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 on-screen. 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 look
ing 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—”
Robb, J.D. - [Dallas 25] - Memory in Death-v2 Page 27
