes to set it up.”
“Then get started.” She stormed out, veered off, and swung into Feeney’s office. He was sitting at his desk, machine-gunning on his keyboard while he hummed a tune.
Every so often he’d mutter,“Almost got you, you little bastard.”
“Your detectives have trouble understanding direct orders, or the chain of command?” she demanded.
He cursed, glanced up. He saw what Peabody had seen on her face. Easing back, he jerked his chin at the door.“Wanna shut that?”
She slammed it.“When I’m primary, the men assigned to the team, whether they’re EDD or Homicide, report to me.”
“You got a complaint about one of my boys?” They were all his boys to Feeney, regardless of their chromosomes.
It caught her just before she spewed. What was she doing? Playing tattletale over nothing just because she was pissed.“I’ve got a sensitive case,” she began.
“Yeah, I know about it. My boys report to me, and I logged in the electronics as you requested. So?”
“Big money sensitive. You figure Roarke would climb over my two vics, use that big money sensitive data to edge out a competitor? You figure he’d use my investigation or any information I might share with him therein for personal gain?”
“What the fuck you talking about? McNab make some idiot comment?”
“No. Whitney made a direct statement.”
Feeney pursed his lips, then blew out a breath. Then dragged his fingers through his wiry tangle of ginger and gray hair.“I got some of that coffee left you gave me for Christmas. Want a hit?”
“No. No,” she repeated and walked to his window.“Goddamn it, Feeney. He wants to slap at me for something I did or didn’t do on the job, something one of my squad did or didn’t, that’s okay. But to imply Roarke would use me, that I’d permit it, that’s over the line.”
“Have some almonds.”
She only shook her head.
Feeney dipped his fingers into the bowl of candied nuts on his desk.“Want my take?”
“I guess I do. I come pushing in here when you’re busy, I must need your take.”
“Then I’ll give it to you. I expect some of those honchos - and the lawyers who love them - have been stomping their feet, flapping their jaws. Complaining to the mayor, the chief. Mayor and chief give Whitney the word. He’s got to take the departmental line, give you the warning. Want my take on his personal line?”
“I guess I do.”
“I’ve known him a long time. If he had any genuine concerns in this area, he’d take you off the case. Period. By doing that, he’d cover his ass. Instead, he gave you the word, and he’s leaving his ass hanging out there.”
“Maybe.”
“Dallas?” He waited until she’d turned around.“You got any worries about Roarke on this?”
“No. Goddamn no.”
“You think I do, or that any member of the team currently working the case has any worries?”
The tightness in her chest eased a little.“No. But I’ve got to go to Roarke with this - even if I don’t share a single byte of data with him, I have to go to him with this. If you think I was pissed when I came in here, let me tell you, that was a sunny day at the beach.”
He shoved the bowl of nuts in her direction, and for a moment there was a touch of amusement on his hangdog face.“Marriage is a freaking minefield.”
“Fucking A.” But she relaxed a little, enough to sit on the corner of his desk and pluck up a few nuts.“Sorry.”
“Forget it. We go back a ways, too.”
“I don’t know how much you’ve got on your plate, but if you’ve got room for more I could sure use you on this.”
“I can probably clear a space. Me, I like a full plate.”
“Thanks. All around.”
With her temper defused, Eve headed back down to the conference room, where she found Peabody and Baxter deep into search mode and a mountainous pile of sandwiches. When she entered, Baxter kept his eyes on his screen, but Peabody risked a glance up. Obviously encouraged by what she saw on her partner’s face, she nodded toward the pile of food.
“Figured some hoagies would keep us going through this.”
“Fine.” Though her pissed level was down, so was her appetite. Eve culled out a pile of discs and took a comp unit. Moments later a mug of coffee appeared beside her elbow.
“Ah, also figured you’d want your own brew while we’re at this.”
“Thanks. I imagine you figured I’d share that brew and loaded the AC on that assumption.”
“Would that be an incorrect assumption?” Peabody smiled winningly.
“My assumption would be you’re already slurping it down.”
“Baxter slurps. I, however, sip delicately.”
Eve took a breath.“Listen. The commander wanted more than an update. He had some concerns - or some jerk has concerns - about Roarke being privy to some of this data, through me. Then using same to outswing competitors.”
“No wonder you were ready to kick the first available ass,” Peabody commented.
“Well.” Baxter paused long enough to scratch his cheek.“I’d guess Whitney said what he had to say, even knowing it was flammable bullshit. Must suck being brass.”
The last of Eve’s temper simply dwindled away.“Must. Let’s dig down into this fucking morass and find some goddamn gold.”
They dug for hours. Natalie Copperfield’s data files were organized and efficient, and gave them nothing.
“McNab said there were deletions.” Eve pushed back.“I’ve got what could be interpreted as lost time, or deletions in files. Little holes, if you look at them that way. You got a serious worker bee here.”
“Makes me feel like a slacker,” Peabody agreed, then pokered up.“Which, of course, I’m not. Being a detective, and a dedicated member of the NYPSD trained by the best in the department.”
“Ass kisser,” Baxter said with a grin.
“I have three gold stars for ass kissing.”
“That’s all really fascinating,” Eve said dryly.“But my point is, Copperfield kept superior records of her work, of her time. And I’m seeing gaps. A pattern of gaps going back about five, six months.”
“I’ve got some of that,” Peabody agreed.“Could be just wedding planning. A little personal business leaked into the workplace. Happens to the best of us.”
“Maybe. And maybe it’s an account that was passed to her at that point. Those gaps start widening ten days before her death. About the time we believe she found something questionable.”
“If her killer deleted those client files altogether,” Baxter began,“he or she had access to her work unit, her data files. Doesn’t strike me that a client would be able to access.”
“Could hack in by remote, or pay someone with the necessary skills to do so,” Eve replied.“Or it could be someone on the inside. Could be both. What we’re not finding in her files is evidence there was something her killer didn’t want found there.”
“Her supervisor would know all her accounts,” Peabody put in.
“Yeah. I’m going to go by, have another talk with her before I take this home. Peabody, I need all this data secured. Baxter, if you want to do a little leg work, you can check with the vic’s sister. See if Copperfield mentioned getting a new account within the last six months. It should be a big one.”
“Got that.”
“Check on Trueheart and your actives. If you need to put in extra time, run it through me. I’ll clear it.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Peabody, if McNab has anything, I want a tag. Whenever, wherever. I’m in the field.”
The ferocity of the traffic reminded Eve of the time. The accounting firm would be closed for the day. She called up Cara Greene’s home address from her memo book, then tried her on the ‘link. At the transfer to voice mail, she left a message to be contacted ASAP. On the off chance Greene was putting in some overtime, Eve tried the office ‘link, and left the same message.
No point in going by to bang on the door of an empty apartment, she decided. She’d wait for the callback, or hunt Greene down in the morning.
Now she had to figure out the best approach with Roarke.
Keeping her mouth shut just wasn’t an option. Even if she wanted to play that game, he’d sense something. The guy had senses like a frigging hawk. And evading would lead, unquestionably, to lying. Lying would put her in the wrong.
Goddamn if she wanted to take the heat for this.
Straight out was probably the best way, she decided. Let him blow, let him spew, and seethe over the insult. He was entitled.
The problem was he was going to blow, spew, and seethe all over her. So she’d take the high road, she’d be the good wife and take the lumps. Then he’d have to apologize, maybe even grovel a little.
How bad could that be?
She was feeling fairly steady about the entire matter when she drove through the gates of home.
Considering various openings, she jogged through the bitter cold and into the warmth. The gilded light, the lightly spiced scent of the air were spoiled momentarily by the looming figure in black that was Summerset.
“I didn’t realize you were taking a few days off,” he began as the cat left its squat at his side to prance toward Eve.
“What are you talking about?”
“As you’ve returned home unbloodied, without any of your clothing torn, I assume you’ve spent the day in some leisurely pursuit.”
“Day’s not over yet.” She tossed her coat over the newel post.“I could end it pursuing your bony ass, but you’d be the one bloodied and torn.”
She picked up the pudgy cat and hauled him with her up the stairs. He purred like a jet copter as she idly scratched his ears, then dumping him on the sofa in the bedroom, she checked Roarke’s whereabouts on the house scanner.
“Where is Roarke?”
Roarke has not yet returned to the house this evening.
Bought some time, she decided, and stripped off her clothes to change into workout gear. The best way to clear her mind and tune up, she thought, was a good sweaty session in the gym.
To avoid Summerset, she took the elevator down, then programmed a hill climb on the cardio machine. She did a hard twenty minutes until her quads felt the burn, then switched to a flat-out sprint.
She was well into a series of upper-body reps on the weight machine when Roarke strolled in.
“Long day?” she managed, puffing out air.
“A bit.” He bent over, touched his lips to hers.“Getting started or finishing up?”
“Finishing. I’ve got enough in me for a spar if you’re looking for a workout.”
“I had mine this morning. I’m looking for a very large glass of wine and a meal.”
She studied his face.“Was a long day, then. Problems?”
“Irritations, mostly, and mostly eliminated. But now that I’m thinking of it, I wouldn’t mind a swim before that wine. If I had some company.”
“Sure.” She picked up a towel, scrubbed it over her face. Get it over or put it off until he mellowed out? Tough to know, she thought, but it seemed wrong to let him mellow then hit him with a sucker punch.
“Ah, there’s this thing.” To give herself another moment, she walked over, got a bottle of water from the minifriggie.“The double murder I’m investigating. The accounting firm element.”
“You got your warrant?”
“Yeah. That’s part of the thing.”
“The thing being?”
She braced inside, as she might before diving into a very cold pool.“There’s a concern at some levels regarding the sensitivity of the data on the files now in the possession of the NYPSD, and the primary - being me, who’s married to you.”
“There’s a question, on some levels, about your ability to handle sensitive data?” His voice was perfectly pleasant, even amiable. And had her antennae quivering.
“There’s a question, on some levels, about the ethics, I guess, of you having some close proximity to private financial information belonging to current or future business competitors. I want you to know that I -”
“So the assumption,” he interrupted smoothly,“is that I would use my wife, and her investigations into a double torture murder, to not only learn the financial situation of competitors - current or future - but would then use that information to my own gain? Do I have that right?”
“Nutshelling. Listen, Roarke -”
“I haven’t finished.” He whipped the words out, one quick lash.“Did it occur to any of these levels that I don’t need to use my wife or her investigation to beat bloody hell out of a competitor, in a business sense, should I choose to do so. And that I somehow managed to compete and succeed on my own before I met the primary on this case?”
She hated when he used ‘my wife’ in that tone. Like she was one of his fancy wrist units. Temper bubbled into her throat and was a very hard swallow down.“I can’t speak to what occurs or occurred there, but -”
“Goddamn it, Eve. Do you think I’d use you for fucking money?”
“Not for a single second. Look at me. Not for one single second.”
“Crawl over the bloody bodies, risk your reputation and my own, come to that, for an edge in some shagging deal?”
“I just said I didn’t -”
“I heard what you said,” he snapped back and his eyes were lethal.“But I see for some it’s ‘once a thief.’ I’ve worked side-by-side with the NYPSD, given it considerable time, taken considerable physical risks, and now they question my integrity over this? Over this? Well, fuck them. If they can’t and won’t trust you after all you’ve given them, or me, fuck them to hell and back. I want you to pass the case.”
“You want - whoa, wait.”
“I want you to pass it,” he repeated.“I’ll not have one byte of that bloody sensitive data in my home, or in my wife’s head, or anywhere I can be suspected of using it. Damned, goddamned if I’ll be accused somewhere down the line of using something like this over some deal I close over someone else. I bloody well won’t have it.”
“Okay, let’s just calm down a minute.” She had to take a breath, then another, before her head stopped whirling.“You can’t ask me to hand over the investigation.”
“That’s precisely what I’m asking. And if memory serves, I’ve asked for very little when it comes to your work. You aren’t the only qualified investigator. Pass it,” he demanded.“And do it now. I won’t be insulted this way. And bugger me if I’m going to tolerate having my wife be the one who has to bring the insult to me because your superiors don’t have the balls to do it themselves.”
She stood stunned and speechless as he turned on his heel and strode out.
8
HIS ANGER HAD TEETH AND WAS GNAWING AT his own throat as he stormed up to his office, closed the doors. And he knew if he hadn’t walked away that anger would have taken more than a bite of Eve.
Her goddamn job, he thought. Bloody, buggering cops. Why in hell had he ever deluded himself into believing they could accept who and what he was?
He was no innocent and never claimed to be one.
Had he stolen? Frequently. Had he cheated? Most certainly. Had he used wit, wiles, and whatever came to hand to fight and claw his way out of the alley to where he was now? Goddamn bloody well right he had, and would do it all again, without remorse or regret.
He didn’t ask to be considered pure and saintly. He’d been a Dublin street rat with certain skills and specific ambitions, and had used one to achieve the other. And why not?
He’d come from a man who’d murdered in cold blood, and yes, he’d done some of the same.
But he’d made himself into more, into better. Into other, in any case. And when he’d fallen in love with a cop, with a woman he’d respected on every possible level, he’d given up a great deal. Every one of his businesses was legitimate now. He could be considered a shark in the business world, but he was a bloody law-abiding one.
More, he’d actually worked with the cops, the very element that had once been the enemy. He’d offered his resources to the department countless times. The fact that doing so amused, intrigued, and satisfied him didn’t change the principle of the thing.
Infuriating, insulting, unacceptable.
With his hands jammed in his pockets, he stood at the window, glowering out at the sparkling lights of the city he’d made his home.
He’d made himself, he thought again. He’d carved out this life, and he loved this woman above everything else. To have anyone, anyone suspect he would use her - that she would allow herself to be used - was enraging.
Well, they could have someone else work themselves to the bone, labor into exhaustion to find their bloody murderer. And if they thought somewhere down the road they could tap him again to play expert consultant, civilian, they could shag a monkey.
He heard the door open between his office and Eve’s, but didn’t turn.
“I said all I have to say on this,” he told her.“It’s done.”
“Fine, you can just listen then. I don’t blame you for being upset.”
“Upset?”
“I don’t blame you for being murderously pissed off. I felt the same way.”
“Fine. We’re in tune.”
“I don’t guess we are. Roarke -”
“If you think this is a tantrum or something I can be sweetened out of, you’re wrong. It’s a line. We’ve reached my line in this, Eve. I expect you to respect my stand on this matter.” He turned now.“I expect you to put me first, and that’s all.”
“You get both of those. But you’ve got to hear me out. Line or no line, you can’t just go around flinging orders at me.”
“It was a statement.”
“Screw this, Roarke. Just screw this.” Her own anger was rising, but there was a layer of sick fear over it.“I’m pissed, you’re pissed, and if this keeps up, we’re going to be seriously pissed at each other, maybe enough to cross some other line we can’t come back over easily, when we’re the ones getting slapped by outside parties.”
“When has the department been an outside party to you?”
“I have to prove something to you now?” And there was hurt, churning through the anger, and the sick fear.“To you? What needs to be proven here? My loyalty? The pecking order of that loyalty?”
“Maybe it does.” He angled his head, spoke coolly.“I wonder where I’ll come in that order.”
“Yeah, seriously pissed.” But she took a deep breath before she lost what was left of her temper. Or worse, lost the fight to hold back the tears that were stinging the back of her eyes.“I’ve got things to say, goddamn it, and I’m saying them. If when I’m done, you want me to pass the investigation, it’s passed.”
Something inside him clenched and released, but he only shrugged.“Have your say, then.”
“You don’t believe me,” she said slowly.“I can see it. You think, or wonder at least, if I’m just snowing you so I win on this. And that’s insulting, and I’ve had enough insults for the day, damn it. So you listen. When someone kicks at you, they kick at me. That’s the way it is. And not just because I’m your wife, because I’m not some stupid bimbo who takes orders from her husband.”
“I don’t believe the word bimbo came out of my mouth.”
“It sounds like bimbo, occasionally, when you say ‘wife’.”
“Oh, bollocks to that.”
“And right back at you, ace. They slap at you, they slap at me because we’re a unit. Because I may not get all this being married crap right, but I’ve damn well got that one nailed. So, believe me when I tell you the department knows just how I feel about this business.”
“Fine, then -”
“I’m not finished,” she spat out.“Sweeten you up, what a crock. But you want some oil on the water? When I spewed this business out on Feeney, then out on Baxter and Peabody, they had the same take. That it was insulting bullshit. And I’m damned, Roarke, if I want to put my tail between my legs and pass this ball. Not just for the victims - and they matter, they matter a hell of a lot to me now. But for my own pride, and for yours. Screw that, for ours. I’m not going to back off because the mayor or the chief or the commander - whoever - needs to cover their chicken-shit asses because some jerks are whining because you’re just better and smarter and slicker then they are in the first damn place.
“And I’m pissed!” She kicked his desk.“Pissed, pissed, pissed about being disrespected. Like I’m some idiot female who’d compromise an investigation for her man’s gain. Or that my man is some callous cheat who can’t bury his competitors without breaking a sweat. They’re not getting away with it. We’re not going to let them shove us back from this. We’re not going to let them put two innocent people who died because they were trying to do something right, however stupidly, in the backseat over fucking politics.”
She kicked his desk again, and felt calmer for it.“You’ve done more than stand by me on the job. And you deserve better from the department. So I’ll do more than stand by you, and if stepping back from this is what you need, that’s what I’ll do.”
She caught her breath.“That’s what I’ll do, because if you don’t know you come first, you’re just stupid. But it’s not the way to stick it to the ones who deserve to have it stuck to them. Staying on it is, putting you on in an official capacity as consultant is. Finding the person or persons who killed those two people is. I want to close this case, and I want you with me when I do. But on this one, you get to decide.”
She tunneled her fingers through her hair and realized she was exhausted.“Your call.”
He said nothing for a long, humming moment.“You’d do this, pass this case, because I asked you?”
“No. I’d do this, pass this case, because in these circumstances I figure you’ve got the right to ask me. I don’t lift off when you say jump, ace, any more than you do for me. But when it matters, it matters. Is that what you want me to do?”
“It was, before you came in here.” He crossed to her now, and took her face in his hands.“It was, I’m forced to admit, when I was near certain you’d refuse, and given me a handy outlet where I could blame you for the whole mess of it. Then I could have worked off some of this mad with a good, bloody row with you.” He kissed her brow, her nose, her lips.“You didn’t, so I guess that good, bloody row is out of the question.”
“I’m always up for one.”
Now he smiled.“Hard to work up the energy for one when I’m also forced to admit you’re right. Actually, thinking about it, that’s a considerable irritation. Everything you just said bull’s-eyed the entire ugly situation. The victims deserve you, and I’m damned if the department gets the satisfaction of having you toss this one back because of me. And damned again if I’ll have fingers pointed at me as a cheat who’d use his wife. I’ve done plenty in my time to deserve finger-pointing, but not this.”
“Are we square?”
He gave her shoulders a light rub before he stepped back.“It seems we are. But the term wife is not synonymous with bimbo. I love my wife very much. I’ve only slept with bimbos - occasionally. In the past.”
He was still seething mad though, she noted. However cool and collected he might seem, she knew him, and saw the black temper bubbling under the surface. She couldn’t blame him. But there were other ways to work off a rage than a sweaty session in the gym, or a good, bloody row.
“I still need that shower.” She headed for the door, glancing over her shoulder on the way out.“Wouldn’t mind some company.”
She ordered the jets on full, at a temperature of 101, and let the heat punch its way into her bones. With her eyes closed and the water pulsing over her head, the worst of the headache she’d been carrying eased off.
When arms came around her, the tension inside her body shifted to a different arena.
“Sorry,” she said with her eyes still closed.“You’ll have to get in line. I’ve already got a guy scheduled for shower sex.”
Hands slid up to cover her breasts; teeth nipped lightly into her shoulder.
“Well, maybe I can squeeze you in.”
She started to turn, but those hands held her in place while his mouth roamed over her neck and shoulders. Little bites while the steam began to rise.
With an arm hooked around her waist, he flipped open the compartment in the glass block and let a river of fragrant soap pool into his hand. He slicked it over her breasts, torso, belly. Slow circles while the water pumped and pulsed.
Everything inside her tightened into delicious knots that released only to snap taut again. The wet heat, the smooth hands teased all of her senses to the edge of nerves, drenching her in sensations.
She lifted her arms, taking them back to wind around his neck, to open herself. Those lazy circles traveled down her again, slid slippery between her legs. Her body bowed, her breath escaping in a moan as he tipped her over the edge.
She shuddered for him, shuddered and bucked against his busy hands, fueling his needs even as he sated hers. His own system began to churn, greed and want and lust and love so twisted together they created one mass of heat that spread from heat to heart to loins.
A unit, he thought. Two lost souls, steeped in shadows, that had found each other. He shouldn’t have forgotten, even in temper, the miracle of that.
When he pulled her around to face him, her eyes were heavy, her face flushed - and her lips slowly curved.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought there was something familiar, but I wasn’t sure.” She reached down, took the hot, hard length of him in her hands.“Yeah, I recognize this.”
She kept those sleepy eyes open and on his when he pushed her back against the wet wall. While the jetting water thundered he took her mouth, took her taste and quivered with the thrill when her lips met his with equal passion.
Then, gripping her hips, he plunged into her, swallowing her cries, her gasps, her moans, as he drove them both.
Her fingers slid down him, dug in for purchase as shock and excitement ripped through her. There was nothing but the heat, the wet, the glorious hard body against her, in her. The pleasure shot her up so high she had to fight for breath to even moan his name.
Then it wrung her out, made her weak, made her woozy. She felt him let go, felt him give himself to her as she went limp.
“Ta cion agam ort.“With his body warm and pressed to hers he murmured it.
I love you, Eve thought, in Gaelic. Knowing he used it when it mattered most to him, she smiled.
Feeling relaxed and accommodating, she let him pick the meal and ended up eating some sort of lightly grilled fish with a side of spicy rice mixed with crispy vegetables. She might have preferred a burger and fries drenched in salt, but she couldn’t complain.
And the chilly glass of Italian white made it all go down smooth as silk.
“Before we go any further,” he began,“I want to say more than feeling kicked, I felt I’d been sucker punched by this. And it bruised.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hardly your fault. The fact is, I was equally furious with myself. I should have seen it coming.”
“Why? How?”
“A prominent accounting firm, with prominent clients.” He moved his shoulders.“There had to be some question that I’d have access to the financial data of some competitors. And the ensuing uproar over it.”
“Hey.” She stabbed out with her fork.“You’re not going to take their side on this one. That’ll just piss me off all over again.”
“I’m not, no. I think it was poorly handled. Still, I should have expected something along those lines, and been better prepared to deal with it.”
“They bitch-slapped both of us. I’m not going to forget it.”
“Nor will I. Why don’t you tell me about the progress of the investigation. If nothing else, it’ll make me feel we’ve given them a good poke in the eye.”
“Sure.”
He listened while she brought him up to date.
“So somebody accessed her files and deleted whatever it was she was looking into. A clean job, according to McNab. They’re going to keep digging.”
“Smarter if they’d taken the units, as they did on the crime scenes.”
“Yeah, in hindsight. I’m guessing the killer couldn’t be sure we’d pin it to an account and start looking there. And until I talk to her supervisor, I don’t know that we will pin it to a specific account. When you take a scan of her office unit, even a hard look, you just see her tidy, organized files and data. The missing pieces only show up if you’re looking for them - those specific times and dates.”
“Foreign accounts,” he mused.“It would be, most likely, a company - or individuals attached to it - that has interests here as well. Most likely directly here in New York. EDD hasn’t yet determined if the access was remote or on site?”
“Not yet. My gut tells me on site. The killer hauled off their home units. If he had solid hacker skills, why not just delete the files from them? Or better, do that by remote before or after the killing? He hauled them away so he could get rid of them, ditch the data and dispose of the units. Not so easy to walk off with office equipment.”
“Good security?”
“Damn good. I don’t think anyone could have wandered in after hours without it showing up on discs. And nothing has. He deleted the files during working hours. Maybe got the passcodes and deleted from another station inside the building, maybe got into her office while her assistant was busy elsewhere. With the delay getting the warrant to confiscate, there was time. The killer or an accessory is inside the firm.”
He sipped a little wine.“Did your first victim gain any new accounts in the last few weeks?”
“Thought of that, and no. Nothing new in the last couple that I can see, so there’s no way to narrow it down from that route. If she flagged anything hinky, that’s gone. Maybe one of the accounts suddenly didn’t jibe, and she took a closer look. Could be the client recently started doing the shadowy stuff. Or she just happened to stumble across something because they’d gotten sloppy. Happens. But she didn’t discuss a problem with an account to any of the higher-ups or with her assistant. Not that any of them is copping to, at any rate.”
“Just the fiancé.” Roarke nodded.“Because she trusted him completely.”
“I get that. But I don’t believe she didn’t at least mention something to one of the partners or her supervisor, her department head. She was meticulous. You’ll see what I mean when you look at her files.”
“I’ll take your word on that for now.”
Eve set down her glass.“I thought we’d squared this, and you’d step onto the team - at least when you had time for it.”
“For now,” he repeated,“I’d rather wait to look at the files. By meticulous, you mean she kept everything in excellent order.”
Eve struggled back her annoyance.“That, yeah, but she was meticulous in the way she kept her office space, her apartment, her closet. She never had a single work eval that wasn’t glowing. She had a good relationship with her department head, and apparently with everyone she worked with. She was tight pals with the grandson of one of the partners.”
“Romantic link?”
“No. It comes off as pals. Good, platonic pals. Grandson has a girlfriend, and the four of them hung. But she doesn’t mention there’s this problem to her pal.”
“Blood’s thicker?”
“Maybe, maybe.” She pushed away from the little table where they’d eaten.“It’s inconsistent with her type, her pathology. She was a team player, and she was a rule keeper. She took this to one of them, Roarke, and the one she took it to was the wrong choice.”
“She must have dealt with some clients directly.”
“In the office, or in theirs - New York-based. Some travel, too, sure. But nothing out of the ordinary I’ve found. No last-minute appointments worked in, according to her assistant. No last-minute travel to meet with a client or their representatives. If you look at her office, on the surface, it’s straight business as usual. Taking the home units without making it look like a bungled burglary was a mistake.”
“I don’t know.” He considered it.“Simpler, as you said, to take the units than to stay there and fiddle with them. Especially since the killer had a second job to do. It could simply be confidence. Go ahead and look at her office files, I’ve taken care of that. Covered the tracks.”
“Nobody ever covers them all the way. Okay, okay, present company excepted,” she added when he lifted an eyebrow.“If he was as good as you, and as - let’s say - meticulous - he’d have found a better way to do Copperfield and Byson.”
“Such as?”
“Arrange a meet, take them out together outside their apartments. You make it look like a mugging or a thrill kill. Rape the woman, or him, or both. Send the investigators mixed signals. I figure I’m looking for someone focused on the task - eliminate the threat, remove the evidence. That’s straight-line thinking, leaving out the flourishes.”
“Perhaps the only way he could take lives was to block out all but the target. Reach the goal, don’t consider the enormity of the action to get there.”
“I don’t think so, or not completely. Yeah, okay, reaching the goal. But if he’d needed to distance himself emotionally from the action, he wouldn’t use strangulation. It’s intimate. And it was face-to-face.”
Narrowing her eyes, she brought the crime scenes, the bodies, back into her mind.“He experienced the killings. You don’t want an active part in it? You got the tape right there. You slap it over their mouths, over their nose, and you walk away. You don’t have to see them suffer and die. But he looked right into their eyes as they did.
“And this isn’t what I need you for,” she snapped.“I can get into his head. Or I can get a profile from Mira, talk it through with her. I need a numbers man. I need a business man. Big business, big risks, big benefits. I need you to look at the data, analyze it in a way I can’t.”
“And I will. But tonight I’d prefer the generalities. I can take a look at her client list, give you a take on what I know that might not show on records or bios.”
“Why tonight?”
He considered again. Easier to evade, but she’d been straight with him and deserved the same.“I’m going to have my lawyers draft a contract of sorts which will prohibit me from using any of the data I may be privy to during the course of this investigation.”
“No.”
“It covers our respective asses. It will also prohibit you, or any member of the team, from revealing the name of the organization, corporation or company whose data I analyze. I can, quite easily, work with the figures only.”
Frustration nearly blew out of the top of her head.“This is a crock. Your word’s good enough.”
“For you, and thank you for it. But it’s simple enough to do, and it’s logical. It’s very likely I’m in competition, or certainly will be at some point, with some or all of the clients on your victims’ list. And at some point, while I can promise you I wouldn’t use the data you’ve put in my hands -”
“I don’t want your damn promise!” she exploded.
Her fury over it was like a warm, comforting kiss.“Then none of that between us. But, let’s be practical. It could appear, or be argued that I have or will use it. It still could, come to that, but this shows good intent at least.”
“It’s insulting to you.”
“Not if I offer it - more, insist on it. Which is exactly what I’m doing.” He knew how to calculate the odds, he thought. How to manipulate them. And how to win.“I won’t look at any of the data unless you agree to this provision. We can argue about it if you like, but that’s my line. I’ll have it taken care of, then we’ll move forward.”
“Fine. Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” She had to fight back the urge to kick something again.
“It is. I’m happy to look at the client list.”
She moved to her desk, pulled out a hard copy from her file bag.“Look it over, think it over. I’ve got some runs to do meanwhile.”
And some sulking, he imagined.“I’ll be in my office, then.”
She did sulk, but she worked while she was at it.
She did probabilities and was satisfied that the computer agreed - at 93.4 percent - that someone inside the firm was connected to the double murder.
She studied her notes, Peabody’s reports, the lab’s, the ME’s, the crime-scene records. And put up a second murder board.
New lock on the door, she reminded herself. Kitchen knife in the bedroom. But Natalie hadn’t been afraid enough to bunk with her boyfriend, or hole up in a hotel. Not afraid enough to tell her sister not to come and stay with her.
“Knew the killer,” Eve said aloud.“Or the go-between. Nervous, excited, cautious, but not seriously afraid for her life. Knife in the bedroom. Girl thing.”
She paced in front of the board as she thought. Any serious attacker could probably have disarmed a woman of Copperfield’s build. But she’s alone, starts wigging just a little. Takes the knife like she could use it if she had to.
“Not a stupid woman, but seriously naive,” Eve added.“Gonna handle this deal herself, with her guy. A little excitement in their lives. But who else did she tell?”
When her ‘link beeped, she turned, answered it absently.“Dallas.”
“Hey, I know it’s late but I got this brainstorm.” Peabody’s brows drew together on the display screen.“Are you still working?”
“Who did she tell?”
“Who, what?”
Obviously, Eve thought as she pulled her mind away from the murder board, Peabody wasn’t still working.“What brainstorm?”
“About the shower?”
“Oh, Christ on a plastic crutch.”
“Look, it’s the day after tomorrow.”
“No, it’s not. It’s on Saturday.”
“And tomorrow being Friday, Saturday follows. At least in my pretty little world.”
“Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
“So anyway, I’ve got the theme going, and picked up some stuff on my way home. I thought if I came by there tomorrow night, stayed over, we could put it all together in the morning.”
“What does that mean, putting it all together?”
“Well, the decorations, and these flower things I ordered, and, well… stuff. Plus I got this idea about the rocker system you bought her and how we can use it as a focal point, but disguise it like a throne until -”
“Please, in the name of God, don’t tell me any more.”
“So it chills with you if me and McNab bunk there tomorrow night?”
“Sure, bring the family, all your friends, strangers you find on the street. All are welcome here.”
“Uptown! Catch you in the morning.”
She clicked off, then sat on the edge of her desk staring at nothing in particular. Baby showers and double murders. Was she the only one who could see they didn’t mix? She wasn’t equipped for the first. It wasn’t in her makeup.
But she’d tried, hadn’t she? She’d called the caterer, and she’d let Mavis invite a horde of people - many of whom would be stranger than alien mutants. And still, it wasn’t enough.
“Why do I have to decorate?” she demanded when Roarke stepped to the doorway.
“You don’t. In fact, I sincerely wish you wouldn’t. I like our home as it is.”
“See? Me, too.” She threw out her arms.“Why does it have to get tricked out for a baby shower?”
“Oh. That. Well… I have no idea. I really choose to remain ignorant in this particular area of societal customs.”
“Peabody said we have to have a theme.”
He looked momentarily baffled.“A song?”
“I don’t know.” Confused, Eve covered her eyes with her hands.“And there’s going to be a throne.”
“For the baby?”
“I don’t know.” Now she pulled at her hair.“I can’t think about it. It throws me off. I was thinking about murder, and I was fine. Now I’m thinking about themes and thrones, and I feel a little sick.”
Eve took a huge breath.“Who did she tell?”
“Peabody? I thought she just told you.”
“No, God, not Peabody. Natalie Copperfield. Who did she trust or respect or feel obliged to report to if she found something off? Which of her clients did she believe, while they might do something illegal, unethical, might offer a bribe, wouldn’t cause her real physical harm? Because there’s no way she’d have let her sister come over, talked about pancake breakfasts, if she believed there might be actual danger.”
“First, I’d say who she told would depend on the level of the illegality she uncovered. It’s not impossible she went directly to the client or their representative. But more likely that she showed the data to a superior.”
“Back where I started, running rings. No way to pin down who she might have told other than the boyfriend.”
“As for her client list, there are some high-end companies here. Any or all of them has very likely had some slippery moments. You can’t operate large companies without some slippage. Then you pay lawyers to slide you out of it, or you pay fines, settle suits out of court. But I don’t know of any major scandal involving those on her lists. And I haven’t heard anything murmuring on the wind about illegal practices. I can tune myself to that wind a little closer for you.”
“That’d be good.”
She frowned at the board again.“Wait. What if the client isn’t the problem? What if someone inside the firm did something like Whitney suggested you could do.”
Roarke cocked his head, nodded.“Fed one client private data on another. Interesting.”
“You could demand a percentage, a kickback, even a monthly retainer for information given. One client’s got a deal coming up. You just access the files on any competitors your firm might also represent. Pass along some inside data for a fee. Maybe she sees something, like one client consistently nipping out another, or others in competitive areas. She questions the percentages of that, pokes around.”
“It would explain her reason for not telling a superior - if she didn’t do so.”
“Can’t tell someone over her head if she’s not sure who’s part of the unethical practice. I can do an analysis of comparative operations over the last twelve months, check out the clients who most consistently pump out above the rest of the field.”
“I can do that for you.”
“Yeah?” That seriously brightened Eve’s day.“You’d probably see it faster if there’s anything to see. I can take a closer look at the financials - incomes, outlays of the partners.”
“They’d know how to hide income. They’re accountants.”
“Gotta start somewhere.”
9
IN THE MORNING WITH A SKY THAT LOOKED LIKE soured milk, Eve sat bleary-eyed over her second cup of coffee. It wasn’t the hours, she thought. It was the figures.
Roarke plopped an omelette down in front of her.“You need it.”
She glanced at it, then looked over at him as he sat.“Are my eyes bleeding? They feel like they’re bleeding.”
“Not so far.”
“I don’t know how you do it, day after day.” She made the mistake of looking toward the wall screen where he had the morning stock reports running. And slapped a hand over her aching eyes.“Have mercy.”
He chuckled, but switched to the morning media.“Had enough of numbers, darling?”
“I saw them in my sleep. Dancing. Some were singing. I think some might have had teeth. I’d rather lie bare-assed naked on the sidewalk and be trampled by tourists from South Dakota than be an accountant. And you.” She stabbed her fork in his direction.“You love them. The fives and twenties and the profit margins, overheads, the trading fees and tax-free fuckwhats.”
“I love little more than a tax-free fuckwhat.”
“How does anybody keep track of money anyway, when it’s zinging around all over the place? This guy puts it here for five minutes into pork asses, then whap! he kicks the asses and slaps it into gizmos, then shuffles some of that into peanut brittle.”
“It’s never wise to put all your eggs into one pork’s ass.”
“Whatever.” She had to struggle back a yawn.“Those accountant guys rake it in and spread it around.”
“Money’s a bit like manure. You can’t get anything to grow if you don’t spread it around.”
“I couldn’t find anything off, but then I think my brain fried in hour two. Lifestyles jibe with the incomes, incomes jibe with the business fees and profits, investments and blah-de-blah. If any of them are pulling some in on the side, they’ve got it buried.”
“I’ll see if I can scrape off any of the dirt there. Meanwhile, I’ve got a couple of clients that have shown fairly consistent upswings and profits over the last two years. Could be good management,” he added as he ate.“Good luck. Or good information.”
“With New York branches?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Gives me someone to harass and intimidate. Makes up for the long night with numbers.” She ate with more enthusiasm.“Roarke. Say you were doing something off the books, under the table, or in the gray area of law and ethics.”
“Me?” He gave a good imitation of insulted shock.“What a thing to imply.”
“Yeah, right. But if you were, and one of your employees tapped in. How would you handle it?”
“Denial. Complete and utter denial, and while I was denying, I’d be busy covering up anything potentially damaging, crunching numbers, altering data. Depending on how matters shook out, I’d give the employee a raise or transfer them.”
“In other words, there are lots of ways around this, if it’s a money deal. Killing two people is extreme, brings more heat. Now you’ve got cops digging.”
“A strong and foolish reaction, yes. Someone took it personally, when it’s simply business.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.”
Since it was something she wanted to run past Mira, Eve copied the files to the profiler’s office unit, and contacted Mira’s obsessively protective admin for an appointment.
On the way downtown, an ad blimp cruised overhead blasting the news of an INVENTORY BLOWOUT! and a RED DOT EXTRAVAGANZA! at Aladdin’s Cave at Union Square.
She wondered about people who got juiced up about blowouts and extravaganzas at places called Aladdin’s Cave. What were they after, cut-rate lamps with genies? Overstocked flying carpets?
It was too early for bargain hunters or for any but the most determined tourists. New Yorkers clipped along the sidewalks, heading to or from work, to breakfast meetings. By-the-day domestics huddled in the chill waiting for their buses to rumble up to take them to the apartments or townhouses they’d spend their days cleaning.
More, she knew, would be jammed under the streets, zoning while the subway thundered along the rails.
On corners, glide-cart operators were set up to hawk their hideous excuse for coffee and tooth-chipping bagels to the early commuters. Steam poured off the grills to accommodate those hungry enough or just crazy enough to eat the fake egg pouches the carts fried up.
A few enterprising street hawkers were spreading their designer rip-offs and gray market wares on tables and blankets. Scarves and hats and gloves would be the hot sellers, she thought, on a day with the bitter wind cutting at the bone, and the sky just waiting to dump snow.
Which it did, along with nasty little bits of ice, minutes before she turned into the garage at Central.
In her office, she got another cup of coffee, put her feet up on her desk, and stared at the murder board.
Personal, she thought again.
Jake Sloan had personal relationships with both vics.
Lilah Grove attempted to develop one with the male vic.
Cara Greene, first vic’s department head, purportedly had friendly personal relationship with both vics.
All three generations of Sloans had a personal interest in Copperfield.
And all of the above had considerable investment in the firm, its success, and its reputation.
Eve angled her head, shifted her thoughts. So what connection within the firm do or did any or all of those people have?
She plugged in the data Roarke had given her and began to look for one.
While she was working, Roarke was walking into Commander Whitney’s office. Whitney rose, offered a hand.
“I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice,” Roarke began.
“It’s not a problem. Can I offer you coffee?”
“No. I won’t keep you long.” Roarke opened his briefcase, took out a file. He’d kept his lawyers busy through the night.“I understand there’s some concern regarding the Copperfield/Byson investigation, and the ethics of my relationship with the primary.”
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“All right. What you have there,” Roarke continued in the same cool tones,“is a document my attorneys have drafted that binds me from utilizing any of the data I may come across through the primary in the course of her investigation.”
Whitney flicked a glance down at the file, then shifted his eyes back to Roarke’s.“I see.”
“It also stipulates that should I be given access to any of that data, I’ll be given it blind. Figures only, without names or organizations. The document is quite detailed, and the penalties, should I break any of the stipulations therein, are quite stiff. Naturally, you’ll want your legal department to vet it, and should there be any changes or additions requested, those changes and/or additions can be discussed with my legal reps until the document suits all parties.”
“I’ll see that it’s done.”
“All right, then.” Roarke got to his feet.“Of course, legalities and documents don’t take into account the fact I may lie and cheat my way around the stipulations, and use my wife and two brutally murdered people for my own financial gain. But I would hope this department, and this office, understands - clearly understands - the primary in this investigation would never allow it.”
Roarke waited a beat.“I’d like to hear you say you don’t question the lieutenant’s integrity. In fact, I bloody well insist on it.”
“Lieutenant Dallas’s integrity is not at issue for me. And is not in question.”
“Just mine, then?”
“Officially, this department and this office must insure the privacy of the citizens of New York - that information generated or uncovered during the course of an investigation is not utilized for harm, for personal gain, or in any illegal capacity.”
“I thought you knew me better than that,” Roarke shot back, barely able to hold on to the slippery edge of his fury.“At least well enough to be sure I’d do nothing to reflect poorly on my wife, to put her reputation or her career on the line.”
“I do.” Whitney nodded.“I know you well enough to be absolutely sure of that. So, unofficially, all this is bullshit.” Whitney flicked his fingers at the file sharply enough to scoot it over the surface of his desk.“Bureaucratic, political, ass-kissing bullshit that infuriates me nearly as much as you. I can offer you my personal apology for it.”
“You should have offered her one.”
Now Whitney raised his brows.“Lieutenant Dallas isn’t a civilian, and is under my command. She knows the departmental line. I don’t apologize for informing a subordinate of a potential problem within an investigation. Nor would she, I expect, in my place.”
“She intends to bring me in, officially as expert consultant, civilian.”
“She would, wouldn’t she?” Whitney sat back, frowned.“Thumb her nose at anyone who’d question her integrity or yours. Still…” Now he tapped his fingers, thinking it through.“That would also put you under the department’s aegis throughout the investigation, which goes some way of covering us. And your document, which I’d assume is as complicated as it is detailed, should take care of the rest.
“Some media spinning if we need it.”
“That can be handled,” Roarke told him.
“I’ve no doubt about it. I’ll have this vetted by Legal, and run it through with Chief Tibble.”
“Then I’ll let you get to it.”
Whitney rose.“When you speak to the lieutenant, tell her I have every confidence this case will be closed in a timely fashion.”
And that, Roarke thought, was as close to an apology as Eve would get.“I’ll do that.”
When Peabody poked her head into Eve’s office, Eve was pinning names to the back side of her board.“Baxter and I have been through the lot,” she told Eve.“Nothing pops out of line, and Copperfield and Byson didn’t share any clients.”
“You gotta go under it,” Eve said half to herself.“Forget the numbers for now, look at names. Look at people. Numbers make you crazy anyway.”
“I kind of like them.” Peabody moved in, squeezing around the desk to view the back of the board.
“You got your big three,” Eve began, and tapped names.“Sloan, Myers, Kraus. Under Sloan you’ve got the son, then the grandson. Connect Copperfield to Jake Sloan, putting them both under Cara Greene. Under Copperfield, you’ve got the assistant, Sarajane Bloomdale. Rochelle DeLay connects to Jake Sloan, to Copperfield, and also to Byson, who comes over here, under the big three, and under Myra Lovitz, with another connect to Lilah Grove.”
“You need a bigger board.”
“Maybe. Then you’ve got your alibis. Myers and Kraus with clients.”
“And all checked out,” Peabody added.
“Jacob Sloan’s got his grandkid and the girlfriend, his wife. Doubling that back as Sloan alibiing the grandson. Handy.”
“Yet feasible.”
“Randall Sloan has clients covering his ass for the time in question.”
“Also checked. And none of the alibis were Copperfield’s clients.”
“Nope. However, the Bullock Foundation is represented in the legal world by Stuben, Robbins, Cavendish, and Mull, who were Copperfield’s. And one of the accounts - according to Greene when I contacted her this morning - Copperfield copped within the last year.”
“Aha!” Peabody hunched her shoulders at Eve’s beady stare.“I just wanted to say it.”
“The British law firm has a New York branch, which is also handy. Byson connects there, as he represented the number crunching for Lordes Cavendish McDermott -”
“Sounds like an opera singer.”
“Socialite and widow of Miles McDermott, really rich dude. Meanwhile, other under-the-surface connections. Randall Sloan is alibied by Sasha Zinka and Lola Warfield. Zinka has a sister living in Prague, who, along with two partners, owns and runs a five-diamond hotel. And whose number crunching is done by…”
“Sloan, Myers, and Kraus. I did Copperfield’s. I don’t remember a Zinka. It would’ve clicked.”
“Sister’s name is Kerlinko, Anna. And the hotel group was Copperfield’s. Also copped within this last year.”
“Either a lot of coincidence or a lot of connections.”
“I like connections. Pull the data on these companies, and the New York-based staff for now. I’ve got a quick consult with Mira, then we’re in the field.”
Heading out, Eve stopped to scowl at a vending machine. She and Vending currently had a cold war in progress. But she wanted a damn Pepsi. In fact, if she took a tube with her to Mira’s, the doctor wouldn’t insist on pushing into her hands that flower tea she always brewed.
Eve jingled the loose credits in her pockets. She wasn’t going to just key in her code. That wasn’t just asking for trouble, it was begging for it.
She took out the credits she needed, was about to risk the annoyance and disappointment by plugging them in herself, when a couple of uniforms came her way, quick-stepping a skinny guy in restraints between them.
The skinny guy was squawking like a parrot on Zeus about harassment, constitutional rights, and someone named Shirley.
“Hey.” She held up a hand, then held out the credits. With her free hand she stabbed a finger at the parrot.“You. Zip it.”
Even with the illegals in his system whirling his eyes around in his head, the mope must have caught the tone of her voice. He went down to whimpers.
“Use this, gimme Pepsi.”
“Sure, Lieutenant.”
Because the uniform didn’t blink at the request, Eve assumed her cold war was known throughout the department.
“What he do?” she asked with a nod toward the now sniveling parrot.
“Pushed a woman down a couple flights of stairs at his flop. She didn’t bounce.”
“Slipped. She slipped. I wasn’t even there. I hardly knew her. Cops tossed me down on the street. I’m gonna sue.”
“Three eyewits,” the uniform said dryly as he handed Eve her tube.“Fled the scene. Took a little spill during pursuit.”
“Who’s got it?”
“Carmichael’s primary.”
Satisfied Eve nodded.“Thanks.”
The squawking renewed as she walked off to take the glides to Mira’s sector.
She supposed Mira’s area would be considered more civilized than hers. You weren’t likely to see junked-up suspects being hauled around. Here there was quiet, easy colors, and a lot of closed doors.
Mira’s was open, and the admin guarding the perimeter looked relaxed, so Eve decided she wasn’t going to have to do a dance to gain admission.
Mira spotted her from her desk.“Eve. Come right in. I’m just finishing up some paperwork.”
“Appreciate the time.”
“I have a little to spare today.”
As always, Mira looked perfectly put together without being obvious about it. She was letting her sable-colored hair grow some so that it waved softly to the nape of her neck. Her suit was a monochromatic three-piece in a rich, plummy tone worn with sparkling silver chains and little glittery hoops in her ears.
She smiled easily, a lovely face with soft blue eyes Eve knew could see right through the skull into whatever secrets the brain might hold.
“Did you get a chance to look at the reports?”
“I did. Have a seat. It’s a shame, isn’t it, all that youth and optimism cut off so abruptly.” She sat back.“Their lives were just beginning, really.”
“Now they’re over,” Eve said flatly.“Why?”
“Why is rarely straightforward, is it? On the profile,” she said in brisk, professional tones,“I agree, as you’d expect, with your conclusions and the ME’s, that you’re looking for one killer. Most likely male, between thirty-five and sixty-five. He isn’t impulsive, and wasn’t looking for thrills. He didn’t rape either victim because it wasn’t part of the business at hand. And, very likely, he doesn’t equate sex with power and control. He may be in a sexual relationship where he is accustomed to being subservient.”
“Rape takes time,” Eve added.“He had a schedule to keep, and priorities.”
“Agreed. But rape, or the threat of it, is often used in torture killings, as is mutilation. No sexual assault, no mutilation, no serious vandalism. He came prepared, and with a purpose. He fulfilled it, using brute force and physical - very likely emotional - torture.”
Mira spread the crime scene photos out on her desk.
“Binding the victims put them under his control, kept them helpless. Removing the tape from both victims’ mouths tells me he wanted, or needed, to see their faces. The whole of their faces as he strangled them.”
“Pride in his work.”
“Yes. A job fulfilled, and the acknowledgment of his power and his control. As he was able to overcome a man of Byson’s years and physical build, he’s likely in good physical condition himself. Utilizing weapons on scene - the robe tie, the binding cord - shows presence of mind and clear thinking. The lack of any DNA on the first scene indicates he took precautions. The fact that there was DNA on the second tells me he lost that control long enough to lead with temper.”
“Because he got clocked.”
“Exactly,” Mira said with a ghost of a smile.“Byson hurt him, and he reacted poorly to the pain. Copperfield was the primary target.
“And I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
“No, but it solidifies it.”
“This was a desperate act committed without desperation. He certainly feared them, or what they could do, but there’s no indication of panic on the bodies or on the scenes. He was in control, and illustrated that control to them, to himself, by the face-to-face strangulations.”
“Watch me kill you while I watch you die.”
“Yes. And while he may have - almost certainly - experienced some sort of thrill through that, he remained controlled enough to move quickly to the secondary target and finish his job.”
“But not a pro. It’s too messy for a professional.”
“I agree. But his focus was very tight, his preparations well thought out.”
“A good sense of self-preservation can do that.”
“It can. Following that train, he may have been protecting himself, his own interests, or someone close to him. He was very careful.”
“But didn’t know enough about forensics to know that we’d be able to get his DNA off the scrapes on Byson’s knuckles.”
“Perhaps not, but I’d judge him as educated, organized, and thorough. I’d be very surprised if he hasn’t destroyed or disposed of anything he took from the scenes, anything he used to gain entry. I expect if you interview him during the course of your investigation, he’ll be cooperative. If he knew the victims, he’ll attend their memorial with every sign of sorrow for their loss. He’ll have thought all of that through as well.”
“As well as an alibi for the time in question.”
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t have one. Some in these circumstances might deliberately avoid having an alibi to add to the thrill and excitement during the investigation. The game of it. I don’t think that’s your type here. He’d have dotted all his i’s beforehand.”
Eve nodded.“Okay. Thanks.”
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Mira said as Eve rose.
“What’s - oh. Oh, yeah.”
With a laugh, Mira swiveled in her chair.“I’ve never known any sort of an event at your home to be less than entertaining. Mavis must be thrilled.”
“I guess. Truth? I’m kind of ducking her. We had to do the class thing - the coach class? Which was a nightmare beyond the speaking of it. I’m afraid she’s going to tag me and do, like, a quiz to make sure I was paying attention!”
“And were you?”
“You couldn’t look away. It was like watching a horror movie. Freaky,” she muttered, and had to struggle not to shudder.“Tomorrow, I’m going to be surrounded by those women who’re brewing babies. What if one of them decides to pop?”
“Unlikely, but you will have a couple of doctors on hand. I’ll be there, so will Louise.”
“Right.” The idea relieved her.“I forgot. Okay, that’s a load off. Maybe you could be sure to hang around until all of them leave. Just in case.”
“Eleven years and counting on the force, and you’ve never delivered a baby?”
“That’s right, and I’m going to keep that record intact.”
Eve’s first thought when she entered Sasha Zinka’s office was that it rivaled Roarke’s for space, for plush, for taste. The clean lines and surprising slashes of bold color against the muted made it female without being fussy.
She thought the same of Sasha herself.
The woman could have easily passed for a decade younger than her age on her official records. Honeycomb hair was swooped back and up from a heart-shaped face dominated by clear blue eyes. She wore a suit of rusty red as restrained and subtle as the jewelry she’d matched to it.
She crossed the thick silver carpet in an easy glide in skinny heels as she held out a hand.
“Lieutenant Dallas. We met in passing at some gala or other last spring.”
“I remember.”
“Lousy way to meet again. You’re Detective Peabody. We spoke by ‘link.”
Peabody accepted the hand held out to her.“Thanks for seeing us.”
“Please, have a seat. Tell me what I can do. You wanted to see Lola as well. She’s on her way. Would you like anything while we wait for her?”
“We’re fine, thanks.” Eve sat in a chair of amber leather so buttery she was surprised her butt didn’t just melt through it.“You knew Natalie Copperfield?”
“A little. Knew of her more.” She took a seat of her own.“It’s terrible, what happened to her and the young man. But I’m not sure where Lola and I come into it.”
“You’ve stated that you and Ms. Warfield had dinner with Randall Sloan on the night of the murders.”
“That’s right. Business primarily, but Lola and I enjoy Ran’s company. We were out until after two in the morning, as I told the detective when she contacted me. You don’t seriously consider Ran -”
She broke off as the door opened. Lola Warfield rushed in looking flushed and scattered with her wild brunette curls flying. Her eyes, nearly the same color as the chair where Eve sat, were full of laughing apology.
“Sorry, sorry. I got hung up. Dallas, right? I took my life in my hands and snatched your gorgeous husband for a dance at the Marquis event last spring. If he were mine I’d beat any woman who looked at him with a stick, even if she plays for the other team.”
“Then the city’d be hip-deep in bodies.”
“That’d be a problem. I’m sorry.” She flashed a brilliant smile at Peabody.“I can’t remember your name.”
“Detective Peabody.”
“Nice to meet you. Well, not nice, I guess. It’s awful, but a little exciting, too.”
“Lola glues herself to the screen for the crime reports,” Sasha explained.
“And here we are in the middle of one. Or right on the sidelines. And I’m being horrible. I met Natalie a couple of times. She was very sweet, it seemed to me.”
As she spoke, she moved to the long bar at one end of the office, took a bottle of water from a cold box.“Anyone?”
“No, thanks.” Eve waited a beat while Lola moved to perch on the arm of Sasha’s chair.“When was the business dinner set up with Randall Sloan?”
“Mmm.” Lola glanced down at Sasha.“Couple of days before, wasn’t it? We generally meet with him every quarter.”
“That’s right,” Sasha confirmed.“We’d had to postpone an earlier meeting because we were out of the country for a few days right after the first of the year.”
“Who set it up?”
“Hmm.” Lola furrowed her brow.“I guess Ran did. It’s usual for him to get in touch, set up a meeting, or an evening out.”
“In the course of your business or conversations with Mr. Sloan, did he mention any difficulties with Natalie Copperfield or Bick Byson?”
“No.” Sasha took the ball.“Their names never came up. We work directly with Ran. We did meet her, and her fiancé, as I said. At Jacob Sloan’s home. She - Natalie - was friendly with his grandson.”
“Ms. Copperfield handles your sister’s financials.”
“That’s right. When Anna and her friends went into business, I recommended the firm, and spoke with Ran personally on who he thought would be best for them. He assigned Natalie. She and Anna hit it off well - so I’m told - when Natalie flew out to meet with her.”
“Your sister was satisfied with Ms. Copperfield’s work.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints. And I would have.”
“Would you ever,” Lola confirmed.“Anna doesn’t suffer in silence. Are you looking inside the firm for a suspect? I assumed it was something personal and - well - passionate. Like a jealous ex or unrequited love.”
“We’re looking everywhere,” Eve told her, and rose.“If you remember anything or think of something, you can contact me at Central.”
“That’s all?” Lola’s lips moved into a pout of disappointment.“I was hoping we’d get grilled.”
“Maybe next time. Thanks for your time,” Eve added.
She waited until they were outside, hiking back to their vehicle.“Impressions?”
“Straightforward, confident, calm. Business as usual on the date for the dinner with Sloan, and they don’t strike me as the type to cover for an employee - even if they are on friendly terms. There’s Zinka’s sister’s connection to the first vic, but if I go with the gut, I can’t see either or both of them committing double murders, or attaching themselves to same to keep the sister out of a jam. And they’re way rich. If this is about money, they don’t need to cheat to make more.”
“It’s not about need, it’s about greed and power,” Eve corrected.“But I didn’t get any vibe there. If it was the sister’s account that sent up the red flag for Copperfield, and either of them knew about it, they’re damn cool. What do we have on Anna Kerlinko’s whereabouts on the night?”
Peabody took out her memo book as she slid into the car.“Figuring the time difference, she was having breakfast with her current lover when Copperfield was murdered, and in her office by nine, her time. Got wits. She couldn’t have zipped here, done them, zipped back.”
“We move on.”
Using geography as much as her own checklist, she maneuvered the six blocks east to take the New York branch of the law firm representing the Bullock Foundation. They’d been assigned to Copperfield within the last few months, Eve mused, and had yet another connection with Byson representing one of the partner’s nieces.
The firm had its offices in an elegant old brownstone with the outer office as quiet as a church and manned by a woman who sat bathed in the colored light that seeped through the stained glass of the streetside window.
She was a sharp looker with her red hair in a long, swooping curve. Eve badged her and got several surprised blinks in response.
“I don’t understand.”
“Badge,” Eve said helpfully.“Cops. Now you buzz your boss and tell him we need to speak with him.”
“Golly. I mean, I’m sorry, but Mr. Cavendish is in a meeting. I’d be happy to check his schedule with his assistant and set up an appointment.”
“No, no, you’re getting it wrong. Let me repeat. Badge. Cops.” Eve glanced around, saw the straight angle of polished wood stairs.“Offices up that way?”
“Oh, but - but - but -”
Eve left the redhead sputtering and moved with Peabody to the stairs.
The second level changed Eve’s opinion from church to museum. The carpets were old, worn, and expensive. The wainscotting the real deal, and very likely original. Paintings of country landscapes adorned the walls.
A door swung open on the left. The woman who stepped out was older than the girl at the downstairs desk, and twice as sharp.
She wore her jet hair in a no-nonsense twist that complimented a striking, angular face. The pinstriped suit might have been no-nonsense as well, but it had been tailored to mold a very fine body.
“I believe you were told Mr. Cavendish is in a meeting and unavailable at this time. What can I do for you?”
“You can get him out of his meeting and see that he’s available,” Eve returned.“That would be helpful.”
She felt an entertaining little buzz up the back of her spine at the woman’s silent, burning stare.“Got a name, sister?”
“Ms. Ellyn Bruberry. I’m Mr. Cavendish’s administrative assistant. And a paralegal.”
“Good for you. We need to talk to Mr. Cavendish in connection with an investigation.”
“Mr. Cavendish is, as you’ve now been told twice, unavailable. And as you must know, is under no obligation to speak with you without notice.”
“Got me there,” Eve said cheerfully.“We’ll be happy to give Mr. Cavendish, and you, and every one in these offices notice of your obligation to come into Cop Central for formal interviews, which - being a paralegal - you must know could take a few hours to, oh, next Christmas. Or gee, we could just talk to him now, in the comfort of his own office. And probably be out of your hair in under twenty minutes.”
She paused.“Pick a door.”
Eve actually heard the woman suck air through her nose.
“You’ll have to tell me what this is about.”
“No, I really don’t. You may want to ask your boss if he’d rather speak to me now, or come into Central in the immediate future and spend considerable time being interviewed formally. Or you can make that decision for him. Up to you.”
“But…” Peabody tapped her wrist unit.“Time’s a-wasting.”
“Wait here.”
Eve waited until Bruberry had clicked off on her sharply heeled boots.“Time’s a-wasting?”
“It just worked for me. Kind of pissy, wasn’t she? And she knows why we’re here.”
“Oh, yeah, she does. Interesting.” Idly, Eve turned to study one of the countryscapes.“How come people live and work in urban areas, then put up pictures of rural areas on the wall? Can’t they make up their minds where they want to be?”
“A lot of people find rural landscapes relaxing.”
“Sure, until you start wondering what’s creeping behind those trees, or slithering along in the grass.”
Peabody shifted uncomfortably.“Some people think bounding instead of creeping, as in pretty little fawns, and frolicking as opposed to slithering, like cute little bunnies.”
“Some people are fools. Let’s entertain ourselves, Peabody, and start a run on Bruberry. And one on Cavendish.”
“It could be fawns and bunnies,” Peabody muttered, and took out her PPC to do the runs.
Moments later, Bruberry stepped out of another door. Her back was poker straight, her tone cool and aloof.“Mr. Cavendish will see you now. Ten minutes.”
10
FROM CHURCH TO MUSEUM, EVE THOUGHT, THEN through the door into the men’s club.
Walter Cavendish presided over an office with wide-armed, port-colored leather chairs and sofas, and dark, heavy woods. The carpets were thickly padded Orientals, likely the real deal, in rich tones and complex patterns. Amber liquid swam in thick crystal decanters that would have doubled as very effective murder weapons.
A trim black data and communication center stood alongside leather and brass accessories that were arranged just so on the antique desk where Cavendish sat looking prosperous, tailored - and to Eve’s gauge - nervy.
He was in his early fifties, with a good head of the hair people called sandy in men, mousey in women. His face was ruddy, his eyes a light blue that skipped over Eve’s face, then over her shoulder. His suit was a muted brown with just a hint of a gold stripe to show he liked a little pizzazz.
He rose, and his not-quite-handsome face set in solemn lines.“I’d like to see some identification.” He spoke, to Eve’s mind, in the rounded, fruity tones of a hammy Shakespearean actor.
Both she and Peabody took out badges.“Lieutenant Dallas,” Eve said,“and Detective Peabody. Looks like your meeting broke up. Funny, we didn’t see anyone leave.”
He looked momentarily confused, and those nervous eyes slid to Bruberry even as the admin spoke.
“It was a ‘link conference.”
“Yes, a ‘link conference. With London.”
“That’s handy.” She kept her eyes on Cavendish in a way that told him she knew he was already lying.“Since you’ve got a few minutes now, we have some questions in connection with an investigation.”
“So I’m told.” He gestured, started to sit. When he didn’t offer a hand, Eve shot hers out deliberately. She wanted the feel of his.
He hesitated, and she saw his gaze dart toward his admin yet again before he took Eve’s hand in his.
A little soft, she noted, a little damp.
“What’s the nature of your investigation?”
“Homicide. Natalie Copperfield and Bick Byson. Are those names familiar to you?”
“No.”
“You don’t watch the media reports, I take it. Don’t scan the newspapers.” She flicked a glance of her own toward a wall screen framed in the dark wood that dominated the room.“These individuals were murdered three nights ago in their respective residences. Both were employed by the accounting firm of Sloan, Myers, and Kraus. And funnily enough, Natalie Copperfield handled the accounts for your home operation. But that name doesn’t ring for you?”
“I don’t retain the names of everyone I might hear of or read of. I’m a very busy man. As far as accounting, Ellyn - my assistant - deals with that area.”
“I’m aware of Ms. Copperfield,” Bruberry stated.“What does her death have to do with this firm?”
“At this point, I’ll be asking the questions,” Eve said coolly.“Where were you, Mr. Cavendish, three nights ago between the hours of midnight and fourA . M.?”
“At home, in bed. With my wife.”
Eve lifted her eyebrows.“You can’t remember the names of two people who’ve been all over the media reports, but you know - without a second’s hesitation or without checking your book - where you were three nights ago?”
“At home,” he said again.“In bed.”
“Have you had any contact with Ms. Copperfield or Mr. Byson?”
“No.”
“That’s odd. Don’t you find that odd, Detective, that Mr. Cavendish would have no contact whatsoever with the person who handles his firm’s accounts?”
“I have to say I do. Me, I’m on a first-name basis with the guy in Payroll back at Central.”
“I may have, at some point, met -”
“I corresponded and met with Ms. Copperfield,” Bruberry interrupted.“When necessary. Such matters are, primarily, dealt with through our home office in London.”
“And just what do you do here?” Eve asked, speaking directly to Cavendish.
“I represent our firm’s New York interests.”
“Which means?”
“Exactly that.”
“That clarifies it. And you also represent the legal interests of Lordes C. McDermott, who was a client of Bick Byson.”
“Ms. McDermott is a family relation, and naturally is represented by our firm. As to her financial manager, I couldn’t say.”
“Really? Gee, seems like one hand doesn’t keep a grip on the other around here. And, second gee, I don’t think I said Byson was her financial manager, just that she was a client.”
Cavendish fiddled with the knot of his tie. Nervous tell, Eve thought.
“I assumed.”
“While we’re at it, your whereabouts on the night of the murders, Ms. Bruberry?”
“At home. I was in bed before midnight.”
“Alone?”
“I live alone, yes. I’m afraid that’s all the time Mr. Cavendish can spare.”
Eve got lazily to her feet.“Thanks for your cooperation. Oh,” she continued.“Your firm also represents…” She took out her memo book as if to check on a name.“The Bullock Foundation.”
And there, she noted, just that little ripple over the face. The tightening of the jaw, the flicker in the eyes. Another brush of the fingers over the knot of his tie.“That’s correct.”
“Ms. Madeline Bullock and Mr. Winfield Chase were recently in the city. I suppose you met with them while they were here.”
“I…”
“Ms. Bullock and Mr. Chase had a luncheon meeting here with Mr. Cavendish. That would have been on Monday afternoon. At twelve-thirty,” Bruberry added.
“You had your meeting, and your lunch with them here. In the office.”
“That’s correct,” Bruberry snapped before Cavendish could respond.“Would you like me to find my notes on the menu?”
“I’ll let you know. This has been just swell. Thanks for the time.” Eve turned to go, hesitated at the door.“You know, it’s odd that while you’re so busy representing your firm’s New York interests, you didn’t take regular meetings with the senior accountant who looks after their finances.”
“I’ll see you out,” Bruberry said when Cavendish remained silent.
“That’s okay. We can manage it.”
Somebody’s got a secret,” Peabody said when they were back on the street.
“Bet your ass. That guy had guilt and fear plastered all over him. Could be we’ll find he’s just cheating on his wife or wearing women’s underwear.”
“Or both if he’s cheating with his admin. She’s definitely the alpha male in that duet.”
“You got that right. Stupid to lie about knowing Copperfield, and he was.”
“Puffed up. You know,” Peabody continued when Eve lifted a brow.“I’m too important to know the little people. And it’s a way of distancing himself from the big stew.”
“Big stew being murder.” She got behind the wheel, tapped her fingers on it.“They weren’t prepared. Never considered the cops would question them, so they went with first instinct. Deny everything. Let’s see if we can track down Lordes McDermott, get another angle on this.”
Peabody pulled out her PPC to get an address.“Got a place on Riverside Drive.”
“‘Link number?”
“Right here.”
“Try it first. Let’s make sure she’s home, or where she might be if not.”
Lordes McDermott was not only home, but appeared to have no problem having her day interrupted by the police.
They were escorted into her home by a uniformed maid, and through a wide, two-story atrium into a spacious sitting room done in a bold contemporary style with flashing color, glinting metallics, and glittering glass.
Lordes looked comfortably at home in New York black, soft boots, dull gold jewelry. Her hair was short, near the color of a ripe eggplant, and worn with short, spiky bangs over a pair of sapphire eyes.
On the low glass table was a skinny white pot, three oversized white mugs, and a white triangular platter loaded with donuts.
“Don’t tell me cops, coffee, and donuts is a cliché.”
“It’s a cliché for a reason. Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”
“Have a seat. You must be here about Bick and his Natalie. I’m damn sick about it. He was a lovely guy.”
“When did you last see him?”
“December fifteenth.”
“Good memory,” Eve commented.
“No, not really. I looked it up when I heard about what happened. We had a wrapping-up year-end business meeting right before the holidays. Here in this room, actually. He was a nice guy.”
“Did you know Ms. Copperfield?”
“I met her a few times. Bick brought her to a couple of dinner meetings at my request. I like knowing who the people handling my business are involved with. I liked her, too. They had that nice glow on together, anticipation. How would you like your coffee?”
“Black, thanks.”
“Light and sweet for me,” Peabody added.
“Are you talking to all of Bick’s clients?” Lordes asked. She poured the coffee with the gold wedding band on her hand gleaming.“I was surprised when you contacted me.”
“We’re talking to a lot of people. In fact, we’ve just come from speaking to Walter Cavendish. He’s a relative of yours, isn’t he?”
“Second cousin.” She wrinkled her nose, just a fraction, just an instant. Another tell, Eve thought. Lordes doesn’t much care for Walter.
“My cousin - Walter’s father - is one of the partners in the firm, London-based. I think that makes us second cousins,” she said with a thoughtful little frown.“Whatever, it’s one of those things. Help yourself to those donuts. I’m going to.” To prove it, she selected one loaded with colorful jimmies.
“Was it your connection with your uncle that sent you to the accounting firm, and then to Bick?”
“Mmm.” Lordes nodded, mouth full.“God, these are obscene. They’ve handled my financial affairs for years. After Miles died - the idiot - I inherited another bundle. I just let it all lay for a while, huddled in Europe. Then when I came back, I asked for a young, savvy account manager. I got Bick - and he was.”
“How did your husband die, if you don’t mind me asking?” Peabody tried to be delicate with a cream-filled.
“Playing around in this little plane he’d built. He loved to fly. Crashed and burned. I loved the stupid jerk. Nearly killed me when I lost him. And it’s been five years this spring - I’m still pissed at him.”
“Can you tell us where you were three nights ago, between midnight and four?”
“That sounds so ominous. I wondered if it would. I looked that up, too, after you got in touch to say you were coming by. I had a little dinner party, just a couple of friends. Female friends. I’m dating again, but it’s suchwork, especially when you’re not really interested. They left about midnight, and I went on to bed. Watched some screen first. Fell asleep watching some old vid.”
“Considering the relationships,” Eve continued,“did you ever have meetings, or have occasion to socialize together with Ms. Copperfield, Mr. Byson, and your cousin - second cousin, that is?”
“With Walter?” Lordes let out a hooting laugh.“No. Absolutely not. I try not to socialize with Walter at all. He really is an idiot.”
“You don’t get along?”
“I can get along with anyone. I just get along better with some if I keep the contact limited.”
“Doesn’t he represent your legal interests here in New York?”
“Not really. My cousin in London looks out for them, and Walter handles some of the busy work. To be frank, he’s not all that bright. He follows directions, files papers, looks good enough in a tux. Anything complex goes through the London office, at least as far as I know.”
She angled her head.“You’re not thinking Walter had anything to do with the murders? I’ve known him all my life. I can tell you he’s not only not smart enough to have done it, he wouldn’t have the stones.”
Eve was just sliding behind the wheel when her ‘link beeped.“Dallas.”
“Lieutenant.” Summerset’s biting tone fit his stony face.“You failed to notify me that you were expecting a delivery.”
“I probably failed to notify you that you get uglier every day, but I’ve been busy.”
“The rocker system from a retail establishment called the White Stork has been delivered. What would you like me to do with it?”
She waited a full beat.“Boy, you must be slipping to open yourself up like that. I’ll avoid the obvious answer. Put it in that drawing room place, second level. Where the party’s happening.”
“Very well. In the future I’d appreciate it if you’d inform me of any deliveries.”
“In the future I’d appreciate it if you’d wear a hood over your face before you come on my ‘link screen.”
She clicked off, satisfied.
“You guys sure are entertaining,” Peabody commented.“After shift, I’m going to go home, get all the stuff together, then head uptown to your place. I can’t wait to see the rocker and get it decked out for tomorrow.”
“Whoopee.”
“You know she’ll love it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, she will.”
“She’ll be like the Fertility Queen or something. Big kick for her.”
“Queen Mavis.” Amused, Eve slipped through a yellow light.“She ought to have a…” She wiggled her fingers over her head.
“A crown! Sure.”
“No, not a crown, too big and formal. The other deal. The whatsit. Tiara.”
“Perfect! Man, that’s mag. See?” She poked Eve’s arm.“You can do this.”
“Looks like I’m doing it.”
Eve took it all back to Central with her - the statements, impressions, instincts. There, she lined them up, wrote the reports, stewed over them. At her board, she began to tack up keywords beside photos, names, connecting arrows.
“You need a bigger board.” Roarke stepped inside, a topcoat slung over his arm.
“I keep hearing that.”
“God knows you need a bigger office.”
“Works okay for me. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for a ride home. A little business upstairs,” he continued when she only frowned at him. And when her frown deepened, he stepped over, flicked a finger down the shallow dent in her chin.“It’s done, and everyone’s as satisfied as possible.”
“It sucks.”
“As life so often does. This makes sense to you, I imagine.” He tossed his coat idly over the back of her desk chair before circling the board.“Ah, yes. I see. Links within links. For such a big world there are so many interesting and tight little patterns, aren’t there?”
“What did Whitney say?”
“Officially or unofficially?” Roarke asked as he continued to study her board.
“I know what he said officially.”
“Unofficially then. He said it was all bullshit. That’s a direct quote.” He shifted his gaze to her face, shook his head.“And that’s enough for you, I see. You don’t need him to look you in the eye and tell you he trusts and respects you. To apologize on a personal level.”
“No.”
He moved over, closed the door.“Bullshit it may be, but it’s the sort of thing that keeps you in this broomstick of an office instead of in a captain’s seat.”
“I want to be in the office. Let’s not murk this up with that kind of crap. I’m doing exactly what I want to do, and what I’m good at doing.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want the bars, Eve.”
“I thought I did.” She pushed a hand through her hair as she shifted her mental gears.“I wouldn’t turn them down if they held them out to me - on my terms. Listen, you’ve got the Irish thing going. Fate, destiny, woo-woo.”
His lips twitched.“You’re the one who exorcised a ghost recently.”
“I cleared a case,” she corrected.“And what I mean is sometimes things are just meant. I’m meant to be in the office, doing this work. I believe that.”
“All right.” The office was so small he had to do little more than reach out to take her arms, to run his hands up and down them.“I’ll add that your commander said to relay to you that he had every confidence you’d close this case in a timely manner.”
“Okay.”
“Should I find myself alternate transportation, or are you heading home soon?”
“I can pick this up there. Give me ten. Hey,” she said when he opened the door.“Maybe you should buy me dinner.”
He smiled.“Maybe I should.”
“But we have to make a stop first. I need a tiara.”
“To go with your scepter?”
“Not for me. Jeez. Mavis. Thing tomorrow. It’s a theme or something. Is a scepter one of those…” She fisted her hand, pumped it up and down in a way that made his eyebrows shoot up as he grinned.
“God, gutter-brain.” But she laughed, shifted her arm well out to the side of her body.“You know, like a staff deal?”
“I believe so.”
“We should find one of those, too. So maybe you could figure out a costume store or something where we can get them on the way to dinner.”
It was remarkably simple to find a rhinestone tiara and plastic scepter, especially when he was shopping with a woman who made a habit of grabbing the first thing that came close to the mark and making an escape.
And since he knew his woman, for the meal he chose Italian in a crowded little trattoria where the atmosphere was simple and the food stupendous. By the time she’d dug into spaghetti and meatballs and hadn’t brought up the case, he let it lie.
“You missed lunch.”
She spun pasta around her fork.“Probably, but I had a donut in there. And I think I forgot to inform you that Peabody and McNab are bunking at our place tonight.”
“Inform me?”
“Summerset. He got pissy because I forgot about a delivery coming in today. Anyway, Peabody wants to decorate for the shower - which I don’t get. You’re getting a party, presents, food. What more do you need?”
“I suppose we’ll find out. That’s handy though. I can pluck McNab up tomorrow, and we’ll go do something manly.”
“Go? Leave?” Absolute panic rushed into her face.“You’re not going to stay for the thing?”
He took a bite of manicotti.“There’s nothing you could do, say, nothing you could possibly offer - including deviant sexual favors - that would induce me to be within a hundred yards of that baby shower.”
“Crap.” She forked up a nice chunk of meatball.“Not even if I combined chocolate sauce with the outfit?”
“Not even.”
“There could be whipped cream. And choreography.”
“An excellent bribe, I grant you, especially for a desperate woman. But no. I’ve already made arrangements to escape with Leonardo. We’ll just add McNab to our happy little troupe.”
“But what if something goes wrong?” She grabbed his arm.“Like the caterer goes whacko, because sometimes they do. Or we lose one of the pregnant women in the house.”
He merely picked up his wine with his free hand.
“Okay, okay.” She rolled her eyes.“I can handle it. But it stinks, if you ask me, really stinks, that you get to go out somewhere drinking beer while I’m stuck at Baby Central. Just because you have a penis.”
“We’ll think fondly of you over beer, me and my penis.”
She ate a little more, then smiled slowly.“You’ve still got to be in the birthing room when she pushes it out.”
“Shut up, Eve.”
“Your penis won’t save you then, pal.”
He picked up a breadstick, broke it in half to offer her a share.“And are you playing games tomorrow? Will there be prizes?”
She winced at his perfect delivery of the perfect stinger.“Okay, I’ll shut up. Want to talk about murder?”
“Please.”
She brought him up to date as they finished the meal and lingered over cappuccino.
“So Cavendish and his admin struck you wrong.”
“Vibes all over the place. Something off there, and the admin pulls his strings.”
“I don’t know him, though I have met the other players in today’s cast.”
“I’ve got the basics on him. Forty-six, trust-fund baby. Likes squash - the game, not necessarily the food. Two marriages, ditched the first wife eight years ago. One child, female, age twelve. Mother has custody, and moved to Paris. Married wife number two as soon as the divorce was final. She’s twenty-nine. Former model. My take there is he went from starter wife to trophy wife and fools around with the admin on the side.”
She narrowed her eyes as she sipped the frothy coffee.“And she wears leather, high-heeled boots, and makes him bark like a dog when they do it.”
“Really?” Amused, Roarke sat back.“And you know this because?”
“Because, of the two of them, she’s the one with the balls. He pushes paper, attends events, takes meetings, and does what he’s told.”
“And did someone tell him to kill Copperfield and Byson?”
“Maybe, and wouldn’t that be tidy?” She frowned over it.“But I’m leaning away from that. The killer was too level-headed, too confident. Cavendish broke a sweat just talking to me. But he knows something, and one of the things he knows is who did it.”
“So you’ll sweat him a bit more.”
“I can do that. I can talk to him again, poke at him a little. But I don’t have enough to charge him with anything and make him flip. I need more. A direct line. I have to find more because I’m betting he was just where he said he was on the night of the murders. Home in bed, and with the covers over his head because he knew what was going on.”
“If the New York branch of the law firm was part of it, used to funnel money or wash funds, I’ll find it.”
He would, Eve thought, not only because he was good, but because his pride was on the line this time out.“Counting on it,” she said.“Maybe we should go get started.”
She knew Peabody and McNab were already there because she could hear the music and the voices coming from what she’d designated as the party room. If it made her a coward, she’d live with it, but Eve made a bee-line for her office.
There she updated her board, then sat down to take a closer look at Ellyn Bruberry.
Forty, she mused as the data scrolled onto her wall screen. No marriages, no offspring. The West Side address listed would give Bruberry a grand view of the park and the price tag to match. Not bad for a paralegal and administrative assistant.
American born, though she’d moved from Pittsburgh to London in her early twenties. To join the firm of Stuben, Robbins, and Cavendish - Mull came later - as a legal secretary. Relocated to New York, and the branch there, as Walter Cavendish’s admin six years before.
After the second marriage, Eve mused.
No criminal record.
Eve took a dip into the financials. Hefty salary, she decided, but it wasn’t illegal to pay employees well. Major influxes in income jibed with Christmas, Bruberry’s birthday, and the time she’d come into the law firm - and would be easily explained as bonuses.
But wasn’t it interesting that her personal accounts were handled by Sloan, Myers, and Kraus?
Not Byson’s client though, she confirmed after a check of his list. She made a note to find out who at the firm handled Bruberry’s financials.
Direct lines, she thought again. What was the most direct line from Copperfield/Byson to Cavendish/Bruberry?
The firm again, but if she spiked out from there it was the Bullock Foundation. Clients of both the law firm and the accounting firm. And Cavendish had been flustered when she’d asked if he’d seen the foundation people during their time in New York.
It was the youngest partner, Robert Kraus, who’d been entertaining Bullock and Chase - and who was alibied by them.
“Hey, Dallas.”
She grunted as she called up Kraus’s data.
“You’re not still working. Come on.” Peabody stood beside the desk, hands on her hips.“You need to look at the decorations we’ve got going. I need to run some stuff by you.”
“You just do what you’re doing. It’s fine.”
“Dallas. It’s after ten.”
“Golly, Mom, did I miss curfew? Am I grounded?”
“See, you’re cranky.” Peabody pointed an accusing finger.“Take a break, take a look. It’s for Mavis.”
“Okay, okay. Jesus.” But if she was going to be dragged into decorations, she wasn’t being dragged alone. Eve marched to Roarke’s office.“We’re going to look at decorations and see what else needs to be done. I think.”
“Have fun.”
“Un-uh. We is you, too.”
“I don’t want to.” But he made the mistake of glancing up, and met the same glowering look on Eve’s face she’d seen on Peabody’s.“All right, then. But when this whole business is finally over, you and I are taking that postponed holiday, and doing naked handsprings on the sand.”
“Right with you, ace.”
11
IT WASN’T NUMBERS THAT DANCED IN HER dreams, but rainbows and strange winged babies. When the flying babies began to buzz like wasps and form into packs, Eve clawed her way out of sleep.
She sat up as if her shoulders were on springs and said,“Whoa.”
“Nightmare?” Roarke was already rising from the sofa in the sitting area.
“Flying babies. Evil flying babies with evil wings.”
He stepped onto the platform, sat on the side of the bed.“Darling Eve, we need a vacation.”
“There were balloons,” she said darkly.“And the wings cut through them like razors so they popped. And when they popped, more evil flying babies zoomed out.”
He trailed a finger along her thigh.“Maybe you could make an effort to dream about, oh, let’s say, sex.”
“Somebody had sex, didn’t they, to create the evil flying babies?” Suddenly she reached forward, grabbed fistsful of his sweater. Her eyes radiated desperation.“Don’t leave me alone with all these women today.”
“Sorry. I’m falling back on the penis clause. Which sounds vaguely obscene, when spoken aloud, but I’m using it in any case. No negotiation.”
“Bastard,” she said, but with more envy than heat as she released him to flop back.
“There, there.” He gave her an absent pat.
“Maybe it’ll snow. There could be a blizzard, and people won’t be able to come because it’s a blizzard - a big mother - that brings New York to its trembling knees.”
“Forecast is for a high of twenty-two degrees under clear skies.”
“I heard that. I heard it.” Rearing up again, she jabbed a finger at him.“Not the words, the tone. You think this is funny.”
“No. I know it is. And you’ll end up having a good time, first because Mavis will be so happy, and next because you’ll spend some nonprofessional time with a number of women you like.”
“But, Roarke, there have to be games.”
“You don’t play them.”
Her eyes went cop flat.“Why not?”
He couldn’t help it if he was amused. She managed to be panicked and suspicious at the same time.“You’re the hostess, and it would be wrong for you to participate in the games and win any of the prizes.”
“Is that true?”
“It should be, and that’s your stand on it.”
“Yeah, that’s my stand on it.” She perked up considerably.“Thanks.”
She revved herself up with a workout, a long swim, and a hot shower. Then she snuck into her office to run probabilities on different scenarios.
“You’re working again!”
She actually jolted upright, and felt a small twinge of guilt.“What are you,” she demanded of Peabody,“the work police?”
“You don’t need a cop, you need a keeper. Dallas, the caterer’s going to be here any minute.”
“Okay, fine, good. Somebody can tell me when they’re here.” Eve waved a hand.“I’m just checking some things that have to do with pesky details like double murders.”
But she shut down the machine when Peabody merely stood, gimlet-eyed, actually tapping her foot.“You’re not the work police.” It was said with some bitterness.“You’re the party gestapo.”
“Mavis just called. She didn’t try your ‘link because she knew you’d be busy with the shower preparations. She’s on her way over because she can’t wait anymore.”
“Man. I turned my machine off, didn’t I? I’m leaving the office. See, walking out, shutting the door behind me.”
Peabody only smiled. Guilt was the best tool, she knew. She’d learned that one at her mother’s knee.
Eve’s first surprise was that the caterer didn’t want her to do anything. In fact, they wanted Eve and everyone else completely out of the way. Her second was that Summerset had already left the house, and wouldn’t be back until the following day.
“You won’t find any Y chromosomes on the premises this afternoon,” Roarke told her.“Except the cat.”
He stood with Eve in the second-level sitting room. It was larger than the downstairs parlor they used most often, and boasted double fireplaces with malachite surrounds. Sofas, chairs, and an abundance of pillows had been arranged in conversation areas, with a long table, covered now with a rainbow hue of cloths and candles, running along the back wall. Over it, rainbow streamers, pink and blue balloons, and some sort of arty flowered vine flowed out of a sparkling circle and formed a kind of canopy over what Peabody had designated as the gift table.
Baby roses, baby iris, baby’s breath - and an assortment of other baby-type posies Eve had already forgotten - were spilling out of little silver baskets shaped like cradles.
Buffet tables, also rainbow-hued, were already set up. The caterer had dressed one with china following the color scheme, more miniature candles, more flowers, and an ice sculpture of a stork carrying a little sack in its beak.
Eve had been sure it would be silly, and instead it was sort of charming.
Both fires simmered low, and in the center of it all the rocker was draped in rainbows and decked in flowers.
“I guess it looks pretty good.”
“Very sweet.” Roarke took her hand.“Very female. Congratulations.”
“I didn’t do that much.”
“That’s not true. You dragged your feet every chance you got, but you picked them up and did the job.” He brought her hand to his lips, then leaned down to kiss her.
“Oops.” Peabody stopped in the doorway and grinned.“Don’t mean to interrupt if the stork and all the cradles are giving you guys ideas.”
“Don’t make me hurt you,” Eve warned.
“I’ve got Mavis out here. I thought maybe you’d want to show her in.”
“Has pregnancy affected her eyesight?”
“No, I just - never mind,” Peabody said with a laugh.“Okay, Mavis.”
She might have been carrying an extra twenty pounds, but Mavis could still bounce. She all but boinged into the room on pink airboots that slicked up to her knees. Her blue and white skirt fluttered like flower petals beneath the basketball bulge of her belly. The sleeves of her dress displayed a geometric pattern of color that came to points over the backs of her hands.
Her hair - a soft, pale blonde today - was scooped back in a long, twisty tail as bouncy as she was.
She stopped short, slapped both hands over her mouth. And burst into tears.
“Oh shit. Oh shit” was all Eve could manage.
“No, no, no.” Still sobbing, even as Leonardo rushed in behind her, Mavis waved one of her hands.“I’m so knocked-up. I’m a total victim of the hormones. It’s so pretty ! Oh, oh, it’s all rainbows and flowers. It’s so mag. It’s so mag, Dallas.”
She sobbed her way across the room and threw herself into Eve’s arms - bulging belly first.
“Okay, good then. Glad you like it.”
“I absolove it. Peabody!” Mavis flung out a hand, pulling Peabody into a three-way embrace.“Thank you. Thank you.”
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“No, I’m okay. I just flood off and on. Isn’t that right, honey-pie?” she said to Leonardo.
“We had baby carrots last night.” He was already passing her tissues.“She cried for ten minutes.”
Obviously the memory made her laugh, as she grinned and turned to give the bulk of him a squeeze.“I don’t know how you put up with me. Three in the morning? I woke up starved. Like shackled-in-the-cellar-for-a-week starved. And my baby bear got up and fixed me scrambled eggs. Oh, oh, check it out!” She bounced again as she looked at the canopied chair.“It’s like a throne, right? I get to sit there.”
“That’s your spot,” Eve confirmed.
“Can I give you a hand, your majesty?” Roarke offered his.
“This is TTF. Too Totally Frosty. You’re going to run away for the day with my sweetie, aren’t you?”
“As soon as humanly possible,” he told her, and helped her into the chair.
“Well, okay. I give you leave.”
“Give her the stuff,” Peabody whispered.
“She might start crying again.”
“I get stuff? Already?” Since she was sitting, the best Mavis could do was bounce on her butt.“What? Where? Oh, God, I love stuff.”
Uneasy about the results, Eve went to a cabinet, took out the scepter and tiara.
“Oh, boy! Uptown squared.”
Relieved because this time Mavis’s eyes glittered with laughter instead of tears, Eve passed the tiara to Leonardo.
“You probably know how to get it on right.”
“Crown me, moonpie,” Mavis told him.“And let the games begin.”
Within the hour, the room was so full of estrogen Eve thought she could bottle it and sell it on the black market. Women nibbled, sipped, cooed over other women’s protruding bellies and chatted about the things she understood they chatted about when they got together as a species.
Hair. That’s a great look for you, and what a mag color! Where do you go?
Clothes. Absolutely fabulous shoes. Are they comfortable?
Men. He just doesn’t listen to what I need to say.
And due to the nature of the event, they talked of babies, babies, and more babies.
The new fact she discovered was that women who’d already had children felt compelled to share their childbirth experiences with those about to head to the labor mines.
Sixteen hours, and two and a half of that pushing. But it was worth it.
Titania popped out as soon as my water broke. If I’d been ten minutes later getting to the birthing center, she’d have been born in the cab!
I had to have a C. Wiley just wouldn’t turn.
They were also full of advice.
You have to get Magdelina’s Symphony For Giving Life! I’d have been lost without it. So empowering.
Water births are the only way to go. I had both of mine in a birthing lagoon. It’s a religious experience.
Take the drugs.
And that one, Eve thought, was the most sensible statement of the day.
With a frosty bellini in her hand, Nadine Furst - ace reporter and soon-to-be host of her own crime-beat show - wandered over.“You give a good party, Dallas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mavis look happier. She’s literally radiating.”
“Wait, she could start bawling any minute.”
“Hormones.” Nadine shrugged. She was wearing her streaky blonde hair sleek these days around her sharp face.“Wanted to talk to you.”
“Hair looks great, fantastic shoes, and I’m sure whatever man you’re currently banging is handsome and wise. Does that cover it?”
“No, but you got three out of three. We’re fine-tuning the format for my show, and the producers and I thought it would just top it off if we had a monthly segment with you. An intense hour every four weeks that not only focuses on whatever case you’re working, but gives a roundup of what you’ve handled through the month.”
Nadine lifted her glass in a kind of toast before she sipped.“Adds a nice punch to the format, and it’s good exposure, good PR for the NYPSD.”
“A monthly deal? Let me think about it a minute. No.”
Nadine merely sipped her drink, cocked a brow.“Which is exactly what I told my team you’d say. So I have this alternative, which I think would suit us both. A monthly segment with Homicide. Someone in your division comes on every four weeks. All you have to do is assign the detective, give me the heads-up so I can prep. It’s good screen, Dallas. And it gives the viewing public a face.”
“Maybe.” The reality was there had to be some give and take with the media, and the plus was Eve knew she could trust Nadine to give a balanced view.“Something like that I’d have to run by the brass.”
“You’re still first up.” She tapped Eve’s shoulder.“The one you’re working now would have a kick. Two lovers - young, attractive, and seemingly ordinary - bound, tortured, and killed. How’s it going?”
“That’s what I like about you, Nadine. You know how to make party conversation.”
“Would you rather talk about childbirth and breast-feeding?”
“I’d rather be stabbed in the eye with a burning stick. It’s going. You got any dish on a Walter Cavendish? Rich lawyer.”
“No, but I can poke around.”
“How about the Bullock Foundation?”
“Huge. Donates mucho moolah, funds programs, gives grants. London-based with a worldwide reach and some off-planet interests. Headed now by Bullock’s widow and second wife, who enjoys the limelight, and her son, who’s rarely far from her side. Just what does the respected and generous Bullock Foundation have to do with two dead accountants?”
“That’s the question.”
Because she saw Peabody rushing over and knew she was about to be tossed back into Babyland, Eve grabbed a bellini for herself.
“We have to do the games.” Peabody had a gleam in her eye that might have come from the bellinis, or the overdose of estrogen.
“Go ahead,” Eve told her.
“Nuh-uh! You have to run them. If I do it, I can’t play. I wanna play.”
“Don’t look at me,” Nadine said when Eve turned to her.
“Oh, hell. Fine, great. I’m on it.”
She’d run ops, she ran a squad of detectives. She could handle a hundred women over a bunch of stupid games.
They were insane, Eve discovered within the first fifteen minutes. The room was packed with women who were psychotic and certifiable. Screaming, shouting, laughing like mental patients over the race to decipher each rubric she held up.
She wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t be forced to subdue a brunette who looked big enough to be carrying triplets.
“Cradle Robber!” The woman screeched out.
“Okay, good. You got it. Settle down.” Eve pressed a finger to her eyes, breathed, and prayed she’d make it through the next two rounds without becoming a gibbering idiot.
At last she got a break as the victor insisted on being hauled to her feet to waddle over to inspect the prizes and select her spoils.
“Dallas?” From her throne, Mavis reached up for Eve’s hand.
“You need something? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m better than good. It’s just Tandy’s not here. I don’t know what could’ve happened. I tried her place, and her pocket ‘link, but she’s not picking up. Maybe she went into labor, but I tried the birthing center, and she hasn’t checked in.”
“Maybe she forgot.”
“Just couldn’t. Last time I talked to her she was all about it. I’m kind of worried.”
“Don’t be.” A worried Mavis could turn on a dime into a blubbering Mavis.“Listen, she was pretty close to popping, right? Maybe she was just too tired or whatever. She turned off her ‘links and took a nap. Try her again later.”
“Yeah, maybe. Sure, she’s fine. Just needed to rest. I hate that she’s missing it. It’s the ult party. Everything’s just frosty, and she was really looking forward to it.”
When Mavis started to water up, Eve crouched beside her.“Hey, don’t get upset. We’ll, um, we’ll put some cake away for her. And one of the favor things.”
“That’d be good. I’m never going to forget today, Dallas. Not if I live to be a zillion and five.”
“Just relax and enjoy. I’ve got to start the next round.”
Crazed game-playing females were slightly less scary than an emotionally wound-up, extremely knocked-up Mavis.
She got through the games, and with Peabody happily volunteering to deliver the booty, the party shifted to the present portion of the program.
Hoping to distance herself from the coos and squeals that broke out each time Mavis ripped at wrapping paper, Eve dropped into a chair across the room. Moments later, Mira joined her.
“Quite a celebration.”
“How do they stay so charged?” Eve wondered.“I was afraid I’d have to put on my riot gear.”
“Babies, particularly when they’re so wanted, bring unparalleled joy. And for us, for women - whether or not we choose to have them - we know we’re the only ones capable of bringing them into the world. We’re the power.” She patted Eve’s hand.“You’ve done a lovely thing for your friend.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull it off. Not sure I would have without Peabody cracking the whip. It’s been worth it.”
“Like sixteen hours of labor?” Mira said with a smile.
“Oh, God, why? Why do they revel in talking about all that? It’s creepy.”
“It’s the power, and the love. And each experience is unique, no matter how long the human race has propagated. It’s intimate and astonishing, and it binds us as women. One day, when you’re ready, you’ll know.”
“Seeing all this - and that birthing class I had to take - it’s pushed the idea - which is actually more of a concept - way, way down on my to-do list.”
“When you’re ready,” Mira repeated.“I like watching them. Women. The different sizes and shapes, the colors. The dynamics that form. Look at Louise and Nadine, sitting over there with their heads together. And Mavis’s friend Trina, huddled with those two women. Probably giving them hair and skin-care advice for during pregnancy. And Peabody, hauling gifts in her efficient way, so happy to be useful. Mavis on her throne - a charming concept, by the way - looking so healthy and vital.
“And here we sit, you and I. The observers.”
“A lot of it, for me, is like watching aliens. Still, not without it’s entertainment value,” Eve admitted.“Take that blonde over there, in the red dress. Her feet are killing her. But people complimented her shoes, and she claimed they were comfortable. Now she’s stuck. And the brunette - short, green skirt? She keeps wandering back to the food table. She takes this little sliver of cake each time. Hit it about a dozen times now. But she can’t just go and take a human-sized piece straight off. She tells herself the sliver doesn’t count.”
When Mira laughed, Eve relaxed into a game she knew how to play.“And Trina? First, let me thank God she’s been too busy to corner me about my hair. She’s soliciting clients - no point letting an opportunity like this go by. But at the same time, she’s rarely more than three feet away from Mavis. Watching out for her. Brought her a fizzy, some cake. Went with her every time Mavis made one of her countless trips out to pee.”
“She told me she had a new product that, quote, ‘Kicks the ass out of winter dryness.’ She even gave me a sample. Ah, Mavis is about to open Peabody’s gift. I can’t wait to see it.”
“She’s nervous. Peabody,” Eve added.“Standing there sweating, afraid Mavis won’t like it as much as she hoped. Giving gifts is torture.”
But when Mavis lifted the lid on the box, there was a stunned look on her face, followed by a collective gasp by those close enough to see the contents.
“Oh, Peabody!”
And the awed, almost reverent joy in Mavis’s voice told Eve her partner had hit the bull’s-eye.
She lifted out, gently, the little booties and hat done in a rainbow of pastels. It seemed to Eve every woman in the room went gooey. And when Mavis took out the blanket, there were exclamations, and fingers reaching out to touch and stroke.
“It’s lovely,” Mira commented.“Absolutely lovely. She’s just given Mavis an heirloom.”
Obviously thrilled, Mavis managed to level herself out of the chair to grab Peabody in a giddy hug. Flushed and shiny, Peabody accepted the compliments.
“Um, since you’re up,” Peabody began.“You got one last gift coming from your hostess. Dallas?”
“Jeez. That’s my cue.” Eve set her drink aside, crossed the room. Since Peabody had nagged her brainless on just how it had to be done, Eve took one edge of the cover as Peabody took the other.
When they whipped it off the chair, Mavis actually slapped her hands to her heart.“Holy shit! Holy shit! It’s the exact one I wanted. Oh, oh, look at the colors! And I’ve been sitting in it this whole time. Dallas!”
It was Eve’s turn for a hard hug.“It’s the ult in rocker systems. The absolute! You didn’t have to give me a present. The party was enough.”
“Now you tell me.” It was the exact response needed to make Mavis laugh instead of cry.“Go ahead, take it for a spin.”
When it wound down and thinned out, and there’d been no catastrophes, no emergency childbirthing procedures, and happy faces all around, Eve figured she’d scored a winner.
She also figured on dumping herself into a hot jet tub with a double bellini until she was comatose.
“The guys are heading back,” Peabody announced.“They’re going to load up your haul, Mavis. Leonardo, McNab, and I will get it all up to your apartment.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Trina told her. The beauty consultant had her hair in a complicated pattern of braids and curls today, and in showy magenta. She turned her eyes on Eve.“You’re due for a treatment.”
“Don’t start on me. I’m riding on alcohol and sugar.”
“You did good. You get a break. Sit down, Mav, take a load off.”
“I’m too juiced. I can hardly wait till Leonardo gets a load of all this stuff. It was the best of the best, Dallas. And now I’ve got to ask you for something else.”
“We forgot something?” She glanced around.“There can’t be another baby item left in Manhattan.”
“No, it’s about Tandy. She’s still not answering. It’s like hours now, and I keep seeing her in her apartment, in labor. I want to go by. Would you come with me. Please?”
“You’ve had a really big day,” Trina reminded her.“You should go on home and rest.”
“I just can’t, not until I make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t really have anybody. And I… I’ve got so much of everything.”
Sensing a new jag, Eve stepped in.“Sure, no big. We’ll run by there, and I’ll take you on home after.”
Which meant a long delay in becoming comatose, but it got her out of hauling presents out of the house. Of course, it meant she was now solely responsible for a tired, emotional, churned-up pregnant woman.
“Don’t have the baby on my watch, Mavis,” Eve warned as she loaded her friend into her vehicle.
“I’m solid, don’t worry. Just a little tired. And I know I’m probably being a zero about the Tandy thing, but I can’t help it. She’s been like my knocked-up buddy for months now, and I talked to her just a couple days ago. It was all ‘I can’t wait till Saturday,’ and how she’d sprung for this new outfit for the shower. She wouldn’t have forgotten about it, Dallas.”
“Okay, so we’ll check on her. If she’s not home, we’ll talk to a couple of her neighbors. She went into baby mode, one of them probably knows.”
“Sure, sure. Could be she went to a different center for some reason. The midwives work at more than one. That’s probably it. Wow, she’s probably had her baby! Or she’s having it now.” Mavis began to rub her belly.“I might be up next.”
“Just not today, okay?” she slanted Mavis a leery eye.“Absolutely not today.”
“No way! I want time to play with all the gifts, and put all the little outfits away, and make it all abso perfect before little Roofus or Apricot come along.”
“Roofus? Apricot?”
“Just trying them out.”
Eve glanced at her friend.“My advice? Keep trying.”
12
AFTER SHE LED EVE TO TANDY’S APARTMENT door, Mavis shifted from foot to foot.“Gotta pee again. My bladder feels about the size of a chickpea lately, and what there is of it keeps getting kicked.”
“Just… think about something else.” Eve knocked.“Don’t bounce like that. It can’t possibly help, and you might shake something loose.”
“She’s not answering. I really, seriously, completely need to pee.”
Changing tactics, Eve turned and knocked on the door across the hall from Tandy’s. Moments later, the door cracked open to the security chain, and a woman peered out the crack suspiciously.
“What?”
“Hey, Ms. Pason! Remember me? I’m Tandy’s friend, Mavis.”
“Oh, yeah.” The eyes warmed fractionally.“You’re looking for Tandy?”
“Uh-huh. She missed my baby shower, and didn’t answer the ‘link, so I was… Wow, Ms. Pason, I really have to pee.”
“‘Course you do. Come on in and use the bathroom.” She unhooked the chain.“I don’t know you,” she said, pointing a finger at Eve.
“This is my friend, Dallas. She gave me the most magolicious baby shower today. I’ll be right back.”
Ms. Pason folded her arms as Mavis dashed off.“I don’t like letting strangers in.”
“I don’t blame you. I can wait in the hall.”
“It’s okay, this once, since you’re her friend. Tandy and Mavis are nice girls.”
“You seen Tandy lately?”
“Couple days ago, I guess. We left for work at the same time.”
“That would have been…”
“Wednesday, Thursday?” Ms. Pason shrugged.“One morning’s the same as the next. And I keep my nose out like I expect people to keep theirs out of mine.”
“Good policy.”
“Gosh, thanks, Ms. Pason.” Mavis beamed a smile when she came back in.“You’re a lifesaver. Did you maybe see Tandy today?”
“No. Couple days ago, like I told your friend here.”
“A couple days?” Mavis reached out, gripped Eve’s arm.“Dallas.”
“Stay calm. Anybody come see her since you saw her that morning?” Eve asked Ms. Pason.
“Didn’t notice. I keep -”
“Your nose out, yeah.”
“Dallas, we need to go inside. We need to go into Tandy’s. You could use your master.”
“Master what?” Ms. Pason demanded.“You can’t just go around going into people’s homes.”
Eve pulled out her badge.“Yeah, I can.”
“You’re the police? Well, why didn’t you say so? You think something happened to that nice girl?”
“No,” Eve said quickly.“But since she’s not answering her ‘links or her door, and you can’t remember seeing her today, it may be best to check her apartment. Maybe Mavis can wait here.”
“I’m going with you.” Mavis clung to Eve’s arm.“I want to go in, make sure.”
“Fine, fine.” And if Tandy objected to having her premises entered without a warrant or probable cause, it was just as well to have Mavis there to run interference.
Eve knocked again, then pulled out her master.“Tandy, if you’re in there it’s Dallas, and Mavis. We’re coming in.” She uncoded the locks, eased the door open.
The room was the same size as the one across the hall, which meant it felt claustrophobic. Tandy had it spruced up in soft colors with ruffled curtains at the single window. They were open so that a couple of live plants in white pots could soak up the winter sunlight.
On the table in front of a small sofa was a box wrapped in white paper with purple cows dancing over the surface. It was topped by a huge purple bow.
“See, that’s my gift.” Mavis pointed.“I told her how cute that paper was when I was in the baby store a few weeks ago. Tandy! Tandy! Are you all right?”
The place was empty - Eve could feel it - but she let Mavis go in.
No sign of struggle, she mused as she scanned the area. No evidence of hurried departure. The place was neat, ordered, and organized.
“I’m going to check the bedroom. She’s using it for a nursery, too.” Mavis started for a door, but Eve moved past her, checked it herself.
The bed was neatly made, and beside it was a white cradle already dressed with blue sheets. A little stuffed lamb sat in it looking, to Eve’s mind, very out of place, and just a little creepy.
Why did people put farm animals in kids’ beds?
“She’s not here. And that’s her go-to-the-hospital bag.” Mavis pointed at a little tote standing next to the door.
Saying nothing, Eve moved into the bathroom. There was a white towel hanging over the shower rod. Bone dry.
As was the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom were spotless and organized. Spare would have been another word Eve would have chosen for it. Except for the baby gear, it didn’t seem as though Tandy was one for collecting things.
She had the basics, and coordinated them in a pleasing way, but there was none of the excess most people - and most women, to Eve’s mind - surrounded themselves with.
She moved back into the bedroom where Mavis stood hugging her elbows.“Dallas, I think -”
“Don’t think yet. There’s no sign of trouble in here, so you take that as a good.” She moved to the closet, glanced through Tandy’s wardrobe. Spare again. The basics in nice fabrics and colors, and nearly all of them clothes for the very knocked-up. No coat - and there’d been no coat on the chrome rack beside the front door.
There was a purse, a brown one, hanging in the closet. But it was empty. Eve recalled Tandy had carried a huge black one the night they’d met.
“No sign of her coat, her purse. Every appearance that she went out, and just hasn’t gotten back yet.”
“Then why doesn’t she answer her pocket ‘link? Why didn’t she show at the shower?”
“Okay. Good questions. We’re not done yet.”
And the fact was there was a little twinge at the base of Eve’s spine. Something was off here, but there was no point winding up Mavis any more than she already was.
Eve walked back into the living room where the pretty box sat waiting on the table. She moved to the window and the pair of leafy green plants. When she tested the soil she found them like the towel in the bath. Bone dry.
She turned toward the kitchen, a smaller box off the box of the living room. Counters were clean and uncluttered. There was a white bowl holding three red apples, a smaller bowl, a mug, a small glass, and a spoon left to drain beside the sink.
Breakfast dishes, Eve concluded. Cereal, she decided after a glance in the cupboards, juice and herbal tea or a decaffeinated coffee substitute.
Eve took out a couple of bottles of pills.
“Those are her supplements for the baby. Like vitamins.”
“Okay. She’s got service for four - plates, flatware. She do much entertaining?”
“No. I don’t think. She had Leonardo and me over once, and we had her to our place a couple of times. She isn’t seeing anyone. Like a guy, I mean. She’s completely focused on the baby.”
Mavis shifted her own gaze as she saw Eve studying the wall.“Oh, that’s her calendar. Isn’t it cute, with the baby dressed up like a tulip?”
While Eve thought the idea of dressing a human, even a new one, like a flower was just plain silly, Mavis bubbled on.“There’s a different baby for each month, and… She didn’t cross off the last two days.”
Eve had seen that already. There were red x’s in each boxed date, through the past Thursday. Mavis’s fingers shook as she curled them around Eve’s arm.
“She marked off each day, heading for B-Day. Baby Day. See, see? January thirty-first. She’s got it circled in a heart. She crossed them off every morning for the countdown. But not yesterday.”
Full of fear, Mavis’s eyes latched onto Eve’s.“Not today. And she’s got today marked with little raindrops and my name. Mavis’s shower. Oh.” Mavis pressed a hand to her side.“Oh.”
“You’re not going to do that. You’re not doing that now. Breathe or something.”
“Baby’s kicking, that’s all. And I guess I feel a little shaky in the knees. Maybe a little bit sick.”
Moving as fast as she dared, Eve hooked an arm around Mavis’s waist, moved her into the living area and a chair.“Just sit, close your eyes. Breathe. I’d suggest putting your head between your knees, but I think that’s physically impossible for you at the moment.”
It brought a half-laugh out of Mavis as she obeyed.“I’m okay, really. Just scared and worried. Something happened to Tandy, Dallas. You have to find her.”
“That’s what I’m going to do. She had ‘Max’ and ‘eight’ written on the Friday box. Who’s Max?”
“I don’t know. She wasn’t seeing anybody. She’d have told me.”
“Listen.” Eve crouched down in front of the chair.“First thing, I’ll check the health centers, birthing places. I’ll get the name of her boss at the store, give her a call, see if Tandy was at work on Thursday.”
“That’s good. Maybe she went into labor at work, and they took her to the closest birthing place. That could be.”
“Sure. Simple is usually true.”
“But if that happened on Thursday, why haven’t I heard from her? Oh, God, what if she lost the baby!” Mavis reached out, gripped Eve’s hands with fingers that were like little vices.“Or she had an accident, and -”
“Or she had one of those sixteen-hour deals and is too whipped to talk to you, or anyone. Chill it out, Mavis.”
“You’ll find her.”
“I’m going to make the calls, and if that doesn’t ring the bell, I’ll tag Missing Persons. Just as a precaution.”
“No. No. You have to find her.” Mavis gripped harder.“You can’t give her to someone else. If you look for her, you’ll find her. I know you will.”
“Mavis, I’m Homicide, and up to my ears in a double murder. Missing Persons is set up to handle this kind of thing. I’ll start the legwork, and we’re probably going to find her fast and fine. But if I don’t find her by tomorrow -”
“Please.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, swam in them. The fact that they didn’t fall, that she didn’t simply collapse into a jag, was more wrenching.“I need you to do this, Dallas. I don’t know anybody in Missing Persons. I know you. I know you’ll find Tandy. She doesn’t have anyone to look out for her. But if she has you, she’ll be okay.”
“Mavis -”
“I’m scared for her.” She pressed their joined hands to her own belly.“And her baby. If I know you’re looking for them, I won’t be so scared.”
“Okay, I’ll fix it. But you have to go home now and lie down.”
“But I want to help you -”
“That’s the deal, Mavis. I’ll do this, but you go home. I’m going to contact Leonardo, have him come get you.”
“But you’ll tell me as soon as you know anything?”
“The minute.”
It wasn’t just Leonardo who showed, but Roarke, Peabody, and McNab as well.
“We’d just finished loading up the gifts,” Peabody explained.“No sign of Tandy?”
“Not yet. You go ahead, give Leonardo a hand. I’m just going to make a few inquiries.”
“Dallas is going to find her,” Mavis said.
“Of course she is.” Leonardo’s voice was easy and confident as he draped his arm around Mavis, but his eyes, meeting Eve’s, were full of concern.“I’m just going to get you home, baby doll. You’ve had a long day.”
“Dallas?” McNab held up a hand.“How about if I go along, give Leonardo a hand with the loot. I can tag you when we’re done, and swing on back if you need more hands on this.”
“That’ll work.” As long as they got Mavis home and horizontal. The rosy glow she’d had all day had changed into a strained pallor.
“Find her quick, okay?”
“Sure,” Eve said to Mavis.“Don’t worry.”
“It’ll be all right now.” She stepped over, wrapped her arms around Eve, sighed.“It’ll be all right since you’re taking care of it.”
“You’re tired, sweetie-pie.” Leonardo drew her away.“Let Dallas get started. You and the belly need a nice nap.”
The minute the door was closed behind them, Eve dragged her hands through her hair.“Shit.”
“Want me to do the knock-on-doors or take the ‘link?” Peabody asked her.
“Take the ‘link, thanks. All health and birthing centers. Contact her boss, find out what went down Thursday, anything out of routine.”
“You think something happened to her,” Roarke said.
“Yeah, I do. Maybe Mavis’s nerves are contagious, but something’s wrong here. Look at this place.” She spread her arms.“Neat and tidy, everything in its place.”
“Nesting,” Peabody put in.“Making everything nice for the baby.”
“Whatever. She’s organized, and I’d say habitual.” She told them about the kitchen calendar.“Going by that, the plants, bath towel - all dry - I don’t think she’s been back here since she left for work Thursday morning.”
She took a breath.“I don’t know much about it, but if she went and had the baby unexpectedly, why didn’t she contact someone - Mavis or her boss - and have them come get her hospital bag?”
“Something could’ve gone wrong with the baby.”
Eve nodded at Peabody.“Let’s find out.”
“What can I do?” Roarke asked, and Eve blew out a breath.
“Well, since we’re already stomping all over Tandy’s civil rights by just being in here, you could take a look at her ‘links, her comp unit. See if you find anything unusual.”
“Do you want me to contact Missing Persons?” Peabody asked.
“Not yet. I have to figure out - if we don’t find her in the next few hours - how to convince them to let me handle it. Otherwise, Mavis is going to wig out on me again.”
Eve started with Ms. Pason across the hall, but got nothing more there than had already been told.
She worked her way, floor by floor. Most of the tenants who answered knew Tandy by name - which was a small surprise - the rest knew her by sight. None of them recalled seeing her in the last couple of days.
She was on the ground floor about to knock on the last door when a woman gripping the hand of a kid - so bundled in outdoor gear Eve could only see the huge dark eyes - came up behind her.
“You looking for someone?” As she spoke, the woman shifted just a little so the kid was behind her.
“As a matter of fact. You live here?”
“That’s my door you’re standing in front of. What do you want?”
Eve pulled out her badge, and the woman frowned at it.
“Look, if the disaster that is my ex is in trouble again, it’s nothing to me. I haven’t seen him in over a year and that’s the way I like it.”
“It’s about Tandy Willowby. Apartment 4B.”
“If Tandy’s done something to earn a visit from a badge, I’ll fly on the first pig that wings by.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Look, no offense, but cops’ve been a pain in my ass. You’re looking to hassle Tandy, you won’t get anything from me.”
“I’m not looking to hassle her, just find her. Apparently nobody’s seen her for a couple of days. I’m a friend of a friend of hers.”
“Who’s the friend you’re a friend of?”
“Mavis Freestone.”
“You’re a friend of Mavis’s.” The woman narrowed her eyes.
“That’s right. Mavis had a baby shower today. Tandy didn’t show, and Mavis is worried. We came by to see if she was here. She’s not. Looks like she hasn’t been since Thursday. Have you seen her since?”
“Well, hell. Come on inside. Me and Max are roasting in these coats.”
“Max?” Eve looked down at the dark eyes framed in a puffy red hood.
“Yeah, Max is my son, and the only thing worth spit I got out of the ex. Come on, pal of mine,” she said to the boy.“Let’s go inside. Zeela,” she added to Eve.“I’m Zeela Patrone.”
“Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas.”
Zeela unlocked the door, led the boy inside. Then she crouched down, grinned into his face.“You in there, Maximum Force? Let’s see. Hey, there you are!”
He giggled as she stripped off the coat, unwound the scarf, pulled off mittens. Under it all, he was sturdy and dressed in some sort of overalls with a bright plaid shirt.
“You go play in your room for a few minutes, okay?”
“Can I have juice?”
“Soon as I’m done.”
Then he tugged her hand, whispered in her ear.“I don’t think so, handsome. Get your trucks, why don’t you, and we’ll have a race with them when Mommy’s done talking to the lady. That’s my boy.”
When he toddled off, Zeela smiled, rose.“Kid’s a fricking miracle. Not a chromosome of his old man’s, far as I can tell. Sweet and fun and smart. Somebody decided to cut me one huge break. He asked me if maybe the tall lady could stay for a tea party.”
“Appreciate it, but I have to pass. Tandy Willowby.”
“Yeah. No, I haven’t seen her. That’s the thing. She was supposed to baby-sit Max Friday night.” Absently, Zeela tunneled her fingers through the hair that had been flattened by her cap.“I was going out on a limb and taking in a vid with this guy I keep running into at the deli down the block. I’ve been off dating since Max came along, so this was like a maiden voyage. Tandy was supposed to come down, watch Max for the evening.”
“She didn’t show.”
“No. I called up there, then I went up. No answer. I gotta say, I was pretty steamed.” As she spoke, she hung up the outdoor gear on little pegs by the door.“Figured she forgot or was too tired. Max was bummed because he likes her a lot. We were both looking forward to Friday night, and she let us down. I decided to be pissed. Now I’m trying to decide if I should be worried.”
“How well do you know her?”
“We got to be friendly over the last few months. I’ve been there, done that - the having a kid on my own deal. Have you checked with her midwife? She could’ve gone into labor. She’s close to due.”
“My partner’s up in Tandy’s apartment, making inquiries about that. Did she tell you anything about the baby’s father?”
“Not much. Just he was back in England, and wasn’t part of the picture. No rancor, so I figure they’d just split amicably like.”
“She ever mention his name?”
“I don’t think so. Don’t remember anyway. Most she told me was that somebody’s bc didn’t do the job - happens - and she got pregnant. He wasn’t looking for permanent or family, she wasn’t sure she was ready to take it on by herself. Then she decided she was - the family thing. She decided to come to New York. Fresh start, new scene. That’s about it.”
“How about other friends, men she was seeing?”
“She was friendly. Mavis came by off and on. I met one of the women she works with, and sometimes she’d walk out with Ms. Pason from across her hall. They went to work about the same time most days. But as for men, she wasn’t into it. Not now.”
“Did you get the sense she was worried about anything, anyone?”
“No, just the opposite. She was revved up and ready to be a mother. But now I’m starting to worry. This city can eat you up. I don’t like thinking it could’ve taken a bite out of Tandy.”
Nothing,” Peabody reported when Eve returned to Tandy’s apartment.“I know she has the same midwife as Mavis, so I contacted her. Randa Tillas. She states she hasn’t seen or heard from Tandy since her appointment on Monday. She was fine, right on schedule. Checked with her boss. She had Friday off. She’s slated to work tomorrow, noon to six. They’ve lightened her hours.”
“She show for work Thursday?”
“Right on time. Worked a full eight, last full day for her. She got in at just after nine, left at six. Nothing out of the ordinary during the day. She had three breaks. A full hour for lunch - maternity benny. She took them in their back room, with her feet up. Didn’t leave the shop all day, until six. No contact via the store ‘link for her. Can’t say on her personal.”
“How did she get to and from work, as a rule?”
“Boss said she takes the bus. I got the route. The Thursday driver’s off today. We can track him down at home, or talk to him tomorrow. He’s on.”
“We’ll take him at home.”
“I’ve contacted the health and birthing centers nearest her work and her residence. Nobody by her name has checked in.”
Eve rubbed her eyes.“Okay, we’ll spread out from that. And we’ll check if any MTs did a run with a pregnant woman matching her description.”
She glanced over as Roarke came out of the bedroom.“I’ve checked her ‘links and her comp,” he told her.“No outgoing on the ‘links since Wednesday evening when she talked to a Zeela Patrone, this building.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotten her statement. Tandy was supposed to run herd on Patrone’s kid Friday night. Didn’t show, didn’t contact her to cancel. Incomings?”
“Nothing Thursday. Friday evening, from the same neighbor’s little boy. Came in at about seven in the evening, obviously coached by his mother. ‘Are you coming down to play with me’ sort of thing. Another transmission from the mother just after eight, faintly irritated. Asking where Tandy was, did she forget. Transmissions from Mavis today, from our house. Nothing else.”
“And the comp?”
“Nothing that seemed useful. She surfs baby boards, pregnancy and childhood sites. E-mails Mavis. She has Mavis’s eaddress in her book, along with the addresses of her midwife, the downstairs neighbor, her work, her coworkers. Precious little, really,” he replied.“There’s nothing on there, Eve.”
“And nothing that shows that indicates she’d rabbit,” Eve added.“If there was an accident, they’d have contacted her medical group. A woman this organized would have that data in her bag. Listed in her memo book, on her pocket ‘link. Why does someone snatch a woman that close to giving birth?”
“For the baby,” Peabody finished.
“Yeah, for the baby.” A grim and nasty thought, Eve decided. But there was more grim, more nasty.“Or because they’re some sicko who rapes and/or kills pregnant women. We’ll do a run through IRCCA, see if we have any like crimes. And I want a full background run on Tandy. Things look this quiet, this normal, this settled, there’s often something shaky underneath.”
“Does Mavis know who the father is?” Roarke asked.
“No. But we’re going to find out.”
“I’ll contact McNab,” Peabody began.“He can meet us at Central.”
“No. I need to do that, work this out with MPU. We’re stepping on toes here.”
She stopped a moment, lined up the steps in her mind.“Go back to your place, go ahead and do the search for like crimes. If Mavis is up to it, go there and ask her if she knows anything about what Tandy did back in England, what she might have said about the baby’s father, her family, that kind of thing. We’ll do the data run on Tandy, but Mavis may know more than she thinks. Keep her calm, you’re good at that. Let her know I’m talking to the people I need to talk to.”
“We can help Leonardo set up some of the baby stuff. That’ll do the trick.”
“If you say so. Roarke? With me?”
“Always.”
When they were in her vehicle, Roarke turned to her.“You think she was taken.”
She thought of the pretty, cheerful blonde, the way she’d talked about looking forward to Mavis’s shower.“I see no reason for her to walk. I can’t jump to abduction or foul play from there, but yeah, that’s the way it feels.”
“If you give Mavis a little time to calm down, I think she’d be satisfied if Missing Persons took this over, and you simply stayed in the loop.”
“You didn’t see her, you didn’t hear her.” Resigned to it now, Eve shook her head.“And besides that - which is plenty - I told her I’d do it. All I have to do is convince MPU to leave it with me, then convince Whitney I can take this on without it infringing on the investigation I’ve already got going.”
He brushed a hand over her hair.“You might want to convince yourself of that first.”
She smiled thinly.“Working on it.”
13
AT CENTRAL, SHE SPLIT OFF FROM ROARKE, asking him to go straight to Homicide and wait for her in her office while she arrowed off to MPU.
“I may need to offer whoever I deal with on this an incentive,” she told him.
He cocked his head and those wonderful lips curved in an easy smile.“You mean a bribe.”
“Bribe’s such a strong word. Yeah, I may need a bribe. Sports or booze, probably. Those are the usual hot tickets. I’ll keep it within reason.”
“Bribing cops not to do work is a time-honored tradition.”
“Hey.”
He laughed.“Do what you need to do, Lieutenant. I’ll be in your office.”
She didn’t know who might have caught weekend duty, or who might be at a desk, but she hoped it was someone she had at least a passing and cordial relationship with.
Otherwise, she’d have to start from scratch with whoever had the weekend command - and if things got sticky, and an incentive didn’t make the cut, she’d go straight to Whitney. But that was something she hoped to avoid.
She figured she lucked out when she spotted Lieutenant Jaye Smith grabbing what looked like an energy bar at Vending.
“Smith.”
“Hey, Dallas. Caught a Saturday tour, too?”
“Not exactly.” Eve dug credits out of her pocket.“Grab me a tube of Pepsi, will you?”
“Sure. It’s on me.”
“Thanks.”
“Great coat. Hell for leather, huh?”
“You could say. Thanks,” Eve repeated when Smith offered the tube.“You got a minute for me?”
“Sure. Want the lounge or the office?”
“Let’s take your office.”
“Business, then.” With a nod, Smith led the way.
She was near fifty, Eve remembered, and had better than a quarter century on the job. Married with a kid, maybe two. She was on the short side, about five-three with a boxer’s kind of build. Tough and muscular. Her hair was many shades of blonde, and worn straight with shaggy ends that swung past her jaw.
She wore her weapon as a sidearm at the hip, low, with a navy sweater over it.
Eve knew her to be a solid cop, so tucked away the idea of waving sports or booze into the mix. With Smith, she could be direct, and put it all straight up.
Lieutenant Smith’s office was bigger than Eve’s - but most were - and boasted what appeared to be two reasonably comfortable visitor chairs as well as a brushed steel desk that looked new.
On it were the standard d-and-c unit, stacks of files, and a framed picture of a couple of teenagers - one of each kind - who Eve took to be Smith’s kids.
From her office AutoChef, Smith got herself a mug of tea so dark it looked like coffee, then gestured to a chair. Instead of taking the desk, Smith settled into the other visitor’s seat.
“So, what’s up? Lose somebody?”
“Somebody looks to be lost. And I need you to do me a solid on it.”
“You want me to shuffle a MP to the top of the pile for you, I can do that.” Rising, she opened a desk drawer. She was reaching for a recorder and a note pad when Eve shook her head.
“That’s not exactly it either. Let me give you the situation.”
Eve ran through it, watched Smith’s face, saw she was taking it in.“You’re thinking a snatch, and could be. But you got a pregnant woman, no partner, no known family, foreign. That’s a big plate heaped with several helpings of emotion. Could have snapped, taken off.”
“Could, yeah. Thing is, nobody who knows her sees that.”
“But you don’t,” Smith pointed out,“know her. Really.”
“No. But I met her myself, twice, and I got a good gauge of her. I wouldn’t peg her to rabbit, or even to take a few days off somewhere. Not without telling anyone, missing an event she was juiced about, leaving all her things behind.”
“You said you checked her ‘links. No communication in or out that indicated any plans.” Smith pursed her lips.“An appointment she didn’t keep, a party where she didn’t show - with the gift wrapped and waiting. Okay, looks like you’ve got one to me.”
“Timeline and circumstance point to something going down after she left work, before she got home.”
“I’d agree with that.” Sitting back, Smith sipped her dark, strong tea.“But you don’t want me to open a file and move on this?”
“This friend of mine? The other pregnant one? She’s turned around about this, and she…” Eve blew out a breath.“Okay, she put me on a spot with this. So I’m going to ask you to let me handle the case.
“I’m not looking to elbow you out,” Eve continued, when Smith frowned over her mug.“And I’d welcome any help or direction you could give me, but Mavis is holding one of those emotion-heaped plates, too, and she’s looking to me to take care of it.”
“Knows you, doesn’t know me or anybody in the unit.”
“That’s the big of it, yeah. Mavis and I go back a long time. I don’t want her any more screwed up over this than she has to be.”
“How far along is she?”
“Mavis?” Eve pushed at her hair.“Heading to the final countdown. Couple more weeks, I guess. I told her I’d do this. I’m asking you to let me keep my word.”
“This would be Mavis Freestone, music sensation?”
“It would.”
“I got an eighteen-year-old daughter who’s a major fan.”
Eve felt the tension in her shoulders ease.“She might like backstage passes next time Mavis performs in the city. Or anywhere, for that matter, if you wouldn’t mind her being transported by a private shuttle.”
“I’d be her hero for life, but that sounds suspiciously like a bribe.”
Now Eve grinned.“And a damn good one. I had booze or sports lined up if I needed them. I appreciate this, Smith.”
“I’ve got friends, too, and I don’t like to let them down. Here’s what I’d need. You’d copy me on every report, every statement, every note you make. I’m apprised of every step of your investigation as you make it. I’ll keep my own file on her here, and if I feel at any point I need to step in, or assign someone to step in - to work with you, or to take over - I don’t want to hear the squawk.”
“You won’t. I owe you one.”
“Find them - the woman and the baby - and we’ll call it even.” Smith dug up a card.“I don’t have anything current that mirrors this one, but I’ll do a search, see if there’s anything in the city that reflects a like crime.”
“Appreciate it. All of it.”
“The missing’s who matters, not who runs the show from here. My home ‘link, pocket ‘link numbers are on the back. Day or night.”
Eve took the card, offered her hand.
Back in her office she found Roarke at her desk working on her comp. He glanced up at her, lifted his brows in question.
“I’m clear. I got lucky.”
“That’s good then. I got started on your background checks. Do you want to work here or at home?”
“Neither, not yet. Right now we’re going to see a man about a bus.”
The bus driver’s name was Braunstein, and he was about two hundred pounds of hard fat in a New York Giants football jersey. He was fifty-two, married, and was spending his Saturday evening watching a post-season game onscreen with his brother-in-law and son while his wife, his sister, and niece took in some - in his words -“girlie vids” at a local theater.
His irritation at having his viewing interrupted was obvious, until Eve mentioned Tandy’s name.
“London Bridge? That’s what I call her. Sure I know her. Rides with me most every night. Always has her fare card ready, lots don’t. Got a nice smile. She sits right behind me. Somebody takes that seat, I make ‘em get up, give it to her. Her delicate condition and all.
“She gave me a nice tin of cookies for the holidays. Made them herself. She got trouble?”
“I don’t know that yet. Did she ride with you Thursday evening?”
“Thursday.” He scratched his chin, which badly needed a shave.“Nope. Funny now you mention it, ‘cause I remember her saying, ‘See you tomorrow, Mr. B,’ when she got off at her stop on Wednesday. She calls me ‘Mr. B.’ I remember because she was carting this box wrapped in funny paper with a big-ass bow on it.”
He glanced around as both of his companions erupted with rage at a call on the field.“Offside, my rosy red ass,” one of them shouted.
“Goddamn refs,” Braunstien muttered.“‘Scuze the language. Anyway, I asked her about it - the box - when she got on, and she said how she had a baby shower on the weekend. Listen, that little girl get hurt or something? I told her she ought to take the maternity leave, close as she was. She okay? She and the baby okay?”
“I hope so. On the bus, you ever notice anyone paying too much attention to her? Hanging too close, keeping an eye? Anything like that?”
“No, and I woulda.” He scratched his prominent belly.“I kinda looked out for her during the run, you know? Got some regulars, and some of them might strike up a conversation with her the way people do when a woman’s carrying a bun. You know, ‘How you feeling?’ ‘When are you due?’ ‘Pick out any names,’ that kind of thing. But nobody bothered her. I wouldn’a let them.”
“How about people who got off at her stop?”
“Sure, there’d be some. Regulars and otherwise. Never noticed anybody looking funny, though. Someone hurt that girl? Come on, I feel like her uncle or something. She hurt?”
“I don’t know. No one’s seen her, as far as we can tell, since Thursday, at around six o’clock.”
“Well, Jesus.” This time Braunstien showed no reaction to the shouts and curses coming from the living room.“Jesus, that’s not right.”
People like her,” Eve said as she drove.“Like people liked Copperfield and Byson.”
“Bad things happen to likable people,” Roarke pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah, they do. I’m going by where she worked. Walk from there to her bus stop. Get a feel.”
Outside the White Stork, Eve watched traffic zing uptown on Madison. It was later than it would have been when Tandy left work, and a Saturday rather than a weekday. But it would’ve been going dark at six, and, as she recalled, that day was gloomy.
Streetlights on, she mused, headlights cutting through the dank light.
“Cold,” she said aloud.“People bundled up, like they are now. Walking brisk, most of them walking brisk. Want to get home, or get where they’re going. Early dinner, after-work drinks, errands to do on the way home. She comes out. Has to walk over to Fifth to catch her bus. Two blocks down, one block over.”
Eve started to walk it with Roarke beside her.“She’s going to move with the lights. If she hits the walk, she’ll go on down the second block, then over. If she doesn’t, she’ll do the cross-town block first. You want to keep moving.”
“No way to know which way she did it.”
“No.” But since they caught the light, Eve continued through the intersection.“Least likely place to snatch her - if it was a snatch - is the corner. More people, closer together. You want to come up behind her.”
She demonstrated when they were near the middle of the block, falling back a few steps, then coming in quick, banding an arm around Roarke’s waist.
“Using a weapon?” he speculated.“Otherwise she’d react - call out, struggle. Even the most jaded would stop when an obviously pregnant woman is in trouble.”
“A weapon,” Eve agreed.“Or it was someone she knew. Hey, Tandy!” Eve shifted her arm, firmed it tight around Roarke.“How’s it going? Boy, you sure are carrying a load there. How about a lift home? Got my car right down there.”
“Possibly.” He turned west as she did to walk to Fifth.“Who does she know?”
“Customers, neighbors, someone through the birthing class or center. Someone from back in England. Baby’s father. Had to be force or familiarity. Maybe both. Had to be quick and quiet, because, yeah, somebody’s going to notice a pregnant woman struggling with someone. We’ll show her picture around this area, in case someone did.”
Once they hit Fifth, she turned north to walk back on the alternate route.
“Probably took her on the cross street,” Eve said.“Always less foot traffic than the avenues. Had to have a vehicle, or possibly…” She scanned up, frowning at the apartments overhead.“Possibly a place close by. But then you’ve got to get her inside without anybody making note of it. I don’t like that one, but it could be.”
“And why wouldn’t she resist once she was in a vehicle?”
“Force? She could have been sedated, or she was afraid. Maybe there was more than one abductor. Familiar, she could have been pleased to see someone she knew, and to be off her feet, catch a ride home.”
She scanned the area as they crossed back to Madison. Most people moving quickly, most with their heads or at least their eyes down. Thinking their thoughts, bubbled inside their own worlds.
“Somebody willing to take a risk, moving quick and smooth. Sure, you could pluck a woman right off the sidewalk. It happens. One of the cross streets,” she repeated.“Makes the most sense, but you can’t be sure which one she’ll use. Wouldn’t park the vehicle, if you’re using one, on the street. Not if you’re doing the snatch alone. And if you were lucky enough to find a spot anyway. Closest parking lot to her work, that’s what you’d use.”
“Logical,” Roarke agreed, and took out his PPC. He tapped a few buttons, nodded.“There’s a lot on Fifty-eighth, between Madison and Fifth.”
“That’d be handy, wouldn’t it? You’d only have to walk her a couple of southbound blocks. Let’s go have a look at it.”
She wanted to walk it, again taking the most logical route. It was an automated lot with no attendant, human or droid, and on this Saturday evening, at capacity.
It boasted a security cam, but even if it worked, she knew the disc would have been dumped every twenty-four hours. She noted down the number posted for contact.“Maybe we’ll get lucky on the security disc,” she told Roarke.“They should have records, in any case, of payments. We’ll want ID on any vehicles leaving the lot between eighteen and nineteen hundred on Thursday.”
She dipped her hands in her pockets.“Or he could’ve had a partner circling the blocks, and we’re screwed on this angle.”
Or they paid in cash, Roarke thought. Used a stolen vehicle. Eve would be considering those possibilities as well, he knew, so didn’t bother to comment.“If she was taken the way you’re theorizing, it was planned out, timed. Do you think she was stalked?”
“I’d say the probability of it being a random snatch is low, but I’m going to run it. Somebody knew her routine, her schedule, her routes. Somebody wanted her and/or the baby she’s carrying specifically.”
“Leans toward the father, then, doesn’t it?”
“High on the list. All I have to do is identify him.”
“I’d like to think that would mean he’d be less likely to hurt her or the child, but that’s probably not true.” He thought of his own mother, and what she’d suffered at the hands of his father, and tried to shake that off.“I’ve seen too much of what happens in these circumstances with the women at Duchas.”
“Primary COD in pregnant women is violence at the hands of the father.”
“That’s a bloody sad state of affairs.” He looked out over the street, over the people who rushed by in the cold, blowing air. But for a moment he saw the alleyways of Dublin, and the hulking figure of Patrick Roarke.“A bloody sad commentary on the human condition.”
Because she thought she understood where his thoughts had gone, she took his hand.“If he took her, we’ll find him. And her.”
“Before he does for her - or them.” He looked at her now, and she saw the past haunting his eyes.“That’s the key, isn’t it.”
“Yeah. That’s the key.” Eve shook her head as they continued to walk.“She told somebody who he was. Maybe not once she moved to New York, but back in England. Somebody knows who he is.”
“She might have moved to New York to get away from him.”
“Yeah, I’m circling that. So, let’s go home and try to arrow in.”
Tandy Willowby, age twenty-eight.”
Eve sat at her desk in her home office, reading the data Roarke had already run.“Born London. Parents Willowby, Annalee and Nigel. No sibs. Mother deceased, 2044. Tandy would’ve been twelve. Father remarried, 2049, to Marrow, Candide - divorced with one offspring from first marriage. Briar Rose, female, born 2035.”
She continued scrolling.“Willowby, Nigel, deceased 2051. Bad luck. But that leaves her with a stepmother and stepsister still alive and kicking. Computer, contact information for Willowby, Candide, or Marrow, Candide, and Marrow, Briar Rose, London. Use birth dates and identification numbers in file already running.”
Working…
“Eve, if you’re thinking of contacting them now, I’ll remind you it’s after one in the morning in England.”
She scowled, glanced at her wrist unit.“That’s such a pisser. Okay, we take that in the morning.”
The computer told her Candide now lived in Sussex while Briar Rose retained a London residence.
“Okay, back to Tandy. See here, she was employed over six years at this dress shop in London. Carnaby Street. Position, manager. Kept the same apartment there -”
“That would be ‘flat,’” Roarke interrupted.
“Why would it be flat? How can you live - oh.” She rubbed the back of her neck as she cued in.“Right, she’d call it a flat, which makes no sense to me. But she kept it, just like she kept the same employer, for more than six years. She settles in, she roots, she’s habitual. We’ll want to talk to the owner of the shop.”
Now she leaned back, stared up at the ceiling.“If she had a guy, I bet she kept him a good chunk of time, too. She doesn’t bounce around. But she relocates not just to another part of England, even of Europe, but goes three thousand miles. Gives up her longtime home, longtime job. That’s not a whim, not for someone like Tandy. That’s a big step, and one she would have thought about a lot, one she had to have a strong reason for taking.”
“The baby.”
“Yeah, I’d say it comes back to that. She put an ocean between someone or something and the kid. Strong reason, or she’d be nesting in her flat in London.”
“A creature of habit,” Roarke put in.“As were your other two victims.”
“Let’s hope Tandy makes out better than they did. I’m going to set up a board for her, and do a timeline.”
“All right. Unless there’s something specific I can do for you here, you might send me some of those blind accounts on the Copperfield/ Byson case. I’ll start looking at numbers.”
The fact was, he wanted to step away - at least for the time being - from the thought of a woman so completely vulnerable at the mercy of someone who wished her harm. Someone, he thought, she might have loved once.
Eve stopped for a moment, turned to him.“If I’d been in your place on that one, I’d’ve told Whitney to kiss my ass.”
“What?” He pulled himself back, into the now.“Ah, well, all in all, I’d rather have your lips in that vicinity than his.”
“Find me something useful, they might find their way there.”
“And my incentive keeps rising.”
She swiveled away from the screen, looked him in the eyes.“Are you all right on this? The Tandy thing.”
Foolish, he admitted, to believe she didn’t see, didn’t know. More foolish, he supposed, for him to try to block it from her, or from himself.“I’m not, actually, not completely. It resonates a little too deep for me. I don’t know if it’s anger or grief I’m feeling. It must be both.”
“Roarke, we don’t know Tandy’s in the same kind of situation as your mother was.”
“We don’t know she isn’t.” Idly, he picked up the little statue of the goddess Eve kept on her desk. A symbol of the female.“He waited until after I was born to murder her, my mother. But she was trying to protect me, do what she thought best for me. As I expect Tandy is doing, whoever has her now.”
He set the statue down.“I just want my mind off it for a while.”
He so rarely hurt, she thought. So rarely let himself, she corrected.“I can take this one back to Central. Keep it out of here.”
“No.” He moved to her then, taking her face in his hands.“That won’t do, not for either of us. What once was made us who we are, one way or another. But it can’t stop us from doing what we do. They’ll have won then, won’t they?”
She put her hands over his.“They can’t win. They can only screw with us.”
“And so they do.” He leaned down, pressed his lips to the top of her head.“Don’t worry about me. I’ll steep myself in numbers for a while. They always clear my head.”
“God knows how. I’m going to make coffee. All around?”
“If I had some cake to go with it. I got shafted on that end of the deal.”
“Cake?” Her mind circled around.“Oh, right. Mavis. I think there was some left. Those women were like vultures when something had icing on it. Maybe the Dark Shadow stocked some of the leftovers in the AutoChef. I could probably choke down a piece myself.”
And thinking that sugar and caffeine kept the blood moving, she made it a large piece along with strong, black coffee. He’d be all right, she told herself, because he wouldn’t let himself be otherwise. But she’d keep a finger on the pulse, and if she didn’t like the beat, she’d move the Tandy investigation out of the house.
For convenience, she set Tandy’s board next to the one she’d already started on her other case. And on the side with a slick white surface began to handwrite a time line.
She made lists of names. People she’d already spoken with on one side, those she would contact in the morning on the other. She tacked up Tandy’s ID photo.
Her first step was to call the contact number of the parking lot. As she expected, she was transferred to an endless menu of choices, and quickly selected operator before the droning litany could bore her into a coma.
“Courtesy Messaging Service.” The voice was nasal as a trombone and dense with Queens.
“This is Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD,” Eve began and gave her badge number.“I need information on the Park and Go, Fifty-eighth Street.”
“For information, please call Customer Service between the hours of eight A. M. and -”
“I need information now, and I don’t want to talk to some hand-patter at Customer Service.”
“Well, jeez. This is a messaging service, you know, for, like, twenty businesses in Manhattan alone. I don’t have information about a parking lot.”
“Put me through to the owner.”
“I’m not supposed to bother the client with -”
“Maybe you should give me your name and location. I’ll send a couple of uniforms to pick you up, and you can tell me how you’re not supposed to bother the client when you get down to Cop Central.”
“Well, jeez. You gotta wait a minute.”
Eve was put on wait mode while music sweeter than the icing on her cake tinkled in her ear.
During the ten minutes it played - with periodic computer-generated bulletins assuring her that her call was important - she began a series of probability runs.
By the time an actual human came back on, she was drinking her second cup of coffee and studying the results.
“Lieutenant, is it?” The man looked slick and sounded same.
“That’s right. And you are?”
“Matt Goodwin. You’re inquiring about the Park and Go on Fifty-eighth?”
“That’s right. Do you own it?”
“I represent the corporation that does. What seems to be the problem?”
“I’m investigating a possible crime in which this lot may be involved. I need the security discs as well as the logs for Thursday last, between eighteen and nineteen hundred hours.”
“What possible crime?”
“It’s a Missing Persons matter. I need the discs and the logs as soon as possible.”
“I believe those discs are dumped every twenty-four, Lieutenant. As for the logs, I assume you have a warrant?”
“I can get one.”
“Well, when you do -”
“And when I do, I’ll see it includes logs for an entire week, as well as a search into the lot’s - and the corporation that owns it - standards and practices. I’ll have to bring you and your client into Central for questioning. Or, you can get me the logs for that single hour of that single day.”
“Of course my client would want to cooperate with the authorities.”
“Good for your client.”
“I’ll have to contact my client, and with their permission, arrange to have the logs you specified copied and made available to you.”
“You do that. Relay to me at this number where the logs can be picked up. By nine A. M. tomorrow morning.”
“Lieutenant, it is the weekend.”
“I’ve heard that. Nine A. M., or I get that warrant.”
She clicked off, went back to studying her probability results. Even with the sparse data at her disposal, it was running in the mid-nineties that Tandy Willowby had been target specific.
Tandy had no criminal record on either side of the Atlantic, no known association with criminal elements. She had a small, tidy nest egg that jibed with someone who lived carefully on the salary she’d pulled in since the onset of employment. Her parents were dead, and from the basic data Eve could access without a warrant, her stepmother and stepsister had no wealth. Middle-income salaries.
There were no suspicious deposits or withdrawals in Tandy’s accounts that indicated blackmail on either side.
On the surface it appeared the only thing of true value Tandy owned was what she carried in her womb.
Playing a hunch, she contacted the owner of the White Stork.
“Lieutenant Dallas. You’ve found Tandy.”
“No.”
“I just don’t understand this.” Liane Brosh was a youthful sixty, with a face strained with concern.“She must have just taken a weekend away. Maybe a quick trip to a spa to rev up before the baby comes.”
“Did she talk about doing that?”
“No, not really. I suggested it a couple times, but she always said she was already revved.” Liane smiled weakly.“We had a little shower for her here at the store, and I gave her a gift certificate to a day spa in the city. She said she was saving it until after the baby. But I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she just wanted to get out of the city for the weekend.”
“Does that strike you as something she’d do?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Liane sighed.“It doesn’t sound like her at all. I’m so worried.”
“Can you tell me if anyone came into the store to see her specifically, to speak with her?”
“Tandy worked with several expectant parents. All the staff is available for personal shopping, for helping with registries, decor, layettes.”
“How about someone she might’ve worked with, or who might have frequented your shop whose expectations weren’t realized. Miscarriage, for instance.”
“It does happen. I can’t think of anyone offhand, but I can certainly check the records, ask the other girls.”
“I appreciate that. Did she ever speak about the baby’s father?”
“In general, and vaguely. No specifics, and since she didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t press.”
“If you think of anything, even if it doesn’t seem important, I want you to contact me. Twenty-four/seven.”
“I will. We love Tandy. All of us will do anything we can to help.”
Eve tried another hunch and contacted Tandy’s midwife.
“This is Randa.”
“Randa Tillas, Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Tandy.”
“Nothing yet.”
“Well, damn it.” She was a striking black woman with the faintest hint of the islands in her voice. Her rich brown eyes filled with concern.“I contacted members of her birthing circle, in case she was spending a couple of days with one of them. But no one’s heard from her since Wednesday.”
“Any member of that circle have a problem pregnancy?”
“I’ve got one with high blood pressure and another on bed rest, but nothing major, no.”
“Maybe a birthing coach who’s had trouble conceiving, or carrying to full term.”
“I don’t have full medical on coaches, but that sort of thing usually comes up during the class. I’d try to discourage coaching by anyone who might be in a dark place. It wouldn’t be good for them, or the mother.”
“Did she ever talk to you about the baby’s father?”
“Some, yes. It’s important for me to know as much as the mother is comfortable telling me. For a single mother, more so. Especially one, like Tandy, without family support.”
“Can you tell me what she told you about him?”
“I’m treading a line here, but I’m worried enough I’m stepping over it. He was someone she dated for about a year back in London. I think she was very much in love with him. The pregnancy was unplanned, and wasn’t something he wanted or was looking for. She decided it was something she wanted, so she broke things off and moved to the U. S.”
“Long way to go.”
“I thought so, but she said she’d wanted everything fresh, and it seemed reasonable. I’d say she’s very resolved to have this baby and to raise it on her own, with no murky feelings toward the father. She was very spare on the details about him, but she did slip once or twice and call him by name. Aaron.”
“That helps. Thanks. Anything else, contact me.”
“I’m going to go through my file on her, and ask the other members of the team if she spoke to them about anything that seems important. We all want her and the baby back, safe and healthy.”
14
SHE WENT OVER THE DATA PEABODY SENT TO her computer on like crimes. IRCCA had popped a few for her. Abductions, abduction/murders, rapes, rape/murders. Abductions where the baby had been delivered then stolen, and the mother left behind.
Alive or dead.
In the majority of the abductions, the woman had known her kidnapper, or had had previous contact.
Eve separated them into known or unknown, into family strife, cases where the abductor had been mentally ill, and those done for profit.
She culled out the rapes into a separate file.
Then she worked them geographically.
There had been cases in New York with similar elements, and those involving family members of the victim she separated out again. She set aside those cases where the perpetrator was doing time, earmarking those to check other family members, and any possible contact with Tandy.
She outlined Missing Person cases where the investigator found the woman had gone into a shelter to escape an abusive relationship, or simply walked out. And others where neither mother nor child had ever been found.
Because Tandy had come from London, Eve moved there next. A smattering of like cases again, but none that had any outward link to hers.
So she branched out to Europe.
The most interesting was a case, still open, in Rome where the missing woman had walked out of her regular OB exam in her thirty-sixth week, and poofed. Like Tandy, earlier in the pregnancy she had relocated to another city, moving from Florence three months before she went missing. She was single, had no family in that area. She’d been healthy, and lived alone. Unlike Tandy, this woman had applied for and received paid maternity leave during her second trimester.
A struggling artist, she had been in the process of finishing a mural of a fairyland on the walls of the nursery she’d outfitted in her apartment.
Or was it ‘flat’ in Italy, too? Eve wondered.
Sophia Belego had been missing for nearly two years. Gone without a trace.
After making a note of the investigator’s name, Eve stewed over the time difference. Italy was another place she couldn’t contact yet.
“Lieutenant.”
“What? Huh?”
“It’s now after two in the morning. New York time.”
“What is it in London?”
“Too early.” Roarke laid his hands on his wife’s shoulders, dug at the rocks that had taken up residence there.“And time for both of us to recharge.”
“I’ve got more in me.”
“You’ll have more yet after a few hours of sleep.”
“I’m working something from the data Peabody got from IRCCA.”
“And how much further can you take it tonight?”
Nowhere really, she thought. But still.“I haven’t written it all down. I need to put it into a report for the file, and copy MPU.”
“Which can wait until morning.”
“If she got snatched, she’s going on better than fifty hours missing. I need the damn data from the parking lot. And I’m not going to get that until morning,” she argued when he only looked at her.“Okay, a couple hours down.”
Because she was looking glassy-eyed, he moved to the elevator with her.
“You got anything for me?” she asked him.
“Nothing concrete. It’s going to take longer without names. With them, I could do more thorough excavating.” And, he thought, make use of his unregistered equipment and avoid CompuGuard’s beady eye if he went down a bit deeper than was technically allowed.“I’ve left a couple of programs running. We’ll see what we get in the morning.”
“I have to do some digging myself on that.” She pushed her tired brain from possible abduction into murder.“Cavendish to Bullock to Robert Kraus to Jacob Sloan - maybe three generations of Sloans - and from there to my vics. Something there. I think if I squeeze Cavendish right, he’ll spurt.”
As her mind shifted between two investigations, she undressed.“Why does a firm with that kind of - what is it - panache - use a guy like Cavendish to head up its New York branch? Nepotism, maybe, because he’s not as smart as he could be. Bruberry, his admin, she’s smart. But she’s not blood, so you put his name on the letterhead, and let her run it behind the scenes? That’s how it feels.”
Eve slid into bed.“Copperfield said she was offered a bribe. If I can show contact around the time of the murder between her and Cavendish’s office, I could squeeze from that angle. Or -”
“Too much coffee for you.” He drew her close.“Turn off that head of yours and go to sleep.”
And how the hell was she supposed to do that? Because he was right, as usual. She’d poured too much coffee into her system. Her brain was running sloppy loops inside her head, from Copperfield to Byson to Tandy and back again.
“Might have to go to London,” she murmured.“Huh. Wouldn’t it be a kick in the head if I really did have to be out of the country hunting a criminal mastermind when Mavis goes into labor?”
“I, my ass. That goes towe or I’ll hurt you.”
“Yeah, big talk.”
Since her brain was up, and her body insisted on following suit, she didn’t see why she shouldn’t put both to good use.
She trailed her fingers up his spine, then down while she angled her head and found his lips with hers in the dark.
“Are you trying to take advantage of my weakened state?”
“Damn right.”
“Just checking.” His lips curved against hers.“Go ahead then. I can’t stop you.”
“Guess you’ll have to lie there and take it.” She nipped at his jaw, slicked her tongue down his neck.“You could call for help.”
“My pride prevents me.”
Chuckling, she slid a hand down, found him already hard.“Yeah, you’re just full of pride.”
He tasted so good, all warm and ripe, and as her body pressed to his, rubbed bare flesh to bare flesh, she felt his heartbeat kick. She shifted, stretched herself over him so she could press her lips where that heart beat for her.
More than desire, she thought lazily. Here was knowledge and comfort, and a kind of communion. Turn to me, and I’ll be there. That was the simple answer they could always find together no matter what shadows hung over them. Through the past, through the present, they could always find the answer, and each other.
She felt his hands on her now, stroking to soothe or to arouse, and succeeding in doing both. For another moment, she stayed as she was, eyes closed, absorbing the sheer and simple pleasure of knowing where she belonged. Then, in the deep dark, in the deep quiet, she slid up him again until their lips met.
Movement and heat, he drifted into both as she did and rode on the warm current of sensation. The shape of her, the scents and the sounds, were so familiar, and so alluring. She, as no other ever could, reached every corner of his heart. His woman with her long, lean body, her courageous spirit and questing mind. His joy, and his salvation.
Here it was so clear, so easy, with only the two of them in a dance either could lead, both could follow.
And the need for her sang through him like a favorite melody.
She straddled him, laying her hands over his as he took her breast in his mouth. Letting her head fall back as she immersed herself in the next thrill, letting her mind empty of everything but what they gave to each other.
She took him in, slow, slow.
He quivered for her, he murmured to her, and at last he filled her. Her body bowed back, a slim white curve in the shadows. Then forward to rock them both breathless in the dark.
They wrapped around each other, sliding languidly down from that peak, her leg tossed intimately over his hip. She rested her brow lightly against his jaw until sanity returned.
“Better than cake,” she said, and made him laugh.
“So it was. And it was damned good cake.”
“Mmmm. What time is it anyway?”
“Ah… somewhere after three.”
She did the calculation in her head.“Good enough.” She tipped her head up, pressed her lips firmly to his. Then rolled away and sat up.
“And what are you about, Lieutenant?”
“I’m about waking up some people in Europe. Light on, five percent. Going to grab a shower first,” she said when the lights glowed dimly.“Wash the rest of the cobwebs out.”
He folded his arm behind his head.“So I served as a way to use up a bit of time till you determined it was reasonable to wake some poor sod up on a Sunday morning.”
“Yeah.”
“I feel so used. Thanks.”
“Welcome.” She felt clearheaded now, a good second wind.“I’m just going to get some things rolling, then I’ll catch a couple hours down.”
“Too right you will.” Then he sat up.“A bit longer then.”
“You don’t have to stay up.”
“You weren’t singing that tune a few minutes ago.” When she grinned, he walked by her, giving her a quick pat on the ass.“Let’s have that shower, and maybe both of us will be back in bed before dawn.”
Eve tried Candide Marrow first, and was bumped to voice mail. She left a message, then moved down the list to the stepsister.
A hoarse, muffled voice said,“Bugger off.”
“Briar Rose Marrow?”
“Do you know what bloody time it is?”
“Where you are or where I am? This is Lieutenant Eve Dallas, from the New York City Police and Security Department. Are you Briar Rose Marrow?”
The lump in the bed had a mad thatch of black hair streaked with gold, and muttered,“What the fuck is it to you?”
Since Eve figured she might’ve had the same attitude under the circumstances, she held onto her patience.“Are you Briar Rose Marrow, and do you have a stepsister by the name of Tandy Willowby?”
“So fucking what?”
“When did you last have contact with your stepsister, Ms. Marrow?”
“Well, Christ.” The lump moved, shoved at the mad thatch and revealed a pale face with sleepy and improbable purple eyes heavily lined with black, and full lips where the lip dye had faded to splotches of crimson.“How the bleeding hell should I know when it’s eight bleeding o’clock in the bloody morning? Who the hell are you again?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, in New York.”
“Cops? What do the cops want with Tandy? New York? I haven’t had my sodding coffee.” Briar Rose scrubbed at her face with her hand, then pressed it over the sheet in the vicinity of her belly.“Oh, fuck me, how many orgasms did I have last night?”
“That would be your personal business.”
The woman snorted.“The drinks, more’s the pity. Why are you waking me up on a Sunday morning about Tandy?”
“Are you aware she’s been living in New York for the past several months?”
“New York? Well, fuck me. You serious? Handy Tandy in New sodding York.”
“I take it you haven’t spoken to her recently.”
“Not since…” She scratched her fingers in her hair, and crawled across the bed to a little table where she shoved around at debris and came up with some sort of cigarette.“I’m trying to think. June maybe. Why? You’re not going to tell me she’s done something illegal. Not our girl.”
“She’s missing.”
“Missing what?” She fumbled with a lighter, then lowered it before it sparked.“Missing? What do you mean, missing?”
“She hasn’t been seen since Thursday.”
“Maybe she had herself a massive piss-up.”
“Which would be?”
“You know, a bender? A drinking binge. Though that isn’t much like Tandy.”
“I doubt it, particularly given her condition.”
“Condition of what?”
“Are you aware Tandy’s pregnant? Due to give birth in a matter of days?”
“What? What the fuck? Up the duff? Tandy? Oh, bollocks to that.” But the sleepiness cleared out of her eyes.“Just a bloody minute.” She rolled out of bed, and to Eve’s mild relief was at least wearing underwear. She grabbed some sort of baggy red shirt out of a pile of clothes and dragged it over her head.“You’re telling me Tandy’s knocked up, and nobody knows where she is?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You said you hadn’t spoken to her since June. Is that usual? That long a gap?”
Briar Rose walked back to sit on the side of the bed. This time she lit the cigarette.“Listen, we were steps less than a couple of years, really. Her widower father married my stone bitch of a mother when I was about fourteen. He was all right, too, nice sort. Then he ups and gets killed in a pile-up on the M4.”
She paused a moment, let out a long breath and a cloud of smoke.“Tandy was finishing up at University, and already had a job. My mother dragged me off to Sussex for Christ’s sake. Tandy made some tries at keeping up a kind of relationship, but the stone bitch wasn’t interested. I moved back to London first chance, but I was in a phase, you know? Mostly interested in piss-ups and getting laid. I didn’t want the big sister deal, especially with one who was bog standard while I was busy shagging wankers and gits. Cocking up right and left. I’d see her now and again, if she cornered me.”
She drew deep on the cigarette.“Even when I got myself a decent job and eased back some, we just didn’t have much in common. I saw her last spring, it was. She rang me up, said she needed to talk to me.”
“And you talked about?”
“We didn’t, not really. I knew she was wound up about something, and thought she’d probably got herself engaged, or got a bloody promotion, again. I acted a pillock because the bloke I’d been seeing turned into a berk and dumped me for some bit of fluff. And bollocks to him. I just met her for coffee and had a right go at her and buggered off. Bloody hell.”
It was a challenge, but Eve thought she’d picked her way through the foreign slang and idioms to the meat of it.“No contact after?”
“Well, I felt a right arse, didn’t I? A couple weeks later, I did penance and went by her flat, but she’d moved. All they said was she’d moved, maybe to Paris. It pissed me off that she didn’t let me know where she’d gone but there was bugger all I could do about it. She’s having a baby?”
“That’s right. Do you know Aaron?”
“Met him a couple of times. They were all but shacked up. Is he there in New York with her?”
“Not to my knowledge. Do you have his full name, a contact number or address?”
“Aaron Applebee, in Chelsea, I think. He’s a writer for The Times. You telling me that git got her up the duff, then turned her out?”
“I’ll have to speak to him about that. Was she seeing anyone else?”
“Tandy? Not our girl. One at a time for her, and they’d been tight for months and months. Bastard. Maybe she’s come back home, come back to confront him. I’ll ring up a few people. A girl wants to be home, doesn’t she, when she’s about to be a mum.”
“I appreciate the information. If you think of anything else, or find out anything about her whereabouts, contact me.”
Eve did a search for Aaron Applebee and got his number and address.
When she hit his voice mail, she did a standard run on him instead.
Applebee, Aaron, the computer recited, DOB June 5, 2030, Devonshire, England.
It listed his parents, and a complicated series of half-sibs through each side. He was employed, as Briar Rose had said, as a staff writer for the London Times, and had been employed there for eight years. No marriage on record, no criminal. Several pings for traffic violations. He’d resided at the same address, in Chelsea, for five years.
His ID photo showed an attractive blond man with a long jaw. A height of five feet ten inches, a weight of one-sixty.
On the surface, he looked steady, ordinary. A regular bloke, she mused.
“Want to talk to you, Aaron.”
She tried his home ‘link again, bounced to voice mail and clicked off. After looking up the name of the investigator on the like crime in Rome, she began to wind her way through the maze of the Italian cops until she found one in his unit who not only spoke perfect English but agreed to contact Inspector Triveti, and ask him to get in touch.
She updated her notes, then rose to add the printout of Aaron Applebee’s ID photo. When she turned toward the kitchen, Roarke stepped out of his office.
“No more coffee,” he said, definitively.
“Just one more hit. I’m waiting for a callback from Rome.”
“Then order a cappuccino - decaf - and make it two.”
She very nearly pouted.“Decaf’s got no punch.”
“The depth of the shadows under your eyes makes it look like you’ve already been punched. What’s in Rome?”
“A like crime, and a cop who I hope speaks English.” Since Roarke followed her into the kitchen, she couldn’t sneak real coffee.“I talked to Tandy’s stepsister.”
She relayed the gist of the conversation as the AutoChef served up two frothy coffees.“How are you on Brit slang?”
“Reasonably fluent.”
“I could’ve used you as an interpreter. What’s ‘bog standard’?”
“Boring, basically.”
“I wasn’t far off. She had this Aaron’s full name - it’s Applebee. He works for the London Times, lives in Chelsea. Both parents married or cohabbed multiple times, but not currently with each other. Got a brood of half-and stepsibs.”
“Which might put a man off the idea of marriage or family.”
“Might. Reporters have a lot of sources. If he’d wanted to find Tandy, it seems he could and would have. Maybe he decided he wanted the kid, and they’re just off playing kissy-face. Or maybe he found out she was having it when he thought she wasn’t, and he came over pissed. Or he’s just at home, sleeping off a Saturday Night Special and not answering his ‘link.”
“Or, it’s still possible she just walked away. She’d done it before, leaving London.”
“Yeah, there’s that.” And the probability run she’d done on that angle had given her a near fifty-fifty.“But I’m betting when she left London, she packed her things, all nice and neat. She gave her landlord and her employer notice. I already know she did none of those things here. No, she didn’t work all day, leave the shop, and decide somewhere between Madison and Fifth to just keep walking.”
“No.” Roarke laid a hand on Eve’s shoulder and rubbed.“She didn’t.”
“So.” She struggled with a yawn.“You getting anywhere with the numbers?”
“A couple of interesting things. I want to come at them from another angle, then I’ll put it together for you.”
“Sounds like a plan. Look, why don’t you pack it in for now, go on to bed? I’ll just wait for the Italian, then head in, too.”
“Not a chance. If I leave you on your own, I’ll come back in a few hours and find you facedown at your desk, snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Wake the dead.”
“I do not.” Did she?
He only smiled, then wandered off to study the Willowby side of the board.“You’ve gathered quite a bit in a short amount of time.”
“Nothing that points to where she is and why. In the Italian case, they never found the woman, or the kid.”
“They didn’t have you.” Nor had his mother, he thought. She’d had no one, and there was nothing that could change it. He turned to Eve.“Look at you. You’re running on empty, and pushing at two fronts.”
“It may already be too late for her.” She nodded at Tandy’s photo.“Pushing’s all I can do.”
When her ‘link signaled, she spun around to answer.“Dallas.”
“Triveti. I am returning to you.”
His accent was thick and exotic, his face lean and handsome.“Thank you for getting back to me so quickly, Inspector.”
“I am pleased. My English, scuzi, it is small.”
“My Italian’s smaller.” She glanced toward Roarke.“I have someone with me who can help if we get in a bind. You investigated a Missing Persons case a couple years ago. A pregnant woman.”
“Sophia Belego. You have the same.”
“Tandy Willowby,” she told him, and gave him the bones of the case, with Roarke refining some of the details in Italian when the Inspector expressed confusion.
“Like yours, my Sophia, she had no close family, no ties to the city where she disappeared in. She left her - momento - her, ah banking account. It had not been used, or her credit cards, since the time of her disappearing. Her clothes, her possessions remained in her apartment. In this place, her neighbor speaks to her that morning when she is leaving. The statement says that Sophia was - what is lieto ?”
“Happy,” Roarke translated.
“Si, she is happy and full of excite. She is going to see her dottore.”
“Doctor,” Roarke translated.
“And she will shop for the baby. She sees the dottore, and is well. Healthy. Her spirits are good, and she makes the appuntamento ?”
“Appointment.”
“Appointment,” Triveti repeated,“in one week. She is very great with child, you see?”
“Yes,” Eve told him.
“But she does not shop for the baby, not in Rome. I am talking to everyone in these places. Some, they know her from other times, but not from that day. She is not seen after she leaves the dottore. There is none of her at transportation - bus, train, shuttle. There is no use of her passport, and I find it in her apartment. There are no messages, no communications that take me to leads.”
“Nothing in the hospitals, the birthing centers, the morgues?”
“Nothing. I look for the father of the child, but no one knows. Not in Rome, not in Florence. In all our efforts, she is not found.”
Using Roarke, Eve took Triveti through the steps again, squeezed out a few more details. She requested a copy of his file, and agreed to reciprocate with hers.
After, she sat frowning at the notes she’d taken.“I need to write all this up.”
“Sleep first.”
“I told the LT in MPU that I’d copy her all reports and notes. I need to -”
“You think she’s sitting by her comp waiting for your report at…” he glanced at his wrist unit,”… four forty-eight on bloody Sunday morning.”
“No, but -”
“Don’t make me haul your ass up and drag you to bed. I’m tired, and I might rap your head against the wall on the way. I’d hate to damage the paint.”
“Ha-ha. Okay, okay. Just let me try Applebee one more time. Listen, listen, if she’s gone off to see him, I can go to bed with a clear head.”
“You know damn well she hasn’t. One more, and that’s the end of it.”
“You get bitchy when you’re tired.”
“I get bitchier yet when I watch you run yourself into the ground.”
She tried Aaron again, and again got voice mail.“Damn it.”
“Bed. Sleep. Or being in a bitchy frame of mind, I might hold you down and pour a tranq into you.”
“You and what army?” She got to her feet, and the ensuing head rush told her he was right. She needed to put the circuits on pause for a few hours.
Two hours, she thought, three tops. And she glanced back at Tandy’s picture on her board as she walked out with Roarke.
“It’s harder than homicides,” she stated.
“Is it?”
“They’re already gone. You’re there to find who took their life, to find out why if you can, to build a case that will give the dead justice. But this, you just don’t know. Is she alive, dead, hurt, trapped, or did she just say screw it and walk? If she’s alive and in trouble, you can’t know how much time you have to find her. And if you don’t, not in time, she may end up being yours again, as a homicide.”
“We’re going to find her.”
Eve glanced at the bedroom clock. Seventy-one hours missing, she thought.
15
EVE CAME OUT OF THE BLANK BLACK OF EXHAUSTED sleep into a bright flash of white. There were babies crying, women screaming, and though they seemed to be all around her, she was alone in the white box. She pushed at the walls, but they were strong as steel, and all she managed was to smear bloody handprints against the white.
Looking down, she saw that her hands were covered with fresh blood.
Whose blood? she wondered, and reached for her weapon. But in her harness was only a small knife, already gorey. She recognized it - of course she did. She’d used that very knife to hack her father to death once upon a time.
If it was good enough for him, it would be good enough now.
Shifting it to a combat grip, she began to walk along the white wall.
Did they ever stop crying? she wondered. She supposed she couldn’t blame them. Babies were squeezed and pushed out of the nice, warm dark and dumped into the cold hard light of reality. With pain, she thought, and with blood. With their mothers screaming through it.
It was a tough start.
The wall angled, and she followed it as the box narrowed into a tunnel. Not unlike the morgue, she noted. Birth and death, the beginning and the end of the human journey.
Angling again, she saw Mavis stretched out on the floor.
“Hey! Hey!” But as she rushed forward, Mavis smiled, waved at her.
“I’m good, I’m fine. Next to magolicious. Just cooking the bun ‘till it’s done. You better go help the others.”
“What others? Where are they?”
“That’s the big problem, right? You gotta fix it so you can get back before I pop. You remember all the stuff from the class?”
“I got an A.”
“Knew I could count on you. B-day’s coming, Dallas. Don’t be late. Tandy’s counting on you, too.”
A white stork flew overhead, a white sack swinging from its beak. Eve ducked and cursed.
“There goes another one!” Mavis laughed.“Maybe it’s Tandy’s. Better go after it, better hurry. Could be a COD!”
Eve started off at a jog, glanced back. Mavis was standing on her head, her feet propped on the white wall.“I’m keeping it in the oven until you finish.”
“That can’t be right,” Eve muttered, but chased after the stork.
In a cube built into the wall, Natalie Copperfield was tied to a desk. Her eyes were blackened and bloody and running with tears. There was a blue robe belt wrapped tight around her throat.
“It won’t add up,” she sobbed.“It won’t come out right. I have to make it right. That’s my job. They killed me for it,” she said to Eve,“but it still has to add up.”
“You have to give me more than that.”
“It’s all right there, all right there in the numbers that won’t add up. Haven’t you found her yet? Haven’t you found her?”
There was a door. Eve yanked at it, then kicked it in when it refused to give way. Inside was a white room, and Tandy, strapped to a labor/delivery chair like the one used as a demo in the birthing class.
Blood stained the sheets, her face was shiny with sweat. Her engorged belly rippled obscenely.
“The baby’s coming,” she panted out.“I can’t stop it.”
“Where’s the doctor? Where’s the midwife?”
“I can’t stop it,” she repeated.“Hurry, hurry.”
Even as Eve ran forward, Tandy vanished.
The floor opened under her feet. As she fell, the babies were crying, the women screaming.
She landed hard, heard and felt the bone snap in her arm. The room was cold, so cold, and washed with a dirty red light.
“No.” Shuddering, she pushed to her hands and knees.“No.”
He was lying in a pool of his own blood, the same blood that dripped from her hands, from the blade of the little knife she still gripped.
And as she watched, her father turned his head, and those dead eyes smiled at her.“It always comes back to the beginning, little girl.”
She came out of it on a muffled cry to find herself wrapped in Roarke’s arms.
“Dreaming, that’s all. You’re all right. I’m here.”
“It’s okay.” She drew in his scent to steady herself.“I’m okay. It wasn’t bad.”
“You’re shaking.” He ordered the lights on low, and the fire on so the room glowed softly, and the flames burst into life in the hearth.
“It was just mostly weird. Weird and creepy.”
“Dancing numbers?” He kept his voice light, but held her close and tight.“Flying babies?”
“Not this time.” She ordered herself to relax, just relax against him.“Tangling up my cases,” she said after she told him of the dream.“And ended with the big finish. Bastard always manages to get in there.”
“Lie back down now. Let it go.”
She let him draw her back, let herself curl in. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, or to let it go.“There was this sense of urgency. I had to find Tandy, but even when I did, I couldn’t get to her. And there was Natalie Copperfield, and all I could think was that she deserved better from me. She’s trapped there, with those damn numbers, until I can fix it. Add it up. Make it come out right.”
“No point in telling you you’re spread too thin.”
“No, no point. Sorry.”
“Then let me remind you that you’re not alone in that white room, that white tunnel, or even in that goddamned room in Dallas. Not anymore.”
She tilted her head so she could see his face, lifted her hand so she could touch it.“Thank God.”
He kissed her forehead.“Well now, you managed a rousing three hours of sleep. Back on the clock, are we?”
She didn’t argue about eating a decent breakfast first. Instead she programmed a couple of whoppers herself while he dressed.
“And here’s my lovely wife, serving me breakfast on a Sunday morning.”
“You earned it.” She gave the cat a baleful stare as he meandered over from the spot of sunlight where he’d been curled.“You haven’t.” But Galahad sent her such a mournful look, she rolled her eyes, went back to the AutoChef and ordered him up some breakfast kibble and a small side of tuna.
“Played you,” Roarke said as he dug into his eggs.
“Maybe, but it’ll keep him from begging and sneaking while we eat. I’m thinking,” she began.
“As ever.”
“The Italian case, too close to mine for comfort. If they connect, it most likely puts this Applebee in the clear. And it points to someone who targets women in this situation.”
“Pregnant, no family to speak of, new city - toward the end of their term.”
“Right. And while I don’t pop out others that match just so, who’s to say there haven’t been others - women who weren’t reported missing. Or others that came through IRCCA that didn’t play out exactly the same way as these two. And if so, it could lean several ways.”
Considering, he cut into the short stack of pancakes he’d drizzled with syrup.“A long way from Rome to New York if you’re talking about someone who stalks women in this situation, abducts them. And Sophia Belego has never been found, leading to the assumption that the abductor then disposes of them.”
“Or disposes of the woman. Babies are a commodity.”
“Black market sales, slavery, illegal adoptions. Yes, a commodity they are.”
She forked up some pancakes, and though they were already swimming in syrup, dunked them in more. Across from her, Roarke actually winced.
“It should make your teeth hurt,” he commented.
“What? Oh, no it’s good.” She popped them into her mouth.“I like the sugar rush. Anyway, could be a psycho, who likes to travel, likes variety. Could be with enough digging I’ll find some strange connection between Tandy and Belego. Could be a business. Both had to be planned out. Women snatched off the street - in Belego’s case, in broad daylight. But there’s another connection. Both women started their terms in Europe.”
He watched, somewhat fascinated as she swished a slice of bacon through the pool of syrup. His steely-minded cop had the appetite of a five-year-old.“You think the root of it may be there rather than here.”
“It’s a thought. I’m going to let it circle around some while I write it up for Smith in MPU. Maybe she’ll have some thoughts on it. It’s more her area than mine.”
“Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll bring you up to date on my little project.”
“Run it by me now.”
“There’s one of the files that appears to add up, but doesn’t. Not when you peel it apart, shake it out. An outlay and an income that double back on each other, and a separate expense that pulls out of that same income again and gets funneled through yet another account - a nontaxable one, where it shouldn’t be. Not as far as I can tell, blindfolded as I am.”
“Your call.”
“So it was. There are repetitions of that, and subtle variations on it. Could be someone trying to tuck away a bit of the ready, someone hoping to avoid a bit of tax, or a little laundry.”
“How little?”
“I’m not sure yet. Thanks,” he added when she topped off his coffee, then her own.“It’s cleverly done, and I’ll need to peek under a few more covers. But it’s considerable.”
“Ballpark?”
“So far, mid-seven figures, for the time frame I’m working with.”
“Millions then?”
“So it seems.” He brushed a hand over her hair.“Motive enough, I’d think, for two murders.”
“A handful of credits dropped in the gutter’s enough motive for some. But yeah, for this type of thing, motive enough. Why don’t you let me have a look so I can match it with the client?”
“Why don’t you let me finish first?”
“You’re working blind, so I work blind, too?”
“Now, would I be that small and petty?” He considered a moment.“I might be, but in this case, I’d just rather put it all together first. Not as if you’ve nothing to do in the meanwhile.”
True enough, she thought.“I’m calling some more hands and eyes.”
“We work on Sunday, so everyone does?”
“Would I be that small and petty?”
He grinned, and this time patted her hand.“Peas and pods. If you’re pulling in troops, Lieutenant, I could make use of McNab.”
“You’ll have him,” she said, and sitting back laid a hand on her stomach.“I think I feel a little sick.”
“Small wonder after you sucked down a liter of maple syrup.”
“Couldn’t have been that much.” But she thought she could almost hear it swish inside her as she turned to her ‘link.
She had a message from the garage manager on Fifty-eighth. The discs were wiped - that was a dead end.
She’d barely finished waking up cops and moving into her office when Mavis walked in with Leonardo.
“I knew you’d be working.” With shadows dogging her eyes, Mavis gripped Leonardo’s hand.“See, I told you she’d be working. Have you found anything?”
“I’m talking to people. I told you I’d let you know as soon as something broke.”
“I know. But…”
“She barely slept all night,” Leonardo put in.“She wouldn’t eat this morning.”
“I’m standing right here,” Mavis said irritably.“Don’t talk like I’m stupid.” She pulled away from him.“I can’t think about anything else. How could I? I should be able to help. There has to be something I can do.”
“You can go home and let me do my job.”
“Don’t you talk to me that way either,” Mavis snapped.“Like I’m defective or whatever just because I’m pregnant. Tandy’s my friend, and she’s in trouble. I’m not going to sit home and do nothing.”
“Why don’t you sit here then,” Roarke began, and she rounded on him.
“I don’t need to sit. Do you see these?” She pointed down at purple gel-sole boots.“They call them feet, and I can stand on them. The next person, the next who says I should sit down, or lie down, or eat is going to get bloody.”
There was absolute silence as three people eyed Mavis as if she were a homemade boomer with a questionable fuse.
“I’m strong and I’m healthy.” She took an audible breath.“And I’m not sitting home on my fat, knocked-up ass while Tandy’s missing. Look at you.” She jabbed her finger at Eve now.“You think I can’t look at you and see you haven’t slept either? You think I don’t know I asked you for a major? If you were in my place, you wouldn’t be brushed off either.”
“I can’t be in your place as I don’t have a fat, knocked-up ass to sit on. Yeah, you asked me for a major, and if you want me to come through on it, you’ll sit down, shut up, and let me work. Bitch.”
There was a second moment of humming silence as color flooded into Mavis’s face. Then she jerked up her chin.“That’s über bitch to you.” Now she sat, and the room seemed to sigh in relief.“I’m sorry.” Mavis pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.“I’m sorry. Multiple apologies all around. Don’t make me go home. Please.” She dropped her hands.“Please give me something to do.”
“You can write up the time line from my notes for my report. And you can make coffee.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“I could make the coffee.” Leonardo glanced at Mavis.“I’d like something to do, too.”
Mavis reached for his hand, then pressed it to her cheek.“Maybe you could make me one of your special breakfast frappés.” When he leaned down to kiss her, she took his wide face in her hands.“You’re the best thing that ever was, and I’m so sorry.”
“Now that we’ve all kissed and made up…” Eve began.
“I haven’t kissed you yet. Or you,” Mavis added with a flirty smile for Roarke.
He responded by crossing to her and brushing his lips over hers.
“Maybe we could all get something done,” Eve finished.“Roarke, I’ll pass McNab on to you as soon as they get here. Leonardo, make the coffee strong and black.” Eve rose as the men moved in opposite directions, then rolled her auxiliary computer to where Mavis sat.
“Thanks for calling me a bitch. I needed it.”
“Anytime.”
“Dallas, would you tell me what you know?”
Eve ran through it briefly while she set up the comp so Mavis could work.
“You found out so much already, so much I didn’t know. I guess Tandy and I were always talking about now, and tomorrow. She didn’t go into yesterday. Do you think… maybe do you think she and the baby’s father got together? Maybe they’re just taking a couple days alone?”
“I’m going to try to contact him again. We’ll find out.”
“Dallas? Whatever happens with this, I want you to know I’m really grateful. And I love you.”
Eve laid a hand briefly on Mavis’s shoulder.“No mushy stuff while I’m doing cop work. Timeline.”
“I’m all over it.”
Eve went back to her desk to try Aaron Applebee again. With a glance toward Mavis, she put the transmission on privacy mode.
And this time he answered.
“Applebee here.”
“Lieutenant Dallas, New York Police and Security. You’ve been tough to track down, Mr. Applebee.”
“I’ve been on assignment in Glasgow. Just got in.” He rubbed a hand over a face that was shadowed by several days’ worth of light brown beard.“Who did you say you were?”
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. NYPSD.”
“Well, good morning, and I’m baffled. What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me the last time you had contact with Tandy Willowby.”
“Tandy?” His face changed in a fingersnap. Eve would have said what came into it was a burst of hope.“You’ve seen Tandy. Is she there? In New York. I never would have thought… She’s had the baby. She’s all right? They’re all right? Oh, God, I can get a shuttle and be there in a few hours.”
“Mr. Applebee, you’re the father of the child Ms. Willowby’s carrying?”
“Yes, yes. Of course. Carrying? You said carrying?” Another flash of hope lit his face even as his voice trembled.“I’m not too late.”
“You claim you didn’t know she was living in New York.”
“No, she - we - It’s complicated. What do you mean ‘was’?”
“Ms. Willowby’s been missing since Thursday evening.”
“Missing? I don’t understand what you mean by missing. Wait, wait a bloody minute.”
She could see him shift, sit down, struggle to orient himself.“How do you know she’s been missing since Thursday?”
“She left work at six P. M. on that evening. She did not return to her residence. She didn’t keep appointments. She hasn’t contacted her midwife, her employer, or her friends. I’m investigating.”
“She’s pregnant. She’s due any time now. Have you checked the birthing centers? Of course, you have,” he said before Eve could answer.“All right, let’s just keep calm. Let’s not lose our heads.” But he gripped the back of his neck with his hand as if to hold his own head in place.“Maybe she came home. She came home and I wasn’t here.”
“There’s no record of her boarding any transportation out of New York. Mr. Applebee, what was your relationship with Ms. Willowby when she left London?”
“Strained, maybe shattered. Stupid, stupid. I was such a bloody jerk about it all. I was just panicked, or God knows. We hadn’t planned… it just happened. The pregnancy, and I bungled it. I buggered it up, that’s what I did. I suggested she terminate, and she got upset. Of course, she got upset.”
He pressed his fingers to his eyes now.“God. God. What an idiot I am. We quarreled, and she said she’d have the baby, and give it up for adoption. That I wouldn’t have to be bothered. She went to an agency, I think. She was barely speaking to me and I was so bloody righteous.”
“What agency?”
“I don’t know. We weren’t talking so much as sniping at each other. But she changed her mind. At least she left me a message that she had, and that she was going away. She quit her job, and left her flat. I was sure she’d get in touch with me, that she’d come back. I’ve been trying to find her, but I never thought to try the States. She didn’t take a shuttle from here, or from Paris. That’s where, after I’d begged and groveled, one of her coworkers said she’d gone, at least for a bit.”
“Let’s just get this out of the way. Give me your whereabouts on Thursday.”
“I was here, at my office through Thursday until about eight. I left for Glasgow that night, straight from there. I work for The Times, the London Times. I’ll give you my editor’s name and number, and the hotel where I stayed in Glasgow, so you can verify. Whatever you need. I can make some calls from here - friends of hers, coworkers, the OB she saw when she found out she was pregnant. Maybe someone knows… she might have contacted someone.”
“Why don’t you give me a list of names and contact numbers?”
“Yes, all right. Better from you than the git who mucked the whole business up. I’m coming to New York. I’ll be there this afternoon. I’ll give you my pocket ‘link number, in case…”
By the time Eve had taken all the data, she had a cup of coffee on her desk along with her time line, in hard copy and disc.
“We can make calls,” Leonardo began.“Mavis and I can contact the birthing centers and the hospitals again, on the chance Tandy checked in this morning.”
“Call the midwife,” Eve told him.“Have her do it. They’ll talk to her quicker than either of you. Mavis, did Tandy ever mention she’d considered putting the baby up for adoption?”
“She did.” At her station, Mavis sat very still, her hands crossed over her belly.“She told me once she’d considered all the options. And she’d even gone to an agency, taken the first steps toward that one. But she’d changed her mind.”
Reading Eve’s expression, Mavis shook her head.“You think she changed it again, and went into a shelter or agency. She didn’t. She wouldn’t have. She was committed, Dallas, to making a family.”
“It’s worth looking into. Do you remember the name of the agency?”
“I think maybe she said the name.” Mavis pressed her fingers to her temples as if to push the name out of her head.“God, I can’t remember. It was just one of those nights we were sitting around, talking about stuff.”
“If you remember, tell me.” Eve looked over as Peabody and McNab came in.“McNab, you’re with Roarke next door. E-work on the Copperfield/Byson case. Peabody, I’ve got a list of names and contacts in London regarding Tandy Willowby. You take those. Mavis, you and Leonardo can do a search on adoption agencies with London offices. Go through and see if one rings for you. Peabody’s going to need that unit, so you’ll have to take it into another room.”
“We’ll start right now.” Mavis levered herself up.“I feel better doing something. I feel like it’s going to be okay now.”
Peabody waited until Leonardo led Mavis out.“And now that you’ve got her out of the way?”
“Look over the file I got from Italy. Like crime. Woman poofed at thirty-six weeks. No trace of her or the baby. He’s got names from Florence, where she lived before she moved to Rome and vanished. Do followups.”
“I don’t speak Italian. Except for, like, manicotti, linguini, and the occasional ciao.”
“Me, either. Improvise. Try this new angle, see if anyone knows if she explored other options. Termination or adoption.”
For herself, Eve went back to Peabody’s IRCCA data and took a harder look at the other cases. Possible, she thought, possible one or more of the other open cases was a bungled abduction, resulting in death. Cover up the mistake with rape or assault or theft. Ditch the body.
She picked through the details, pored over the autopsy reports. Then narrowed her eyes at the data on a twenty-one-year-old victim in Middlesex. The mutilated body and fetus had been found in the woods, which the local police had determined was a dump site rather than the murder scene. Mutilation postmortem. COD: head trauma.
Following through, Eve contacted the primary investigator. Fifteen minutes later, she sat back, frowned over at her murder board.
There were differences, she mused. This victim had been married - but only weeks before her death. She had family in Middlesex, had lived there most of her life.
Except for a brief period when she’d gone to London. Gone there, according to the statements taken by the investigator, specifically to look into placing the baby with an agency.
She held up a hand when Peabody crossed the room.
“Just getting coffee,” Peabody told her.
“Twenty-one-year-old vic, England. Pregnant with casual boyfriend, opts to have the baby. Family is upset, don’t like boyfriend much. He’s been in trouble a couple times, doesn’t have regular employment. After some hand-wringing, vic goes to London to look into adoption options. Stays at a hostel for a few days, then moves to a midpriced hotel. Remains in London six weeks before returning to Middlesex. Boyfriend gets steady job, love conquers, and plans are made to marry and keep the baby.”
“But?”
“A couple weeks before her due date, she goes missing. Turns up two days later in the woods near the house she and new husband have rented. It’s a dump site. Murder occurred elsewhere, never determined.”
“They look at the new husband?”
“With a laserscope. Alibied tight. COD was head trauma, most likely from a fall. DB also showed signs of restraints, hands and feet, and minor perimortem bruising on the arms. The body was mutilated after death. Hacked up, and the fetus removed. Nonviable.”
“Nasty.” Peabody glanced toward the door to make sure Mavis wasn’t within earshot.“But there are essential differences to Tandy.”
“And similarities. If you theorize that whoever took these women wanted the babies, and when this vic died, the abductor attempted to retrieve the baby. Too late for that, so he or she covers it up by mutilating the body, then dumping both of them.”
Eve rose to add the new picture and name to her board.“What have we got? Three young, healthy pregnant women. None of whom were legally attached to the father at the time they conceived. At least two of them sought information on adoption.”
“Make it three for three,” Peabody put in.“Italian vic’s cousin confirms Belego researched that option, and made an appointment with a counselor regarding same.”
“Got a name?”
“No. But the cousin’s going to ask around, see if Belego mentioned it to anyone.”
“Three for three speaks to me. Let’s try this. Search for agencies that have offices in London, and Florence and/or Rome. I’ve got the name of Tandy’s obstetrician in London. We’ll tag him, too. But first, let’s see if the doctor’s associated with any adoption agencies or counselors.”
A quick search revealed that Tandy’s OB volunteered three days a week at a women’s clinic. The same clinic, she noted, that the woman from Middlesex had used while in London.
Worth a conversation, she decided, and spent the next fifteen minutes tracking down the doctor.
After she’d spoken to him, she added his name and the clinic to her board.“He confirms that he gave Tandy the name of some agencies, and counseling services. He can’t confirm whether she visited any as she canceled her followup appointment with him, and requested copies of her medical records. He’ll check his book, get back to me with the date she called to cancel, and he’s sending a list of the agencies and services they routinely give to patients.”
“All that’s in Europe,” Peabody pointed out.“If Tandy was taken, it was here.”
“It’s a small world,” Eve answered and turned as Roarke stepped in.
“I think you’ll be interested in our findings, Lieutenant,” he said, and handed Eve a disc.
16
EVE SHIFTED TANDY ASIDE WHILE ROARKE INPUT data into her unit, and ordered it onscreen. It seemed like a lot of numbers to her, in a lot of columns in a complicated and overly detailed spread sheet.
He, apparently, saw a great deal more.
“Two accounts were questionable for me,” he began.“The first, McNab and I agree, has gaps, little voids. A precise, methodical accountant such as Copperfield wouldn’t have these voids in one of her files.”
“Tampered with?”
“Again, McNab and I agree.”
“Yeah.” McNab nodded.“I might not get the financial mumbo, but I know when a file’s been diddled with. At least some of that diddling corresponds with the dates you gave me when Copperfield first talked to Byson about finding something, when her assistant claimed she’d logged on after hours. Some of it goes back farther.”
“Someone very carefully removed and/or doctored her work,” Roarke continued.“Someone, in my opinion, with a good working knowledge of accounting.”
“Inside job. What’s the file number?”
When he gave it to her, Eve looked up the corresponding file name.“Well, well, well, it’s our old friends Stubens, Robbins, Cavendish, and Mull.”
“Interesting.”
“You said it was a law firm.” Grinning, McNab pointed at Roarke.“Blinders on, but you slammed it.”
“Billable hours.” Roarke used a laser pointer to highlight columns from his blind copy still displayed onscreen.“Retainers, partners’ percentages. Odds were.”
“But do we have them on anything?” Eve asked.“Illegal practices, finances, taxes?”
Roarke shook his head.“You have the gaps, and when they’re filled in you may. But the numbers jibe, and nothing on the surface appears off.”
“But it is,” Eve complained.“It is off.”
“On the second account I’ve brought up, something certainly is.” He switched displays.“The bottom lines add up precisely,” he continued.“And the account would, I believe, hold up under most standard audits. But what I found, and what I suspect your victim found, were areas of income and outlay that were carefully manipulated in order to add up. On their own, they simply don’t. There are fees - here.”
He used the laser pointer to highlight a section.“These fees repeat - not in amounts, but in precise percentages of coordinating areas of income - and simply don’t jibe. Always forty-five percent of the take, if you will, and with the corresponding amounts, that same percentage appears first under an area of nonprofit contributions, making it exempt from taxes. Which, in the way this is manipulated, makes that fee exempt.”
“Tax fraud,” Eve said.
“Certainly, but that’s only one piece of the pie. The income itself is split into parts, juggled into subaccounts, with expenses attached to, and deducted from it. The income, minus this, is then tumbled back into the main. It’s then disbursed - the sum of it - in a way that, since I have to guess, I assume is through some sort of charitable trust. The client received a hefty write-off, straight from the top, which you see here. Annually.
“The amounts vary, year to year, but the setup remains constant.”
“How much are they washing?”
“Between six and eight million a year, for the time frame I’ve been working with. But it’s more than that. There are simpler ways to evade tax, and to launder money. I’d have to say this particular client has income that is perhaps not strictly legal. It’s an operation,” he told Eve.“Slickly run and profitable, and with these fees and expenses, I’d say a number of people have a piece of it.”
“Copperfield would have found this?”
“If she was looking. Or if she had a question and dug back to find the answer to it before she took over the account. Once you start to peel at the layers, they lift off systematically, simply because the setup is very systematic.”
“I don’t get it.” She shook her head.“I don’t mean the numbers, it’s a given I don’t get them. But I don’t get why. If this is an operation like you say, why didn’t they just keep a second set of books?”
“Greed’s a powerful incentive. There are hefty tax breaks under this system not only for the questionable income, but for all of it. But you have to report the income, the outlay, to get them.”
She nodded.“What’s the blind number on this file?”
“024-93.”
She went back to her desk, called it up.“Sisters Three. A restaurant chain. London, Paris, Rome, New York, Chicago.”
“A restaurant?” Roarke frowned.“No, that’s not right. These aren’t the accounts of a restaurant.”
She rechecked.“That’s how it comes out.”
“That may be, but these aren’t the files and accounts for a restaurant.”
“Roarke, I’m looking at the file, the file Copperfield marked ‘Sisters Three’… And none of the names in the account are listed anywhere but on the label.”
“She switched files.”
“Labels. Discs. Now why would she do that? And who did she switch it with?”
Eve began to scroll down the file, scanning her computer screen.“Madeline Bullock. Son of a bitch. These are the accounting files for the Bullock Foundation. They weren’t her client.”
“Cavendish, etc., was,” Roarke recalled.“And they represent the Bullock Foundation.”
“She accessed the foundation’s files,” Eve murmured.“Labeled it under another account. Nobody would bother going into that file on her unit if they were looking for what she had on the law firm, and through them the foundation. Kraus, Robert Kraus. He headed this account, and was - allegedly - entertaining Bullock and her son the night Copperfield and Byson were killed. If you need an alibi, why not pick the client whose books you’re cooking?”
She paced around her desk.“Copperfield sees something in the law firm’s accounts that doesn’t balance for her. Something that connects to the Bullock Foundation - both clients of her firm. Wouldn’t she go to one of the big bosses on thisand the foundation’s accountant? She goes to Kraus, expresses some concern, asks some questions. Maybe he brushes her off, or says he’ll look into it. But she’s curious and she’s precise. Something doesn’t add up so she wants to fix it. She takes a look on her own. Sees what you see,” she said to Roarke.
“Makes a copy.” He nodded.“She couldn’t be sure she could go back to Kraus, because she’d asked herself why he hadn’t seen what she’d seen. Who can she talk to about this?”
“Her fiancé. But since she’s come in with questions, Kraus is careful. And he’s going to see she’s accessed, made copies. Time to panic a little. So you threaten, you bribe.”
“And set up a double murder, alibied by two people with a vested interest. Two people who are the face of one of the most prestigious and philanthropic charitable foundations in the world.”
“And who are now accessories to murder, times two. I think I want to have a chat with Bob. Peabody, with me.”
“Ah, Dallas, always happy to be with you, but I think in this case, you should take your number cruncher. No way I can talk the talk.”
Eve pursed her lips, studied Roarke.“She’s got a point. You up for it?”
“Should be fun.”
“And a big sigh of relief from the math-impaired,” Peabody stated.“McNab and I can work the Tandy Willowby case while you’re talking to Kraus.”
“Good. You’re on Mavis duty. Let’s move,” she said to Roarke.
They didn’t find Kraus at home, but his wife interrupted her Sunday bridge game to tell them he was playing golf at The Inner Circle in Brooklyn.
She was a comfortable-looking woman, spiffed up for the bridge party in baby-blue cashmere.
“This is about that sweet girl and her darling young man, isn’t it? It’s just horrible. I spent such a lovely little while chatting with her at the company holiday party last December. I hope you find whatever vicious person did this.”
“I will. You were here that night, entertaining, I understand.”
“Oh, yes. We had Madeline and Win as our guests. Dinner, some cards. And all that while -”
“You played late?”
“Until nearly midnight, as I recall. I was ready to drop. Actually thought I was coming down with something, I was that tired. But after a good night’s sleep, I was fine. We had a lovely brunch the next morning.”
“Give your wife a little something to help her sleep,” Eve theorized as they drove to Brooklyn.“Plenty of time to get to Copperfield’s, take care of her. Get to Byson’s, do him, get home. Catch a few z’s, then have a lovely brunch.”
“What did he do with the computers and discs?” Roarke asked.
“Yeah, there’s that. Hauled them home. Probably has an office there the wife doesn’t fool with. Or he rented a place to hold them until he could properly dispose of them. Only one little hitch with that particular theory though.”
“Which is?”
“Robert Kraus has never had a driver’s license or owned a car. Whoever did this had to have private transportation. So he worked with an accomplice.”
“Bullock or Chase?”
“Maybe. Likely. Or someone else in the firm. Cavendish or his keeper. It spreads out, the way I see it. One or more people in the accounting firm had to know what was going on. One or more people in the foundation. One or more in the law firm. You said it was an operation. I’m going with that. Where does the money come from? The funds they’re laundering, funneling, juggling? What’s the source?”
“It’s listed as donations, charitable trusts, privatized income. I couldn’t dig deeper without specific names and companies.”
“The fees, the percentages. They’d likely be kickbacks, or hush money to the accountant, the lawyer. We’ll need to follow that, because it landed somewhere.”
The Inner Circle was an indoor golf course and driving range where aficionados of the sport could play a round, practice their putting, and have a friendly drink. For added fees, there were tony locker rooms with sports channels cued into wall screens, efficient attendants, shower facilities, and the services of a masseur or masseuse. The wet area included whirlpools, saunas, a lap pool, steam room.
They found Kraus in a party of four, on the ninth hole.
“A few minutes of your time,” Eve told him.
“Now?” His brows drew together under a tweed golf cap.“I’m in the middle of a round, with clients.”
“You’ll have to catch up later. Or I could walk along with you,” Eve said obligingly,“and we can discuss the discrepancies in the Bullock Foundation’s account in front of your clients.”
“Discrepancies? That’s ridiculous.” But he glanced at the woman and two men at his tee.“A moment.” He moved to them, hands spreading in apology. His face was full of annoyance as he walked back to Eve.“Now what’s this about?”
“It’s about a multimillion-dollar motive for murder. Natalie Copperfield came to you regarding questionable accounts in the Stuben and Company file.”
“Stuben? She did not. You asked me if she discussed anything of the sort regarding a client with me, and I told you she hadn’t.”
“The questionable accounts relate to the Bullock Foundation, which is your client. And your alibi for the murders.”
He flushed, glanced around.“Would you mind keeping your voice down?”
Eve merely shrugged and hooked her thumbs in her coat pockets.“If you have a problem with someone overhearing this conversation, we can take it back to Central.”
Looking thoroughly put out, he gestured for them to follow.“We’ll take this to the clubhouse.” Kraus strode off the ninth green toward an open patio under simulated sunlight, and after swiping a key card in a slot, gestured them to an umbrellaed table.
“I don’t know what you think you’ve come across,” he began.
“The laundering of funds through charitable trusts,” Roarke began.“The disbursement of funds claimed as tax exempt to subaccounts, which is then funneled back into the trust and redisbursed. It’s a clever circle, washing considerable income annually.”
“The Bullock Foundation is above reproach, as is our firm. What you’re saying is impossible.”
“Natalie Copperfield accessed the Bullock accounts.”
“I don’t understand you, and obviously you don’t understand how we run our business. Natalie wasn’t cleared for that data.”
“But you were. They’re yours. Her killer got her home unit, her discs. Got to her office unit and deleted files. But he couldn’t delete all of them, certainly not files that were on record as her clients. She changed the label on the file. The Bullock data was still there.”
“Why would she do such a thing?”
Eve leaned forward.“We’re going to get you cold for money laundering, for tax fraud. You’re going to want to talk to me now, if you want any kind of help with two counts, murder one.”
“I didn’t kill anyone. My God, are you insane?” His hand trembled a little as he pulled off his cap.“I’ve never doctored an account. It’s ludicrous.”
“Your wife states you played cards on the night of the murders until after midnight. And she was extremely tired. She went to bed, giving you more than enough time to get to Natalie Copperfield’s apartment. To break in, to restrain her, torture her, kill her, and take her data unit.”
He wasn’t just pale now, he was gray.“No.”
“From there, to travel to Bick Byson’s loft, struggle with him, stun him, restrain and question him before you killed him and took his data unit. Have you disposed of them already?”
“I’ve never hurt another human being in my life. I never left the house that night. My God, my God, what is happening?”
“So you let Bullock or Chase do the dirty work?”
“This is absurd. Of course not.”
“I’m going to get a warrant for your other files, Mr. Kraus. What you did with one, you did with others.”
“You can get a warrant for whatever you like. You’ll find nothing because I’ve done nothing. You’re mistaken about the Bullock accounts. Natalie must have been mistaken, because there can’t be anything wrong with them. Randall -”
Eve pounced.“What does Randall Sloan have to do with it?”
Kraus rubbed his hands over his face, then signaled to the waiter he’d initially waved away.“Scotch, straight up. A double. My God, my God.”
“What does Randall Sloan have to do with the Bullock account?”
“It’s his account. It’s my name of record, but it’s his account.”
“Why don’t you explain to me how that works?”
“He brought them into the firm, years ago. I had just come on as a junior partner. But his father wouldn’t allow him to head the account. There’d been some question of Randall’s reliability, his - ah - skills and work ethic. He’s better suited in public relations. But he brought the account in, and I was new. He came to me, asked me… It wasn’t precisely asking.”
Kraus took the glass the waiter brought him, downed a quick swallow.“I felt pressured, and to be honest, I thought it was unfair that he wasn’t given the account. So I agreed to keep my name on it, and he would do the actual business. I’d check the bottom line, of course, every quarter. And if there was any problem, any question, I’d take over. But the client was satisfied.”
“I bet they were,” Eve replied.
“She didn’t come to me. I swear to you, Natalie didn’t come to me about any problems, any questions.”
“Who knew that Sloan was doing the books for Bullock?”
“I didn’t think anyone did. He told me it was just a matter of pride, and I believed him. But he’d never hurt Natalie. She was almost like a daughter to him. This has to be some horrible mistake.”
“Does Madeline Bullock normally stay at your home when she and her son come to New York?”
“No. But Madeline was talking to my wife and mentioned that she loved our home, how welcoming it was, how peaceful. One thing led to another, and they agreed to stay with us. I need to see those records. I’m entitled to see them. I’m sure there’s just some misunderstanding.”
“Tell me about Randall Sloan’s lifestyle.”
“Please don’t ask me to speak behind the back of an associate. A friend. The son of my partner.”
Eve said nothing, just waited.
Kraus drank the rest of his scotch, signaled for another.“He gambles. Or he did. And poorly. There were rumors that some time ago - before I came to the firm - he skimmed a bit from one or two clients, and his father had to replace the funds. But he went into a program, for the gambling. There’s been no hint of anything improper for years. His father… Jacob’s a hard man, integrity is a god. His son smeared that. Randall will never be a partner. He accepts it. He prefers the work he does, in any case, to the administration, the accounting.”
“Yet he pressured you into giving him, under the table, we’ll say, a major account.”
“He brought them in,” Kraus repeated, and Eve nodded.
“Yeah, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“You believe him,” Roarke said when they left Kraus sitting under the umbrella in the pseudosunlight with his head in his hands.
“Yeah. You?”
“I do, yes. The outsider, the last man in, so to speak, doing a favor for the big man’s son. It’s reasonable. And clever of Sloan and the Bullock people not to use each other for alibis.”
“You got a dupe, you use the dupe. You drive,” she told him, and gave him Randall Sloan’s address.“Looks like I’m tagging London again.”
She put in a transmission to Madeline Bullock’s home in London and got what she thought of as a Summerset clone. Not quite as bony in the face, she decided, but just as dour.
“Ms. Bullock is traveling.”
“Where?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“If Scotland Yard knocked on your door in the next thirty minutes, could you say then?”
He actually sniffed.“I could not.”
“Okay. Say the house burns down. How would you reach Ms. Bullock to tell her the bad news?”
“On her private number, on her pocket ‘link.”
“Why don’t you give me that?”
“Lieutenant, I am under no obligation to provide foreign authorities with Ms. Bullock’s private business.”
“Got me there. But even in the colonies we have our ways of getting information.” She clicked off.“Do they go to school for that?” she demanded of Roarke.“Is there a Tight-Ass University? Did Summerset graduate cum laude?”
“First in his class. Do you want to drive while I find the number you need?”
“I somehow managed to fumble my way through such pesky chores before I met you.” She started the search, then stopped. Sat back.“You know what? I’ve got a better.” She got Feeney at home.
He was wearing a baggy and faded New York Liberties Arena Ball jersey with a ball cap pulled over his explosion of ginger hair.“There’s a costume party at your house and I didn’t get invited?”
“Game, two o’clock.”
“You look ridiculous.”
He pokered up.“My grandson gave me this jersey. You tag me on a Sunday to critique my wardrobe?”
“Need a quick one. I’m looking for a pocket ‘link number, private, and its current location.”
“Game,” he repeated,“two o’clock.”
“Murder. Twenty-four/seven. It’ll be quick. I just need the number and the area. The fricking country. Madeline Bullock. It may be registered to her, or to the Bullock Foundation. Probably her as it’s a personal ‘link. London home base.”
“Right, right, right,” he said. And hung up on her.
“I could have done that for you,” Roarke pointed out.
“You’re driving.” And she contacted Peabody.“Take another look at Randall Sloan. Finances, travel, property, real estate. He’s a gambler, so look at it with an eye to that.”
“You got a scent?”
“Yeah, I’m following it now. Mavis?”
“She conked. Been out about a half-hour.”
“Good. If I can track down Randall Sloan, I’m bringing him in for questioning. I’ll let you know.”
“Dallas, I’ve got that list of agencies and counselors from England. All European-based.”
She shifted gears, focused on Tandy.“Give them to the investigating officers, Rome and Middlesex. Meanwhile, run them yourself, zero in on any that have offices in both countries. Especially those that have multiple locations in Europe. And shoot them to my PPC while you’re at it.”
“Got that. Good luck.”
Eve rubbed her eyes, blinked them open.
“Why don’t you get a little sleep before we get to Sloan’s?”
She shook her head, wished she’d thought to bring a vat of coffee with her.“No way of knowing if she’s still alive. If it’s the baby they want, if they just went in there and took it out. She’d be, what, like a vessel.” Eve turned to Roarke.“When she gives up what she’s holding, she’s expendable.”
“You can’t do any more than you’re doing, Eve.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be enough. If she’s alive, she has to be out of her mind with fear. Not just for herself, but the baby. You’re carrying that… potential inside you, it’s the whole focus of your world, I guess. You’re creating it, protecting it, bringing it - you know - forth. Through all the discomfort, inconvenience, pain, and blood and fear, it’s vital. Its health, its safety, that’s paramount. I see that in Mavis, the way she looks, holds herself, holds it.
“I don’t know if I’ve got that in me to give.”
“You have to be joking. Darling Eve, you give all that, and more, to complete strangers.”
“It’s the job.”
“It’s you.”
“You know how fucked up I am about kids, parents, the whole ball of it.”
He took her hand as he drove, brought it to his lips.“I know the two of us have strange, dark places inside us, and we might need some time for a little more light to seep in before we’re ready to add to the family we’ve already made.”
“Okay, good. More light. I’m for it.”
“Then I think we should have five or six.”
“Five or six what? What?” She thought… for a moment she thought her heart actually stopped. The buzz in her ears was so thick she barely heard his laugh.“That’s not funny.”
“It certainly was, especially from my point of view. You couldn’t see your face.”
“You know, one day, perhaps in our lifetime, medical science will find a way to implant an embryo into a man, incubating it there while said man waddles around looking like he swallowed and is unable to digest a pot-bellied pig. Then we’ll see what’s funny.”
“One of the many things I love you for is your delightful imagination.”
“Remember that when I put your name on the implant list. Why don’t people stay home on Sunday?” she wondered, bitterly, as she cued into the traffic.“What’s wrong with home? What kind of transpo did Bullock and her son take out of New York?”
“Another thing I love you for is the many and varied channels of your mind. No doubt private, given the depth of the Bullock wells.”
“Foundation shuttle. They came, ostensibly anyway, on foundation business. If they’re still traveling, they’ve probably made use of the same shuttle.”
“Where were they when you originally verified Kraus’s alibi?”
“I don’t know. Peabody did the verify, and she had to contact a foundation number and get a callback. It wasn’t pertinent at the time. But I can track that shuttle if I have to. Have to hack my way through international law and relations, and I hate that, but I’ve got enough to hold them for questioning. And I think the British government’s going to be very interested in their accounts.”
“They may take a hit there,” Roarke agreed.“But if they’re smart, and their legal representatives will be, they can dump that on Randall Sloan personally, and the firm.”
“I can tangle that, seeing as their legal reps fall under the same shadow. I’m going to have to turn this over to Global. After I talk to Randall Sloan.”
Randall Sloan lived in a trim and elegant old brownstone on the edge of Tribeca. From the sidewalk, Eve could see that the third floor had been converted into a solarium so that it was topped with curved, pale blue glass.
“He has a current driver’s license,” Eve said.“And keeps a vehicle four blocks from here in a private garage. Means, motive.”
“Opportunity is dicier, isn’t it, given that he has an alibi. Or do you think his dinner companions for that evening are covering for him?”
“Didn’t feel like it, but we’ll go back over that. He may have been a tool. Tools don’t always get dirty. If he didn’t do the murders himself, he knew about them.” She started up the three steps that led to the main entrance.“Alarm’s on green,” she pointed out.
As she lifted her hand to press the buzzer, she noticed there was more, and engaged her recorder.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Roarke, Expert Civilian Consultant, at the residence of Sloan, Randall. Upon arrival I’ve found the security system disengaged and the front door unlatched.”
Automatically, she drew her weapon. She buzzed, and called out,“Randall Sloan, this is Lieutenant Dallas with the police. I have a civilian consultant with me. Please acknowledge.”
She waited, ears cocked for any sound.“Mr. Sloan, I repeat, this is the police. Your residence is unsecured.” When there was no response, she circled around the line she had to walk, and eased the door open.
“Nothing in plain sight,” she stated.“He could have gone rabbit. I need a warrant.”
“Door’s open.”
“Yeah, and I could go in, check it out. I can argue probable cause, but without authorization I risk giving his lawyers something to whine about. I can get a warrant quick enough.”
She started to call in when someone hailed her from behind.
Turning, she saw Jake Sloan and Rochelle DeLay walking toward the house, hand-in-hand, faces rosy from the cold.
“Lieutenant, Jake and Rochelle, remember?”
“Yes. This is Roarke.”
“I recognize you.” As he came up the first step, Jake shot out a hand.“Good to meet you, and so you know, any time you’re looking for a young, hard-working accountant, I’m available.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“This is Rochelle.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
“You come to see Dad? He keeping you waiting in the cold?” Jake nodded toward the door.“It’s open.”
“We found it that way,” Eve told him.
“Really? That’s weird.” He moved by them and inside to give a shout.“Hey, Dad! You’ve got company. Come on in,” he said to Eve and Roarke.“We’re swinging by to get him for a Sunday deal at Grandpa’s.” Jake pulled off his watch cap, stuffed it messily in his coat pocket.“You want to have a seat? He must be upstairs.”
Eve had slipped her weapon into her pocket when he’d called out to her from the street, and kept her hand on it now.“Mind if I come with you?”
“Well…”
“Door was open, Jake, security off. It’s the cop in me.”
“Sure. Okay. He probably just opened it to look out for us. We’re running a little late. He forgot to engage it again. That’s all.”
But she could see she’d put worry in him as he turned to the stairs.“Dad? Hey, Dad. I’m coming up, and I’m bringing the law.” He tried a smile as he said it, but when there was no answer, it faded.
Her senses caught something all too familiar.“You want to stay behind me?” she said it casually, and shifted in front to take the lead.“Which is his bedroom?”
“Second on the right. Listen, Lieutenant -”
Eve eased the bedroom door open with a knuckle.
Randall Sloan wasn’t going to make Sunday brunch, she thought, restraining Jake as he tried to rush into the room.
An elaborate chrome chandelier dripped from the vaulted ceiling. Randall Sloan hung from the rope that had been tightly looped around its gleaming post.
17
“HE’S GONE.” EVE HAD TO HOOK JAKE’S ARMS behind his back, hold him against the wall.“You can’t help him.”
“Bullshit! Bullshit! That’s my father. It’s my father.”
“I’m sorry.” He was young, strong, and desperate, so it took all of Eve’s muscle to keep him from shaking her off and running inside. And compromising the crime scene.“Listen to me. Listen, goddamn it! I’m the one who has to help him now, and I can’t do it if you go in there and screw up any evidence. I need you to go downstairs.”
“I’m not leaving here. I’m not leaving him. Go to hell.” And Jake pressed his face to the wall and wept.
“Give him to me.” Roarke stepped up beside her.“Downstairs,” he said before she could ask about Rochelle.“I convinced her to stay put when we heard the shouting. Let me take him.”
“I need a field kit.”
“Yes, I know. Here now, Jake, you have to leave him to the lieutenant now. This is what she does. You come with me. Rochelle’s frightened, and she’s alone. Come downstairs and stay with her.”
“It’s my dad. My dad’s in there.”
“I’m very sorry. I’ll get him settled,” Roarke told Eve,“best I can, then go get your kit out of the car.”
“I don’t want him to contact anyone yet.”
“I’ll see to it. Come on, Jake.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand this.”
“Of course not.”
As Roarke pulled Jake away, Eve contacted Central for Crime Scene, then turned back to the room.“Victim is hanging from a rope attached to the master bedroom chandelier,” she began for the recorder.“Visual identification is of Sloan, Randall. There’s no apparent sign of struggle.”
She scanned the room as she spoke.“The bed is made and appears undisturbed. The privacy screens are engaged, curtains open.”
The bedside lamps were on, she noted, and a single wine glass with a bit of white left in it sat beside the one on the right. While Sloan was barefoot, there were slippers - leather from the look of them - under the body. He wore a tan sweater, brown pants. A chair was overturned. Behind him in a work area the minicomp was on. She could see its active light blinking.
She brought the front entrance back into her mind. No sign of breakin.
She nodded to Roarke as he came back with her kit.“Thanks.”
“Do you want me to contact Peabody?”
“Not yet. She’s got enough on her hands. Can you keep them under control down there? I don’t want them touching anything, talking to anyone.”
“All right.” He set somber eyes on Randall.“I suppose he knew you’d follow the trail that led to him.”
“Looks like that, doesn’t it?” she said as she sealed up.
Roarke shifted his gaze to her, lifted his brows.“But?”
“Doesn’t feel like it. He knows his son is coming today. Is this how he wants Jake to find him? He leaves his security off, door unlatched. Why not run instead?”
“Guilt?”
“He’s been dirty for a long time. Suddenly, he gets a conscience?”
“Fraud and murder are far apart on the scale.”
“Maybe, but he strikes me as a runner, not a suicide.”
She stepped inside, got to work.
She took the room first. Slick and stylish, like the man. Pricey clothes, pricey decor, high-end electronics. A man who liked his comforts, she thought, his conveniences, and his symbols of status.
Lifting the wineglass, she sniffed. Left a marker in its place before she sealed the contents, then the glass itself.
She tapped the comp unit with a gloved finger, and the screen engaged. She read the text written on it.
I’m sorry. So sorry. I can’t live this way. I see their faces, Natalie and Bick. It was only money, just money. It got out of hand. I must have lost my mind to pay to have them killed. I lost my mind, and now I’ve lost my soul. Forgive me, because I can’t forgive myself. I take this terrible act with me to Hell, for eternity.
She turned from the screen to the body.“Well, one thing on there’s pure truth: It got out of hand.”
She identified the body for the record by the fingerprints, then examined the hands, bagged them. Her gauge put time of death at twenty-fifteen, Friday evening.
Moving to the adjoining bath, she recorded while she studied. Clean, she noted, with a few men’s toiletries on the counter along with a big leafy plant in a glossy black pot. Separate steam shower, drying tube, glossy jet tub with a marble surround. An oversized black towel was draped over a chrome warmer.
She opened the cabinet, scanned the contents.
Lotions, potions - anti-age skin and hair products for the most part. Male birth control tabs, pain blockers, sleep aids. In the counter drawer were more grooming aids, dental hygiene products.
She looked back up at the body.
“You practice tying that noose, Randall?” she wondered.“It sure is perfect. Takes a steady hand and some skill to create a textbook hanging noose.”
She stepped out of the room when she heard the buzzer and went down to meet the sweepers and give them the lay of the land.
She found Roarke sitting with Jake and Rochelle in the living area. Jake sat hunched over, his arms dangling between his legs. His eyes were red and swollen as were Rochelle’s, who sat beside him in silence.
“I need to see my father,” Jake said without looking up.“I need to see him. I need to talk to my grandparents.”
“I’m going to arrange for that soon.” Since it was handy, Eve sat on the low table in front of him.“Jake, when’s the last time you saw or spoke to your father?”
“Friday. We had a memorial service for Nat and Bick at the offices. Their families aren’t having one in the city. We wanted to do something. We were all there.”
“What time was that?”
“Toward the end of the day. About four. The partners let everyone who wanted to go home leave immediately after. We left together, my father and I, about five. He asked if I wanted to go have a drink, but I just went on home. I should’ve gone with him. I should’ve talked to him.”
“Did he seem upset, depressed?”
Jake’s head snapped up, and his eyes went hot.“It was a memorial service, for Christ’s sake.”
“Jake,” Rochelle murmured, and rubbed a hand over his thigh.“She’s trying to help.”
“He’s dead. How can she help? Why would he kill himself?” Jake demanded.“Why would he do that? He was young and healthy and successful. He - Oh, God, was he healthy? Did he have something wrong with him, and we didn’t know?”
“I’m going to ask you again. Did he seem upset or depressed recently?”
“I don’t know. Sad. We were all sad, and shocked. I guess he seemed edgy on Friday. Jumpy. He asked me if I wanted to go have a drink, but it was knee-jerk. He didn’t want to hang any more than I did.”
“Do you know where he did his gambling?”
“That was before. Jesus, that was years ago. He doesn’t do that anymore. He stopped.”
“All right. Did he mention where he was going when you left him on Friday?”
“No. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I was upset. God, I have to tell my mother. They’ve been divorced forever, but she has to know. My grandparents.” He put his head in his hands again.“I don’t know how much more they can take.”
“Would you say your father was a religious man?”
“Dad. No, not at all. He says you have to get all you can out of life, because once it’s done, it’s done.” His voice cracked.“It’s done.”
“He do any sailing, Jake?”
“Sailing?” His head came up again, his eyes clouded with grief and confusion.“No, he didn’t like the water. Why?”
“Just curious. Was he in a relationship?”
“No. He liked women, but he just cruised.”
“He takes care of his house? Cooking, cleaning.”
“He’s got a droid.”
“Okay. I’m going to have a uniform take you and Rochelle to your grandparents.”
“I want to see my father. I need to see him.”
“I’ll make arrangements for you and your family to see him as soon as I can. But not now, not here. Go, be with your family now.”
Once she’d seen them off, she began to work her way through the first level of the house.“He left a note on the computer,” she said to Roarke.
“Handy.”
“Yeah. Actually, only a small percentage of self-terminations leave a note. Confessed to hiring the hit on Copperfield and Byson.”
“Also handy.”
“Yeah, you’re following me.” She moved through a small media room, a dining room.“They weren’t professional hits, number one. So sure, he could’ve hired some mope. But who’s he going to trust with the info that was tortured out of Copperfield?”
“Only someone else directly involved.”
“Bingo. He wrote about losing his soul and going to Hell. Upper case H on Hell. That says a religious bent to me, or some sort of belief in the big fire down there. Also, the noose looked like it was tied by a professional executioner. Or a very skilled sailor or Youth Scout. Someone very calm and precise.”
She moved to the kitchen, opened the doors on the pantry - well stocked - the utility closet.“Where’s the droid?”
“Not down here. Upstairs?”
“I’m going to check. Why don’t you play e-man and check his security, the discs and so on?”
“Is this a homicide, Lieutenant?”
“Smells like one to me. We’ll see what the ME says. But fingers point. Why is the door open, the security off?”
“Someone wanted the body found easily, and expeditiously.”
“There you go. Why does a man contemplating offing himself ask his son out for a drink a couple hours before the act? He just doesn’t. Or if he does, he insists. ‘I’ve got to talk to you. I have to get something off my chest.’ But he doesn’t.
“What you’ve got here is a man who liked to live well, by whatever means available. No steady relationships, no real vestige of interest in the family business. Hard-line father, up-and-coming son, and you’re the black sheep. But you know how to see to your own comfort. You’ve got a gambling problem.”
“Had or have?”
“Well, he’s dead as a doornail, whatever a doornail is, so it’s ‘had.’ But I’m betting he had one right up until the last hour. Great way to wash unexplained income is playing with it. I’m not seeing a man with a heavy conscious here. I’m seeing an opportunist, and one who’d have run like the freaking wind if he thought we were sniffing at him. And I’m seeing somebody’s patsy.”
There was no droid on the premises, and according to her e-man the discs for Friday had been removed and replaced with blanks.
“There’s going to be a tranq in his system,” Eve said.“Something that can be put down to calming himself before he put the noose over his head. We might find, since we’ll be looking, a stunner mark on him.”
“Why kill him?”
“Maybe he got greedy, wanted a bigger cut. Maybe he didn’t like having his son’s friends murdered, or got nervous. One way or the other, he was a liability - and a handy goat. I buy the note, the scene, I pack up my toys and walk away. Putting the finger on this guy also smears the accounting firm. Apologies, sorry about that, but the Bullock Foundation will require a new firm. Too much scandal, bad for the image. Their lawyers demand their files, and there’s no record at the firm of any fraud or whisper thereof. All parties involved in Sloan, etc. - as far as we know - are now dead.”
“Clean and tidy.”
“The killer likes it that way. Two strangulations, one hanging. Same basic method. He takes the droid in case there’s any record in the banks of his visiting this residence. Because he’s been here before. He knew his way around.”
“And came prepared,” Roarke prompted.
“Oh, yeah. Comes to the door. Let’s have a chat. How about a drink with that? Slips a tranq into the vic’s wine. Let me help you upstairs. Gets him up there, lays him on the floor. Stuns him if he has to. Writes the note on the computer. Mistake there, I figure, because he puts too much of himself into it. Lost my soul, going to the big H. Fixes the rope, hauls the woozy or stunned vic onto the chair, gives it a kick, and watches the show.
“He’d watch,” she mused.“Like he watched Natalie and Bick. Watch the face, the eyes. Randall kicked, kicked off the slippers, grabbed at the rope. I’ve got what looks like rope fibers and tissue under the vic’s nails. Takes awhile. It’s not a quick death unless the neck breaks on the drop. He suffered, but I guess he earned it.”
She frowned at the now empty bedroom.“Might’ve had his own transpo, but that’s not an absolute. He could’ve come on public - subway’d work best, and taken the droid away by the same method if he deactivated all but its mobility.”
“So you’re looking for a man with a droid.”
She smiled a little.“Maybe.” She pulled out her ‘link when it beeped.“Dallas.”
“It’s halftime, so I’m making this quick.”
She frowned at Feeney.“If you were making it quick, you’d have gotten back to me two hours ago.”
“Can’t do a locate if the ‘link’s not in use, can I? I got the number.” And he read it off to her.“Put a tracer on that, but it wasn’t engaged until a few minutes ago, and then only for fifteen seconds.”
“You got a location?”
“Best I can give you is Upper East.”
“New York? The ‘link’s in New York?”
“Yeah, where’d you expect it to be? Listen, Dallas, they got cheerleaders.”
“Who has cheerleaders?”
“The Liberties. I’m missing halftime.”
“For God’s sake, they’re young enough to be your kids. Your kids’ kids.”
“A man don’t watch a bunch of half-naked girls doing jumps and high kicks, he might as well be dead. You got what you need?”
“Yeah, yeah, and thanks. Keep the trace on, will you? Cheerleaders,” she grumbled when Feeney clicked hurriedly off.“Men have simple minds.”
“It’s not our minds that are simple,” Roarke corrected.
She had to laugh.“New York. Son of a bitch. They probably never left the city. Upper East. Hotel maybe, or a private residence. I need to run a check, see if the foundation or either Bullock or her son own or have interest in any properties in that area.”
“I can run that for you from home. Home’s where we’re going. You can write up your report on this just as easily from there,” he said, and took her arm before she could argue.“You need food, and so do I. You’re running on empty, Eve. I can see it in your eyes.”
“However I’m running, I need to move. I’d moved faster on this, Randall Sloan would still be alive and I’d be closing this.”
She started for the door with him, then stopped.“Wait. Wait. A guy like Randall. He’d have insurance.” She turned a circle. Three-story house, she mused. Twelve rooms, and the solarium. Lots of places to hide insurance.
“He wasn’t stupid. The way he got Kraus to keep his name as account exec, but did the work himself. Something goes wrong, he just palms off the trouble on Kraus. Insurance.”
“The goat kept a backup goat in Kraus.”
“You bet. Randall had trouble, needs to needle his client, he’s got a copy of those books somewhere. If he didn’t before, he sure as hell copied them when he doctored Natalie’s files.”
“I imagine they thought of that as well, and got the location out of him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. He wasn’t tortured, and the place wasn’t tossed. Could be they figure they have all the copies, or already got his. But suppose he was smarter than that, more careful than that. This place needs to be gone over, top to bottom.”
“Which will take hours,” Roarke pointed out.“If you think you have hours left in you, you’re mistaken. Compromise,” he said, anticipating an argument.“Send Peabody and McNab back to do that. An e-man and a detective. If there’s something here, they’ll find it.”
“I’ll let them take first swing at it.”
She went out, sealed the door.
“It’s possible, if you’re right about the copy, he kept it off-site. A bank box.”
“Possible, but it seems to me he’d want it easily accessible, especially now. Shit’s flying, he needs his shield. What if he wants it after banking hours, or on Sunday? Traveled a lot,” she continued as she got into the car.“If he used a vault, it could be anywhere. Guy who travels that much would know how to run, know how to move fast and light if he had to.”
And thinking that, she dropped into sleep.
She woke, stretched nearly horizontal as Roarke stopped in front of the house. Rather than refreshing her, the mobile nap left her groggy and disoriented, and fumbling for the controls to bring her seat back up.
Roarke lifted it, as he’d lowered it, from his side of the controls.“You need actual sleep.”
“I need actual coffee.”
She’d have food to go with it, Roarke determined as he walked with her into the house.
“Red meat,” he said to Summerset.“Her office AC. If the others haven’t eaten, send up a bloody cow.”
“Right away.” As they headed up, Summerset lifted the cat that ribboned between his legs.“We’ll just put some nice green beans along with that steak. She won’t like it, but he’ll make her eat them, won’t he?”
Mavis didn’t exactly pop up when Eve entered the office, but she managed to shove herself out of the chair.“You’re back.”
“Yeah, sorry, things got complicated. You’ve got to give me a few minutes to deal with another thing.”
“You get the list?” Peabody asked her.“There are a couple that look good to me.”
“List of what?”
“The agencies, counselors. You said I should send it to your PPC.”
“Right, right.” Her brain felt like mush.“I didn’t get the chance to review. Something came up. I would give you the world drenched in chocolate for a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll get it for you.” Leonardo eased Mavis back in a chair.
“Chocolate thief,” Peabody said, hoping to make Mavis smile.“Anyway, a couple stand out for me. So -”
“I’ll look it over in a few minutes. I need to pull you and McNab off this, put you on another assignment. Randall Sloan is dead.”
“Well, shit, you’ve had a busy day.”
“Staged suicide, that’s my take. I worked the scene, sweepers will be processing.”
Peabody opened her mouth, glanced at Mavis, then nodded.“Okay.”
“I’ll fill you in, then I need you and McNab back at the scene.”
“You’ll fill them in over a meal,” Roarke added.
“As soon as I look over the list.”
“It’ll wait.” It was Leonardo who spoke as he carried in a mug of coffee.“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said to Mavis,“but she needs to eat, to rest for a little while.”
“Jeez.” Eve took the coffee as if it contained the staff of life.“What is it with men?”
“He’s right.” Mavis pushed her hands though her hair.“He’s right. You look whipped and kicked. We’ll eat. We’ll all sit down and eat.”
They brought in a table, dragged up chairs. While the coffee helped cut through the fog in her brain, Eve had to admit the protein got her blood moving again.
“A hell of an operation,” McNab commented when she’d run through the bulk of it.“What’s funding it?”
“That’s another question. Illegals, weapons, mob money?” Eve lifted a shoulder.“We’ll dig it out. Or Global will. Bullock, Chase, or someone on their payroll murdered three people - that we know of - to protect that operation.”
“And they’re still in New York.” Peabody tried not to hum out loud in pleasure as she swallowed steak.“Why? I mean, after killing Randall Sloan, why not make tracks? It seems they’d want to be long gone before his body was discovered.”
“Another question. They still have business here. They feel safe where they are. From their point of view, they’re removed from the investigation. They were an alibi for a man who was not involved - and he, in turn, covers them. Another man has confessed to the murders, and being dead, can’t recant that confession. But you’re right, they’d need a reason to stay here, when they could be anywhere else.”
She contemplated as she ate.“They wanted the body discovered, and in good time. No reason to leave the security off and the door unlatched otherwise. The sooner it’s found, the sooner they can put this whole untidy business behind them. Must be irritating,” she decided,“to be so rich and powerful and have little people picking at your foundation. Like ants.”
“I don’t think ants pick,” Peabody said.“They more dig, probably.”
“Whatever. You are what you are, and they’re nothing. Tried to buy the nosy accountant off, but she’s annoyingly honest. You’re not going to see your whole lifestyle, your rep, your wealth put in jeopardy by some number cruncher. That’s why the murder was personal. She got in your face, so you got in hers. I can come right into your home, you stupid bitch. What are you going to do about it? And I’m going to hurt you because you had the nerve to threaten me and mine. Then, when I’m satisfied you’ve told me everything I need to know, I’m going to kill you with my own hands, and watch you die. But not before I tell you that I’m going to do the same thing to your lover. So you die in pain, in fear, and in grief.”
She forked up a tiny new potato.“What?” she demanded as the table sat in silence, staring at her.“What?”
“Creepshow.” Mavis picked up her water glass, drank deep.“Squared.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“How do you know he thought those things, felt those things?” Leonardo stroked Mavis’s arm as he goggled at Eve.
“Well, he sure as hell wasn’t thinking about the weather.” Then she narrowed her eyes.“Randall Sloan kept a car garaged. He didn’t use it that night. Both he and his alibis stated they used cabs. Let’s see if there’s any sort of log in and out of the garage. The killer may have borrowed it for the job. If not, we start checking rental companies. Or car services. The Bullock Foundation may keep a car in the city, or use a specific service when they’re here.”
When Peabody dug out her memo book to note it down, Eve shook her head.“No, you’ve already got enough going. I’m going to tag Baxter. He wanted in on this. He can take that assignment.” She pushed back from the table.“I’ll contact him now, then I want to look at the lists of those agencies you got on Tandy.”
Across the table, Mavis closed her eyes, took a long breath.“Thanks. Thanks, Dallas.”
Eve waited until she’d talked to Baxter, then asked Mavis to come with her to a sitting room. Closed the door.
“You’re going to tell me you think Tandy’s dead.”
“No, I’m not. Sit down.” When she did, Eve sat across from her, leaned in so their eyes were level.“But I am going to tell you that you need to prepare yourself for that possibility. She was taken for a reason, and everything’s pointing to the baby being that reason.”
“And once she has it… It’s been since Thursday. She could -”
“A lot of things could,” Eve interrupted.“We’re going to deal with what is. Look, I know it might seem like I’m not paying much attention to this, not looking hard enough. But I promise you, it’s in my head. And Peabody’s working it when I’m not.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re not paying attention.” Mavis reached out now, took Eve’s hands.“I don’t think that. And I know Peabody’s doing everything she can, and - and that she’s good. But Dallas? She’s not you. That’s a bitch-weight of pressure, I know, but -”
“Don’t water up. Come on, give me a break on the tears.”
“I’m so scared for her. And I keep thinking, what if it was me? What if I was locked up somewhere, couldn’t protect my baby. It’s going to sound Princess of Drama, but I’d rather die than have anyone take my baby, or hurt it. I know Tandy feels the same. She said once that’s why she decided to have it, to keep it, even though she’d be on her own. That even though there were good people who wanted babies, who’d give hers a good life, it was hers. And she’d never be absolutely sure they’d love it as much as she did.”
“What kind of good people? Did she ever give any details, anything specific?”
“No, it was just… wait.” Eyes closed again, hands rubbing light circles over her belly, Mavis breathed slowly in and out.
“Oh, shit. Shit! Are you -”
“No, no, don’t go wig. I’m just trying to focus. We were talking once, me and Tandy, about raising a kid in the city. Pros, cons, la-la. She said how she hoped she was doing the right thing, choosing the urban deal when she could’ve given her baby a plush life as a country squire. She talked like that sometimes,” Mavis added and opened her eyes.“You know, squire. What is a squire?”
“How would I know, I’m a New Yorker. Okay, let’s you and me go over Peabody’s list. Maybe something else will ring for you.”
18
EVE SET MAVIS DOWN WITH THE LIST, THEN gestured Leonardo to sit down beside her.“Why don’t you be another pair of eyes, another brain on memory mode? You were in on some of the baby talk?”
“Sure. Tandy’s having a boy.” He laid his big hand gently on Mavis’s belly.“Tandy wanted to find out, and I talked to her about the baby, and herself, and her plans. I wanted to get a sense of it, not just because I’m her birthing coach, but because I’m designing a few basic - and a couple of special - outfits as a gift for her.”
“Is he the sweetest huggie-bear in the universe and beyond?” Mavis cooed.
“You bet. Look at the list. Remind yourself of conversations you had with her, about her. Individually and together. One of you may prompt something out of the other’s memory. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She moved into Roarke’s office where he sat at his desk running her search. She shut the door.
“Problem?” he asked her.
“Our house is full of people, one of whom could go off like a bomb of emotionally charged hormones at any moment. You’re doing drone work for me on two cases, one of which started with a huge personal insult to you. I dragged you to Brooklyn on a Sunday, then dumped you into another crime scene, and left you in charge of a hysterical witness. There’s probably more in there, but those are the high points.”
“Just another day in paradise.”
“I love you. I just wanted to give you a heads-up on that.”
It came into his eyes, that charge of pleasure and love, and blew right through her.“It’s nice to be reminded. You’re so tired, Eve.”
“You’re looking a little worn yourself.”
“Am I now?” He rose.“Maybe you should hold onto me a minute then.”
“Maybe I should.”
She came around the desk, and they held onto each other. She could stand on her own - God knows she’d proven it. But it was an amazing gift to have a man you could lean on without either of you thinking you were weak.
“I postponed that winter holiday deal we were planning a couple of times now.”
“Hmm.” With his eyes closed, he swayed a little with her, drawing in the scent of her hair, her skin.“Things came up.”
“They’ll always come up. As soon as Mavis pops that kid out, and we’ve done our duty, we’re going.”
“Are we?”
“You got my word.” She drew back to look him in the eye.“I need you, the just you and me time. I don’t know why I let myself forget that. Besides, I’m thinking after the doing-our-duty deal in the fun house that is the birthing room, we’re really going to need to go somewhere where we can stay zoned on alcohol and sex for a few days.”
“You just had to bring that up.”
“What? Sex?” She lifted her hands, patted both of his cheeks.“It’s wormed its way into my brain like a tumor. If I have to think about it, so do you.”
“I always think about sex.”
“Funny guy.” She pressed her lips to his just as his computer signaled his task complete.“That my data?” She pulled away, grabbed up the hard copy that spit out.
“So ends a charming interlude.”
Ignoring him, she scanned various properties, holdings, addresses, then zeroed in on one that made her smile spread, saber-sharp.“And look here, Madeline has herself a pied-ŕ-terre on East End Avenue, off of Eighty-sixth.”
“I take it we’re about to pay another Sunday call.”
“I can handle it on my own if you want to hang here.”
“With the ticking bomb of explosive hormones? No, thank you.”
When they stepped back into Eve’s office, Leonardo sat alone at the auxiliary unit, brows knit as he studied the screen.
“Mavis?”
“Oh, peeing. Again.” He smiled.“She has the cutest little bladder these days.”
“Adorable. Tell her I’ve got to follow up this lead on the homicides while it’s hot. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you hit on anything that seems familiar, even like a maybe, earmark it. We’ll give it a push when I get back. Peabody and McNab get back first, give it to them.”
“We will. Dallas, Roarke, would it be all right if we stayed here tonight? She’ll just want to come back tomorrow, or sit down at Central if you’re working there. I hate to have her going up-and downtown when she’s so worn down.”
“You’re always welcome,” Roarke told him.“Why don’t you ask Summerset to fix her a soother? He’d know what was safe for her and the baby.”
“You ought to take one yourself,” Eve added. Then because she knew he loved her friend, she stepped to Leonardo, gave his wide shoulder a squeeze.“Tell her Tandy’s in my head. I do some of my best work there.”
“She believes in you. That’s getting her through this.”
But no pressure, Eve thought wearily as they headed out.
“You drive,” she told Roarke.“I’m going to do some of that work in my head.”
She tipped back her seat a few inches, closed her eyes, and brought Tandy into focus.
Young, healthy, single, pregnant, no close family ties. Relocated. Why not keep in contact with friends/coworkers back home?
Hiding?
From what? From whom?
Father of the baby? Possible, but unlikely. No bitching to new coworkers or new pregnant pal about the lousy bastard who knocked you up.
Eve thought of Tandy’s apartment. A nest, Peabody had said. Not a hidey-hole. Hiding, maybe, but not obsessively. More like the fresh start angle.
The like crime victims had been similar there, too. Relocation - at least initially on the other Brit vic. New job, new place, new life. So maybe it was more getting away than hiding.
Getting away from what? From whom?
One woman dead, two missing. She’d get a doctor - Louise or Mira, or maybe Mavis’s midwife - to look over the autopsy report on the Middlesex vic. If the vic was injured, dead or dying, the killer might have tried to carve the baby out.
And God, that was gross.
No attempt to hide the body. Dump it instead near the vic’s home base. Away from where she’d been held, Eve thought. Away from the killer’s location.
But Belego never surfaced, alive or dead. Take the baby? Dispose of the body? Logical, she mused. Cops are looking for an abductee, pregnant or with infant. Or a runaway. Changed location once, change again.
They’re not looking for a nice healthy baby newly placed with some nice couple. In the country maybe, well away from the location of the abduction.
Healthy baby, priority one. Can’t put a woman that far along on a shuttle or any air transpo. Mavis said she couldn’t travel after her - what had it been - thirtieth week?
“She’s still in New York,” Eve mumbled.“Unless they drove her outside the city. Not far, though. They wouldn’t want to put any more stress on her than necessary. Any stress on her is stress on the fetus. And she’s still alive.”
“Because?”
“Unless she went into labor on her own, she’s still got the package in her. I don’t think they’d push that - give her whatever you give to start the whole process up. All these women were taken in the last weeks of their pregnancy. Maybe that’s coincidence, or maybe the kidnapper waits until they’re near end-of-term.”
She let it run through her head.“Maybe he or she is a frustrated midwife or OB. Likes to deliver babies. Then the mother had to be disposed of, somehow. Can’t keep the babies. Somebody’s going to notice if this guy, this woman keeps adding newborns to the household. Or…”
“Maybe he continues to botch it,” Roarke said quietly.“Loses both, and keeps trying.”
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s one we won’t mention to Mavis. Could be a moral fanatic. Except one of the vics that coordinates for me got married to the baby’s father.”
“If you’re fanatical enough, she still conceived out of wedlock.”
“Can’t rule it out.” She glanced idly at a corner glide-cart, grill smoking.“But the fact we’ve got echoing vics in three countries points me to profit. A business. Snatch, grab, deliver, sell. Destroy evidence.”
“Cold.”
“The coldest,” she agreed, then straightened as Roarke parked on East End Avenue.“But I’m thinking this ranks up there on the ice scale, too.”
It was a little palace of glass and stone, built on the ashes of the Urban Wars. There were a few like it - in size and style - along New York’s rivers, affording lofty views of the waterways. The glass reflected gilded bronze to any who stood outside its walls to admire it. Since the sun had set at the end of the long day, the security lights beamed that same rich color over the blind glass and warm brown stones.
It spired up, with generous terraces on the riverside, and a tall, wide arch at the entrance.
After pressing the buzzer, Eve held her badge up to the security screen. The red beam of the laser scanned it before the door opened.
She made the attractive, uniformed maid as a droid even before it spoke.“May I help you?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and associate, to see Ms. Bullock and/or Mr. Chase.”
“Neither Ms. Bullock nor Mr. Chase is at home to callers. Would you care to leave your card?”
“When I show you this,” Eve held the badge up in the droid’s face,“it means I’m not here to socialize. Do you think Ms. Bullock and/or Mr. Chase would prefer to call on me at Cop Central?”
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll inform Ms. Bullock.”
Here was a formal foyer with gold and silver tiles for the floor, complex shapes in thin red glass dripping light from the ceiling. There were paintings in sleek gold frames - all flash and color, and to Eve’s mind, no substance or sense.
Benches, tables, chairs were all ebony and trimmed in deep, dark red.
She wandered away from the entrance, glancing up a sweep of silver stairs and looking east into a spacious room where the decor colors had been reversed - black and red for the floor, gold and silver for the furnishings.
A fire roared away in the ruby hearth, and beyond the wall of gilded glass was the long, dark river.
Nothing soft, she thought, nothing quiet or feminine or comforting. Just meticulous, somewhat regimented decor - the sort that gave her a mild headache.
No one would dare put their feet up on the gleaming silver table, or curl up for a nap on the gold cushions of the straight-lined sofa.
She heard the click of heels on the tiles and turned to study Madeline Bullock, in the flesh.
The ID photos hadn’t done her justice, Eve decided. She was a presence. Tall, stately, handsome, with silver-blonde hair sleeked back from a youthful face and rolled smooth at the nape of her neck.
Her eyes were arctic blue, her lips painted red as the hearth. She wore a sweater and full-legged pants that matched her eyes, and diamonds glittered like drops of ice from her ears and her throat.
“Lieutenant Dallas.” She crossed the room the way a well-appointed yacht sails a calm sea. Smooth and important. The hand she offered sparkled with both diamonds and rubies. Eve wondered if she’d accessorized to match the room.
“I spoke with your associate a few days ago,” Madeline continued,“about that terrible tragedy at Sloan, Myers, and Kraus.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re Roarke.” Her smile warmed several degrees.“I don’t believe we’ve ever met. How odd, considering.”
“Ms. Bullock.”
“Please, please, sit. Tell me what I can do for you both.”
“I was under the impression you’d left the country, Ms. Bullock,” Eve began.
“And you’ve caught us out.” She laughed lightly, crossed her legs with a whisper of silk.“My son and I decided we wanted a little time, incognito, if you understand.”
“I know the term,” Eve said dryly, and Madeline’s smile didn’t falter a fraction.
“We did tell Robert - Robert Kraus - and several others that we were leaving New York. I’m sure you understand that being entertained can be just exhausting. Of course, you’re both young. You must enjoy the constant round of dinners and parties and fętes.”
“I live for fętes. Can’t get enough.” This time, that smile flickered toward a frown for just an instant.“You couldn’t just refuse an invitation? Or explain that you and your son wanted a few quiet evenings?”
“So much is expected of people in our position.” On a heavy sigh, Madeline lifted her hands, let them fall gracefully to her lap.“Sometimes those expectations are a burden. Accept this invitation, and refuse that one, feelings are hurt. It was just a little ploy to avoid all that and have those quiet evenings. We do love your city. Ah, here’s some refreshment.”
The droid wheeled in a cart holding decanters, a teapot, plates of fruit and cheese, and little frosted cookies.
“May I offer you brandy or tea? Perhaps a bit of both.”
As he anticipated her refusal, Roarke laid a hand on Eve’s knee, squeezed lightly.“Tea would be lovely.”
“Wonderful. I’ll pour. You’re excused,” she said to the droid, who slipped silently away.“Cream, lemon?”
“Neither, for either of us. No sugar, thanks.” Roarke took the lead.“You have an impressive home. Marvelous view.”
“The view was the pull. I could sit and watch the river for hours. All of our homes are near water of some kind. I feel very drawn to it.”
“You have this lovely home,” Eve put in,“but you stayed in Robert Kraus’s this trip.”
“We did. His wife - have you met her? Lovely woman. She extended the invitation, and it seemed like fun. We do have a nice time together. We enjoy cards.” After passing out the tea, she poured her own.“I’m afraid I don’t understand why that would be of interest to you.”
“Every detail of a murder investigation is of interest to me.”
“Then it’s still being investigated? I’d hoped it was all settled by now. Terrible thing. They were both so young. But surely you’re not looking at Robert?”
“Just getting the full picture. You knew Randall Sloan.”
“Of course. Now there’s a social butterfly. Such energy! Nothing stay-at-home about him.”
“I don’t know. He died there.”
“I’m sorry? What did you say?”
“Randall Sloan was found early this afternoon, hanging from the chandelier in the bedroom of his brownstone.”
“My God.” Madeline pressed a hand to her breasts.“Dear God. Randall? Dead?”
“When did you see or speak to him last?”
“I don’t… I can’t take this in. It’s such a shock. I… Please.” She reached over, tapped open a silver box. Inside was an intercom system.“Brown, please tell Mr. Chase to come down right away.”
Madeline sat back, pressed her fingers to her brow.“I’m sorry, this is such a shock. I knew the man nearly a decade. We were friends.”
“How close friends were you?”
Hot color streaked Madeline’s cheeks as she dropped her hands into her lap.“I realize you must ask questions at such a time, but I find the implication in that question in very poor taste.”
“Cops have very poor taste. Were you and he involved on a personal level?”
“Certainly not in the way you mean. We enjoyed each other’s company.”
“I’m told he persuaded you to bring your business to his father’s firm.”
“He did. Years ago. I found the firm’s reputation, ethics, and service more than satisfactory.”
“Robert Kraus was listed as your accountant.”
“That’s correct.”
“Yet Randall Sloan kept your books, the books for the foundation.”
“No, you’re mistaken. Robert does.”
“Randall Sloan oversaw the finances of the Bullock Foundation from day one, until his death.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, God! Win! Sloan is dead.”
Winfield Chase stopped short in his stride across the room. He had the look of his mother, the same strong build, same strong face, same glacier eyes. Then he moved quickly to take the hand she’d thrown out toward him.
“Randall? How did this happen? Has there been an accident?”
“His body was found today, hanging from a rope in his bedroom,” Eve said.
“He hanged himself? Why would he do such a thing?” Winfield demanded.
“I didn’t say he hanged himself.”
“You said…” Winfield checked himself as he stroked his mother’s hand.“You said he was found hanged, I assumed…” He widened his eyes.“Are you telling us he was murdered ?”
She had to give him credit for the fancy British play on the word. It made it sound as if Randall should have been wearing a smoking jacket while he choked to death.
“I didn’t say that either. The matter is under investigation. And as the investigator I’ll ask you both where you were on Friday between the hours of six and ten P. M.”
“This is insulting! How dare you question my mother in this manner.” His fingers linked with Madeline’s now, and her free hand moved to rest on his thigh.“Do you know who she is?”
“Bullock, Madeline. Formerly Chase, born Madeline Catherine Forrester.” Their body language had something curling in her gut, but she kept her eyes steady.“And in case you don’t know who I am, it’s Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Until the cause of death is determined by the Medical Examiner, this matter is being treated as an unattended, suspicious death. Answer the question.”
“Mother, I’m going to ring our solicitor.”
“Go ahead,” Eve invited.“You’ll need one if you’re afraid to tell me your whereabouts on Friday.”
“Calm down, Win. Calm down. This is all so upsetting. We were home all evening. Win and I discussed plans for our spring gala, a fund-raiser the foundation is hosting in April in Madrid. We dined about eight, I believe, then listened to music and played cards. I suppose we retired about eleven. Does that sound right to you, Win?”
He looked down his nose at Eve.“We had lamb cutlets for dinner, preceded by a smoked tomato soup.”
“Yummy. Have either of you ever been to Randall Sloan’s New York residence?”
“Of course.” Madeline kept a firm hold on her son’s hand.“He often entertained.”
“On this trip?”
“No. As I explained before, we were looking for quiet evenings.”
“Right. Do you do any driving in the city, Mr. Chase?”
“In New York.” He gave her a look of mild distaste.“Why would I?”
“Couldn’t say. Well, thanks for your time.” Eve got to her feet.“Oh, your accounts, as overseen by Sloan, Myers, and Kraus will be turned over to the U. S. and British tax authorities - and, I imagine, those same agencies in several other countries.”
“That’s outrageous!” Winfield might have lunged forward, but his mother surged to her feet and kept the reins on him.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded.
“There are a number of questions regarding those accounts. Me, I’m a murder cop. What do I know? I’m sure the proper agencies will find the answers.”
“If there are any questions regarding the foundation accounts, they’ll be answered by Sloan, Myers, and Kraus. Robert Kraus…” Madeline paused, laid her free hand on her breast again.“But, no, you said it was Randall who, in actuality, kept the accounts for us. That alone is an outrageous breach of trust. Has he embezzled? Dear God, we trusted them, trusted him.”
She leaned into Chase, and his arm draped around her shoulders.“Was he using us?” Madeline demanded.“Is that why he killed himself?”
“That would be tidy, wouldn’t it? Thanks for your time.”
And that, Eve thought, would give them plenty to think about.
She was grinning darkly when she slid into the car.
“I don’t believe we’ll be invited to the spring gala in Madrid,” Roarke commented.
“Breaks my heart. You get a load of them? They’re like one of those Brit drawing room vids you like - the old-time ones? She thinks on her feet, I’ll give her that. She never figured we’d come knocking on the door, but she was ready for us when we did. He, on the other hand, needs direction, and a short leash. Got a temper, he does.”
“He killed them.”
“Bet your righteous ass he did. Question me, will you? Threaten me? Oh yeah, he did them all, then he came home and told Mommy all about it. Bet they’re pissed off to realize three murders haven’t covered up the accounts after all.”
“They’ll push it onto Randall Sloan.”
“They’ll try. I’ll let the Feds and Global worry about that end. Murder in the First, three counts. Conspiracy to commit, accessory before and after. I’m going to roll them up in a ball on this.”
“I might ask how?”
“He left his DNA on Byson’s fist. So science is going to get him. And my canny investigative skills are putting together enough to get a warrant to compel him to give us a sample of that DNA. Peabody and McNab get lucky, Sloan will have something incriminating on them at his place. I get that one, Win, into Interview, I’ll piss it out of him. Without his mother holding him back, he’ll come at me, and he’ll spew. I can see it in him.”
“They could take off for England, for anywhere, tonight.”
“Could. Won’t. Flight makes them look suspicious. She’s got too much control for that. What they have to play is shocked and outraged. Their pal, their handily dead pal, deceived and abused them. He used their lauded foundation for his own gain. Shame and horror! She’s working that out right now, and she’s calling Cavendish - or one of the contacts on that in England - to give him the lowdown, have them start injunctions, restraining orders, anything they can pull out of the hat.
“Gotta get Cavendish in the box, too. I’ll sweat it out of him inside thirty minutes. He hasn’t got the spine. He’ll flip on them. He knows about the murders, and he’ll flip for a deal that keeps him out of a cage on accessory.”
Roarke stopped at a light, studied her.“Pretty damn wound up, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”
“Yeah, I am. It’s falling for me, piece by piece. I’m going to get started on that warrant on Chase, and one for Cavendish.” She dug out her ‘link.“I can have them both in the box by morning.”
She interrupted both an APA and her commander’s Sunday night, put them on conference on the dash ‘link and was still running the case through when Roarke drove through the gates.
“I need the mandatory DNA sample on Chase,” Eve argued.
Dressed in something slinky, APA Cher Reo scowled onscreen.“Allegedly questionable accounting practices, allegedly overseen by a man who wasnot the accountant of record, and who has left a suicide note confessing to the murders before hanging himself.”
“The ME isn’t going to rule self-termination.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I fucking am sure.” Eve winced.“Excuse me, Commander.”
Whitney only sighed.“If the lieutenant ‘fucking’ is sure, Reo, we should push for this. If Chase is clean, the worst that happens is he’s insulted and complains to his embassy, has his lawyers screw with us.”
“I’ll find a judge who agrees with you,” Reo said.“The same’s going to go on Cavendish. It’s shaky, Dallas.”
“I’ll make it solid. I want them both in by eight-hundred tomorrow. Thank you, Commander. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening.”
“How about me?” Reo demanded.
“You, too.”
“Nice work.” Roarke leaned over to kiss her.“I’d give you a warrant.”
“Bet you would. They’ll lawyer up the gonads, but it’s not going to help them. I’m going to nail them, Roarke. For Natalie, for Bick, and for that asshole Randall Sloan. And by the time I’ve finished, the Feds and Global will have to pick up the pieces to add time for tax fraud and money laundering and whatever the hell else they want to stick to them.”
She hooked an arm around his waist as they climbed the steps to the front door.“Really needed you on this one, ace.”
“Pay me.”
Her laugh turned to a sneer as she stepped into the house and saw Summerset.“Can’t you ever be somewhere that’s not here?”
He ignored her, spoke directly to Roarke.“The soother calmed Mavis enough that she’s sleeping. I’ve put her and Leonardo in the blue guest room on the third level. It’s quiet, and she needs to rest.” Now he aimed those dark eyes toward Eve.“She’s been much too active and upset today.”
“Yeah, blame me.”
“Whoever kidnapped Tandy Willowby is to blame,” Roarke said.“And we all want Mavis to get as much rest and care as she needs.”
“Of course.” Summerset cleared his throat.“I’m concerned.” He looked at Eve again with what might have been an apology in those same dark eyes.“I’m concerned.”
If a broomstick with legs could have affection for anyone, Eve knew Summerset had it for Mavis.“I can’t keep her down unless I tie her down. All I can do is find Tandy Willowby.”
“Lieutenant,” Summerset said as she started up the steps,“I can make you an energy booster, one that contains no chemicals as you dislike them.”
“You could make me a booster, and I’d consume it into my body?” She gave a snort.“Do I look like I’ve recently lost my mind?”
She kept going, and glanced back at Roarke.“I’m not taking any witch’s brew he concocts, so forget it.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were thinking it. I’m getting coffee, and tagging Peabody. If Mavis is down for the count tonight, I can go over there myself, relieve her and McNab. I have to update Baxter. He’ll want in on the interviews tomorrow.”
“Eve, Christ Jesus, you need sleep.”
“I thought you were saying nothing.”
“Bloody goddamn shagging hell.”
It was as far as he got when her ‘link signaled.“I guess you’d better hold that Irish thought. Dallas.”
“Check it out,” Peabody sang, and turned her ‘link so Eve saw the dark mouth of a safe.
“Hot diggity damn!”
“It’s the second we found. Nearly gave up, but my guy here is stubborn.” A very tired-eyed Peabody made kissy noises.
“Cut that out.”
“Aw, he earned it. First safe was in the library. False front, nothing any burglar with a working brain couldn’t have found and popped. Cleaned out. We were very sad, figuring whoever killed Sloan got to it first.”
“I bet that’s just what he did, too. Figures he cleaned up anything incriminating Sloan had tucked away.”
“But McNab said, ‘Screw that, She-Body’ - speaking to me. How you said the vic has some brains, so why wouldn’t he have another hole, and a deeper one. If not here, somewhere else, but we’re here, so we’ll keep right on looking and looking and -”
“You’re babbling.”
“Sorry. My brain went to sleep an hour ago. The rest of me hasn’t figured it out yet. Anyway, we found this one in the kitchen. It’s built into the pantry - where, I might add, the guy had prime consumable goodies. We didn’t eat anything. It was hard and painful, but we resisted. And in this nice little safe - which took my Scottish stud thirty-five minutes to crack - we found cash. Two hundred and fifty large - some jewelry. And… a shitpot load of discs. They’re labeled, Dallas, and some of that shitpot is Bullock Foundation records.”
“Motherload. Bag it all, log it all, bring it all.”
Eve turned to Roarke with a toothy grin.“Got the bastards.” The grin faded when she saw the tall glass of murky green liquid in his hand.“Where’d you get that?”
“From the faeries.”
“I don’t want faerie juice.” She planted her feet, lifted her fists into a boxer’s stance.“And if you try to pour that into me, you’re going to bleed.”
“Oh, dear, I’m terrified. Threatened with bodily harm by a woman who can barely stand upright. Half for me,” he said as she snarled.“Half for you.”
“Damn it.” She couldn’t punch him if he was going to be reasonable.“You first.”
With his eyes on hers he lifted the glass, drank half of the contents. Then cocked his head, held the glass out.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed.“Your turn.”
She made a face he thought a recalcitrant twelve-year-old would have been proud of, but she snatched the glass, squeezed her eyes shut, and gulped the rest down.“There. Happy now?”
“I’ll be happier when we’re dancing naked under the tropical sun, but this will do.”
“Okay.” She rubbed her gritty eyes.“Let’s start tying this up.”
19
WHEN SHE CONTACTED BAXTER, HE WAS NEARLY at her gates.“Figured I could give you what I got, you give me yours. In person. I got Trueheart with me. Ought to be something the kid can do.”
There was always something, Eve thought, and began to cobble together her notes. Trueheart could play drone and write her report. Despite the months working with Baxter, Trueheart was still fresh as daisies in May and eager as a puppy gamboling through them. He wouldn’t squawk about drone work.
“More cops,” Roarke said.“More coffee, then.”
“Dancing naked, tropical sun, near future.”
“I don’t suppose we could take fifteen minutes in the holo-room to practice.” He set coffee at her elbow.
“We’ve been practicing every chance we get the last couple years. I think we’re ready to go pro. Where’s the money they’re washing coming from?”
“I thought you were going to let the Feds and Global worry about that?”
“Yeah, but it bugs me.” She rose to walk to the board, to study the photos of Bullock and Chase. In her mind she saw the way they’d stood together, the way they’d touched each other.“They’re not just mother and son.”
When Roarke said nothing, she turned to look at him. Nodded.“You saw it, too.”
“I suppose you and I may be more attuned to that kind of thing than most. I saw… we’ll say… the intimacy between them.”
“That’s too clean a word for it, but to my mind, so’s incest. It just doesn’t get to the base of it. She runs it, runs him.” It made something curdle inside her.“She’s the spider when she should have been shielding him from the bad stuff. Instead, she uses him and twists him… and this isn’t about me.”
He crossed to her, laid his hands on her shoulders, his lips on her hair.“How can you stop it from resonating with you, just as what may be happening to Tandy does with me?”
Eve reached up until her hand covered his.“He’d have been the one to do the killing. You could see that in him, the violence under the polish. But she’d be the one pushing the buttons. And maybe I’m reading too much into it.”
“If you are, I’m reading the same page.”
“Well.” She drew a breath, lowered her hand.“If we’re right, it’s something I’ll use when I’ve got them in Interview. But for now… What’s the source of the money? Illegals, weapons? It just doesn’t feel right. Mob money. I don’t know. They don’t give that off. Lots of other ways,” she mused.“Lots of ways to make money off the books, but it seems to me - it feels to me,” she corrected,“like it would be something they’re into. Or enjoy. Or believe in. They’re self-satisfied fuckers.”
“A perfect description.”
“You get me.” She nodded.“Prissy and righteous and full of themselves. I can’t see them hooking up with organized crime, because she likes to run the show. Wish I could walk through this with Mira, get a profile.”
“It sounds like you have one of your own.”
“She wears diamonds around the house. He’s wearing a suit on a Sunday night when they’re hanging at home. They have this image, even when no one’s around to see it. That’s what they’ve created and nurtured, even when they’re coupling in the dark. And the sex, that’s another level of the unity, the being above the rest. Do you know who she is? Smuggling maybe - it’s got that thin sheen of class and romance.”
“Why thank you, darling.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Trust him to remind her that that was how he’d earned a good portion of his fortune in his youth.“Jewelry, art, fine wines. That kind of thing might be it. Maybe some subtle blackmail.”
“The discs Peabody and McNab are bringing in should tell you, at least some of it.”
“Yeah. Probably encoded. Pain in the ass. A lot of their houses, other property, are in the foundation’s name.” Restless, she paced in front of the board.“But that’s just a way big wheels loop the loopholes in tax laws. And I’m betting a lot of the jewelry, the art, the high-dollar items were bought with cash.”
Then she jerked a thumb at the data she had onscreen.“And you look at him. Hitting onto fifty, no marriages, no cohabs, still lives with his mother. Works with his mother. Travels with his mother. They don’t feel they have to bother with a cover over what goes on between them. He didn’t say: ‘Do you know who we are,’ but who she is. She’s the power. She’s the control.”
Eve pushed that avenue aside as she heard cop feet heading toward the office.
It was always a surprise to see Trueheart out of uniform. They walked in looking, to Eve’s mind, like the leads in a buddy vid. The slick-looking veteran cop and his young studly apprentice.
“Coffee.” Baxter said it like a prayer.“Hook me up, kid. Dallas, Roarke.”
“What’s the word on the vehicle?” Eve demanded.
“Dump the discs every twenty-four, so the night in question’s long gone. No logs.”
“You brought me squat?”
“Would I bring you squat?” He took the coffee from Trueheart, sat, stretched out his legs.“Private garage, with monthly rates that cost more than the rent on my apartment and the kid’s here combined. Key card and passcode to get in. Place holds a half-dozen vehicles, and let me tell you, they were all flash. Vic’s is a sinewy all-terrain. Four-seater. Loaded.”
“That’s fascinating, Baxter.”
“Gets that way. We’re looking it over - had to call the manager in, and he’s the one gave us squat. But while we’re there, this guy whose ride is this classic Sunstorm - Triple X model, jet charger, six on the floor. Black and shiny as the mouth of hell, silvered glass roof. You know the model?” he asked Roarke.“First run in 2035?”
“I do indeed. A very fine machine.”
“I nearly wept when he drove it in.”
“It was a sweet ride,” Trueheart agreed, then flushed a little when Eve flicked him a glance.
“Sounds like you boys had tons of fun playing with the toys. But what does that give me?”
“In the course of the conversation, the Sunstorm’s owner - one Derrick Newman - stated that while he’d never actually met Sloan, he had admired his vehicle, and was considering purchasing one like it for hard weather and off-roading.”
“Maybe he can get a deal on it seeing as the owner’s dead.”
“While he’d never met Sloan,” Baxter repeated,“he had noticed that the all-terrain was, always and habitually, backed into its slot. It was parked in that manner a week ago Wednesday at approximately seven P. M. when Newman retrieved his own vehicle to pick up his current squeeze and drive to Oyster Bay for a rehearsal dinner for his brother’s wedding - which was the following Saturday. He returned his vehicle to the garage at just after three on Thursday morning as the current squeeze did not deign to put out that evening. At which time he noticed, with some curiosity, that the all-terrain was frontin.”
Eve pursed her lips.“That may not be squat.”
“It ain’t. When Newman mentioned Sloan’s parking habit, the manager corroborated. Sloan’s rented that space for three years, and has never parked frontin. Until a week ago Wednesday night or early Thursday morning.”
“I want that vehicle impounded. I want the sweepers going over it molecule by molecule.”
“Thought you would. I made the call while we were there. It’s on its way in now.”
“Good work.”
“Feel like I’ve done something, anyway,” Baxter said with a shrug.“I’ve been talking to Palma every day. She wants to come in, pack up her sister’s things as soon as the scene’s cleared.”
“Working on that.” Eve filled him in, nodded toward Peabody and McNab, who came in as she was wrapping up.
“Bagged, tagged, logged, delivered.” Peabody yawned as she and McNab dumped evidence bags on Eve’s desk.“Money smells pretty. ‘Specially lots of it.”
“Get her coffee,” Eve ordered.
“Have this first.” Roarke held out another booster he’d already poured.
“Looks yucky,” Peabody said and pouted at it.
“I made it just for you.”
“Aww.” With stars in her heavy eyes, she gulped it down.“Is yucky.”
“Yes, I know. You, too, Ian.”
“Energy booster? I kinda like them.” He drank his without complaint while Trueheart passed around more coffee.
“Now, if everyone’s refreshed.” Eve unsealed the evidence bags marked with Peabody’s initials that contained the Bullock Foundation discs.“We’ll start with last year, work back.”
She plugged the first disc into her computer.“Display data, screen one.”
Not encoded she thought, and would have done a little happy dance if she’d had the energy.“Roarke? Translation?”
“Monthly accounts,” he verified.“I’d say Randall Sloan’s personal copy. It’s spelled out quite clearly here, unlike the files registered with the firm. You see his monthly fee.” Roarke picked up a laser, pointed.“And Madeline Bullock’s, Winfield Chase’s commissions - as they’re listed. Also deductions for legal fees, Cavendish, in New York. The London law firm takes a cut through monthly retainer, and billable hours.”
“Which means, in English.”
“The way these accounts were done, officially, the funneling and turnovers are more clearly documented here. And very, very illegal. The tax hounds will be wiping drool off their faces for years.”
“I’m looking at income here,” Eve said, scrolling through.“Primarily through individuals. Fees out of that to other individuals, and some institutions. Hospitals, medicals… food, lodging, transpo.
“Samuel and Reece Russo, a quarter million paid.”
“That’s an installment,” Roarke explained.“One of four.”
“A million for Sam and Reece, and a like amount from a Maryanna Clover. More of the same - you got, what, four - no, that’s five installment payments here from individuals, just in the first quarter of last year. What are they paying for?”
“The expenses attached to that income might tell the tale.” Roarke ordered the expenditures onscreen.“The Russos’ fee has a ten-thousand-euro payment, per installment, to a Sybil Hopson, a two-thousand-euro payment as monthly retainer to a Leticia Brownburn, M. D., with a lump payment of ten thousand in October of last year. Another, listed as donation to Sunday’s Child. Legal fees come to… twelve thousand for this transaction - as paid by the foundation.”
“So for a million, in what they’re finagling as primarily tax-free income, they expend under a hundred thousand. Good return,” Eve decided.“What’s Sunday’s Child?”
“Child placement agency,” the half-asleep Peabody muttered.“London-based.”
Eve spun around.“What?”
“Huh? What?” Peabody pushed up from her slouch in the chair, blinked rapidly.“Sorry. I must’ve zoned out.”
“Sunday’s Child.”
“Oh, we switched to the kidnapping. It’s one of the agencies on the list. London-based, with offices in Florence, Rome, Oxford, Milan, ah, Berlin. Places. Sorry, I’ll need to review my notes.”
“This agency is on the list in Tandy’s file, and appears as a major beneficiary of the Bullock Foundation?” She looked at Baxter.“Coincidence is hooey, right?”
“Words to live by. Christ, Dallas, are we dovetailing here?”
“Trueheart, run Leticia Brownburn, M. D., London. I want to know if she’s associated with Sunday’s Child. Roarke, I need you to go through these files as quickly as you can, see if we’ve got a pattern. If there are other like agencies, birthing centers.”
Movement was quick. Since every unit in the two offices was being used, Eve pulled out her PPC.“Data run on Russo, Samuel, and Russo, Reece,” she began and read off the identification numbers Sloan had listed on the file.
Working… Russo, Samuel, DOB: 5 August, 2018, married to Russo, Reece, nee Bickle, 10 May, 2050. Residence: London, England; Sardinia, Italy; Geneva, Switzerland; Nevis. One child, male, DOB: 15 September, 2059, through private adoption.
“That’s enough, hold run. Begin data run on Hopson, Sybil,” she ordered and read off the identification number.
Working… Hopson, Sybil, DOB: 3 March, 2040. Parents -
“Skip that. Residence and offspring.”
Resides Oxford University. Student. No offspring. One registered pregnancy, through term with live birth, male, 15 September, 2059. Placed through private adoption.
“Placement agency used for both Russo and Hopson.”
Working… Sunday’s Child, London.
“It’s not illegal, Dallas.” Baxter stood beside her.“I don’t know the ins and outs of private adoptions or surrogacy in Europe, but they could slide with this here.”
“Payments are too high,” Eve disagreed.“This girl sold her kid, and selling human beings is illegal, globally.”
“You can call the fee educational incentive, expense reimbursement. They’d go through some shit, but they’d probably scrape it off.”
“Maybe. But they hid the money, doctored the accounts so they fell well under the acceptable limit, left the bulk of the income unreported. And if this is what it looks like, they are, in essence, running a baby-selling operation at a big, fat profit. They won’t look good on the media reports when this hits. More, they killed three people to keep this buried.”
“This is what Palma’s sister stumbled onto,” Baxter murmured.
“I doubt she knew exactly what it entailed, but she dug around and got a strong clue. Baxter, there are other missing women like Tandy, and at least one who was killed, along with the fetus. It’s going to come back to this.” She nodded toward the screen.“Right back to this.”
“Grabbing women off the damn street? Stealing their kids?”
“Something like that. If these women contacted Sunday’s Child, maybe even started proceedings. Fees collected by the foundation.”
It was more than pieces now. The picture was full and complete in front of her.“Then, say the woman changes her mind, takes off. These women relocated, so maybe they felt threatened, or were afraid they’d be pressured, legally pursued. They’re snatched close to term. There’s a reason for that.”
“Shorter wait time for the product,” he said grimly.
“When the product’s delivered, the woman’s no longer needed, and is disposed of. Keeps those expenses way down. Work with Roarke, find me someone who paid the baby fee where the expenses don’t follow the rest of the pack.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Trueheart.”
“Lieutenant, Brownburn is on the board of Sunday’s Child, and the OB in residence.”
“Peabody, is there a branch of the agency in New York?”
“Europe only.”
“Another agency then, one that pops on the files. They didn’t haul her back to England, not this close to term. They want to be sure the product is safe and viable. Maybe New Jersey, Connecticut. Maybe…”
On an oath she leaped to the desk ‘link. The big house with the blind windows. You can see out but you can’t see in, she thought as she hurriedly contacted Cher Reo.
Incognito, my ass.
“Jesus, Dallas, just how many times tonight are you going to ruin my evening?” Reo pushed at her tousled blonde hair.“I’m about to get lucky.”
“You’re going to get luckier. I need a warrant.”
“I got your damn warrants, and let me tell you, I worked my well-toned ass off for them.”
“I need a search-and-seize for the Bullock residence on East End Avenue. All contents.”
“Oh? Is that all?” Reo’s faint Southern drawl went sweet as honey.
“I have reason to believe they’re holding a woman there against her will. A very pregnant woman whose life will be over if she delivers before we get to her. If she’s not being held there, I need authority to search the premises for proof of her whereabouts.”
“Dallas, are they killers or kidnappers?”
“One’s led to the other. Reo, this woman’s been missing since Thursday. I may already be too late. Don’t make me later.”
“I need more than ‘you have reason to believe,’ Dallas. I tap-danced my way to your mandatory DNA. I push for a second warrant on a separate matter, the lawyers for the other team are going to scream harassment.”
“I don’t have time -” Eve cut herself off, breathed.“I’m going to put Peabody on, and she’ll give you the song. I’m putting an op together, Reo. With or without a warrant, I’m going in within the hour.”
Jabbing a finger toward the ‘link, Eve strode into Roarke’s office.
“I’ve got your pattern, Lieutenant,” Roarke told her.“A maximum of ten children placed per year, at birth, for fee, a minimum of four. Over the past eight years, sixty-five placements, for a gross profit of sixty-five-million euros.”
“I’m getting a warrant for the East End house. I think they could be holding Tandy there. Baxter.”
“Got some way uptown e-toys here,” he said without looking up from the screen.“I’ve got six out of that sixty-five where the expenditures were significantly lower than the others, and in one case where the buy fee was reimbursed.”
“Jones, Emily, Middlesex and/or London, England.”
“That’s the name listed on the first and only expenditure to an individual other than the medicals on the reimbursed fee. And, Dallas? Tandy’s on here.” McNab looked over at her.“One payment to her late last May, recorded as returned in full early June.”
“Changed her mind, paid them back. But that didn’t do the trick. We’re going in.”
In her office she outlined the layout, as she knew it, of the house.
“The subject is most likely being held on the second or third floor. Third gets my vote. She may be restrained, and is undoubtedly guarded, certainly by cams. There are at least two suspects and one servant droid on the premises. Given the situation, we have to assume there is a medical as well, droid or human. Both suspects should be considered violent.”
She looked at Roarke.“Can you compromise their security by remote?”
“I can, yes.”
“Once the security is down, we go in fast. The priority is to locate and secure the safety of the subject. Peabody, you and Trueheart will head that. McNab, I need you and Roarke to take down any electronics, including droids. Baxter, that leaves the suspects to you and me. They resist, they’re restrained.”
“Any and all means?”
“I want them talking. Walking’s optional. Communicators on Channel A throughout. I want to know the minute the subject is located, and her condition. Here’s how we move.”
She turned back to the wall screen where she’d sketched the bones of the East End mansion.
When she’d finished, she went to the bedroom, strapped on her clutch piece, checked her primary weapon and her restraints. Then, because her eyes felt hot and gritty, she ran ice-cold water in the bathroom sink.
Sucking in her breath, she plunged her face into it.
She came up gasping, then her eyes met Roarke’s in the mirror over the sink.“Don’t tell me I’m burning low.”
“I don’t need to state the obvious, the other portion of that being this can’t wait until you’ve recharged.”
“You either.” Still dripping, she turned, touched his cheek.“You look pale. You hardly ever do.”
“The past couple of days remind me that you couldn’t pay me twice what I already have to be a cop.”
“It’s not about the money, it’s about the adventure.” When he laughed, she grabbed a towel, scrubbed it over her wet face.“I think about that dream I had where all this was tangled together. And son of a bitch, it was. It is. If I’d seen it before -”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but if I had, Tandy would be at home in her own bed right now, and Bullock, Chase, and the rest of them would be in cages.” She tossed the towel aside.“Jesus, Roarke, Jesus, the way I went in there tonight, got in their face. I put the pressure on them, and if they panic because of that, or push up the schedule… She was in there. Goddamn it, Tandy was in there, Iknow it. While we sat there and that bitch poured tea.”
“And we wouldn’t know that yet if you hadn’t followed a hunch and sent Peabody and McNab back to Sloan’s to look for records. No one found the others, Eve. No one got close to finding them. Remember that.”
“I will, when and if we do find her, and she’s still breathing.” She checked the time.“I’m not waiting any longer for the warrant. Let’s line it up and knock it down.”
Sometime in the last hour it had started to snow. Thick, fat, wet flakes. Her team and the electronics Roarke and McNab had selected for the op were loaded into one of Roarke’s burly all-terrains.
As they rode, she visualized the interior of the Bullock house. Wide foyer, stairs to the left, living area to the right. Glass doors on east wall to terrace. Possible escape route.
But they wouldn’t run, she didn’t believe they’d run. They were too steeped in their own importance to run.
Chase wouldn’t be served with the mandatory until morning. She bet he and Mommy were both sleeping the sleep of the conscienceless by now. And they were about to get a nasty wake-up call.
Roarke stopped the van a half-block down and across the street from the mansion.“Let’s break out the toys, Ian.”
“Ahead of you.”
McNab sat crosslegged on his seat working the controls of a small keyboard.“Now this is frosty. I already programmed the coordinates. Ready to engage, if you’re set.”
“Baxter? Why don’t you change seats with me.” Though he made his way to the back, Roarke let McNab work the controls.“Go ahead.”
“Infrared and heat sensors engaged. Image onscreen - this bitch is fast! Okay, looks like we got two warm bodies, second level. Horizontal. Sleepy-by. Same room, same bed. I thought we were looking for mother and son.”
“We are,” Eve said as something twisted in her belly.
“Oh. Sick. Two warm bodies,” he repeated.“Second level, east, second room.”
“Only two,” Eve demanded and he sent her an apologetic look.
“That’s what I’m getting. Showing body heat, heart rate, mass and density, height and weight. This is wild-ass equipment, and it gives me the droid count - three first level, one third - but I’m not seeing any sign of a third human. And neither one of these images shows a baby on board.”
“Ian,” Roarke murmured,“have a look here.” Roarke tapped an area on the third level with a fingertip.
“Blank space where there can’t be blank space. Cold room. Jeez, I must be slipping. It’s shielded against the sensors.”
“Can you get by them?” Eve demanded.
“This’ll take a few minutes,” Roarke told her.
“I’m not waiting. We’re on go -” She broke off when her ‘link beeped.“Reo. Tell me you got it.”
“I had to sell what’s left of my soul and my hot date went cold. You better bring in the goods, Dallas. Warrant coming through now.”
“Good work, Reo.”
“Tell me about it. You find the woman, you tag me. The minute.”
“Done. One more favor.”
“You’re racking them up.”
“Contact Lieutenant Jaye Smith. She’s MPU. Fill her in on this. I didn’t want to pull her in when the warrant was still hanging.”
“Oh, well, sure, happy to be your message droid. Anything else while I’m -”
Eve clicked off.“We’re a go.”
“I’m not clear here yet.”
“Leave it,” Eve told Roarke.“Peabody, Trueheart, you’re in behind me and Baxter, straight up to the third level. You take that room. Roarke, McNab. You sweep the main level, then work up. Take down the security,” she ordered.
Though she could see irritation flicker over his face because he hadn’t finished the first task, Roarke picked up a sleek little jammer, climbed out of the car, and strolled down the block.
Eve wasn’t sure if he required the proximity to the target, or didn’t care to have a load of cops watch his method of shutting down a high-end security system in just under thirty-five seconds.
“Secondary system’s activated.” His voice was cool and breezy when she joined him.“I need to bypass the automated alarm, if you want the household unaware.”
“I do. How long have you got?”
“Another twelve seconds.”
She watched the time count down on a grid of the jammer, while a flashing series of others blurred by on another grid. They stopped, the jammer beeped. And the time showed three seconds to spare.
“Secondary coming up. And there we are.”
She signaled the others, then jogged across the quiet, snowy street.“Record on,” she murmured, then nodded to Roarke.
The recorders might have been activated, but she turned her body just enough to keep his hands out of their range as he crouched to begin work on the locks.
When it was done, she used hand signals to remind the team which direction each unit was to take. To Baxter she said,“I go low.”
“Suit yourself.”
He went through with her, weapons drawn. Behind them, Roarke and McNab peeled to the right.
“This is the police!” Eve shouted as she charged up the steps with Peabody and Trueheart behind.“We have a warrant to enter these premises, to search same, and to seize any items relating to the terms of the warrant. Go, go,” she ordered Peabody, then swung off the steps with Baxter on the second level.
She heard something crash below, and kept going.
Chase burst out of the room on the left, hastily tying the belt of a plaid robe.
“What is the meaning of this? This is outrageous.”
Eve held up the warrant.“This is America, and we love the outrageous. You will cooperate with the terms of this warrant, or be restrained and removed from the premises. I’m hoping you’re not feeling cooperative.”
“I’m ringing our solicitor, immediately.” Madeline’s robe was bright red, her pale hair loose. And without the carefully applied enhancements, Eve counted a good five years older. She stood, vibrating with rage, in the doorway beside her son.
Her lover.
“Help yourself. Detective Baxter will be happy to accompany you.”
“Detective Baxter can go to hell, and so can you. This is my home. This is my bedroom.” She gestured dramatically behind her.“No one enters without an invitation.”
“Invitation,” Eve said, holding up the warrant again. Then she reached behind and jiggled her restraints.“You want a new set of bracelets?”
Fury blotched her cheeks with red.“Win, say nothing. Do nothing. I’ll not only have your job before this night is done, Lieutenant, I’ll have your hide.” The skirts of the robe swirled out as she spun back into the bedroom.
“Got a flair, doesn’t she?” Eve said conversationally.“You always do what she says, Win? You a good boy and mind your mommy, even when you’re diddling her?”
“How dare you, you filthy-minded whore.”
“Call them as I see them. Did your mother tell you to torture Natalie Copperfield before you killed her, or was that your idea?”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Right, Mommy told you to be quiet. It’s okay. When we finish searching the house we’ll have everything we need. I know Tandy’s on the third floor. I’ve got two cops upstairs right now, getting her out of your cold room.”
She saw it in his eyes, so when he yanked the stunner out of his robe pocket she was ready. She kicked out, disarming him, then pivoted when he charged so the fist he struck out with glanced off her shoulder. The elbow she jabbed into his solar plexus doubled him up, but he used his forward motion to ram her like a bull. Adrenaline pumped into her as her back hit the wall, and his hands closed around her throat. When her knee came up, hard, between his legs, the air wheezed out of him so he deflated like a balloon.
“By not cooperating you made my night. Now, Winfield Chase, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.” She bent down to roll him onto his face, yank his arms behind his back, and slap on the restraints.“And believe me when I say that’s just the beginning.”
She looked up in time to see Madeline run out of the bedroom, her hands curled like claws, her face murderous. Even as Eve sprang up, Baxter leaped out of the doorway and took Madeline down with a flying tackle.
“Sorry, Dallas. She got away from me.”
“No problem.” She rolled her shoulder, watched Roarke and McNab come up the stairs.
“First level’s secure, Lieutenant,” McNab told her.“Three droids - one servant, two security. They’re down.”
“And so are these two. McNab, help Baxter keep them down. Roarke and I are going up.”
20
ON THE THIRD LEVEL A DROID IN A PALE GREEN lab coat was sprawled on the floor against an overturned chair.
“We had to take it down.” Peabody pulled her master out of a lock slot in a door designed to blend into the wall.
Trueheart crouched in front of a small comp unit.“The droid must have deactivated this when it heard us come in.” Trueheart shook his head.“I can’t reactivate.”
“I’ll have a go at the lock.” Roarke took some tools out of his coat pocket.
“Looks like a medical.” Eve gave the droid a light boot with her foot.“Portable birthing equipment, fetal monitor.” She lifted her chin toward a roll cart.“Warming tray. Got your towels, your scale, and so on. I saw this stuff at the birthing class. She’s in there.”
“Must have cams on her,” Peabody said.“Droid could sit out here, monitor her onscreen. Suspects?”
“Down. McNab and Baxter have them. Call this in, Peabody. I want the suspects taken in. Put an ambulance and OB team on alert. Roarke?”
“It’s coming. Complicated little bastard.”
“Peabody, have uniforms pick up a copy of the warrant on Cavendish. I want him brought in now. And contact Reo and Lieutenant Smith, give them the situation. I want a warrant on Bruberry, too. Let’s have a big party down at Central.”
“I’ll pick up the hats and streamers.”
“Nearly there,” Roarke mumbled.“Aye, you shagging bitch, I’ve got you now.”
A dot of green light flashed along the narrow strip of chrome.
“Might have another guard inside,” Eve said,“So -”
“You go low,” Roarke finished.
With a nod, she shoved the door open.“Lights on,” she called out, swept the room with her weapon, with her eyes.“Tandy Willowby, it’s the police. It’s Dallas.”
Quiet classical music played, and the air smelled subtly floral. The walls were cheerfully warm yellow with paintings of meadows and calm blue seas. Cozy chairs, padded tables, snow falling gently outside the screened windows created a scene of comfort and ease.
In the bed, a pale, hollow-eyed Tandy sat up, gripping something white and sharp in her fist.
“Dallas?” Her voice was thin, rusty, and her body began to shake.“Dallas? They’re going to take my baby. They’re going to take him. I can’t get out.”
“It’s all right now. You’re all right now. We’re going to take you out.”
“They locked me in. I can’t keep the baby. I don’t have the right.”
“Bullshit. Peabody.”
“You don’t have to worry about them anymore. Here.” Peabody moved slowly toward the bed.“Why don’t you give me that now? We’ll get you a coat. We’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No, no, no!” Eyes wild, Tandy cringed back.“No hospital. They’ll take the baby.”
“They won’t.” Eve holstered her weapon and walked briskly to the bed. She held out her hand.“Because I won’t let them.”
Tandy dropped the thin, sharp plastic, then simply collapsed against Eve.“Please, please, please, get us out of here.”
“Here now.” Roarke took off his coat.“It’s cold outside. Put your arms in, there’s a girl.”
“Stay with me.” Tears streaming, Tandy gripped Eve’s hand.“Please, stay with me. Don’t let them take my baby. Who’s that? Who’s that?” She wrapped herself around Eve when she spotted Trueheart.
“He’s one of mine. He’s one of the good guys. Trueheart, go on down, assist Baxter and McNab. I want those people gone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You okay to walk, Tandy?”
“Out of here. I can walk out of here. The baby’s okay, he’s been kicking. I don’t want to go to the hospital, please. I don’t want to be alone. They might come back. They might -”
“You’d like to see Mavis, wouldn’t you?” Roarke kept his voice light and gentle as he helped her out of bed.“She’s at our place, and she’s been worried about you. Why don’t we go see Mavis now?”
Roarke gave Eve a long look as he helped Tandy out of the room.
“A little shocky,” Peabody commented.“Mostly just scared. How do you want to handle? I can go with her to your place while you take the suspects.”
Oh, how she wished. But she couldn’t very well dump two pregnant women on Roarke.“I’ll go with Tandy, get a statement out of her when she’s settled. Make sure the suspects are booked and caged for the night. They’re going to wait until morning for Interview. Let’s see how they like being locked up. Then go home, get some sleep.”
“I’m so all about that. Look at this room. All the comforts. Bastards.”
Eve called in Crime Scene, left Baxter, Trueheart, and McNab to work with them to process the room where Tandy had been imprisoned, to search the house. She hated leaving the scene, leaving the work, but climbed into the back of the vehicle. She had a victim who needed care.
“I was so scared.” Bundled in Roarke’s coat, covered with a blanket, Tandy sat in the front passenger seat.“I think they were going to kill me. Take the baby, then kill me. They left me in there. He came in once a day, every day. And he looked at me like I was already dead. I couldn’t do anything.”
“Where’d you get the sticker?” Eve asked her.
“The what?”
“The plastic shiv you were holding.”
“Oh. They brought me food. The droid did. Have to keep the baby healthy, that’s what she said. Horrible thing, always cheerful. Even when she restrained me for exams. I palmed a couple of the plastic spoons - that’s all they brought in for me to eat with. Plastic spoons. And when they turned off the lights at night, I sawed and rubbed them together under the covers. Hours, it seemed like. I was going to hurt one of them. Somehow.”
“Wish you’d had the chance. Do you want to tell me what happened, or do you want to wait on that until later?”
“It was Thursday. I left work to walk to the bus stop. And she - her name is Madeline Bullock - she walked up to me. I was so ashamed. Before, in London when I found out I was pregnant, and things didn’t seem as if they were going to work out, I went to this agency. I was going to put the baby up for adoption. It seemed like the best thing to do. I -”
“We know about that. They’re running an operation, under the cover of the foundation. Selling babies.”
“Oh, God. God. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not,” Roarke told her.“You trusted them.”
“I did. I did. There were counselors, and they were so kind, so understanding. Ms. Bullock came in to meet me herself, and so did he. Her son. They said how I was giving a gift, to a worthy couple, and to my baby. I signed a contract, and they gave me money. For expenses, they said. Proper food, clothing. I had to agree to use their medical people, their facilities, but it was all so nice. I was to have regular care and monitoring, counseling, and the foundation would help me with lodging, and with education should I want to go back to school, or with career counseling. All of it.”
“A very sweet pot.”
“Yes, very sweet. But I changed my mind.” She wrapped her arms around her belly as she hunched in the seat.“I’d always wanted to make a family, to be a mother, and now I was denying myself. I’m smart enough, and strong and healthy. I’m not a child. I could make a good life for the baby. I took the money back. I’d hardly spent any, and I made up the difference with my savings.”
She swiped at the tears on her face.“They were very harsh. I’d signed a contract, it was legally binding. They’d take me to court, and the law would force me to fulfill my obligations. What kind of a mother would I be, a liar and a cheat. It was horrible. I left the money. I was so upset, and questioning myself. Were they right? Would I be a terrible mum? Would the courts take my baby? How could I prove I’d given the money back? Stupid, so stupid.”
“So you came to New York,” Eve prompted.
“I thought, I’m not going to have this. I can’t risk it. I… I nearly went to see the baby’s father a dozen times, but I’d made this choice, so I was going to follow it through. I packed up, quit my job, sold some of my things. I had a friend who was driving to Paris for the weekend, and hitched a ride with her. I even lied, told her I was going to look for work there. I don’t know why, exactly, but I was afraid they’d set the cops on me, or something.”
Letting her head fall back, Tandy closed her eyes as she traced light circles over her belly.“I was so angry, just so angry at everyone. I took a bus from Paris to Venice, and a shuttle from there to New York. I was lonely at first, I nearly went back. But then I found my job, and it was brilliant. And I signed up with a midwife, and I met Mavis. Everything seemed to be so right. I missed… I missed people from home, but I had to think about the baby.”
“Then you left work on Thursday.”
“I had Friday off, and Saturday was Mavis’s shower. I was feeling so good about everything. And there she was. So surprised to see me, so kind and asking how I was doing. I was so ashamed at the way I’d run off, but she just waved all that aside. She said she had a car, and would see me home. And when this lovely limo swooped up to the curb, like magic, I went right along.”
Circling, Eve thought. Not parked, leaving no record.
“She sat in the back with me while the driver started on. She gave me a bottle of water, and we chatted about London. And then… I felt so strange, and I can’t remember. Until I awoke in that room.”
“You’re out of it now,” Eve said when Tandy trembled again.“You’re out, and they’re the ones locked up.”
“I’m out. Yes, we’re out, and we’re safe. They were there, both of them,” she continued in a steadier voice.“And that horrible droid, sitting there, staring at me when I woke up. And they told me how things would be. The baby wasn’t mine, I’d signed it away. I was only the means to its birth.”
She shifted now, to look behind her and meet Eve’s eyes.“They said this to me, all so calm, even when I was screaming and trying to get away, and the droid forced me back on the bed. They said I’d be treated well, have proper nourishment, rest, stimulation, and they expected me to deliver a healthy baby boy within the week.
“I said they were mad, they couldn’t force me to give up my child. He said - the son - he said they had wealth, power, position. I had nothing but a fertile womb. They left that music playing day and night. Good for the baby. Everything in the room was bolted down. I couldn’t even throw anything. I beat against the windows, but no one could see. I screamed until I hadn’t a voice left, but no one could hear me.
“What day is it?”
“It’s early Monday morning,” Eve told her.
“Only Monday,” Tandy said and turned to rest her head again.“It felt longer. So much longer. You saved my baby. You saved me. If I live two hundred years more, I’ll never forget it.”
The lights were on, gleaming against the windows, flooding the grounds where the snow lay like white mink. Tree branches were heavy with it as it continued to fall in a hushed whisper.
“Oh. It’s like a palace.” Tandy’s voice shook.“Like a winter palace. I feel as though I’m the princess who’s been rescued. You’re my knights in shining armor,” she said, rubbing fresh tears from her cheeks.
Even as they pulled up in front, the door to the house burst open, and Mavis, dwarfed in one of Eve’s robes, ran out. Summerset and Leonardo rushed behind her.
“Mavis, you promised you’d wait.” Summerset reached for her arm.
“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t. Tandy!” She wrenched open the door.“Tandy! Are you all right? The baby?”
“They saved us.”
On cue, Eve thought, both women burst into tears and fell into each other’s arms.
“Let’s get you inside now, out of the cold, sweetheart.” Leonardo wrapped his big arms around both of them.“Come inside now, Tandy.”
“Take them straight up to the room I prepared,” Summerset ordered.“I’ll be there in a moment.”
As they walked toward the house, sheltered by Leonardo, Mavis looked back at Eve.“I knew you’d find her. I knew you would.”
“They’re yours now.” Eve pointed at Summerset.“I’ve got work.”
“Lieutenant.”
She turned, scowled at him.“What?”
“Well done.”
“Huh. Thanks.” She raised her eyebrows at Roarke as they went inside.“I’ve got to tag Peabody, make sure the prisoners are secured, check in with Baxter on-scene, and round it out with Reo and Smith.”
“Yes, of course. After you’ve had some sleep.”
“Loose ends dangling.”
“That can be tied up later. Whatever you got from the booster and your own adrenaline is washed, Lieutenant. You’re pale as the moon, and your words are starting to slur.”
“Coffee.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
He must have been right because when she managed to focus, she was standing - barely - in the bedroom.“One hour horizontal,” she said as she took off her weapon harness.
“Four - which gives you enough time to put some fuel in your system in the morning and get downtown to grill your suspects.”
“Not just grill.” She sat to yank off her boots.“I’m gonna fry ‘em. Aren’t you gonna carry me to bed?”
“You’re still dressed.”
“‘S’ okay. I can sleep in my clothes.” She smiled sleepily, held up her arms to him.
He got her up, staggered a little as he carted her to the bed, then dumped both of them onto the duvet.“Best I can do.”
“Good enough.” She curled into him, he wrapped around her, and they both tumbled into sleep.
He’d been right about the four and the fuel, Eve decided. She was going to have a long and tricky day, and needed to charge up for it.
As expected, Bullock and the rest had called in a fleet of lawyers. Eve was letting them all stew while she and her team gave complete reports to Whitney and Reo.
“The Feds and Global are going to want to take over the fraud, the baby-for-profit op, and whatever else the foundation had its fingers into,” Reo told her.
“They can have it.”
“And a field day with it. The London law firm is also going to be on the hot seat. You’ve got yourself an international incident, Dallas.”
“I’ve got three DB’s. Those are mine. As for the abduction and held-against-will of Tandy Willowby, that’s a share with Lieutenant Smith in MPU.”
“How’s she doing? Willowby?”
“Good, I’m told. She was sleeping when I left the house.” She turned to Whitney.“I want to start with Cavendish on this, sir. He’s the weak sister.”
“Your call.”
Reo got to her feet.“Got them cold on the kidnapping, and the evidence is there for Global. The three homicides, that’s the sticker.”
“I’ll get them.”
Reo nodded.“Mind if I watch?”
Cavendish was in Interrogation, looking pale and sweaty and flanked by two sharp-looking suits. The one on the left got immediately to his feet.“My client was held overnight without bond, and kept waiting in this room nearly an hour. We intend to file complaints, and when you’ve finished this ridiculous charade, demand an internal investigation on you.”
“Charade?” Eve said to Peabody.
“It’s like that game where you can’t talk, but you have to use your hands and body language to get the other person to guess the word or phrase.”
“No kidding? That’s good, because while Mr. Cavendish is entitled to his representation, and may speak with same, I’m not obliged to speak to lawyers. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, in formal interview with Cavendish, Walter, and his two representatives. I’ll just read off the charges.”
When she had, she sat, kicked out her legs.“You’ve already been read the Revised Miranda, Mr. Cavendish -”
“My client is a citizen of Great Britain -”
“God save the King. Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”
“I understand. I have nothing to say.”
“Okay, I’ll do the talking. We’ll start with accessory to murder, three counts. That’s good for three consecutive life sentences in the good old U. S. of A. Now, the Brits may want you, and we may agree to deport you into their custody, which would make me sad. Still, they’d lock you up for the rest of your natural life there, too - and save the taxpayers money.”
“You have nothing to link my client to any murder, or any crime.”
“I have enough not only to link you,” Eve said, speaking directly to Cavendish,“but to chain you head to foot and throw you overboard. Randall Sloan kept private records, Cavendish. Chase didn’t get them. I did. Your name’s on them.”
She smiled when a line of sweat beaded over his top lip. Yeah, the weak sister.
“You were aware of the operating practices of the Bullock Foundation, which included the sale of infant human beings for profit and fraudulent tax reporting to boost the profit on that operation. You were also aware that Chase intended to murder Natalie Copperfield and Bick Byson, who had discovered at least part of those practices. You knew he was going to do this to them.”
Eve shoved two crime scene photos across the table.
“My client has no knowledge of any of the circumstances of these crimes.”
“You may be bottom of the food chain, Walt, but you knew. Bullock and Chase came to your office to discuss it in private, didn’t they? You had a nice little lunch while you discussed how he’d kill two people.”
“This is absurd.” One of the lawyers got to his feet.“You have nothing but speculation. Groundless speculation. This interview -”
“I’ve got more, Walter. I’ve got your girlfriend in the next room.”
Eve grinned when his eyes darted toward the door.“Yeah, that’s right, and I’d make book she’ll push this whole thing into your lap. She worked for you, did what she was told, didn’t know. She can play that, and you’ll go down for it. Your kind always does. You’ve got SAP tattooed on your forehead. I don’t like her, so I’m talking to you first. I’m offering you the deal I’m going to offer her if you don’t make me happy.”
“No deal,” the suit snapped.
“I bet you work for Stuben, Robbins, Cavendish, and Mull.” Eve spoke to the lawyer for the first time.“They’re in a big pile of crap, too. Lot of smart lawyers there, right, Walter - smart lawyers who represent Bullock and Chase. I imagine they’ve got you all picked out as fall guy. Sent you over here, gave you busy work, show you no real respect. Now the heat’s on, and who do you think’s going to burn?”
“I was home in bed with my wife when these murders occurred.” Cavendish tugged on his tie.“I have nothing to do with this.”
“You don’t want to lie to me. You really don’t want to piss me off when I’m the only one here looking out for you. Chase killed Randall Sloan, set him up, took him out. I wonder what he’d do to you. Maybe I should put the two of you in a box together and find out.”
“Threats won’t be tolerated,” one of the lawyers snapped.
“Not a threat, just speculation. Here’s how it happened, how it’s documented in Randall Sloan’s private records. Copperfield came across something that didn’t quite add up for her, and she - being a good girl - went to Randall Sloan for advice. She knew him, the father of her friend, the son of the head of the firm - she trusted him. Maybe he tried to put out the fire himself, but she’s asking the wrong questions. He contacts Bullock, she contacts you. You’re in it now. She sets her son on Copperfield when bribery doesn’t work. You knew just what they did - that makes you an accessory.”
“More speculation,” the lawyer said.“You have nothing concrete against my client, or Ms. Bullock and her son.”
“Who do you believe, Walter? The suit from Stuben, or the cop who’s got you by the short hairs? It’s over for you, and you know it. Your life, your career, the plush office, the expense account. But you can choose how you want to spend what you’ve got left. Three counts, accessory to murder or - if you cooperate now - three counts obstruction of justice. You’ll do time in a cage, but you’ll be eligible for parole. You’ll end your life on the outside, instead of in. One-time offer, and you’ve got thirty seconds.”
Eve leaned in close until he had little choice but to meet her eyes.“You know she’ll take it when I go next door. She’ll throw you to the wolves without a second’s thought. Tick-tock, Walter. Twenty seconds left.”
“I want it in writing.”
“Cavendish -”
“Shut up!” he rounded on the lawyer.“It’s not your life on the line, is it? I’m not taking the fall for this. In writing,” he repeated.“And I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“That was easy,” Peabody commented after they’d stepped out.
“Didn’t even get me warmed up.” Eve rolled her shoulders.“Spineless bastard. He’ll do a solid dime on the obstruction.”
“And there’s the fraud. You didn’t mention that to him in the offer.”
Eve grinned.“Oops. Well, it’s not in my authority to offer a deal on international tax fraud or any international crime. Gee, I guess he’s going to do considerably more time than the dime.”
“Who do you want next?”
“We’ll take Bruberry. She’s going to be very, very unhappy her boss flipped on her.”
“You think she’ll crack?”
“Two hours tops.”
“Put money on it?”
Eve considered.“Fifty.”
“Done.”
In one hour and fifty-three minutes, Peabody walked out of Interview.“I’m kind of torn. I’m out fifty, but it was fairly frosty to watch her go down. Didn’t just crack, she exploded.”
“And knew more of where the secrets are locked than her boss.” Eve rubbed her hands together.“Double or nothing on Chase?”
“I figured we’d hit Bullock next.”
“Nope, I’m saving her for last.”
“No bet,” Peabody decided.“You’re hitting your stride.”
As they turned, they saw Baxter hotfooting it down the hall.“Sweeper report, wanted to hand-deliver it.” He slapped a file, with disc, into Eve’s hand.“On Sloan’s vehicle. They found a single hair, headrest, driver’s seat. It’s Chase’s. EDD report,” he added, handing her another.“My new best friend, McNab, found transmissions to and from a Doctor Letitia Brownburn, London. Authorities there have already picked her up, and acted on a warrant to close down Sunday’s Child, until further investigation into its practices. There are also transmissions to Cavendish’s office - Madeline to Bruberry, and from Madeline to the London office where she conversed for some length with Stuben. They spoke cryptically, of an imminent delivery.”
“Cavendish and Bruberry both sang like fat ladies,” Eve told him.“We’re taking Chase next.”
“I’ll be in Observation with Reo.”
“Baxter, why don’t you take this round. I’ll observe.” Peabody glanced at Eve.“That work for you?”
“Fine.”
“I appreciate it. How do you want to handle it?”
“Hard and mean. No deals, no good cop. He’s got a temper. Let’s piss him off.”
“Like your style.”
They went in together. Eve slapped the files on the table where Chase sat with three lawyers.
“Record on.” She read off the data.“There’s one suit in here too many.” She shot up a hand before any one of them could speak.“Anything over two reps is at my discretion. One of you get out.”
“As Mr. Chase is a British citizen and the absurd charges levied against him so serious, we require special representation for international law, for criminal law, and for tax law.”
“I don’t much care what you require. One of you get out. Now, or this interview is over, and your client goes back to sit in his cell until you’re down to two.”
“We expect some courtesy.”
“You’re not going to get it. Detective.” She turned for the door.
“I can handle international and criminal.” The lone woman, a brunette of about fifty, spoke in clear, unaccented tones.“I think it’s in our client’s interest to have this straightened out as soon as possible.”
One of the men rose, strode stiffly out of the room.
“Mr. Chase, you’ve been read the Revised Miranda, is this correct?”
When he sat stonily silent, the woman spoke again.“Mr. Chase acknowledges the reading of his rights.”
“I hear that from him, on record, or again, this interview is over.”
“I was read my rights,” Chase snapped.“And manhandled. I intend to file charges of police brutality.”
“You look okay to me. Are you requesting a physical examination to document any injuries you may have incurred during your arrest?”
“You attacked me.”
“Beg to differ, and the assault against me was recorded. Now, do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Chase? He answers,” Eve said again.“On record.”
“I understand them, such as they are in this uncivilized city of yours.”
“Good. In this uncivilized city we like to put people in cages for their entire natural life for various offenses. Now, where should we start?”
“Lieutenant.” The brunette took a sheet of paper from her briefcase.“If we could clear up the matter of one Tandy Willowby residing temporarily in Ms. Bullock and Mr. Chase’s New York home?”
“Residing? Is that what you Brits call it when a woman’s locked in a room and held against her will?” She shook her head at Baxter.“And they say we speak the same language.”
“Didn’t look like she was residing to me. Bet you like women locked up and helpless, Chase. Pregnant, too, so they can’t fight you off. Fucking pervert.”
“We will make note of any obscenities,” the brunette said primly.
“Wanker.” Eve grinned darkly at Chase.“I bet you watched Tandy on that security screen while you slapped the monkey.”
“You disgusting bitch.”
“Mr. Chase.” The brunette laid a hand over his.“Lieutenant, please. I believe we can clear this up quickly, and move on. I have here a statement Ms. Bullock dictated to her representative, and which Mr. Chase has corroborated and signed. I’d like to read it into evidence.”
“Help yourself.”
“On Thursday, shortly after six P. M., Ms. Bullock noticed Ms. Willowby on Madison Avenue, where Ms. Bullock had been shopping. In May of last year, Ms. Willowby had enlisted the help of the Bullock Foundation to assist her in placing her child for adoption. However, Ms. Willowby failed to keep subsequent appointments with the counselor, the obstetrician, and the placement agency. Relieved to see her well, Ms. Bullock approached her. At that time, Ms. Willowby became quite distraught and begged Ms. Bullock for help. Concerned, Ms. Bullock helped Ms. Willowby to her car, intending to have her driven home. But Ms. Willowby only became more hysterical, to the point of threatening suicide. She was nearly at term and had realized, she stated, that she could not raise the child, having neither the emotional nor the financial wherewithal. Out of concern, and with a desire to assist, Ms. Bullock took the young woman to her home - with Ms. Willowby’s full consent. She lodged Ms. Willowby there, arranged for medical assistance, and began to make arrangements for counseling and for adoption proceedings should Ms. Willowby remain in the same state of mind.”
“You can just stop there, because we didn’t bring shovels, and that’s the biggest load of bullshit we may have ever had dumped in this room. We’ve got you on Tandy, Chase. Not only her statement, but the statements of five cops and one civilian, who will all testify she was locked in a room against her will.”
“Ms. Willowby’s state of mind,” the lawyer began, and Eve shoved up from her chair, got in her face.
“I wonder what your state of mind would’ve been if you’d been locked in a room, examined by a medical droid without your consent. You can cram your statement and the rest of this bullshit. You can cram it, sister, because when Stuben and company goes down, your ass is very likely going to be hanging naked in the wind.”
“If this interview can’t be conducted with some measure of decorum -”
“Screw decorum and you with it. You don’t like it, there’s the door.” She shifted to Chase.“EDD is even now mining the medical droid’s memory banks. I don’t have to waste my time on that, because you’re going down for it, Win, you and Mommy. Oh, by the way, did you tell your representatives you were sleeping with Mommy when we took you down?”
“Shut up.”
“Lieutenant, please.” The female lawyer held up a hand, but Eve had seen the blink of shock.“Impugning Ms. Bullock’s and Mr. Chase’s reputations is unacceptable.”
“Here, again in the uncivilized U. S., so is incest. Twenty-five to life for the abduction and held-against-will of Tandy Willowby. And if we find you raped her while she was held -”
“I never touched that filthy slut!”
“Oh?” Eve flipped through one of the files.“Right, right, you don’t play that game, because it’s all about Mommy.”
“Maybe he likes - what do you call them - Nancy boys,” Baxter suggested.“Yeah, I bet this one likes to stick it to little boys when he’s not doing it with Mom.”
“You revolt me. We’ll bury both of you before this is done.”
“No, he wouldn’t play with boys,” Eve said.“Mommy wouldn’t like it. Didn’t rape Tandy either, did you, Win? Never got it up for anyone but your mother. Can’t get the wood on for anyone but her, can you?”
At Eve’s words, Chase shoved out of the chair, lunged toward her. It took both the lawyers and Baxter to hold him back.
“Lieutenant, this is simply unacceptable. I won’t have my client spoken to in this way.”
“Write a complaint.” She rose, circled around, leaned over the back of Chase’s shoulder. He was breathing hard, and she could feel the heat pumping off of him.“You didn’t rape Natalie either. Another filthy slut? Not like your mother, who’s important and understands you, your needs. You and your mother have so many secrets. Isn’t that what she told you when she touched you when you were a boy? A secret, just between the two of you. As long as you’re a good boy, do what your mother says, everything’s fine.
“Then that bitch Copperfield started poking around where she had no business, and she was going to try to take you down. She had the nerve to question your business. Did your mother tell you to do it, Win? I think so. You do what your mother tells you, or there’s no sack time with her. Did she tell you to use Randall Sloan’s car? Found your hair in it.”
“My client and Mr. Randall Sloan were acquainted. He might have ridden in that car at any time.”
“Driven it,” Eve corrected.“Hair was on the driver’s seat. Your hair. Your DNA, just like your DNA was on Bick Byson’s knuckles. Popped you before you could use your stunner - you coward. Don’t know how to fight like a man, but then you’re not a man. Just a boy who sleeps with his mother. Still, it was easy to slap around some woman half your size, bind her up. Break her fingers, beat her face, burn her skin. You enjoyed it, just like you enjoyed watching her eyes when you strangled her. I bet it’s the only way you get it up when you’re not with your mother.”
“This interview is terminated,” the brunette began.
“I’d enjoy watching yours,” Chase said softly.
“You going to let the girl lawyer say what you do? Just like Mommy. Do this, Win, do that. Good dog.”
“Nobody tells me what to do. Shut up!” he shouted at his lawyer.“Stupid git. I’ve had enough of this. Enough of being questioned by this person, of being placated by you. I’ve done no more than what needed to be done. It was Randall Sloan who hired some thug to kill those people. He confessed before he hanged himself.”
“How do you know? Were you there?”
“You told us yourself.”
“No, I didn’t. I said Randall Sloan was found hanging, period. He didn’t self-terminate. You killed him, and staged it. Because you’re a spineless coward. You killed Sophia Belego, Rome, and Emily Jones, Middlesex, England. Pregnant women must be an offense to your eye.”
“‘Cause he can’t get it up except with Mommy Dearest,” Baxter said.
“It has nothing to do with sex! They signed a contract!” He slammed his fist on the table.“They signed a legal document, and we gave our word to properly screened parents. They had no right!”
“Yeah, carting a fetus around for nine months doesn’t give you any rights to it. You snatched Sophia Belego, didn’t you? Took that kid, got rid of the incubator. Didn’t work so well with Emily Jones. Lost the product on that one. How many others, Chase?”
“We provide a service!” he shouted over his lawyers’ warnings.“We give our time, our expertise, our name to help these women in trouble, through their own doing, their own weaknesses, and give a gift to worthy couples.”
“For a nice, fat fee.”
“They’re paid, aren’t they? Given a chance to better themselves while the child is properly raised. How dare you question me?”
He literally shook off the lawyer to his left, and backhanded the one on his right.“I don’t need to justify my actions.” He surged to his feet.
The brunette wiped at her bloody lip and tried to stand.“This interview is -”
“Shut up! Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up?”
“Natalie Copperfield,” Eve said flatly.“Bick Byson, Randall Sloan.”
“Sneaking around, sticking their noses into our business. Sloan’s fault for being sloppy. Lazy, incompetent.”
“So you had to kill them. All of them. It was a matter of pride,” Eve continued calmly.“Of business.”
“The Bullock Foundation needed to be protected. It’s bigger than any of those pathetic people. My mother is the heart of the foundation and has taken it beyond what it was. It was blackmail against us, all of them. What I did was self-defense, to preserve an important charitable institution.”
With a handkerchief still pressed to her bleeding lip, the brunette lifted a hand.“We need to consult with our client.”
“You’re fired.” Chase bared his teeth as he swung around violently enough to have both lawyers scrambling back.“Do you think I need you? Idiots. Panderers. Get out. I’ve had enough of both of you. Out of my sight.”
“Mr. Chase -”
“Now! I can and will speak for myself,” he said as the lawyers emptied out of the room.
Now, Eve thought, we’ll do this thing. She kept her face blank, her voice even.“Mr. Chase, for the record, you have dismissed your representatives?”
He curled his lip at Eve.“I speak for myself.”
“You’re waiving your right to counsel at this time?”
“How many times do I have to say it, you ignorant twit.”
“That’s probably enough. Let the record show Mr. Chase has dismissed his representatives and has agreed to continue this interview without the benefit of legal counsel.”
She paused, put a concerned, respectful look on her face.“Blackmail, you said? That puts a different face on it. Why don’t you tell us how this started? You were informed by Randall Sloan that Natalie Copperfield was asking questions,” Eve began.
And he gave them every last detail.
21
PEABODY HAD A TUBE OF PEPSI WAITING WHEN Eve came out.“You usually like your caffeine cold after a hot interrogation.” She held one out to Baxter.“Wasn’t sure about you.”
“I’ll take it any way I can get it.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that from several women,” Eve said before she took a deep drink.
For the first time in hours, Baxter laughed.“Thanks for letting me take that scum down with you, Dallas. I’m going to contact Palma, let her know we’ve got him.”
“Dallas, Jacob Sloan came in while you were in Interview. They put him in the lounge.”
“Okay, I’ll take him. You can have Bullock brought up.”
“Sure you don’t want a break before her? You’ve been at this for nearly six hours, pretty much straight.”
“I’m tying it up, wrapping it up, writing it up.” She rubbed at the stiffness in her neck.“Then I’m going home, and so are you.”
“Yay. I’ll have her brought up.”
Eve carried her drink into the lounge, scrubbed her hands over her face, then walked over to sit at the table across from Jacob Sloan.
He looked older, more frail, and exhausted.
“Mr. Sloan, you should go home, be with your family.”
“Did Winfield Chase kill my son? I have sources,” he said when Eve lifted her eyebrows.“I know he was arrested, along with his mother. I can’t see Madeline doing more than pulling strings, so I’m asking you, did Winfield Chase kill my son?”
“Yes. He’s just confessed. He staged the suicide to implicate your son in the murders of Natalie Copperfield and Bick Byson, who he also has confessed to killing.”
When he folded his lips tight, nodded, Eve rose. She broke her boycott on Vending and programmed a bottle of water. She sat back down, put it in front of him.
“Thank you.” His hand shook a little as he lifted the bottle and drank.“My son was a disappointment to me, in many ways. He was selfish and lazy and gambled away his youth, his marriage, his reputation. But he was my son.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
He drank more, slowly, then breathed out.“Natalie and Bick, they were bright and they were clean. Their lives together were just beginning. I’ll regret…” Once again he pressed his lips together.“Have their families been told?”
“It’s being done now.”
“Then I’ll wait until tomorrow before I contact them. Why did he kill them? Can you tell me?”
“I can tell you that Natalie was doing her job, and she found something she tried to fix, tried to make right.”
“My son. He was not doing his job.” He shook his head when Eve said nothing.“This will be hard, very hard, on my grandson, on my wife.”
“Then you should be with them, Mr. Sloan.”
“Yes, I should be with them.” He got to his feet.“Anything you need from me, my family, my firm to make certain Winfield Chase spends every last second of his life in prison, you have only to ask.” He held out his hand.“Thank you.”
Eve sat another moment after he’d gone, finished off her drink. Then she went into the washroom, scrubbed cold water over her face.
She went to face down Madeline Bullock.
Word had gone out, Eve imagined, as there were only two lawyers with her.
“Record on,” Eve said and started the routine.
“Your son’s confessed to five counts of murder,” she began, watching Madeline’s eyes.“I see you’ve got wind of that. He’s also detailed your involvement in each of these murders, and in the abduction of Tandy Willowby.”
“Ms. Bullock is prepared to make a statement,” one of the lawyers said.
“Not dictating this load of crap, Madeline? Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I don’t expect you to understand my terror, my grief, my guilt.” Madeline pressed a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her lips.“My son… how can I not blame myself? He came from me. But something… twisted in him. Such violence, such rage. I’ve lived in fear of him for so long.”
“Please. You’re not afraid of anything but losing your grip on the foundation - its money and prestige and the operation you’ve been running through it almost since your husband died.”
“You can’t possibly understand. He’s forced me to… it’s unspeakable.”
“Have sex with him? See, it’s speakable. And that’s more crap. You’ve been abusing your son sexually most of his life.”
“What a horrible thing to say.” Madeline seemed to break down, and for a moment buried her face in the handkerchief.“Win is sick, and nothing I could do -”
“He came from you,” Eve said, feeling the rage rise up, seeing herself trapped in a cold room with the man she’d come from, the man who’d raped her repeatedly.“And you exploited and abused him. You made him exactly what he is.”
“You can’t possibly know the horrors I’ve lived through.”
“You don’t want to talk to me about horrors. I’ve got statements from your son, from Walter Cavendish, from Ellyn Bruberry, all naming you as the one in control, the one who made the decisions and gave the orders. You think because you didn’t get your hands dirty with murder, you’re walking away clean?”
“I did whatever Win told me. He might have killed me otherwise.”
Madeline reached across the table to grip Eve’s hands, and Eve allowed it though her skin felt tainted. You’re good, she thought, you’re damn good at this, Madeline.
“I appeal to you, woman to woman. I beg you to protect me. There’s a monster inside my son. I’m so afraid.”
“Ms. Bullock has been virtually a prisoner of her son’s sickness,” one of the lawyers began.“A victim of physical and emotional abuse. He used her -”
“He used you?” Eve interrupted, wrenching her hands free as she looked into Madeline’s face, and saw her father’s.“That’s just crap, Madeline. No one uses you. And I can’t think of anything more weak, more pitiful, than a mother who’d roll on her own son to try to save her ass. You’re done, you get that? You’ve got no way out.”
I want you to sweat, Eve thought. I want you to tremble, and suffer and fucking wail.“We’ve got the playback from the medical droid’s memory. You’re on there. The British authorities have picked up your Doctor Brownburn - who has already confessed, already stated that she took her orders straight from you. Nobody’s going to buy the weak, frightened little mother act, Madeline. You’re the power. More, you’re a fucking spider, a bloodsucker, and it shows.”
“I have nothing more to say to this person,” Madeline snapped.“I want to speak with the British consulate. I’ll be speaking to your President, who is a personal friend, and the Prime Minister.”
“Toss in the King of England, it’s fine with me.” Eve leaned forward.“They’re going to scramble back from you so fast they’ll get whiplash. And just wait until Global starts talking to the women whose babies you bought, the people who bought them. We’ve got the list, Madeline. We’ve got the names, the locations, and the international media’s going to do a tango when this hits.”
“That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?” Madeline sucked air through her nose.“Media attention. My name, the reputation of the Bullock Foundation, will stand against anything you manufacture against me. You’ll be crushed.”
“You think so?” Eve looked Madeline dead in the eyes, and she smiled. She kept smiling until she saw the first true glitter of fear.“They’ll crucify you while thousands cheer. And when I’m done with you here, you’ll have to answer to the Italian authorities for Sophia Belego - Chase told us where they’ll find her remains. You were with him, in Rome, when she went missing. You’ve got a home there, too, and they’ll find evidence she was held there.”
“My son is mentally ill. He needs professional help.”
“If he is, you made him that way, twisting his view of sex, of women, of himself so you could get your jollies.”
“Lieutenant.” The lawyer spoke up while Madeline simply stared at Eve with those arctic eyes.“Ms. Bullock has already stated that Mr. Chase was the aggressor.”
“Ms. Bullock is a liar and a pervert and a coward. You shouldn’t discuss plans for murder and kidnapping in front of the servants, Madeline. Even droids, especially droids, as they keep records.”
Eve flipped open a file.“Got a voiceprint match right here, with you telling Win to kill Natalie Copperfield.”
“That’s impossible. We were alone when I -”
“When you gave him the orders,” Eve finished when Madeline cut herself off.“You know, people like you are oblivious to servants. You probably thought you were alone.” She closed the file.
“I’ve got Randall Sloan’s records - your boy messed up there and didn’t find the second safe. I’ve got multiple corroborating statements, and Tandy’s firsthand account. I’ve got ‘link transmissions you didn’t have time to delete before your arrest that add further weight to the mountain of evidence. Give it up, Madeline. At least your son had enough pride to take credit for what he considered his work. Work you assigned him.”
“I have nothing more to say.”
“Okay.” Eve rose.“I’ve got you for conspiracy to murder, multiple counts. That’s going to put you in an off-planet facility, several life terms. And that’s before the Feds, Global, the Brits, the Italians weigh in. How long do you think she’ll keep those classy looks in an off-planet cage, Peabody?”
“Six months, outside.”
“I’ll go with that. You won’t be getting bail, and your lawyers will tell you the same - no matter how they try to sweet-talk the judge. You’re a prime flight risk. You’re going to want to deal after another day or two in The Tombs, but when I walk out of this room, there will be no deal.”
She headed for the door.
“Lieutenant.” It was one of the lawyers who called out, then leaned in to murmur in Madeline’s ear.
“I certainly will not consider it.” She tossed her head.“She’s bluffing. She doesn’t have half what she claims. She’s bluffing.”
Eve smiled as she opened the door, then spared one last look back.“No, I’m not.”
“You didn’t want her to deal,” Peabody said when they walked away.
“No, I didn’t. She’s worse than her son could ever be. She created him, she corrupted him and used him. She’s worse and I want to imagine her living the next fifty years or so in a concrete cage. Go home, Peabody. You did good.”
“I go when you go.”
Eve sighed.“Then let’s get this damn thing written up, and get the hell out of here.”
She might have been walking in the door by six, but Eve was ready to admit she was dragging her ass to do it. She wanted a long soak in the jet tub, and an entire bottle of wine followed by lazy sex with her husband before sleeping for ten hours straight.
She wanted the image of Madeline Bullock stroking the body of her son out of her head.
Because she heard the music coming out of the parlor, and Mavis’s voice piping through it, Eve knew she might have to wait just a little longer before soaking, sex, and sleep.
Mavis was sitting back in a chair, her feet on a hassock while Summerset passed her a cup of tea - which explained why he hadn’t been looming in the foyer. Leonardo sat beaming at her, while Roarke sipped at wine with an indulgent look in his eye.
“I feel so pampered. Not that you don’t take mag care of me, sugar lips,” she said to Leonardo.“But today’s been like a little vacation or something. Summerset, you should come live with us.”
“Take him, he’s yours,” Eve said as she walked in.
“Dallas! Dallas!”
“Don’t get up.” Eve waved her back.“It’ll take you too long and I’m going to sit anyway.” She did, on the arm of Roarke’s chair so she could cop his wine.
“Tandy’s resting. She’s been up and around today, and Summerset said she’s doing just fine.” Mavis sent him an adoring look.“He treated us both like pregnant princesses.”
“You’ve had a trying few days, both of you. Have one of these canapés.” He held out the tray.“They’re your favorite.”
“I’m not really hungry, but maybe one. Or two. We’re taking Tandy home with us when she wakes up, get out of your hair. She’s not ready to go home alone yet. Though that may not be the situation for long.”
“Hmm?” It was the best Eve could do as her mind was already starting to float.
“Aaron’s tagged her here a half-dozen times today. Her boyfriend? He’s so sweet, so groveling. They’ve talked and talked. She cried a lot, but she laughed, too. He wanted - begged, actually - to come over to see her today, but she just wasn’t ready. But she said he could come by our place tonight. He asked her to marry him.”
“Nice.”
“She didn’t say yes yet, but she will. She told me it was all she ever wanted, and that maybe all this happened so they can be a stronger family. I knew you’d find her, Dallas.”
“So you said.”
“I can’t say it enough. I can’t tell you what it all means, what you did. You and Roarke, and Peabody, McNab, Baxter, that cutie Trueheart. I hope those terrible people sit in a cell in their own body waste until their faces rot off.”
“Teddy bear,” Leonardo murmured, and she winced.
“I know. Out with the bad energy, in with the good.” Mavis shifted in her chair.“But I can’t help it. She told me everything that happened.”
“Wrapped up. Confessions all around, except for Bullock. But I didn’t push too hard for one there. Didn’t need it, and I like watching her try to squirm and writhe.”
“Busy little bee,” Roarke put in.
“We’re going to get out of your hive.” Mavis shifted again, winced again.
“Mavis?” Leonardo came half out of his seat.
“Just sitting wrong, that’s all. Hard to get comfortable these days. Only ten days to go. Help me up, baby doll, so I can work these kinks out.”
As he drew her to her feet, Tandy waddled in.“I’m sorry. Oh, hello, Dallas, Roarke. I want to thank you, so much, and there’s so much I want to say. But I’m afraid my water just broke.”
“Really?” Mavis squealed it as Eve went pale.“Oh, boy, oh, boy! Tandy.” She hurried, as fast as possible, to take her friend’s hands.“We’re going to have a baby! You want us to call Aaron, don’t you?”
“I do.” The sunlight switched on in Tandy’s face.“I really do.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. Leonardo will go by and get your bag at your place, and I’ll go with you to the birthing center. And we’ll… Oh. Uh-oh.”
Mavis pressed a hand to the side of her belly, hunching a bit, breathing out.“Wow. Gee. Oops. I kind of think maybe I’m in labor.”
Eve pressed her fingers to her eyes as Leonardo bounded across the room like a drunken bull.“That’s just perfect.”
“Both of them?” Roarke gripped Eve’s hand, pushed to his feet, pulling her with him.“Now? Both?”
“Just bloody hell perfect.”
Hadn’t she just run an op that had taken down two international criminals? And during which, hadn’t she personally kicked a killer in the balls?
Hadn’t she just faced a personal demon by sitting in Interview with Bullock and seeing her own father’s face?
She could handle this. Please God.
But she had two women in labor in her parlor squealing at each other and talking so fast the words were a shiny blur, one expectant father who looked as if he was going to pass out at any moment. And her own husband, who was notoriously cool-headed, had just - literally - shoved her toward the insanity.
When she glanced over her shoulder to glare at him, he merely pointed at her and gulped down the rest of his wine.
“Okay, stop! Stop! Here’s what we’re going to do.”
The squealing and babbling cut off as if she’d sliced through it with a laser, and all eyes turned to her. Since her first clear thought was to scream wildly for Summerset, she bit down ruthlessly on her own rising hysteria.
“Right. Everybody’s going to get in one of the all-terrains, and we’re going to go to the birthing center.
“But I need my bag.” Tandy rubbed her belly, breathed out in little puffs.“I have to have it. It has my music and my focus -”
“Me, too, me, too.” Mavis pressed a hand to the small of her back.“If we don’t have our bags -”
“And here’s what we’re going to do next. I’ll get Peabody and McNab to go by both your places, get both bags. But we’re going. Now.”
“Ladies, you need your coats.” Roarke stepped up, laid a bolstering hand on Eve’s shoulder.“Sorry, I clutched,” he said to her.“Ah, Summerset, just who we need. We need a vehicle brought around right away.”
“Are you in labor, Tandy?”
“My water broke, and Mavis is having contractions.”
“Isn’t that lovely,” he said with a calm that made Eve want to punch him even harder than she usually wanted to.“You’ll have your babies together. Mavis, how far apart are the contractions?”
“I forgot to time.” Ripe panic bubbled out of Leonardo.“I forgot to time.”
“It’s all right. Did you just start to have contractions?” Summerset asked her.
“I think I’ve sort of been having them off and on for a couple hours. Maybe three.”
“A couple hours.” Eve heard that same ripe panic come out of her mouth.“Jesus, Mavis.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” Summerset shot Eve a damning look.“Tandy, when was your last contraction?”
“Um. More or less now.” She took a slow breath.
“I need to time!” Leonardo threw his long arms in the air.“I need to time.”
“No.” Eve pointed a finger at Leonardo.“We need to go.”
“Has anyone contacted the midwife?” Summerset asked.
“Shit.” Eve pulled at her hair.“You call her,” she ordered Summerset.“Tell her we’re heading in, carrying two. And contact Peabody, have her and McNab pick up the baby bags in Tandy’s and Mavis’s apartments. Apparently if we don’t have them, we’re doomed. And you need to contact Aaron Applebee.”
“Oh, yes, please.” Tandy beamed.
“Tell him where we’re going and why.”
“Certainly, now, ladies, sit down.”
“Sit down! No sitting,” Eve snapped.“Going.”
“These things take time. You be comfortable while we get your coats and the proper vehicle warmed up for you. Tandy, wouldn’t you like to speak to your Aaron yourself?”
“Yes. Yes, thank you, I really would.”
Summerset took a ‘link out of his pocket, offered it.“I’ll just contact the midwife, and I’ll be back in a moment with your coats.”
Whatever his legion of faults, Summerset was efficient - Eve had to admit it. Within fifteen minutes they were driving through the gates. All of them, including Summerset, at Mavis’s and Tandy’s insistence.
There was constant chatter - about dilation, contractions, focus points, breast-feeding. Eve thought nostalgically of the last time she’d ridden with a crew on a mission. The chatter of cops, the possibility of death or injury.
It had been a lot less stressful.
Twice on the drive, Leonardo had to put his head between his knees. She couldn’t really blame him.
“I’m going to drop them off at the entrance, then park.” Roarke slid a glance toward Eve.“I’m not going to keep driving until I get to Mexico. I’ll be right along. My word.”
“Just remember, if you’re not, I’ll hunt you down, disarticulate all your limbs, then feed them to small, ugly dogs.”
“Noted.”
They were greeted inside by two bright-eyed, cheerful nurses, but Eve’s relief in passing the burden was short-lived.
“You have to come with us.”
“Come with you?” She goggled at Mavis.“Leonardo -”
“He has to check us in.” Mavis grabbed Eve’s hand and clung.“You have to come. Uh-oh.”
Recognizing the signs now, Eve looked at Summerset.“She’s having another one.”
“Yes, that’s how it’s done. Go along with her. I’ll bring Leonardo and Roarke.”
It didn’t seem fair, it didn’t seem right, that she should have to take any part of this solo. But Mavis’s hand was glued to hers, and the nurses were leading them all away.
“You’re not going to shoot anything out before the rest of the team’s in place, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Plenty of time.” Mavis’s nurse smiled at Eve.“I’m Dolly, and I’ll be taking care of you, Mavis. Randa will be here soon.”
“I’m Opal. We’ll just get both of you settled in your room and see how far you’ve progressed. I didn’t see your bags.”
“Somebody’s bringing them.” Tandy found Eve’s free hand, grabbed it.“We weren’t home when we started. My boyfriend - fiancé - the baby’s father, he’s coming.”
“We’ll make sure he’s sent right up to you. Don’t worry, Mommy. It’s the first for both of you, isn’t it? And you’re friends, having babies at the same time. Isn’t that fun?”
“A barrel of monkeys,” Eve muttered.
22
SHE HATED HOSPITALS. IT DIDN’T MATTER IF they put pictures of angelic babies on the pastel walls, arranged small, gardenlike seating areas, and wrapped the staff with rainbows. It was still a hospital - a place where doctors and machines took over your body, and there was usually some sort of pain involved.
It was no doubt due to Mavis’s celebrity status that she was taken to a birthing room that was appointed like a high-end hotel suite. Bathed in the spillover glory, Tandy was settled into a plush room across the hall.
Eve’s hopes that all she’d be called on to do, for the moment, was get her charges where they were going were quickly dashed. The only way Mavis would release the vicelike grip on her hand was with the promise Eve would go over, check on Tandy, and come right back.
“Leonardo and I were going to be with her. And now we’re at countdown, too. She doesn’t have anyone until Aaron gets here.”
Since Eve was prepared to treat both women as she would a dangerous, wounded animal, she patted Mavis’s white-knuckled hand.“Sure, no problem. I’m on it.”
She walked over, pushed open the door, and found herself staring at a completely naked, enormously pregnant woman being helped into a short blue gown.
“Jesus.” Eve slapped her hand over her eyes.“Sorry. Mavis wanted to be sure you were okay.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Tandy’s voice was cheerful and bright.“You need to be with her now.”
“No problem. I’m going.”
“Oh, oh, Dallas. Do you think you could reach Aaron again? Make sure he’s on his way.”
“You bet.” She turned, went back over, and was flashed with a naked Mavis.“Please, in the name of all that’s holy and good, will someone cover these women?”
Mavis giggled as Dolly slipped a gown in mad swirls of blue and pink over her head.“Is Tandy all right? Is Leonardo coming? Is Aaron?”
“She’s fine. I’ll check.”
Desperate to escape, Eve darted into the hall. There she determined that Aaron had finally gotten into a cab, and Leonardo had just completed the checkins.
“Courage,” she reminded herself, and went back into Mavis.
“Hey! I’m wired!” She was sitting up in bed, flushed with excitement.“See, that’s the baby’s heartbeat, and that one’s to measure contractions.”
Dolly snapped on a protective glove.“We’re just going to do a cervical check.”
God have mercy.“I’ll be in the hall.”
“No, don’t leave!” Mavis shot out a hand. Resigned to the idea there was no God, Eve took it as Mavis assumed the position.
“Leonardo’s on his way up,” Eve told her, careful to keep her eyes trained on Mavis’s face.
“About three centimeters,” Dolly announced.“You’ve got plenty of time, so be comfortable. Let me know if I can get you anything. And you, Dallas, is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“What can I get you?”
“A huge glass of wine.”
Dolly laughed.“Now, now, no alcohol until the toast after baby. How about a nice cup of tea?”
Eve started to ask for coffee, then remembered hospital sludge was as bad as cop coffee.“Got Pepsi?”
“Of course.”
“Moonpie!” Mavis called out when Leonardo came in, carrying an emormous vase of yellow roses.“Aw, you brought me flowers and I haven’t even had the baby yet.”
“They’re like sunshine, so you can focus on them until the bag gets here.” He leaned over, kissed her gently on the forehead.“Are you all right? Should I get you ice chips, the stability ball? Do you want music?”
“I’m mag. Three centimeters and counting. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re all here. It’s just like I pictured it. Summerset, would you be an abso angel and be with Tandy until… Oh! Here comes a little one.”
Since Leonardo was there to hover, Eve stepped away to stand with Roarke.“I saw them naked, both of them, and now I’m scared for life. The human body isn’t meant to stretch like that.”
“I’m more concerned about other areas of their body stretching.”
“Oh, please.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Mavis said cheerfully, then she gave Leonardo a gooey look.“Honey bear? You know what you asked me before. Last week, and last month, and the month before that?”
He had both of her hands in his, and pressed them to his heart.“Angel Eyes!”
“Yes.”
Eve averted her own eyes as they engaged in the sort of intense liplock that had likely been the precursor to the current situation.
“We’re getting married!” Mavis sang out.
“No shit?” Eve responded.
“Absolutely none. We’re going to be totally hitched.”
“I’ve been asking her for months.” Leonardo’s face shone like a copper moon.“And finally! I’m going to design you the most fantastic wedding gown.”
“Oh, but no. Honey-pie, we have to do it now. Before the baby comes.”
“Now?”
“I just know it’s right. The baby’s coming, and I want to be your adoring wife when we see him, or her, for the very first time. Up close and personal. Please?”
“But we don’t have a license, or any arrangements.”
Her bottom lip trembled.“But it has to be now.”
“Hold on.” Eve held up a hand before the waterworks could start.“I think we can handle this one. Give us a few.”
She stepped out with Roarke.“I’m hitting up the mayor,” she said as she pulled out her ‘link.“If he won’t clear a license because I fast-talk him into it, I want you on tap to bribe him.”
“I can do that. They’ll need someone to officiate. The center must have someone who fits that particular bill. I’ll go find out.”
Eve nodded, took a breath.“Mr. Mayor, this is Lieutenant Dallas. I have a personal favor to ask of you.”
As she ended the call, Peabody and McNab bounded off the elevator.“Relief troops, sir, with supplies.” Peabody grinned like a maniac.“What’s the status?”
“They’re having babies. And as if that wasn’t enough, Mavis decided she and Leonardo are getting married. Now.”
“Here? Now? Holy crap.”
“I talked the mayor into issuing them a special license. Roarke is hunting up somebody to do the deal.”
“McNab, go back and start the ‘link tree over. We did the contacting,” Peabody told Eve.“I had a list. Now you start it again, and give them the update. Wedding and baby.”
“I’m all over it. Tandy?”
“That way. Mavis this way.”
“I’ll take hers.” Peabody did a little dance.“I’m so glad I put the tiara thing in her bag before we came. She gets to wear it for a bridal headdress.”
As Peabody opened the door there were squeals - from her, from Mavis. Eve just pressed her fingers to her eyes. When she dropped them, Roarke was coming down the hall with a very pale man Eve recognized as Aaron Applebee.
“I found a wandering Daddy,” Roarke said.
“I’ve been so turned around, and my mind just won’t work. Oh, God, you’re Dallas.”
Before Eve could defend herself, he’d thrown his arms around her, dropped his head on her shoulder. Her terror only increased when she heard him give a muffled sob.“Thank you. Oh, bless you. Thank you for my Tandy, for our baby.”
“Ah. She’ll probably want to see you. There.”
“Tandy.” He lurched away, rushed through the door across the hall.“Tandy!”
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“Steady on, Lieutenant.” With his hand on Eve’s shoulder, Roarke lifted an inquiring brow at Summerset when he came out of Tandy’s room.“And?”
“She’s progressing very quickly. I’d say we’ll have a baby in another two hours, three at the most.”
“We’re about to have a wedding as well. Mavis and Leonardo.”
Summerset’s lips curved into a smile, so rare to Eve’s mind, she was surprised his face didn’t simply cave in from it.“That’s lovely. Shouldn’t you be with her? As her coaching team?”
“We’ve been working here.” Eve shifted.“Peabody’s in there.”
“It’s you she wants,” Summerset reminded her.“I’ll just go in for a moment myself.”
“I’m not going to feel guilty,” Eve stated firmly.“I’m not going to feel guilty. Okay, shit, I feel guilty.”
“Once more into the breech?”
“Don’t say breech.”
The next hour was busy, with Peabody and McNab standing in as runners between the two laboring women. Trina hurried in, and insisted on doing Mavis’s hair. The midwife moved between the two rooms and pronounced both women right on schedule, with Tandy well in the lead.
Mavis stalled at six centimeters as Tandy hit ten and was cleared to push.
The suite filled up, thanks to the ‘link tree. It was full of voices and bodies. Doctor Mira and her husband, Louise DiMatto and Charles, Feeney, Nadine, the huge bulk of Crack who’d come straight from his club, the Down and Dirty.
“It’s like a real wedding. I’m so happy. How do I look?”
Leonardo kissed Mavis’s fingers.“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Oh, my sweet puppy. Let’s do it! We’ve got everything, right? Flowers.” She clitched the little nosegay of violets Roarke had brought her.“Music, friends. Matron of honor.” She sighed at Eve.“Best man.” And at Roarke.
“Everything.” Then Leonardo’s eyes widened.“A ring. I don’t have a ring for you.”
“Oh.” Her bottom lip trembled again, and was heroically firmed.“Oh, well, that’s no big, baby doll. Rings, um, they’re not always the deal anyway.”
Summerset moved forward. From under his stiffly starched shirt he drew a chain.“If you’ll accept something borrowed, I’d be pleased if you used this until you have your own. It was my wife’s.”
Tears trembled on Mavis’s lashes.“I’d be so completely honored, thank you. Would you mind giving me away? Would that be okay?”
He took the ring from the chain, passed it to Leonardo. Eve heard him quietly clear his throat.“I’d be so completely honored.”
When he shifted back, Eve met his eyes.“Well done,” she said.
It was perfect, Eve thought. Perfectly Mavis to make her vows and promises - with a couple of pauses for contractions - in the swanky birthing room surrounded by friends and wearing a silly tiara.
With McNab memorializing it all on his police recorder.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, including her own, when Leonardo’s big hands slipped the borrowed ring on Mavis’s dainty finger.
After the applause, the kisses, the champagne Roarke smuggled in - you could always count on him - the midwife swung through the door.
“Congratulations, best wishes, and I’m pleased to announce a new life has begun. Tandy and Aaron have a son. Eight pounds three ounces of perfection. Mavis, I’m to tell you Tandy’s sending her energy to you now. And Dallas? She’d like to see you for a moment.”
“Me? Why?”
“I’m just the messenger. All right, Mommy, let’s see how you’re doing.”
“You’re coming with me,” Eve said and gripped Roarke’s hand.
“She didn’t ask for me.”
“I’m not going in there alone.” She pulled him with her.
In the other suite, Tandy looked pale, sweaty, and a little glassy-eyed, as did the new father. She held a small bundle wrapped in blue.
“Everything okay in here?”
“Everything’s brilliant. Isn’t he beautiful?” Tandy turned the baby, so snugly wrapped it put Eve in mind of a blue sausage with a round, alien face.
“Beautiful,” she agreed, knowing what was expected.“How are you feeling?”
“Tired, thrilled, madly in love with both my men. But I wanted to introduce you, especially, to Quentin Dallas Applebee.”
“Who?”
“The new addition, Lieutenant.” Roarke gave her a little nudge forward.
“It’s all right, isn’t it?” Tandy asked her.“We wanted him to honor your name. He wouldn’t be with us if it wasn’t for you.”
Surprised, touched, Eve pushed her hands into her pockets and smiled.“That’s nice. Really nice. That’s a lot of name for a little guy.”
“We’re going to teach him to live up to it.” Aaron bent down, kissed mother and child.“And how is Mavis?”
“Slow and steady, the midwife said. It’ll be awhile.”
“I’ll come over when they let me.”
“She’ll be around. You’d better get some rest.”
When she stepped out, Feeney was standing in the hall drinking bad coffee.“Midwife’s checking something on her. I’m not staying in there during that.”
“What sane person would?” Eve’s communicator signaled.
“Don’t think you’re going anywhere,” Roarke said darkly.
“Hey, I signed up, I’m seeing it through. Dallas.”
“Lieutenant.” Whitney’s face filled the screen.“You’re to report immediately to Riker’s, female facility.”
“Commander. I’m currently unable to comply. I’m at the birthing center. Mavis -”
“Now?”
“Yes, sir. Or shortly. Is this a problem with Madeline Bullock?”
“It is. She’s dead. Her son broke her neck.”
When she had the details, was assured Whitney would call in Baxter to handle the investigation, she sat in one of the pretty garden spots with her head in her hands.
“Why do you blame yourself?” There was impatience in Roarke’s voice.“Why must you take this on? She’s the one who convinced a guard to let her son have visitation.”
“Stupid. Stupid. They should never have been allowed to see or speak to each other. Not at this point. I’ll be damned if she convinced a guard. She bribed one, and asses will be thoroughly kicked.”
“Then why are you sitting here, taking on the responsibility?”
She sat back.“She riled him up, is what she did. Pushing him, pushing him to corroborate her story, to save her own skin at the expense of his. ‘I’m your mother. You owe me life.’ I can fucking hear her saying it, and him listening to her, understanding - finally - he’d be sacrificed. That he wasn’t important enough to her to save, to love.”
“And still, knowing that, here you sit.”
“I wanted her to go down, go down the hardest. That’s why I saved her for last in Interview. Let her sweat. That’s why I didn’t hammer at her any harder than I did - let her sweat some more, go back at her again tomorrow. I didn’t offer her a deal, and I was cleared to. I could have closed it up with a decent deal, and enough hammering. But I let her know I was going to see her fry. I let her see it. I wanted her to.”
“And why not? She was responsible for all of this, for murder, for misery. You wanted justice.”
“No, or not only. I wanted to give her pain and fear. He did the killings, and he enjoyed doing them. But she twisted him, right from the beginning. She made him what he was, and used him as her tool, she abused him like -”
Roarke lifted her hand, pressed it to his lips.“As you were.”
“I saw my father when I went at her in the box. I felt him, and I felt what he’d done, wanted to do, with me.”
“She was a monster, as he was. But regardless, Winfield Chase was a grown man. He could have escaped her. He could have gotten help.”
“You don’t believe in help, or escape, when they’re done with you.”
“He wasn’t you, Eve. And you could never, no matter what, have been like Chase. You could never have made his choices.”
“No. I know that. And yeah, he had choices, we all do, but she limited them. She skewed them.”
“And that’s what your father would have done, was trying to do, to you.”
“He comes back, in my head, in my dreams. So I saw him in her. I saw him when I looked in her eyes, and I wanted her to pay. I wanted her to suffer and to pay and toknow why. Now she has paid. I don’t know if she understood why.”
“Did you want her dead?”
“No. No, because then it’s over, and that’s not payment enough.” She drew a breath, shaky, then another, stronger.“Whitney said it happened fast. They’re talking, and Chase just reached over, snapped her neck. He didn’t even try to resist afterward, just let them haul him away. They’ve got him on suicide watch.”
“Look at me, listen to me.” His tone was brisk and firm. He wouldn’t have it, wouldn’t have her carrying this load.“Can’t you see whatever you wanted, however you played this, it would have ended the same? She wouldn’t have been satisfied with a deal. She would still have tried to use him, he would still have killed her.”
“Maybe. Maybe.”
“Eve, you saw that child moments ago, that tiny new life that carries part of your name. There’s a beginning for you, and you helped bring it to be. It’s pure. We can’t be, you and I, and he won’t stay that way. But by doing what you did, by being what you are, you gave him his family.”
“So close it up where it belongs.” She closed her eyes, nodded.“You’re right, I know you’re right. I will.”
“Dallas? Sorry.” Peabody stiffled a yawn.“Mavis is asking for you. Oh, and she’s up to seven. Some of us are heading down to get a bite to eat. We’re taking Leonardo, because the midwife said we’ve got time.”
“But -”
“She said she’d really just like a little quiet time, with you.”
“Okay, okay. Wipe that relieved look off your face, ace,” she warned Roarke.“You’re still going to be there for liftoff.”
“God pity me.” But he rose, put his arms around her, brushed his lips over her brow.“Think of what’s been saved,” he murmured.“Think of the look on Tandy’s face when she held her son. There’s no place for the dark here.”
“Right again.” She held onto him one more moment.“Thanks.”
Eve thought Mavis was starting to show a little wear when she went back in.“Something happened.” Mavis pushed a little straighter in bed.“Tandy? The baby?”
“No, no, they’re fine. Something on the job.” Close it up, she reminded herself, and remember what’s begun.“It’s not important.”
“You don’t have to leave?”
“Mavis, I’m not going anywhere till you get this job done. How’re you doing? And are you sick of having people ask you that?”
“I’m pretty okay, and no. It’s kind of frosty, being the focus, you know? It’s not like when I’m performing. This is so real, like primal even, and I’m the only one who can do it. Can you just sit here, be with me?”
“At your beck.”
Because Mavis patted the bed, Eve sat on the side of it.“I wanted… Oh, here it comes again. Getting stronger. Shit, damn, fuck.”
“You gotta breathe. Where’s the focus thing?”
“You are, right now. I’m sick of looking at fucking sunshine.”
Mavis puffed, staring so hard into Eve’s eyes, Eve wondered she didn’t lance right through to her brain. Then she remembered one of the options from the class, and laid hands on Mavis’s belly, rubbing light circles on what now felt like a mound of concrete.
“Easing back, isn’t it? Yeah, it is,” Eve said with a glance toward the monitor.“Coming down, leveling off, good work. Blow it out.”
When she had, Mavis managed a grin.“You were paying attention in class.”
“I’ll remind you I’m a cop. We hear and see all. You know, they have drugs for this.”
“Yeah, and I’m thinking about it. It’s just I’ve never done anything like this before. I think I’m going to go a while longer first. Right now, I wanted the just-you-and-me time. Look.”
She held up her left hand, and Summerset’s ring glinted.
“Yeah, I’m happy for you.”
“Couple of old married ladies now. Who’d’ve thought it? Pretty soon, I’m going to be a mother. I want more than anything to be a good one.”
“Mavis, it’s in the bag.”
“There are so many ways to screw up. I used to be such a screw-up. But I came around, right?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I wanted to say something to you, before everything changes again. Because I know this is going to change everything. A good change. An abso mag change, but still. Dallas, you’re the best person I know.”
“Are you sure you haven’t had drugs already?”
Mavis gave a watery laugh.“I mean it. Leonardo, he’s the sweetest, but you’re the best. You do what’s right, you do what matters, whatever it takes. You’re the first of my family, and you really started me on the road. I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be doing this except for you.”
“I think Leonardo had more to do with it.”
Mavis grinned, rubbed her belly.“Yeah, he had the fun part. I love you. We love you.” She took Eve’s hand, laid it on her belly.“I wanted to tell you.”
“Mavis, if I didn’t love you, I’d be a thousand miles from this room.”
“I know.” Now she hooted out a wicked laugh.“It’s kind of a kick to know. But you do what’s right. You do what matters, so you are so completely stuck. Oh, shit, damn, fuck, here comes another one.”
Two hours later, with a little something to take the leading edge off, Mavis was pronounced”ready to push.”
“All right, team.” Randa lifted the tent between Mavis’s legs.“Positions.”
“Why is this my position?” Eve demanded when she was maneuvered to the bottom of the bed.
“Mavis, I want you to take a long deep breath on the next contraction, hold it for the count of ten, and push. Dallas, give her resistance. Leonardo, on the resistance, pull. Roarke, on breathing.”
“It’s coming!”
“Get your breath, and go. Push! One, two…”
“Mag! You’re amazing,” Leonardo declared when the contraction passed.“You’re a miracle. Breathe slow now, sugarcake. You don’t want to hyperventilate.”
“I love you,” Mavis said with her eyes closed and her face slack.“But if you tell me how to breathe one more time, I’ll yank your tongue out of your mouth and strangle you with it. Here it comes again.”
During the next hour, Leonardo bathed Mavis’s face with cool cloths, gave her ice chips, hunched in shame when she snapped at his over-cheery encouragement.
For herself, Eve did her job and looked anywhere but at what was going on below.
“I think we should switch.” She narrowed her eyes at Roarke as Mavis sucked in for the next round.
“There’s no power in heaven or hell that could make me go down there.”
“That’s the way, Mavis,” Randa encouraged.“See, the head.”
Instinctively Roarke glanced at the mirror angled for Mavis.“Oh, God! My eyes.”
Pulling on the bright red strap Leonardo held, pushing strongly with her foot against Eve, Mavis let out a nearly inhuman growl, then plopped back and panted.
“A couple more,” the midwife told her.“Just a couple more.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You can do it, starshine!”
Mavis bared her teeth at Leonardo.“You want to switch places? Shit, shit, shit.” She reared up, grabbed the strap, and dug her free hand, nails first, into Roarke’s.
“Head’s out. What a great face!”
With one eye shut, Eve looked down, and saw the wet, slack face that was vaguely human poked out of Mavis’s crotch.“Is that even possible? Can that be right?”
“One more, Mavis, and you’ve got yourself a baby.”
“I’m so tired.”
Eve blew the hair out of her eyes, waited until Mavis’s glazed ones met hers.“One more time, for-the-money shot.”
“Okay, okay, here it comes.”
It slid out, slippery, wriggling as Mavis pushed with a vengeance. Its cry was raw and irritated, in counterpoint to Mavis’s weeping laugh.“My baby! Our baby! What is it? I can’t see that part. Does it have a dingle or not?”
Eve cocked her head as the midwife held up the now-wailing baby.“Dingle-free. It’s a girl. Got some serious lungs on her.”
Leonardo wept as he cut the cord, wept as the baby was laid on Mavis’s belly.“Look at my beautiful girls. Look at my girls.” He spoke it like a prayer.“Do you see them?”
“It all right, Daddy.” Mavis crooned, stroking his hair with one hand, the baby’s back with the other.“Hello, my baby. Hello, true love. I’m going to do everything I can so the world doesn’t suck for you.”
“We’ll need her for just a minute,” Randa told Mavis.“Just to clean her up, to weigh her. Dolly’s going to take her and bring her right back to you. She’s a real beauty, Mom.”
“Mom.” Mavis pressed her lips to the baby’s head before Dolly lifted her.“I’m a mom. Thank you.” She reached for Roarke’s hand, then smiled down at Eve.“Thank you.”
“She is beautiful.” Roarke leaned over to kiss Mavis’s cheek.“Like a perfectly beautiful doll.”
“She’ll suit her name.” Leonardo wiped tears from his eyes.
“We went all over the place on names, remember, Dallas?”
“I think Radish was the last you ran by me.”
“Apricot.” Mavis rolled her eyes, and simply glowed.“But we decided to go with something softer, if it was a girl. Something sweet. She’s Bella. Bella Eve. We’ll call her Belle.”
The beautiful Belle was wrapped in a pink blanket, her pretty bald head covered in a pink hat, and placed in her father’s big arms.“Now,” he whispered,“I have everything. I have the world.”
Hours later, Eve stood in the quiet of her own bedroom, and pulled off her boots.“Hell of a day.”
“Hell of several.”
“We did okay, didn’t we? Coach Roarke.”
“Some shaky moments, but I think, yes, we did just fine. And thank all the gods it’s done.”
“It kind of looked like that vid - the pod people vid, before they’re fully formed.”
Tunneling his fingers through his hair, Roarke frowned at her.“Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”
“Yeah, that. It - I mean she - kind of looked like that when she came out, then she didn’t. She looked mostly real. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I’m glad Mavis cornered us into doing this. It meant a lot, to see this through with her.”
“It did.” He crossed to her, put his arms around her.“And you’ve two lives, two new beginnings, carrying your name. That’s quite a tribute, Lieutenant.”
“Hope I never have to arrest them.”
He laughed, swept her up.“I want you in bed.”
“I want to be there, too. Be glad if you came along.” She pressed her lips to the side of his neck.“I’ve got to clean up the mess tomorrow, on the job. Tie up the last of it. Might take two days, but no more than. Anyway, the new mother will sulk if we don’t come in and ga-ga over Belle. But then, it’s just you and me, pal. Dancing naked under the tropical sun.”
“Hallelujah.”
When she was wrapped around him, she let it all go, the questions, the answers, life and death. They’d all wait for her until the morning.