Brotherhood in Death

by J. D. Robb

  Without another word they both drew their weapons.

  Eve stepped to the door, glanced at Peabody, nodded.

  They went through, high and low, right and left.

  Eve straightened, kept her weapon at the ready as she looked up.

  Edward Mira hung from the crystal chandelier. His face was blackened from bruising, his throat gouged and smeared with dried blood. And he was naked but for a computer-generated sign that covered his torso.

  JUSTICE IS SERVED

  “Well, fuck.”

  “I guess it wasn’t a ploy.”

  “If it was, it sure went wrong. Let’s clear the house, Peabody, and call this in.”

  5

  They cleared the house, every step on record. While Peabody called it in, Eve located the mechanism for lowering the chandelier. Something she only knew about because she’d seen them work in her own foyer.

  “You can clean it and stuff without hauling in a ladder,” she told Peabody.

  “Handy. Man, they messed him up good before they hanged him.”

  “I’d say he was alive when they hauled him up there. Gouges on the neck likely self-inflicted. Skin and blood under his nails is likely his. ME will determine that and COD.”

  As Peabody had brought in their field kits, Eve opened hers. While they sealed up, she studied the body. “Beat his face, his genitals, stripped him naked. That says personal, really pissed, and probably sexual.”

  “Sure doesn’t read trying to score a bunch of money. One of the women he diddled with, but like you said before, getting him in and out? Probably had to have a partner.”

  Eve got out tools and gauges, first verified his identity for the record with the Identi-pad.

  “Victim is Mira, Edward James, age sixty-eight. Severe facial contusions and lacerations. Looks like both cheekbones are broken as well as some teeth.” She put on microgoggles. “Check TOD, Peabody. I don’t think these were caused by fists,” she said as she peered closer. “Maybe a sap, likely weighted. Same with the genitals, but there’s some . . . almost like punctures in the groin area.”

  “TOD oh-three-thirty-six.”

  “So, worked on him for while. Bruising on the wrists, look at the pattern.” Rigor mortis had yet to pass, so she used her own wrists to demonstrate, holding them up and together, palms facing. “Looks like he was restrained, hung up, see the pattern? Restrained by the wrists, hoisted up. No sign of bruising on the ankles. Kicked him in the balls, repeatedly. Those shallow punctures? I’m betting shoes with those ridiculous pointed toes.”

  “That says female killer.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of those stupid shoes on guys’ feet, but, yeah, this reads female to me. And sexual motives. Going to kick your balls till they fall off, you fucker. That’s what it says to me.

  “And they sodomized him.”

  Peabody’s shoulders hunched up. “What?”

  “You didn’t look at him from the back. His anus is torn, bloody. They used something to sodomize him. It’s very sexually motivated. It’s personal, and it’s planned out. Bringing him back here where they probably intended to do it all in the first place.”

  “But Mr. Mira came in.”

  “They had a place to take him, and the transportation. Maybe that was always backup, maybe they always intended to haul him off, haul him back, and hang him.”

  She sat back on her heels. “I bet they waited to hoist him up, waited until he was coming to, waited until he could be aware, could know and feel. Then they pushed that button, let him struggle as he went up, watched him choke, watched him tear at his own throat. You don’t go this personal and not want him to feel death, not want to watch it happen.”

  “But do you go that vicious over ending an affair? Do you think someone could be that pissed about being dumped?”

  “Sure. Of course, that means she’s batshit crazy, but there’s no lack of batshit crazy in the world. It would have to mean whoever helped her is equally batshit.”

  Eve got to her feet, closed her eyes a moment to help herself see it.

  “Okay. Yesterday they conned the vic into coming here, talking about selling the house he couldn’t sell without Mr. Mira’s approval, which he wasn’t going to get. He lets them in. Maybe the batshit crazy ex—if so—has hid the crazy and hooks him up with this Realtor. Or maybe she comes as a surprise at his door. One way or the other, they get him back to the study.”

  She moved around the body, a few paces down the foyer.

  “No restraints—or Mr. Mira doesn’t think so, ME will verify—so they have a weapon on him. One holds it on him, the other smacks him around. Mr. Mira comes in, calls out, walks down. They don’t use the weapon on him, are careful to keep out of sight until they can knock him out.”

  She paced as she worked it through because there were variables. The pictures changed depending on how she juggled them in.

  Dissatisfied, she started again.

  “Back up, consider the timing. When the vic first arrived, when Mr. Mira came in. There’s a solid gap of time.”

  “You said they’d started on the vic. That Mr. Mira saw he was injured.”

  “Yeah, but . . . They walked around with the vic some first. Black eye, bloody lip when this is your endgame? They’d barely gotten started, so they walked around, didn’t force him back to the study, that was just part of the tour, the place they jumped him.”

  To satisfy herself, Peabody walked back, glancing in rooms, stopped at the study. And she could see it, too.

  “So if he knew one of them, and he had to because it’s really personal, he wasn’t worried about it.”

  “Exactly. She didn’t pose a threat to him. Fast-forward to Mr. Mira unconscious on the study floor. Completely batshit finishes him off, so not completely batshit. They decide to get the vic out, take him somewhere they can work on him. One of them knows enough to take the security hard drive.”

  Following, Peabody walked back. “Not completely batshit, and not in total panic mode.”

  “That’s right. They have an agenda, a plan, and they hold it together, follow through.”

  “How do they get him out? Counting on the weather to mask the abduction, okay,” Peabody continued. “But how do they get him to go with them?”

  “Maybe they stun him—light stun, just enough to unbalance him. Or drug him. Morris will look for it. They get him into a vehicle. Then they’ve got to do it all again on the other end. Get him out of the vehicle and into wherever they’re going to torture him.

  “He’s going to have to tell us some of it. Whether he was stunned, tranq’d, just intimidated in and out, out and in. Morris will find some of the answers.”

  She looked around. “I don’t think it was about this house. The house was their ploy, and they used it to get him where they could take him. Hanging him here, they wanted him found, but they wanted some impact.”

  “‘Justice is served,’” Peabody read. “Could be someone he sent up, or about someone he didn’t. And the woman, you know, vamped him into a relationship to get close to him, to get intel, to become someone who didn’t worry him.”

  “Maybe so, and we’ll have to dig there. If it’s about someone he sent up, or didn’t, it was about rape. On some level it’s about rape.”

  “Because they raped him.”

  “Somebody does this to another human being and calls it justice? It’s about vengeance, and vengeance this sexual is about sex. So rape’s going to be a factor. At least that’s how it reads for me right now.”

  She glanced over at the knock on the door. “Probably the sweepers or the dead wagon. Go ahead, let them in. And let’s get the uniforms started on a canvass. Anybody who saw a vehicle near the house, noticed lights on last night, with another hit on yesterday between sixteen and eighteen hundred, just to cover it.”

  She looked back down at
Edward Mira. She doubted very much if she’d have liked him in life. But in death, he was hers.

  She pulled out her ’link, walked back toward the study as the morgue team filed in. After blowing out a breath, she contacted Mira.

  “Eve.” Mira barely blinked, and gave Eve no chance to speak at all. “Edward’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, please. Tell me where you are, what happened.”

  “In the house on Spring, and I’m sorry about that, too. I can’t officially determine COD. Morris will—”

  “Eve.”

  Hell, Eve thought. “His face and genitals were severely beaten. He was sodomized.”

  “Ah, dear God.”

  “Ligature marks on his wrists are consistent, to my eye, with him being restrained vertically—arms over his head. I believe he was likely still alive before he was hanged from the ceiling light in the entrance foyer. He had a comp-generated sign around his neck reading ‘Justice Is Served.’”

  “All right.” With her eyes closed, Mira rubbed her fingers over the middle of her forehead. “It’s very personal, sexual—”

  “I’m not asking for a profile, Dr. Mira, not right now. Take a minute. I’m not sure what you want to tell Mr. Mira.”

  Mira opened her eyes. “I’ll tell him what you tell me. Of course.”

  “Okay. I’m going to need to talk to him again. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” There was a snap in the words. Mira held up a hand, visibly regouped. “Don’t apologize,” she said again, calmly now. “Both Dennis and I want you to do everything you have to do, everything you can do to find who did this. Do you want him to come to Central?”

  “No, don’t do that. I’ll go to him. I have to inform next of kin, then I’ll go by and talk to him before I go in. Officially, I’m not going to be able to consult with you on this.”

  “Of course not, the conflict of interest. I’m not thinking straight yet.”

  “But unofficially I’m going to want your help with the profile. Later,” she added. “Go home. You’re going to want to be with him when I interview him. I’m going to contact Whitney, go by the victim’s residence and speak to his wife. That’ll give you time to go home, to tell Mr. Mira before I get there.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I’ll leave here in a few minutes.”

  “One last thing. I’m going to leak this to Nadine Furst.”

  “Oh,” Mira said, on a kind of sigh.

  “The media’s going to know about this fast. I’m going to leak it to her so she can get out in front of it. You’re going to want to screen any incomings, because once this hits, the media’s going to try to talk to you and Mr. Mira. You need a statement.”

  “I know what to do. I’ll take care of that end. Please do what you have to do.”

  “I’ll speak to you within ninety minutes.”

  Eve turned, saw Peabody in the doorway.

  “Sweepers are here, uniforms are canvassing. The morgue wagon’s on its way. I flagged him for Morris.”

  “That covers it. The sweepers will go through the house, but there’s nothing relevant that’s not in the entranceway. For now, we’re finished here. Let’s go break it to the vic’s wife.”

  “I hate that part.”

  “We all do. You’re probably going to hate this time more than usual.”

  She contacted Whitney before she left the crime scene.

  “Tibble was right about the media, particularly given the sexual implications of the murder.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m going to contact Nadine Furst. I’d rather have someone I know and trust, someone who knows the Miras, take the media lead on this. Whatever comes after, what goes out first will be fair.”

  “Do it. I’ll speak with Tibble and with our media liaison. And dot those i’s, Dallas, right down the line.”

  “Let’s move,” she told Peabody when Whitney clicked off. “I’ll contact Nadine on the way.”

  The minute she slid behind the wheel, Eve used the in-dash to contact Nadine.

  The reporter, looking on-camera ready as usual, greeted her with a brilliant smile. “Dallas. I happen to be with your delicious husband in what may be my new triplex penthouse. I was just wishing he came with it, then it would be a done deal.”

  “Get your own, and put on your media hat.”

  The humor dropped out of Nadine’s foxy green eyes, turning them sharp. “What do you have?”

  “Less than an hour ago Peabody and I discovered the body of former Senator Edward Mira in the former residence of the senator’s grandparents.”

  “Shit, damn, fuck. Let me get my recorder.”

  “Just listen. The victim had been brutally beaten, then hanged. He’d also been sodomized.”

  “Christ, this story’s going to burn.”

  “Yesterday at approximately five-twenty-five P.M., according to the log of the Rapid Cab used for transportation, the senator’s cousin Dennis Mira—no, go with Professor Mira, he’s one of those—entered the residence, and was attacked and rendered unconscious after seeing the senator injured and trying to go to his assistance. Professor Mira contacted the NYPSD. Since that time, investigators have attempted to locate the senator, who they believe was held against his will in another location before being brought back to the residence. The chief medical examiner is working to determine the time and cause of death. The primary investigator has no comment at this time, but the department intends to issue a statement once details are confirmed.”

  “God, when you drop one on me, you drop it big-time.”

  “I’m on my way to notify next of kin. You can’t air that until Peabody gives you the green.”

  “All right. How’s Dennis? Is he all right?”

  Eve let out a breath. Friendships didn’t come easily to her, but when they did, they came solid.

  “There are two reasons I’m giving you the jump. You’ll wait for the green, and you asked about Mr. Mira. He’s okay. He got banged up a little, but he’s okay.”

  “And now it’s my job to ask if you have any leads, any suspects.”

  “No, because I’m still doing my job. Since you’re with Roarke, tell him I okayed it for him to fill you in on the details of the grandfather’s estate, the brownstone. That’s going to come out anyway, and I’d rather you played it at the opening. What I don’t want is even a whiff that Mr. Mira is a suspect, even a person of interest. He’s a witness and a victim himself. That’s it.”

  “You should know me better.”

  “I do, that’s why I contacted you before I notified next of kin. Peabody will give you the green as soon as we do. I’ve got to go.”

  “So do I now.”

  They both clicked off, and Eve scowled at the traffic.

  “How are you going to handle Mr. Mira?”

  Eve’s scowl deepened. “What do you mean, ‘handle’?”

  “Look, first off, I know he didn’t have anything to do with this. I’m talking about the whole dotting the i’s thing. He was the last person to see the vic alive, and he and the vic had a strained relationship at least partially due to the house the vic’s body was hanged in. So I know how we’d handle it if we didn’t know and love Mr. Mira. But . . .”

  “We’ll dot the fucking i’s, Peabody.”

  “I don’t want to throw off the rhythm.”

  “You won’t.”

  By the time she pulled up in front of the shiny spear of the building, Eve was primed for trouble. A different doorman wore the polar bear suit and instantly jogged her way. Eve slammed out of the car, shot up her badge.

  “We’re the police, and here on police business. That’s a police vehicle and it stays just where it is. You give me any lip over that, my partner here is going to arrest you for obstruction of justice and interfering in a police investigation, and arran
ge to have you hauled down to Central.”

  He had a deep brown face against the snow white of the livery, and that face went carefully blank. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “That’s smart. You need to clear us up to Edward and Mandy Mira’s apartment.”

  Now he winced. “It just would be. Look, I have to follow procedure. You’re doing your job, right? I’ve got to do mine. I need to clear it with the Miras’ personal security.”

  “Then do that.”

  He walked toward the building, and had the grace—or the training—to hold the door open for them. “If you’ll give me a minute.”

  He went to the same system used the night before, tapped in a code. “Hank, it’s Jonah on the door. There are a couple of cops here who—”

  Eve nudged Jonah aside. “Hank, Lieutenant Dallas. Don’t screw around. You need to clear me and my partner up there, asap.”

  “It could be my ass this time. She put you on the banned list.”

  “She needs to talk to me. If she won’t let me up, she’ll end up hearing what I have to tell her on a media bulletin. Clear me up, tell her that.”

  “Hell, it’s a crap job anyway. You’re clear. Jonah, they’re clear.”

  “Copy that.”

  “I know the way,” Eve told him, and walked to the elevator she’d used before.

  “Fancy,” Peabody said when they stepped on.

  “Eyes and ears,” Eve said.

  “Really?” Humming to herself, Peabody looked around the car, sniffed the roses. “You get to use the new dojo much?”

  “I’ve managed a couple times a week. I’m learning to be a bear, a rooster, a crane, a tiger, a dragon. It’s like the animal kingdom. But somehow it ends up being frosty by the time I’m done.”

  “I could like being a dragon,” Peabody speculated, and the doors opened.

  Hank gave them a pained look.

  “She’s going to have the senator give me the what for when he gets back. You get three minutes, then she’s contacting the governor again.”

  “I think she’s not going to do either of those things. Open up, Hank.”