“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 t
o 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 res
t.” 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.”
Robb, J.D. - [Dallas 25] - Memory in Death-v2 Page 22
