Divided in Death

Chapter 15

Peabody hustled in on lime-green high-tops. She no longer clopped, Eve noted, but sort of… boinged. It was just something else to get used to. She also had a big, toothy grin and a line of colorful little beads worked into her hair from crown to chin.

“Hey, Dallas. I gotta say, Jamaica rocks.”

“You have beads in your hair.”

“Yeah, I got this little braid.” She tugged on it. “I can do that now. I’m not in uniform.”

“But why would you? Never mind. Where are the units?”

“Detective McNab and I transported the units, personally, through customs and security and accompanied them directly here to the off-site lab for analysis and study. They were never out of our control. McNab is with the EDD team at this location now. I left him there to come report to you. Sir.”

“No point in getting sulky because I ragged on your beads.”

“Maybe I just won’t give you your present.”

“Why would you get me a present?”

“To commemorate my first out-of-town as detective.” She dragged it out of her bag. “But you don’t deserve it.”

Eve stared at the little plastic palm tree with the little plastic naked man lounging under it. He held a tiny bowl-shaped glass filled with shimmering green liquid. Alcoholic in nature, no doubt, Eve concluded, from the goofy grin on his face.

“You’re right. I don’t deserve this.”

“It’s kitschy.” Miffed, Peabody set it on Eve’s desk. “And amusing. So there.”

“Uh-huh. I’m going to bring you and the rest of the team up to speed momentarily. We’ll have a short briefing that includes the civilians, then… Hold on,” she said when her ‘link beeped. “Dallas.”

“We’ve got trouble.”

From the tone of Morris’s voice, and the grim look on his face, Eve knew the trouble was serious. “You at the morgue?”

“I’m at the morgue,” he confirmed. “Bissel isn’t.”

“You lost the body?”

“Bodies aren’t lost,” he snapped, though he’d spent the last thirty-five minutes doing both a computerized and a personal search and scan. “And our guests rarely get up and take a walk to the corner deli for a bagel and schmear. Which means someone came in here and helped themselves to him.”

“Okay.” He sounded more insulted than angry. She was about to change that. “Lock the place down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lock it down, Morris. Nobody in, nobody out-living or dead-until I get there. And it’s going to take me close to an hour.”

“An hour to-”

“Seal off the room where the body was stored. Retrieve all security discs for the last twenty-four, and have any and all records of your work on Bissel copied for me. And I want to know everyone who had work or business in the dead zone since the last time you, personally, saw the body. Kade still there?”

“Yes, Kade’s still here, damn it, Dallas.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She cut him off. “Get the rest of the team,” she told Peabody, then let out a curse of her own when her ‘link beeped again. “Move.” She snapped out the order and had Peabody hot-footing it to the door. “Dallas.”

“Lieutenant.” Whitney’s face filled the screen and looked no cheerier than Morris’s. “Report to the Tower for a meeting with the chief and Assistant Director Sparrow of the HSO. Nine hundred.”

“It’ll have to wait.”

He blinked once, and his voice went to ice. “Lieutenant?”

“Sir, I’m about to brief my team. I’ll keep it to the bones, but it has to be done. My presence is then required at the morgue. I’ve just spoken to Chief Medical Examiner Morris. Bissel’s body is missing.”

“Misplaced or gone?”

“I assume gone, sir. I’ve ordered a lockdown, seal, and retrieval. Detective Peabody and I will meet with Morris and evaluate within the hour. I believe this takes precedence over the Tower meeting. Homeland and Sparrow will just have to wait their turn to dance with me.”

“I want the details, every last one of them, ASAP. The meeting will be rescheduled for eleven hundred. Be there, Lieutenant.”

She didn’t bother to respond as he’d cut her off as neatly as she’d cut off Morris. So she just scowled at the ‘link and said, “Fuck.”

Then she rose, turned the murder board face to the wall.

She got her first look at Tokimoto when he walked in beside Reva, and had to remind herself to trust Feeney and Roarke to pick their own people, even when she didn’t know who the hell they were. She decided Reva looked sturdy enough, if a bit gaunt in the face, and that Roarke was off on the love vibes as Tokimoto didn’t touch her, or so much as glance at her as they took seats.

“Captain Feeney will have briefed you on the electronics area,” she began, “so I’m not going there except to say that I need data, any data, and I need it fast. Retrieval is first priority. The Code Red is now secondary.”

“Lieutenant.” Tokimoto spoke in his modulated voice, with his interesting face carefully bland. “May I say that by its very nature a Code Red cannot be secondary. In order to retrieve the data, we have to know how it was corrupted. Learning how it was corrupted will lead us to prevention. It is all of a piece, you see.”

“No, I don’t, which is why I’m not EDD. You were brought in to assist in a homicide investigation. Since the units were corrupted, there was data on said units that concerned person or persons unknown who have killed at least three people. When I see the data, I’ll know why this was of concern, therefore the data is my priority. Understood?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Good. The units that Detectives McNab and Peabody transported from Carter Bissel’s residence are now in-house. Carter Bissel is missing. It must be assumed he is or was part of this. The extent of his involvement is yet to be determined.”

“Blair rarely mentioned him, but if he did he talked about him as a screw-up. I don’t know if that helps at all,” Reva said to Eve. “But he gave me the impression that Carter was an embarrassment to him more than anything else.”

“As far as you know, when was the last time they communicated with each other?”

“I think about a year ago Carter might’ve contacted Blair and asked for money. I walked in while he was setting up an e-transfer and he said something about pissing away money on the monkey on his back named Carter. He was upset, and didn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go. Looking back, I can see I let a lot of things go.”

“Is that the term he used? Monkey on his back?”

“Yeah. He was upset, and pissed off. I remember being surprised he’d lend Carter money, and said so. He shut down the machine and yelled at me that it was his money, his business, and slammed out. Since it was, and I didn’t see the point in having a fight about some jerk I’d never met, I let it pass.”

“Interesting. Roarke, squeeze out some time and find me whatever private and secret accounts Blair Bissel may have had. I’d like to see how often he fed the monkey.” She paused, scanned the room. “It will have been explained to the civilian members of this team that any and all information learned or imparted during this investigation is not to be discussed with anyone on the outside. Friends, neighbors, lovers, media, or the family pets. I’m going to reiterate that and add that if any information is passed, it will be considered an obstruction of justice. If there’s a leak, the leak will be plugged, prosecuted, and will spend some quality time in a cage. I don’t have time to play nice,” she added, reading Roarke’s mind. “These may be your people, but they’re not mine.”

“I don’t believe anyone in this room could mistake your stand on that,” he said. “Lieutenant.”

“If anyone’s offended by that,” she said evenly, “that’s the breaks. I don’t think Chloe McCoy’s too concerned about sensibilities and tender feelings just now. On another level, Bissel, working on his own or in conjunction with the HSO, inserted spy devices into his artwork. We know these devices were in place in various locations in the home he shared with Reva Ewing, and must assume the purpose was to gather intel on projects she was involved in for Securecomp.”

She watched Reva as she spoke, saw her jaw tremble, then firm.

“We’ll need the records of sales so we can track the locations of his other sculptures. They’ll have to be scanned. When that happens, this is going to blow out of the water. You’re going to get wet, Reva, by association.”

“I can handle it.”

“Surely as someone who was victimized, and so intimately, by this very plot, Ewing can’t be blamed for the actions of a man who used and deceived her.”

Reva offered the irate Tokimoto a weak smile. “Sure I can. It’s the way of the world.”

“Some of that backlash may come sooner than later,” Eve continued. “Bissel’s body is missing.”

She watched, watched carefully. Reva’s face went blank as if she’d just heard a phrase in an unknown language. Beside her, Tokimoto jerked in his chair, then reached out without looking and closed his hand directly over Reva’s.

So, Eve surmised, Roarke was right again. She should never bet against the house.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” Reva spoke carefully. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I’ve spoken with the ME, who informed me that Bissel’s body is no longer in the morgue. We’ll proceed on the assumption that it was removed.”

“But… why would anyone take…” Reva’s hand came up, rubbed at her throat as if pushing the words out of a clog. “I just can’t follow this.”

“It’s my job to follow it. Can you verify your whereabouts last night?”

“You’re cruel,” Tokimoto said softly.

“I’m thorough. Reva?”

“Yes. Yes. Um. We had dinner in. My mother and I. We watched screen. Her idea, all comedies. We ate popcorn, drank wine. I had a lot of wine.” She sighed. “We sat up until about one. I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up about four. She’d covered me up. I just rolled over and went back to sleep. Best sleep I’ve had in days.”

“All right. I need the civilians to go back to the lab.” She looked directly at Roarke. “I’d like a complete progress report by fourteen hundred.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would.” He walked to Reva, offered her a hand to bring her to her feet. “Would you like some air first, or a moment to yourself?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Let’s get to work. Let’s just get to work.”

Eve waited until Roarke shut the door, after one last cool look at her.

“Wow.” McNab gave a mock shudder. “Chilled down in here.”

“Button it, moron,” Peabody said under her breath. “Sorry, Lieutenant, the five hundred tiny little braids have cut off the circulation to his brain.”

“Hey.”

“Let’s move on. I’ve run numerous probabilities, none of which has been satisfactory or particularly enlightening. It all depends on how I input the data. But what it comes down to is we don’t yet know what we’re dealing with. Covert operations, a rogue agent, family violence. What we do know is we have three murders, one missing body, a connection in Jamaica.”

“Chloe McCoy was killed for what she knew or had in her possession. The autopsy confirmed that she had inserted birth control. She was expecting a lover. The only lover who has come to light is Blair Bissel.”

“Who’s dead, and among the missing,” Feeney put in.

“There’s little doubt she believed she was expecting Blair Bissel. This was a naive, theatrical, and gullible young woman. Play it right and she would’ve believed her lover had risen from the dead and was coming over to play-to tell her all, to seek her help, to ride off into the sunset with her. The killer had only to gain access to her apartment, keep her calm, induce her to drink the drugged wine. I’m Blair’s friend, associate, brother. He asked me to explain everything to you. He’ll be here as soon as it’s safe.”

“She’d have let him in,” Peabody agreed. “She’d have loved the excitement of it.”

“She certainly would have let him in if it was Blair Bissel.”

McNab stifled a snort. “Risen from the dead.”

“He wouldn’t have to, if he’d never died at all. If he’d set it up.”

“The body was identified, Dallas,” Peabody said. “Prints, DNA, the whole shot.”

“He was HSO, so I’m not ruling out falsified identification. But McCoy throws it off for me. If she had something, knew something, why not take care of it before you perform the main act? Then there’s motive. Why die-taking your lover, setting up your wife? There’s nothing in his files to indicate he was in any trouble with Homeland. From all appearances, he had it locked. Sexy secret job, loving wife who unknowingly feeds you regular intel, a couple of lovers to add variety, a successful career, financial security. Life’s pretty damn good, so why die?”

She sat on the side of her desk. “We could move to the brother. Jealousy, resentment. We know Kade went to see him in Jamaica, and have reason to believe she took him as a lover. Was this HSO-sanctioned? Or was she working on her own, or in league with Blair Bissel? And why? Maybe it was a setup that went wrong. Maybe it was a Cain and Abel, and Carter upped the stakes, took out his brother-too bad about the woman-and set Reva up. It’s a nice nest egg, the estate. If Reva’s tried and convicted of the murders, she won’t inherit. He’d get a chunk of it.”

“Maybe he was blackmailing Blair,” Peabody suggested. “The monkey on his back.”

“Good, that’s what Roarke’s going to help us find out. Carter has something on Blair-the HSO connection, the extramarital, something else-and taps him regularly. Blair’s had about enough of that and decides to shake off the monkey. But killing three people seems a little over the top. Why not just slip down to the islands, do the brother, and go back to your life? Some of these answers have to be on those units. Feeney, I need some answers.”

“Got one for you. Top-drawer face sculptor out of Sweden was killed in what appears to be a botched burglary at his office. Two weeks ago. His patient records have not been retrieved as his data unit was damaged.”

“Damaged?”

“According to the report. Jorgannsen, that was his name, had his throat cut. His drug supply was taken, and his data unit damaged. I’m figuring infected, but there’s no way to verify without seeing the unit.”

“See if you can play nice with your counterpart in Sweden, maybe they’ll transport it to us.”

“Give it a shot.”

“Shoot fast.” She pushed to her feet. “I’ve been called to the Tower at the request of the fucking HSO. I’m taking steps to cover all of our asses because this isn’t going to be neat and pretty. The shit’s going to hit the fan, and if it blows the way I’m hoping, the spooks are going to be up to their knees in it. But there’s bound to be some backdraft. For the duration of this area of investigation, we bunker down here.”

“God.” McNab grinned like an idiot. “How will we stand it?”

“And work twenty-four/seven,” Eve added and watched the grin turn to a wince. “In shifts. Let’s get started. Peabody.”

“Yes, sir. I’m with you.”

“Communication by secured lines only,” she added as she walked out the door and nearly into Roarke.

“Lieutenant, a moment of your time.”

“Walk and talk. I don’t have any moments to spare.”

“I’m just going to ah…” Be somewhere else, Peabody thought, and hurried past them.

“If you’ve got a beef about the way I handled your people, you’ll have to save it. I’m in a hurry.”

“It would take more than a moment to discuss the areas of your sensitivity and people skills. I realize you’re not looking at Reva and were, in your way, establishing her alibi.”

“So?”

“I won’t work in the dark, Eve. If you want my help you can’t give me tasks to perform one moment, then close me out the next. I expect you to trust me with the details.”

“You know all you need to know. When you need to know more, I’ll tell you more.”

He grabbed her arm, spun her around. “Is this your way of slapping at me because I refuse to stand on the same elevated moral ground as you?”

“If I slap at you, pal, believe me, you’ll feel it. This, and that, are two separate issues.”

“Bollocks.”

“Oh, fuck you and the big-ass dick you rode in on.” She jerked away from him and lost control long enough to shove him back.

She saw his eyes fire, but he didn’t shove back, didn’t touch her. She hated herself for resenting that he could keep that violence in line when she couldn’t.

“This is my work, goddamn it, and I don’t have the time or the luxury to think about anything else right now. You don’t like the way I’m running this investigation and this team, then step out. Step the hell out. You don’t know what I’m dealing with.”

“You’ve just made my point. I’ve some concerns, reasonable concerns, about having my wife go up against the HSO. This isn’t just a murderer, or even organized crime. It isn’t some wild-eyed group of terrorists. This is one of the most powerful organizations in the world. If they’re involved in this, as it seems they must be in some aspect, it logically follows that they’d have little compunction about harming a New York City cop who got in their way. Personally or professionally harming that cop. My cop.”

“Deal with it. That’s part of the package you took on. You want to keep my ass out of the sling on this, get me the information. That’s what you can do. That’s all you can do.”

“It’s part of the package I took on,” he agreed in a tone that was dangerously soft. “You’d do well to remember the whole of the one you took on. The whole of it, Eve. You have to live with that, or without it.”

She stood, shocked to the bone, when he turned and walked away from her. Her skin went cold with it, and her stomach cramped and twisted as she rushed down the stairs out of the house. Something of it must have shown on her face as Peabody turned to her when she climbed into the car.

“Dallas? You okay?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could get out words. Her throat was burning. Punching the accelerator, she sent the car speeding down the drive, which was flanked by lovely trees and bushes beginning to fire with the first hints of autumn.

“Men are tough nuts,” Peabody said. “The more I’m around them, the tougher they get. It seems to me that one like Roarke would be tougher than most.”

“He’s pissed that’s all. Really pissed.” She had to press a hand to her troubled stomach. “So am I, goddamn it, so am I. But he got under my guard. He’s really good at getting under your guard. The son of a bitch.” Her breath wanted to hitch so she sucked it in, sucked it in hard. “He knows just where to jab.”

“The more somebody loves you, the better their aim.”

“Christ, he must really love me. I can’t do this now. He knows I can’t do this now.”

“Never a convenient time for relationship upheaval.”

“Who the hell’s side are you on?”

“Well, since I’m sitting beside you, and you punch really hard, I’m on yours. You bet.”

“Gotta put it away.” But she was afraid the sickness in her belly was going to plague her throughout the day. Still, she engaged the dash ‘link and took the next step.

“Nadine Furst.”

“I can’t make lunch. We’ll have to reschedule. As soon as possible.”

“All right.” Nadine didn’t bat a carefully groomed lash. “I’ll clear some time and let you know.”

“Looking forward to it.” Eve signed off.

“What the hell was that?” Peabody demanded.

“Spooks aren’t the only ones who can be covert. That was me telling Nadine to break the story that Blair Bissel was HSO, with a few selected details to confirm and expand upon. We’re going to see whose ass is red by the end of the day.”

“Roarke’s not going to be the only one who’s really pissed.”

“Thanks.” Eve managed a weak smile. “That makes me feel considerably better.”

Morris had done exactly as instructed. Because it took ten full minutes to clear her and Peabody into the morgue, she decided he was more than a little annoyed. He admitted them personally, then led the way through the chilly white tunnel toward the autopsy and viewing rooms.

“What time did you get here this morning?” Eve asked his rigid back.

“Around seven. Early, as I was doing a cop a favor, or had intended to do one by coming in ahead of schedule and running tests on Bissel to see if he’d had any recent facial enhancements or sculpting. I got coffee and reviewed my previous notes on the case, then came down here, about seven-fifteen.”

He used his pass and a voice command to open the secured doors on one of the storage/viewing areas.

“Was this door locked?”

“It was.”

“I’ll have Crime Scene check it for tampering,” Peabody said.

“Bissel’s slot was empty,” Morris continued, and approached the wall of stainless steel refrigerator drawers. He opened one and it let out a whoosh of air and chilly white vapor. “Initially I was annoyed, assuming he’d been moved or misfiled, so I checked the last log-in, which verified he’d been stored properly. I called the AME, Marlie Drew, who was on the night shift. She was still here as she wouldn’t end shift until eight. She had no record of anyone entering this area, adding or removing anything.”

“I’ll need to speak with her.”

“She’s in her office, waiting. We ran a thorough search. His data is still here, his body is not.”

“How many bodies do you have in at this time?”

“Twenty-six. Four came in last night. There was a vehicular accident logged in at two-twenty.”

“You’ve checked all storage areas?”

Insult flashed over his face. “Dallas, this isn’t my first day on the job. When I tell you a body isn’t here, it isn’t here.”

“Okay. So you only had twenty-two before the new ones checked in at two-twenty?”

“No, we had twenty-three. Two were scheduled for disposal-city expense. Two sidewalk sleepers, unclaimed.”

“Disposal.”

Now, fresh irritation layered over the insult and made his voice an icy slash. “You know the damn drill. Unclaimed, indigent, the city cremates after forty-eight hours. We deal with them during the night shift, send them out to a crematorium.”

“Who goes with them?”

“Driver and orderly.” Because he saw where she was heading, he set his teeth. “They wouldn’t have taken Bissel by mistake, if that’s what you’re thinking. We don’t run a damn comedy hour around here. It’s serious and sensitive work to care for the dead.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, Morris.” Her own temper was beginning to fray as she stepped up to and into his face. “But Bissel’s not here, so let’s go through the steps.”

“Fine. There’s a staging area. Bodies slated for transfer and disposal would be logged out from storage-and the records checked-by the AME on duty, and those records would be crosschecked to avoid any mistakes. The transfer team would take them to the staging area, log them out through another series of checks. This isn’t a matter of someone mistakenly slating Bissel for disposal and leaving one of the city jobs behind. I’ve got a damn body missing. The count’s wrong.”

“I’m not thinking it was a mistake. Contact the crematorium first. See how many they did for you last night. And I want the names of the ones who transported the bodies. Are they still on site?”

“Different shifts.” Looking more worried than angry now, Morris led the way out, resecured the door. “They’d have been off by six.” He walked quickly toward his office. He called up the previous night’s schedule even as he engaged his ‘link.

“Powell and Sibresky. I know both these men. They’re big on jokes but they’re efficient. They’re careful. This is Chief Medical Examiner Morris,” he said into the ‘link. “I need to verify a delivery for disposal, city contract, made early this morning.”

“One moment please, Dr. Morris, I’ll connect you with Receiving.”

“Does anybody but me think this is kind of sick?” Peabody wondered. “I mean, Receiving. Yuck.”

“Shut up, Peabody. Do a quick run on this Powell and Sibresky, get me pictures.”

“I gave you pictures,” Morris objected. “People around here don’t just fry up any loose body. There’s a very exacting system in place to… Yes, this is Morris,” he said when Receiving got on the line. “We delivered a John and a Jane Doe early this morning for disposal. Order numbers NYC-JD500251 and 252. Will you verify?”

“Of course, Dr. Morris. Just let me pull those up. I have those deliveries, and disposal was completed. Do you need the verification numbers?”

“No, thank you. That’s enough.”

“Do you need to verify the third delivery?”

Eve didn’t need to see his stomach to know it sank. It showed by the way he slowly lowered his body into his desk chair. “A third?”

“NYC-JD500253. All three were delivered and signed for by the Receiving supervisor, Clemment, at one-oh-six A.M.”

“Disposal is completed?”

“Oh yes, Doctor. Disposal was completed at… three-thirty-eight A.M. Is there something else I can help you with?”

“No. No. Thank you.” He broke transmission. “I don’t know how this could happen. It makes no sense. The order is here, right here.” He tapped his screen. “For two, not three. There’s no third disposal order, no third body cleared from Staging.”

“I need to talk to Powell and Sibresky.”

“I’m going with you. I need to follow this through, Dallas,” he said before she could object. “This is my house. The guests may be dead, but they’re still mine.”

“All right. Get Crime Scene in here, Peabody. And let’s get Feeney to pick us a hotshot from EDD to look at Morris’s unit. I want to know if any of the data’s been altered in the last twenty-four.”

They got a very irritated Sibresky out of bed. Though he mellowed a bit when he saw Morris, he still scratched his butt and bitched.

“What the hell? Me and the old lady work nights. You gotta sleep sometime. You day people think everything runs on your clock.”

“Real sorry to disturb your sleep, Sibresky,” Eve began, “and I’m real sorry you didn’t use a mouthwash before this little conversation.”

“Hey.”

“But the fact is I’m conducting one of those pesky daytime investigations. You took a delivery to the crematorium early this morning.”

“Yeah, so what? That’s my fricking job, lady. Hey, Morris, what the fuck?”

“Sib, this is important. Did you-”

“Morris,” Eve interrupted, more gently than she might have with anyone else. “How many did you take in?”

“Just the one run from the city morgue. We do ‘em in groups if it’s under five. Five or more, you gotta take it in two trips. More of that in the winter when the sleepers kick off from exposure and shit. Good weather like this, it’s pretty slow.”

“How many in the run?”

“Shit.” He poked out his bottom lip in an expression Eve gauged as concentration. “Three. Yeah, three. Two Johns, one Jane. Jesus, we went through the routine, the logs, the paperwork, the sign off, sign in, and shit. Not my fault if somebody decided to claim one of the bodies after the forty-eight.”

“Who authorized the transport for you and Powell?”

“Sal, I guess. You know, Morris, Sally Riser. She logs ‘em out usually from Staging. It was already done when I clocked in, but it wasn’t Powell.”

“What wasn’t Powell?”

“Powell called in sick, so the new guy was working. Real hotdogger,” Sibresky said with a grimace. “Had all the paperwork done when I clocked on. Don’t matter a shit to me. I just drive ‘em.”

“What was the new guy’s name?” Eve demanded.

“Shit, I gotta remember everything at ten in the fricking morning? Angelo, I think his name was. What the hell do I care, he was just filling in for Powell. Wanted to do all the paperwork himself, and that’s fine with me. Like I said, he was a real hotdogger.”

“I bet he was. Peabody.”

Understanding, Peabody pulled photos of Blair and Carter Bissel out of her file bag. “Mr. Sibresky, are either of these the man you know as Angelo?”

“Nah. Hotdogger had a big, stupid mustache, lots of eyebrows, hair all slicked back and hanging to his butt like some kinda fag-ass vid star. Scar on his face, too.” He tapped a finger on his left cheek. “Nasty one, went from the corner of his eye nearly to his mouth. Teeth bucked out, too. Guy was pretty damn ugly.”

“Sibresky, I’m going to ruin your day,” Eve told him. “You’ll need to get dressed, and come down to Central. I need you to look at pictures and work with a police artist.”

“Ah, come on, lady.”

“That’s Lieutenant Lady. Go get your pants on.”