Golden in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “You liked Rufty and Duran.”

  “Sure. I knew Mr. Duran a lot better because he was there longer. I mean when I went there. English wasn’t my best subject. I was better at math and science, but he really helped me, helped me keep my grades up there. I even joined the Shakespeare Club my senior year because he helped me, you know, get it. I don’t know what that has to do with—”

  “Miguel.” Eve interrupted him, waited for his eyes to meet hers. “Relax. We’re just looking for some background.”

  “Okay. It’s just when the big boss says go talk to the cops like now, it’s a little scary.”

  “Nothing to be scared of,” Peabody assured him. “You were good at chemistry.”

  “Yeah, well, I liked it. Chem, biology, physics, calculus, programming, comp science.” This time his smile reached his eyes. “All the nerdy stuff. But I had to keep up with the rest, maintain, right? I was on scholarship. Mr. Duran, Ms. Chelsic, Mr. Flint, they really helped me with my weak spots.”

  “You liked the school,” Peabody prompted.

  “I’d never have gotten into MIT, never been able to land a job at Roarke Industries without the chance I got at TAG.”

  “You had some problems with some of the other students,” Eve put in, and he looked down, shrugged.

  “I mostly hung with the other nerds.”

  “Miguel, you were physically assaulted, taken to the hospital for medical treatment.”

  “We work with Detective Callendar,” Peabody added. “You know her.”

  “Sure, sure. We hung a lot back in the day. Still do sometimes, but—”

  “She remembers when you got beat up.”

  Miguel stared hard at his fizzy. “It was awhile ago.”

  “She’s not the only one who remembers,” Eve added. “Mr. Rosalind, your chemistry teacher at Gold, believes you were threatened, assaulted, because you refused to cheat. Dr. Rufty added what he learned of the incident in his records.”

  Looking up, obviously surprised, Miguel blinked. “He did?”

  “He did. It would help us now if you told us what happened.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “You remember the names of teachers who helped you,” Peabody reminded him. “I bet you remember Dr. Rufty, and went to the memorial for his husband this morning because things changed, for the better, when he took over as headmaster. You remember what happened.”

  “We’re gathering information, and information from your last year or so at Gold could help us find the person responsible for two murders.”

  Alarm flashed over his face. His nervous foot tapped faster. “I don’t see how.”

  “It’s our job to see. Tell us what happened.”

  “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble after all this time. I mean, you have to let go, right?”

  “They’re not going to get in trouble, with us, for what they did back then. But we need the information.”

  “Okay, well … Some of the kids liked to pick on the ones who were at TAG on scholarships. Best thing was to try to stay out of their way. It didn’t always work. Some who got picked on did what they had to do. Wrote papers, did homework or projects, um, let somebody copy their work, or even … Okay, so they had somebody they bullied into hacking into some of the teacher networks for exams, even for changing grades. Everybody knew it.”

  “Including Headmaster Grange?”

  “She knew. I can’t prove it, and I don’t want to. But everybody knew she knew. I got some pressure, got pushed around some. I was pretty puny. Some of the teachers—like Mr. Duran, Mr. Rosalind—they tried to look out for me, for the ones like me. But they can’t be everywhere, you know?”

  “Did they ambush you, Miguel?”

  He looked at Eve. “I wasn’t going to cheat. I don’t cheat. I said I’d help them prep, help them study, but that wasn’t good enough. They beat the crap out of me one day. Jesus, I was scared. But I wouldn’t cheat, I wouldn’t dishonor myself, my family that way. When they finished, they said if I told who did it, nobody would believe me. And if I didn’t do what they wanted, they’d go after my brother, my sister. I was the oldest.”

  “You can tell us now. Nobody’s going to hurt your family.”

  “Stephen Whitt and Marshall Cosner. They jumped me. I was stupid, okay? Just stupid. They said okay, help us prep for this lab work that was coming up, and to come to Stephen’s house that night. So I did because I was stupid. They jumped me outside. I guess his parents weren’t home because nobody came out when I yelled. They beat me pretty bad—I don’t remember a lot of it after the first couple minutes. Then they dragged me into a car. I thought they were going to take me somewhere and kill me, because Marshall said how they could, maybe should. Stephen said if I knew what was good for me, I’d copy my work, send it to him, and how my brother and sister would get worse if I said anything. Then they dumped me out way downtown, near the piers. I passed out, I think. I tried to walk home, but I passed out. I woke up in the ambulance.”

  “Just the two of them?” Eve asked.

  “That time, yeah. In school, there were more of them who’d shove you or trip you, or threaten you, whatever. But it was just those two who beat on me that night.”

  “You told your parents, the police.”

  “I was afraid for my brother and sister, my family. So I wouldn’t say who did it. Not then. So the police couldn’t do anything. My parents went to Headmaster Grange because they kept on me until I said it was some kids from school. But she wouldn’t do anything. They wanted to take me out of TAG, but I begged them not to. It was my chance to get into MIT, my chance to do what I wanted, to get a good education, work in the career I wanted, for a good company. It was my chance.”

  “That was brave,” Peabody said.

  “I nearly wet my pants the first day back. I’m all banged up, kids are staring, pointing. And I knew they’d come after me because I wasn’t going to cheat.”

  He took a deep gulp of his fizzy. “Man, I was scared. But this guy? Big guy, a year behind us? He wasn’t a nerd, and he wasn’t with them. A jock guy. Quint Yanger. He decided to look out for me. We barely knew each other, and he just decided he wasn’t going to let them hassle me anymore. Word had gotten around with the kids—Marshall could never keep his mouth shut, and he got high and bragged about it. Quint went right up to Stephen, because he knew he ran things, and he told Stephen if I got hit, he’d get hit twice and harder. If I got shoved, he’d shove him out the nearest window. Like that?”

  For the first time Miguel grinned. “They left me alone. Then Grange left, Rufty came on, and everything changed. Well, except Quint and I are still friends. Best friend I ever had. Anyway, things changed, and I got through high school just fine after that.”

  “Quint Yanger, defensive tackle? First draft choice a couple years back for the Giants?”

  “Yeah, that’s Quint. Big guy. Big heart. I like to think of it this way. If it hadn’t happened, if they hadn’t come after me, Quint and I probably wouldn’t have become friends. Not like we are anyway. And I healed up okay.”

  “You’re an interesting man, Miguel,” Eve decided.

  “Ah, thanks, I guess. I want to say, when Dr. Rufty took over, he called me in, talked to me about that night. I felt, maybe because of Quint, and because, well, they were already gone, I could say who. I guess it felt better to say who.”

  “Did any of this help?”

  “It did.”

  He nodded, looked away. “You probably can’t tell me if you think Stephen or Marshall are involved in the murders.” He paused, then blew out a breath when neither Eve nor Peabody spoke. “I’ve got this far, so I’m going to go all the way. I’m going to say, I don’t know them anymore, and people change. I haven’t seen them since they left TAG right after the winter break. But … I thought they’d kill me that night. It wasn’t just because I was hurt and scared. It was also … they wanted to. I could see it, hear it, feel it. They wanted to, and maybe if they’
d been sure they could get away with it, like they did all the other stuff they did, they would have.”

  He pushed what was left of the fizzy away. “But people change, and I don’t know who they are now.”

  “All right, Miguel. We appreciate you coming in like this. We’ll have you taken back to work.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll take the subway. The big boss said I didn’t have to come back after, but I’m into something I want to finish.”

  “The big boss is lucky to have you.”

  Eve leaned back when Miguel walked out. “Sometimes people change. But mostly they don’t.” She glanced at her wrist unit. “We’re wanted in Whitney’s office.”

  “For a report?”

  “That’ll be part of it. Let’s go.”

  As she rose, Peabody paled a bit. “This is about my little episode with Grange, isn’t it?”

  “That’ll be part of it.”

  “Crap, shit, fuck. I knew it. It’s my slap, Dallas. You weren’t in on it.”

  “I seem to remember not so long ago when similarly summoned someone talking about asses together in the pan.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Butts, asses, same thing. I’m also your LT, so move your butt-ass and let’s get this done.”

  “I can take it,” Peabody muttered as they walked to the glides, since Eve saw a small horde pushing onto the nearest elevator. “I just don’t want it to bog down the investigation. You can feel it heating up. You know, like the pan our asses are in.”

  “Funny.”

  “Feeney freed up Callendar to do some of the property search. McNab’s on something else, but can get into it when he’s done.”

  “That works. After Whitney I’m swinging by the morgue just to check in with Morris. Then I’m working from home. I’m going to pull our expert consultant, civilian, in on the finances. I’ll start on them, but he’ll finish before I could get halfway there.”

  “Yeah, he would. No offense.”

  “None taken.” She paused outside the commander’s office, got the wait signal from his admin.

  “Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody are here, sir. Go right in,” he told them.

  Whitney sat at his desk, his broad back to the city spread behind him. His face, wide and dark, remained impassive as he gestured them forward.

  Then he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands, said, “So.”

  Eve, recognizing the silence as technique, kept her own. But she all but heard Peabody brace to spill, and knocked her right boot against her partner’s left to stop her.

  Whitney quirked an eyebrow, gave the most subtle of nods.

  “We’ll clear the decks first,” Whitney continued. “Detective Peabody, I have a complaint from Headmaster Lotte Grange of Lester Hensen Preparatory in East Washington that during her voluntary interview with you and Lieutenant Dallas this morning, you became abusive toward her in your language and tone, threatened to do physical harm, and had to be ejected from her office. Would this be accurate?”

  Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, Eve thought as loudly as she possibly could.

  Peabody took a breath, steadied herself. “No, sir, that would not be accurate.”

  “In part or in total?”

  “While I don’t consider my language or tone abusive, it was strong in response to the insults Headmaster Grange heaped on my family, my coworkers, my profession, and my lieutenant in her attempt to deflect the line of questioning. I did not threaten her with physical violence. I believe I told her, and stand by the statement, she wasn’t worthy to polish the boot my lieutenant would use to kick her ass. Sir.”

  “So you threatened your lieutenant would use physical violence.”

  “Metaphorically, Commander.”

  “I see. Lieutenant?”

  “Detective Peabody’s statement is accurate, Commander. Grange became insulting, which I saw as a deliberate attempt to distract, and simply her nature. Peabody used the opportunity to reset the interview.”

  “‘Reset’?”

  “Yes, sir. Instead of good cop/bad cop, we played hot cop/cold cop. By suggesting Peabody take a walk, leave me alone with Grange, I allowed Grange to believe she had the upper hand. Temporarily. I was able to shift the balance, and take control of the interview, with the results that are outlined in our report.

  “She’s in this, Commander. Inadvertently or deliberately, but she’s in this. I don’t believe we acted inappropriately given the circumstances and the hostility of this individual. If you disagree, well, you’re the boss.”

  Whitney took a moment. “Well played. All around.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ve just completed an interview with Miguel Rodriges. He attended Gold when Grange was headmaster there, and graduated under Headmaster Rufty. During Grange’s tenure he was bullied, threatened, and assaulted to the point of hospitalization. Grange was aware of this, did nothing. I believe she was also aware of the identities of the assailants. Stephen Whitt and Marshall Cosner.”

  She laid out her theory, compactly, and Whitney leaned back in his chair again as he listened.

  “You believe these men held on to grudges since high school, and now acting on them have killed twice?”

  “And will again. I believe Whitt’s father had an affair with Grange and that, at least in part, led to divorce. Whitt was separated from his friends, his girlfriend, was shifted out of his pecking order. Now that girlfriend is engaged to a wealthy and successful man whose mother is a contender for president. She states she’s had no contact with him, and I believe her. Cosner, the only friend he’s held on to, is an addict, is weak. A follower.”

  “Why not target Grange?”

  “It was Rufty who changed the map for him. I suspect her relationship with his father continued. They may still be involved. It’s likely she blocked for Whitt during his time at the prep school. They ruined his life, took away what he wanted most. Now he’s doing the same to them, those he sees as responsible.”

  “The timing and locations of the drops are good circumstantial.”

  “But we need more,” Eve finished. “We’ll get it. Cosner is the weak spot. We’ll put more pressure on him. I want to bring him in. He didn’t call lawyer the first round, and that might be because he didn’t want word to get to his family he had trouble. He’ll likely lawyer up the second round. But he’ll break.”

  “Make it happen,” Whitney ordered. “I don’t want another spouse on a slab.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As they started out, Whitney called to Peabody. “Detective?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That was a good line about the boot. Best use it sparingly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And be glad he didn’t use his to kick your ass,” Eve added when they headed for the glides.

  “Believe me, I am.”

  “While you’re glad, contact Cosner’s firm. Go through reception, ask for Lowell Cosner.”

  “The father.”

  “Yeah, oops. If you get the father, identify yourself, remind him you spoke earlier about the homicide investigation. Realize your mistake, apologize. You misread your notes, and are trying to contact Marshall Cosner.”

  “So we make sure that word gets up the chain.”

  “Yeah. Try to arrange for Cosner to come in tomorrow for a follow-up interview.”

  “And if he balks?”

  “We’ll speak to his attorney, blah blah. Do the drill. Get the PA on board, and let’s turn up the heat on the weak link. And one more. Let Morris know I’m heading over. If he can’t be there, maybe he could have somebody else give me the rundown.”

  19

  Morris made time, of course. Though she’d have done the same for him, Eve still appreciated it.

  When she walked in, his music sounded like sunshine as he methodically stitched up a Y-cut on a corpse.

  “Nearly done here,” he said without looking up.

  “Take your time. I appr
eciate you making it for me.”

  “Never a problem. This young man thought to rob a store in the Diamond District, using the homemade boomer in his pocket as incentive.”

  Since she’d seen the case on the board in the bullpen—Carmichael and Santiago had caught it—she moved closer. And observed the large, jagged chunk missing from the DB’s right side.

  “Went off in his pocket.”

  “That it did. Fortunately for the bystanders, it wasn’t very powerful. Unfortunately for our guest here, it was powerful enough to blow a hole in him. There now, all done.”

  He stepped back, blinked. “Well, look at you.”

  “What?” Thrown off, Eve glanced down at herself.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  She’d have been less shocked if he’d stabbed her with his scalpel. “I— What?”

  “Like a perfect spring day,” he added as he walked over to clean his hands. “I calls ’em as I sees ’em.”

  “Huh.” Weird, she thought, but … “Thanks.”

  “I suspect you simply wanted another look at Elise Duran, as I can’t add anything of value to my report.”

  He walked to the wall of drawers, opened one. The cool fog puffed out.

  “A woman who took care of herself until her death. Good muscle tone, lovely skin. COD, the same as our first victim. Unlike our first, I see no sign she knew what was happening, attempted to get to a window or door for air, for help. She dropped where she stood. Death came quickly, but painfully.”

  “Has the family been to see her?”

  “The husband. He’s arranged to have her taken to a funeral home tomorrow. The family will hold a private memorial before cremation, then they’ll have an open one for friends and extended family in a few days.”

  Morris touched a hand, briefly, gently, to the top of Elise’s head. “Her husband sat with her for some time, asked if he could just sit with her. And so he did, and talked to her, assuring her he’d take good care of their boys. He’d look out for her parents, and so on.”

  Morris sighed. “There are times, no matter how many you open and close, there are times it breaks the heart.”