Thankless in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Sir.” A tall curvy brunette clipped over to Roarke. “We’re in place, awaiting any further instructions.”

  “Lieutenant, this is head of building security, Veronica Benston.”

  “Lieutenant.” Benston nodded at Eve. “There’s been no activity outside of the target area. Two units on the subject’s main level, and one on his secondary level are not occupied today as the tenants are out of town. In-residence tenants, as you instructed, have not been notified, as yet, of any police activity.”

  “Give me the rundown as we go. We’re moving.”

  “We’ve kept this elevator clear for you.” Benston led the way, explained any and all occupants and activities on the target level.

  “You’re backup, Benston, and thanks for the assist and the speed of it.” Eve stepped out on Reinhold’s level. She sent Team B a thumbs-up, moved on as they rode to the next level.

  “Shut down his private elevator, block all access and egress to this level. Roarke, I want him blind. I want his alarms and backups shut down.”

  “Benston, would you mind?”

  “It’s done, sir.” She tapped her earbud. “Blind him,” she ordered. “Kill alarms, both levels of target unit.”

  “At hallway door,” Eve said into her own comm, accessing.

  Since Benston offered it, she used Security’s master, then drawing her weapon, went through the door.

  “Get me eyes and ears, McNab.”

  “All over that deal.” He squatted, went to work on a portable. “Good filters,” he said absently. “Excellent shielding. This would take longer without the specs.” He shot Roarke a grin. “Saves me work. You got two human heat sources, LT, and one robotic charge, all main level. Nothing human or e on second level.”

  Eve crouched, studied the screen. “Right in the main living area.” Seconds later, she heard sobbing, pleading.

  “Got your ears,” McNab murmured.

  Please, God, please, I think I’m dying.

  “Team B, in position,” Sanchez said in Eve’s ear.

  “Hold there. Subject and victim are both on main living area. Single droid also on main level.”

  I’ve got my uncle Stan’s passcodes, too.

  Eve held up a fist, signaling, “Wait,” watched as the heat source she identified as Reinhold moved a little farther away from Joe.

  “He’s sitting down—got the droid by him. Put some space between him and the vic. Open it,” she asked Roarke. “Nice and quiet. Move in, Team B. Slow, quiet.”

  Just lie back and enjoy.

  Eve held up three fingers. “On three,” she murmured.

  She went through the door, fast and low, with Peabody fast and high beside her.

  Reinhold squealed. There was no other word to describe it, Eve thought in disgust. He squealed like a little girl, threw his tray of food in the air, and ran for the stairs.

  “Stop! Freeze! Hands in the air!”

  Instead, as Team B charged down, he veered away, grabbed a vase, threw it. It missed by a mile, shattered on the floor.

  Eve considered stunning him as he ran, basically in circles, throwing whatever came to hand while Joe screamed. God, she wanted to stun him. And because she did, she tackled him instead.

  He went down in a skid, kicking, flailing, adding screams to Joe’s, until Eve pressed her weapon to his cheek.

  “Oh, give me a reason, you fuck.”

  “Get off me, get away from me. Kill her!” he ordered the droid, who just stood looking as distressed as a droid was capable of looking.

  Eve dragged Reinhold’s arms behind his back, cuffed him. “Jerald Reinhold, you’re under arrest for murder, multiple counts, for kidnapping, for identity fraud, breaking and entering and all sorts of additional charges. You have the right to remain silent,” she began, and with Peabody’s help managed to get him to his feet.

  He kept letting his legs buckle, so by the time she’d finished reading him the Revised Miranda, she’d had enough. “Officer Carmichael. Take this asshole into custody. Put him in top-level holding at Central until I say different.”

  “You’ve got it, Lieutenant.”

  “And somebody call the medics and a bus for that poor bastard.”

  “Already done.” Detective Carmichael tapped her comm. “On their way.”

  Harnessing her weapon, Eve walked over to Joe, shook her head. “You’re a real goddamn mess, Joe, but you’ll live.”

  “He hurt me. He hurt me.”

  “Yeah, he did.” Eve watched as Roarke and another uniform worked on cutting through rope and tape. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe the next time you start to smirk at a cop, you’ll remember.”

  “Water.” He sobbed, twisted some pity out of her. “Please. He wouldn’t even give me water.”

  “Here you go.” Peabody held a cup to his lips. “Slow now. We’ve got you now, Joe. We’ve got you now.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t listen.”

  “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  Maybe it would, Eve thought, but he’d paid a hell of a price for being an asshole.

  She didn’t rush it; let Reinhold stew and sweat awhile. With her team, she went through every inch of the apartment, passed the electronics, including the droid, to McNab—and Feeney, who’d showed up as the MTs wheeled Joe out, a little steamed they hadn’t waited for him.

  She found it interesting, and a little sad, to discover Reinhold had stocked the full, traditional Thanksgiving feast. And wondered if he’d planned on tucking into it before or after he killed one of his oldest friends.

  She held up the minisaw as Roarke approached. “A new tool for him. I’d say he’d have tested it out on fingers, maybe hands, feet. Then he’d have used it to cut Joe into more easily disposable pieces—using the industrial waste bags we found to get the pieces out.”

  “A lovely thought. And likely accurate. I took the droid,” he added. “Its memory loop is fully intact, going back to when Reinhold reprogrammed it—prior to murdering Farnsworth. It will be very solid evidence for the prosecution.”

  “We’ve got nothing but solid evidence—and a live witness.”

  “So you’ll be visiting the hospital at some point, and not the morgue.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “For most of us. I also spoke with the realtor who arranged the rental. Easy enough now to track it.”

  Idly, Roarke glanced around the main level, and even under the circumstances found satisfaction in the flow of the layout, the use of materials.

  “Reinhold snapped the place up just yesterday, and made arrangements to purchase the furniture already in place.”

  “Trendy and expensive. It suited him, and it saved him time and trouble.”

  “Mmm. So you were right on his style, but he lucked—again—into finding a place where he didn’t have to shop for his furnishings.”

  Eve’s lips turned up in a sharp, grim smile. “Luck changes, and I’m about to finish his run for good. I’m sending the electronics with McNab—and Feeney since his ass is burned I didn’t call him in away from his wife, family, and day off. Anyway. They’ll just log and secure, then they’re sprung. Sanchez and Carmichael are going to work with Crime Scene to seal and secure, then they’re sprung, too. Peabody’s stuck with me. I have to deal with Reinhold today. Now. If it goes smooth enough, I’ll be home for dinner.”

  “We,” he corrected. “I’m with you.”

  “Your family—”

  “You’re my family first. I’ll let them know, and if we’re not going to be back at a reasonable time, they’ll start without us.”

  “Fine.” If it took too long, she thought, she’d push him out. But she needed to get started. “Peabody! Let’s go have a nice little chat with Jerry.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  She worked on strategy as Roarke drove to Central. She had Reinhold’s number now. With Mira’s profile, her own observations, interviews with friends, coworkers, supervisors—she knew what he was, and
believed she knew how he thought.

  “You’re good cop, Peabody.”

  “Aw, damn it.”

  “He’s going to respond to bad cop—me—make excuses, try to hold a line, be a big shot as long as he can hold on to his guts there. And he’s going to respond to good cop, see someone who’s willing to give him leeway on the excuses. He’s not smart enough to understand the dynamics, the rhythm, or how that push-pull undermines.”

  Roarke flicked a glance at Peabody’s sulky face in the rearview. “It’s a classic for a reason,” he reminded her. “And you always know when to slip in with the softer touch. It’s masterful.”

  As Peabody perked up, Eve slid a glance toward Roarke. Talk about masterful.

  In the garage, she reached for the box of props she’d brought from the crime scene. Roarke nudged her aside, hefted it himself.

  “I’m going to know pretty quick how this is going to go,” she told him. “If I think it’s going to drag out, go into hours, I’m going to signal you, or step out and tell you. Let’s make a deal.”

  “I do love a deal.”

  “If it’s going to bog down, you go home, do the turkey thing. Then you can come back. I’ll even get word to you when I think I’m close to wrapping it up. Your aunt shouldn’t have to feel she’s in charge when she’s supposed to be a guest,” Eve added.

  “That was a good one.” He shifted the box as they rode the elevator up. “All right then, that’s a deal.”

  Satisfied with that, Eve got off the elevator. “Peabody takes the box. He’ll look at me as in charge. He’s going to be afraid of me, and I’ll make sure of it. He’s a coward, and fear’s going to break him. He’ll try to push me at first, then he’ll appeal to you,” she told Peabody. “You’re close to his age, you’re not the primary authority figure, and you’ll be sympathetic, to a point. Call him by his first name. That’s connection from you, lack of respect from me.”

  “I get it. He’s in Interview A.”

  “Then I’ll be in Observation,” Roarke said. “Good luck, both of you.”

  “That’s just what we’ve got now.” Eve led the way.

  As she’d instructed on the way in, he’d been put in Interview, but not in restraints—restraints indicated he was something to fear. The uniforms who’d pulled him out of holding and brought him up hadn’t spoken a word. Asked no questions, answered none.

  So now he sat alone in the box, lights on full—sweating, she noted when she stepped in. Beads of sweat on his upper lip, his brow.

  “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Reinhold, Jerald.” She read off a series of case files as she took a seat. “Reinhold, Jerald, you have been informed of your rights, on record. Do you understand your rights and obligations in these matters?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “That’s one of your rights. Do you understand that right, and the rights and obligations as given to you in the Revised Miranda?”

  He turned his head away, stared at the side wall like a petulant child.

  “Okay, fine. Peabody, arrange for him to be taken back to a cage.”

  “I’m not going back down there!”

  Eve just stood, started for the door.

  “All right, all right! Jesus, yes, I understand the stupid rights and shit.”

  “Good.” She came back, sat again. “We can make this quick and easy, Jerry. I mean, for God’s sake, we walked in on you with Joe. You’d done a number on him.”

  “You came onto my private property. That’s a violation of my rights. You can’t use anything you found when you violated my rights.”

  “Seriously?” She eased back and laughed. “That’s your defense? If you’re going to watch fictional crime shows, you should at least pay attention. Ever hear of probable cause, Jerry? Or duly exercised warrants? You abducted and were holding an individual against his will, causing him severe bodily harm. You assaulted said individual, you committed battery, battery with intent, assault with a deadly, and so forth on this individual, and you planned to murder this individual, then saw him to pieces and dispose of him.”

  “You can’t prove any of that!”

  “I can prove all of it. Let’s start with the first part. You abducted Joseph Klein.”

  “Did not!” His voice cracked a little as he jabbed a finger at her, twice. “He came to see me. He walked right into my place on his own. And I was just fooling around, just messing with him.”

  “That’s what you call it? Bashing him in the head with a baseball bat, breaking his teeth, his cheekbones, his jaw, burning him with a torch, cutting him. That’s just messing with him?”

  “He screwed with me; I screwed with him. That’s self-defense. He …” His eyes actually shifted, left and right. “He came to my place and he threatened me. I protected myself.”

  “He gave you a bad time, so beating the shit out of him while you’ve bound him to a chair is self-defense? You’re an idiot, Jerry.”

  “I’m not an idiot!” Harsh red color stained his face, ran down to his neck as if his fury needed to pump through his pores. “I’m smarter than you, smarter than most people. I proved it.”

  “How?”

  “I did what I had to do. I got what I needed to get.”

  “Starting with stabbing your own mother over fifty times.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looked away again. “I wasn’t even there. I came in, and I found them. It was awful.”

  He covered his face with his hands.

  “You’re saying you came home and found your parents dead, Jerry?” Peabody did her masterful slide, a touch of sympathetic horror in her voice. “God.”

  “It was …” He dropped his hands, and for the first time looked at Peabody. “I can’t even tell you. I’d warned them not to just open the door for anybody, but they never listened. And I came in, and they were … all the blood.”

  “Give me a break,” Eve muttered, but Peabody shook her head.

  “Come on, Lieutenant. We wondered about that. What did you do, Jerry?”

  “I don’t know exactly. It’s all kind of crazy in my head. I just freaked. I think maybe I blacked out or had a kind of, I don’t know, seizure or something.”

  “So you don’t really remember what you did after. When did you find them, exactly?”

  “Ah, I guess late Friday night. I came in and—”

  “Where had you been?”

  “Just around. Anyway, nothing made any sense, you know?”

  “Did you come out of your seizure long enough to steal the watch you sold? To transfer your parents’ life savings to accounts you opened?”

  Eve’s question snapped him back. “It was mine since they were dead. I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared—and, and not thinking straight. You try coming home and finding your parents dead, see how you act.”

  “It had to be awful, but … You should’ve called the police, Jerry,” Peabody said, gently.

  “I know. I know that now, but then, I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Straight enough to take what cash and valuables they had in the apartment. Straight enough to withdraw the funds you’d transferred Monday morning,” Eve pointed out. “To book a high-flyer hotel suite and eat hearty Saturday and Sunday nights.”

  “That’s not a crime.” But he swiped at the sweat on his lip. “I needed some money to get by, didn’t I? I needed time to think, then I saw how you cops were after me, and I needed time to figure it out, so—”

  “So you went to Lori Nuccio’s apartment, used the key you hadn’t given back to her after she dumped your sorry ass, and you tortured and killed her.”

  “I did not! And she didn’t dump me, I dumped her. It wasn’t working for me, so I dumped her—and she begged me to stay with her, give her another chance. Then, I figured it out when I heard about how she was dead. The same person who killed my parents killed Lori.”

  “Now, that I agree wi
th.”

  “But Ms. Farnsworth,” Peabody began, gave Reinhold a worried look.

  “Her, too!” Excitement lived on his face as he grabbed his theme, ran with it. “The same person did it, trying to screw with me. See, it was all about screwing with me, so you cops would come after me—maybe kill me before I could prove my innocence. Joe.”

  Eve all but saw the metaphoric lightbulb flash on over his head.

  “I knew it had to be Joe who did it. He’s crazy, anybody’ll tell you, and he was really jealous of me. That’s why I got him to come to my new place, why I was messing with him. I needed to get him to confess so I could turn him over to you.”

  “Wow.” Peabody hoped she looked shocked and impressed instead of showing the absolute disgust she felt. “So Joe killed your parents, and Lori, and Ms. Farnsworth because he was mad at you, jealous of you?”

  “Yeah. He hit on Lori a few times—she told me—and she blew him off. So he was pissed about that, too. And he ragged and ragged on me about Vegas, kept buying me drinks so I got a little, you know, impaired, then pushed me into betting all that money. He made me lose all that money. And, oh! He knew I didn’t really hold anything against Ms. Farnsworth—she taught me a lot. But he ragged on me, so I made like she was a bitch. Just saving face like. Then he goes and kills her so he can pin it on me.”

  “This is very serious, Jerry.”

  “I know, right?” Trying for sincerity, he bobbed his head up and down. “He’s crazy, I guess. But he was ready to admit it. He told me some of it, but I didn’t have the recorder on yet. He said how my ma let him in, was going to fix him a sandwich—she did things like that—and he picked up the knife and stabbed her and stabbed her.”

  He covered his face with his hands again. “My ma.”

  “Golly. Where was your father? Did Joe say?”

  “He said how he got the bat from my room, and he hid and waited till my dad got home. Then he bashed him, and bashed him. And he just left them there.”

  “It’s funny,” Eve said, “how he walked in and out of the building without ever once showing up on security.”

  Oops, she thought as Reinhold’s eyes shifted again. “Ah, sometimes those things don’t work right. The super’s supposed to get it fixed, but he doesn’t. He’s lazy.”