Memory in Death

chapter 9

SHE ATE BECAUSE HE’D NAG HER OTHERWISE.

And the mechanical act of fueling the body gave her more time to think. She had a glass of wine, nursing it throughout the meal. Small sips, like medicine taken reluctantly.

She left the wall screen on, data scrolling over. More pieces of the players she knew, or knew of, thus far. Trudy herself, and Bobby, Zana, and Bobby’s partner, Densil K. Easton.

Finances looked solid, if not spectacular, all around. Easton had attended the same college as Bobby, graduated with him. He was married, one offspring.

A knuckle rap for disorderly conduct his last year in college. Otherwise, no criminal.

Still, a good candidate if Trudy had a partner, or a lover. Who’d know the ins and outs of personal and professional data better than the son’s business partner?

Easy enough to get from Texas to New York. Tell the wife you’ve got to make a quick trip out of town, wheel a deal.

The killer had to be good with details. Remembering to take Trudy’s ‘link, bringing the weapon, or using something handy, then taking it along with him.

Quick temper, though, bashing a woman’s brains out with a couple of hard blows. But not rage.

Purpose.

And what was the purpose?

“Why don’t you talk it through,” Roarke suggested, tipped his glass toward her. “It might help.”

“Just circling around it. I need to see the body again, need to talk to Bobby and his wife again, check out this business partner, Densil Easton, get a line on if the vic had any lovers or tight friends. Sweepers didn’t find much. Plenty of prints. Vic’s, son’s, daughter-in-law’s, the maid’s. A couple of others that checked out as previous guests, back home and alibied at the time in question. No prints on the escape platform or ladder. Got blood there, and some smeared pigeon shit.”

“Lovely.”

“Little bit of blood in the drain, and I’m betting it’s the vic’s.”

“Meaning the killer didn’t wash up at the scene, and either wiped whatever he touched, or sealed up. So you’d say prepared.”

“Maybe prepared, maybe somebody who knows how to seize opportunity.” She was silent a long moment. “I don’t feel.”

“Don’t feel what?”

“What I’m used to feeling. They’re worried I can’t be objective because I knew her, but that’s not the problem. I don’t feel… I guess it’s a connection. I always feel some kind of connection. I knew her, and I don’t feel anything at all. I helped scrape two men off the sidewalk a few days ago.”

Tubbs—Max Lawrence in his Santa suit—and Leo Jacobs, husband and father.

“Their mothers wouldn’t have recognized them,” she continued. “I didn’t know them, but I felt… I felt pity and anger. You’re supposed to put that aside. It doesn’t help the victims, the investigation, that pity, that anger. But it does. If I can hold on to it, just enough of it to drive me on. But I don’t have it. I can’t hold what I don’t have.”

“Why should you?”

She looked up sharply. “Because—”

“Because she’s dead? Death conveniently makes her worth your pity, your anger? Why? She preyed on you, an innocent and traumatized child. And how many others. Eve? Have you thought of that?”

Her throat burned. But it was his anger heating it, she realized. Not her own. “Yes. Yes, I’ve thought of that. And I’ve also thought that because I don’t feel, or can’t, I should’ve passed on this. And I can’t pass because if you can walk away, even once if you can just turn your back and walk, you’ve lost what made you.”

“Then use something else this time.” He reached over, just to brush his fingers over the back of her hand. “Your curiosity. Who, why, how? You want to know, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” She looked back at the screens. “Yeah, I want to know.”

“Then let that be enough this time. This one time.”

“I guess it’s going to have to be.”

* * *

So she set up her board, reviewed her notes, compiled lists, checked data. When her office ‘link beeped, she checked the readout, glanced at Roarke. “It’s Bobby.”

She answered. “Dallas.”

“Um, sorry. I’m sorry to contact you at home, and so late. It’s Bobby Lombard.”

“Yeah, it’s all right. What’s the problem?”

Other than your mother being dead, she thought, and the fact that you look one thin step up from a ghost.

“I wanted to ask, if we can move. I mean, if we can get another hotel.” His hand lifted, raked through his short, sandy hair. “It’s hard— it’s hard to be here, right down the hall from… It’s hard.”

“You got a place in mind?”

“I… no. I tried a couple of places. Things are booked. Christmas. But Zana said maybe we had to stay here, and I didn’t think of that, so I wanted to ask.”

“Hold on.” She put the ‘link on wait mode. “You saw the digs they were in. You got anything comparable to that, something that has a vacancy for a few days?”

“There’s always something.”

“Thanks.” She changed modes. “Listen, Bobby, I can have a place for you tomorrow. I need you to hang on there tonight, and I’ll have a new location for you in the morning.”

“That’s nice of you. It’s a lot of bother. I’m not thinking so clear right now.”

“You can hang on for tonight, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He passed his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what exactly we should do.”

“Just stay there. My partner and I will come by in the morning. About eight. We need to do a follow-up, and afterward you can relocate.”

“Okay. That’s good. Okay. Can you tell me if you know anything about… if you know anything more?”

“We’ll talk in the morning, Bobby.”

“Yeah.” His breath came out in a sigh. “In the morning. Thanks. Sorry.”

“No problem.”

When she disconnected, Roarke moved over behind her chair, laid his hands on her shoulders. “You have pity enough,” he said quietly.

* * *

She thought she would dream, thought the nightmares would chase her in sleep, hunt her down. But they stayed shadows, never took form. Twice she woke, her body tight and tensed for the fight that didn’t come. In the morning, tired and edgy, she tried to combat the fatigue with a blistering shower, with strong coffee.

In the end, she picked up her shield, shouldered on her weapon.

She’d do the job, she told herself. If there was an empty place inside her, she’d just fill it with work.

Roarke walked in, already suited up for the day. Those staggering blue eyes alert, aware. Once all she’d had was the work, and those empty places.

Now she had him.

“I thought hell had frozen over during the night.” She took a slug out of her second mug of coffee. “Since you weren’t sitting here scanning the financials when I got up.”

“Did that in my office, so hell’s still a fiery pit, if that’s a comfort.” He tossed her a memo cube. “Took care of this from there as well. Mid-level, Big Apple Hotel. It should suit them.”

“Thanks.” She pushed it into her pocket as he cocked his head and studied her.

“You don’t look rested.”

“If I were a girl, a comment like that would piss me off. I think.”

Now he smiled, moved in to touch his lips to hers. “Lucky for both of us, then.” And he laid his cheek to hers, rubbed. “Nearly Christmas.”

“I know, seeing as the room smells like a forest from the big-ass tree you had hauled in here.”

He smiled at it over her shoulder. “You had a fine time hanging the baubles on the boughs, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, that was good. I had a better time banging your brains out under them.”

“That did put a nice finish on things.” He eased back, smoothed his thumbs under her eyes. “I don’t like seeing shadows there.”

“You bought the territory, Ace. They go with it.”

“I want a date with you, Lieutenant, seeing as our Sunday plans were aborted.”

“I thought dates went out with the I do’s. Isn’t that in the marriage rule book?”

“You didn’t read the fine print. Christmas Eve, barring emergencies. You and me, in the parlor. We’ll open our gifts, drink a great deal of Christmas cheer, and take turns banging each other’s brains out.”

“Will there be cookies?”

“Without a doubt.”

“I’m there. Gotta go.” She pushed the coffee into his hand. “Peabody’s meeting me at the crime scene.” Then she grabbed his hair, gave it a yank, and gave him a hard, noisy kiss. “See you.”

He was better than hot showers and real coffee for getting the system up and running, she decided. And she had one more thing left to top it off.

She jogged down the stairs, grabbed her coat from the newel post, and sent Summerset a wide, toothy smile as she swirled it on. “Figured out just what to get you for Christmas. A brand-new shiny stick for you to shove up your ass. The one you’ve had up there the past couple decades must be showing some wear.”

She strode out to her car with the smile still on her face. She had to admit, despite a shitty night’s sleep, she wasn’t feeling half bad.

* * *

Peabody was stomping up and down in front of the hotel when Eve pulled up. The way she was eating up sidewalk told Eve she was either trying to walk off a few calories, cold—which didn’t seem possible as she had some sort of long muffler deal wrapped about six times around her neck—or seriously pissed.

It only took one look at her partner’s face to opt for door number three.

“What is that?” Eve demanded.

“What is what?”

“That thing that’s strangling you. Should I call pest control?”

“It’s a scarf. My grandmother wove it, sent it to me, and told me to open it now. So I did.”

Eve pursed her lips, studied the length of zigzagging reds and greens. “Festive.”

“It’s warm, and it’s pretty, and it’s the fricking season, isn’t it?”

“Last I checked. You want me to call that exterminator after all, for the bug crawling around in your ass, or are you getting a thrill out of it?”

“He’s such a jerk. He’s a total and complete asshole. What am I doing cohabbing with that moron?”

“Don’t ask me. Really,” Eve said holding up a hand. “Don’t ask me.”

“Is it my fault we’re in a budget crunch? It is not,” Peabody announced and jabbed a finger in Eve’s face. “Is it my fault his stupid family lives in stupid Scotland? I don’t think so. And so what if we spent a couple of measly days with my family at Thanksgiving?” The snaking scarf flew and billowed when Peabody threw up her hands. “They have the sense to live in the United States of America, don’t they? Don’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Eve said cautiously as Peabody’s eyes seemed to pin-wheel with passion. “There’re a lot of them.”

“Well, they do! And I just mention, just casually mention, that maybe we should stick around home for Christmas. You know, seeing as it’s our first one as a couple—and maybe, considering his attitude, our last. Stupid fuckhead. What are you looking at?” she demanded of a man who glanced her way as he walked by. “Yeah, keep walking. Dumbass man.”

“The dumbass man is an innocent bystander. One of those dumbasses we’re sworn to protect and serve.”

“All men are dumbasses. Every mother’s son. He said I was selfish! He said I wasn’t willing to share. Well, bullshit. Doesn’t he wear my earrings? Doesn’t he—”

“If he wears anything else of yours, I really, really don’t want to know about it. We’re on the clock, Peabody.”

“Well, I’m not selfish, and I’m not being stupid. And if it’s so important to him to go roast his damn chestnuts in Scotland, then he can just go. Screw him. I don’t know those people.”

Tears swam now, and had Eve’s stomach going on alert. “No, no, no. No. There’s no crying on the job. No crying on the damn sidewalk in front of a crime scene.”

“His parents, and his family. And his cousin Sheila. You know how he’s always talking about her. I can’t just go over there. I still have five pounds to lose, and I haven’t finished doing this skin-care regimen that’s supposed to shrink my pores—which are currently the circumference of moon craters. And by the time we pay for the flight, we’ll be tapped for a month. We should stay home. Why can’t we just stay home ?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe because you did the holiday thing with your half, and—”

“But he knew my parents. Didn’t he?”

There were still tears threatening, Eve noted, but with the heat in those brown eyes, it was a wonder they didn’t turn to steam.

“Didn’t he meet my parents before that? He wasn’t going in cold. Besides, my family’s different.”

She knew it was a mistake to ask, but the words just popped out of Eve’s mouth. “How do you know?”

“Because they’re my family. And it’s not like I don’t want to meet his. Eventually. But I have to go to a foreign country, and eat—I don’t know—haggis or something. It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, I bet the tofu surprise was a big winner over Thanksgiving.”

Peabody’s pinwheeling eyes went to lethal slits. “Whose side are you on ?”

“Nobody’s. I’m neutral. I’m—what is it—I’m Switzerland. Can we go to work now?”

“He slept on the couch,” Peabody said in a trembling voice. “And he was gone when I got up this morning.”

Eve heaved a huge sigh. “What time is his tour?”

“On at eight, same as me.”

Eve pulled out her communicator, contacted EDD.

“Don’t!” Now Peabody did the panic dance on the sidewalk. “I don’t want him to know I’m worried about him.”

“Shut up. Lieutenant Dallas, Sergeant. Has Detective McNab clocked in?” When she got an affirmative, she nodded. “Thanks, that’s it.” She clicked off. “There, he’s on the job. Like we should be.”

“Bastard.” Tears dried up in eyes gone hard. Her mouth tightened to the width of a scalpel blade. “Just strolls right in to work.”

“Jesus. Jesus Christ. My head. My head.” Eve cradled it in her hands a moment. “Okay. I was going to do this later.” She dug into her pocket, pulled out a small wrapped box. “Take it now.”

“My Christmas present? That’s nice. But I’m not really in the mood to—”

“Open the goddamn thing or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“Sir! Opening it.” She ripped the paper, stuffed it hurriedly in her pocket, and pulled off the lid. “It’s a key code.”

“That’s right. It’s to the ground transpo that’ll be at the airport over in that foreign country. Air transpo’s been arranged, for two, on one of Roarke’s private shuttles. Round trip. Merry fricking Christmas. Do what you want with it.”

“I—you—one of the shuttles? Free?” Peabody’s cheeks went pink as a summer rose. “And—and—and—a vehicle when we get there? It’s so… It’s so seriously mag.”

“Great. Can we go now?”

“Dallas!”

“No. No. No hugs. No hugs. No. Oh, shit,” she muttered as Peabody threw her arms around her and squeezed. “We’re on duty, we’re in public. Let me go or I swear I’ll kick your ass so hard that extra five pounds you’re whining about will end up in Trenton.”

Peabody’s response was incoherent and muffled against Eve’s shoulder. “Get snot on my coat, and I’ll strangle you with that scarf after I kick your ass.”

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” Sniffling, Peabody drew back. “It’s the ult. Thanks. Man. Oh boy, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“I guess I’ve got to go now.” Peabody stared down at the box. “I mean, the main part of the excuse—reason. I meant reason. The main part’s flipped, so… Gosh.”

“Whatever.” She’d been feeling pretty good, Eve remembered. And now a frustration headache was circling just over the crown of her skull. “Do you think, maybe, we could go spend just a couple minutes on murder now? Will that fit into your schedule?”

“Yeah. I can shuffle it in. I’m good now. Thanks, Dallas. Really. Thanks. God, I have to go now. I actually have to go.”

“Peabody,” Eve said, darkly, as they entered the building. “Ice is thinning.”

“I’m nearly finished obsessing. Just another minute.”

The same droid manned the desk. Eve didn’t bother to flash her badge, but started up the steps as Peabody muttered to herself. Something about packing, a red sweater, and five pounds.

Ignoring her, Eve checked the seal on the crime scene, found it undisturbed, then continued down the hall. “Once they’re out of the room and gone, I want sweepers. Full sweep,” she added. “Cover the bases.”

She knocked, and seconds later Bobby opened the door. His face looked gaunt, as if grief had carved away some of the flesh. He smelled of soap, and indeed she could see the open bathroom doorway behind him, and the faint sheen of steam still on the mirror over the sink.

There was a murmur from the entertainment screen, as the on-air reporter recounted the morning’s headlines.

“Come in. Ah, come in. I thought you were Zana. That maybe she’d forgotten her key.”

“She’s not here?”

“She went out to get some coffee, some bagels and stuff. I thought she’d be back by now. We packed last night,” he said when Eve glanced at the two suitcases standing by the door. “We wanted to be ready to go. We just don’t want to stay here.”

“Why don’t we sit down, Bobby. We can get some of this out of the way before Zana gets back.”

“She should’ve been back by now. The message said she’d only be twenty minutes.”

“Message?”

“Um…” He looked around the room, one hand raking distractedly through his hair. “She set a message alarm for me. She does things like that. Said she woke up early and wanted to go down to this deli she’d seen a few blocks from here, get some stuff so you’d have coffee when you got here. I don’t like her being out there, alone. After what happened to Mama.”

“Probably a line at the deli, that’s all. She say which one?”

“I don’t remember.” But he went to the bed, picked up the little travel clock on the table, hit playback.

Morning, honey. Time to get up now. Your clothes for today are in the top drawer of the dresser, remember? I’m already up, don’t want to wake you. I know you didn’t sleep very well. I’m just running out to get some coffee and some bagels or danishes, something. Doesn’t feel right to have your friend coming by and not have anything to offer. I should’ve stocked the AutoChef before. Sorry, honey. I’ll be twenty minutes—just running to that deli a couple blocks down. Or up. I can’t figure this city out. Deli Delish. I’ll have coffee for you when you get out of the shower. I love you, honey.

Noting the time on the stamp, Eve flicked Peabody a glance.

“Why don’t I walk out and meet her?” Peabody said. “Give her a hand.”

“Have a seat, Bobby,” Eve told him. “I have a few questions.”

“Okay.” He stared at the door Peabody closed behind her. “I shouldn’t worry. It’s just that she’s never been to New York. She probably turned the wrong way coming out, something like that. Got turned around, that’s all.”

“Peabody’ll find her. Bobby, how long have you known your partner?”

“D.K.? Since college.”

“So you’re tight—on a personal level?”

“Yeah, sure. I was best man at his wedding, and he was at mine. Why?”

“He knew your mother then?”

“I had to tell him, had to call and tell him yesterday.” When his mouth trembled, Bobby firmed it. “He’s covering for me back home. Said he’d come out here if I needed him to. Don’t want him to do that. Christmas coming, and he’s got a family.” Bobby put his head in his hands. “Nothing he can do anyway. Nothing to do.”

“What kind of relationship did he have with your mother?”

“Careful.” When he lifted his head, he nearly mustered a smile. “Oil and water, you know?”

“Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“Well, D.K., he’s what you’d call a risk-taker. I never would’ve gone out on my own if he hadn’t nudged me. My mama, she could be a little critical of people. She didn’t think we’d make it in the business, but we’re doing okay.”

“They didn’t get along?”

“Mostly, D.K. and Marita stayed out of her way. Marita’s his wife.”

“Anyone else she didn’t get along with?”

“Well, I guess Mama wasn’t what you’d call a people person.”

“How about people she did get along with, people she was close to?”

“Me and Zana. Always used to tell me she didn’t need anybody but me, but she made room for Zana. She raised me on her own, you know. That was hard. She had to give up a lot to make sure I had a good home. I came first. She always told me I came first.”

“I know this is hard. How about her assets? She had the house, right?”

“It’s a good place. Can’t have a son in the business and not have a good property. She was pretty well set. Worked hard all her life, was careful with her money. Frugal.”

“You inherit.”

He looked blank. “I guess. We never talked about it.”

“How’d she get along with Zana?”

“Good. Things were a little rough at first. Mama—I was all she had, and she wasn’t real happy about Zana right off. You know how mothers are.” He caught himself, colored. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“No problem. She had a problem with you marrying Zana?”

“Just me getting married, I’d say. But Zana won her over. They get—got along fine.”

“Bobby, were you aware that your mother went to see my husband on Friday afternoon?”

“Your husband? What for?”

“She wanted money. A lot of money.”

He simply stared, shook his head slowly side to side. “That can’t be right.”

He didn’t look shocked, she noted. He simply looked baffled. “Do you know who I’m married to?”

“Yeah, sure. There were all those media reports after the cloning scandal. I couldn’t believe it was you, right up on the screen. I didn’t even remember you at first. It’s been a long time. But Mama did. She—”

“Bobby, your mother came to New York for a reason. She wanted to contact me again because I happen to be married to a man who has a lot of money. She wanted some of it.”

His face remained blank, his voice slow and careful. “That’s just not true. That’s just not.”

“It is true, and it’s very likely she had an associate, and that associate killed her when there was no money given. Bet you could use a couple million dollars, Bobby.”

“A couple million… You think I did that to Mama?” He got shakily to his feet. “That I’d hurt my own mother? A couple million dollars.” His hands went to the sides of his head, squeezed. “This is crazy talk. I don’t know why you’d say things like that. Somebody broke in, came in through the window, and killed my mother. He left her lying on the floor in there. You think I could do that to my own blood? To my own mother?”

She stayed where she was, kept her tone just as brisk, just as firm. “I don’t think anyone broke in, Bobby. I think they came in. I think she knew them. She had other injuries, injuries she sustained hours before her death.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The facial wounds, bruising elsewhere on her person, all were inflicted sometime Friday night. Injuries you claim you knew nothing about.”

“I didn’t. It can’t be.” The words hitched and jumped out of his mouth. “She’d have told me if she was hurt. She’d have told me if somebody hurt her. For God’s sake, this is just crazy.”

“Someone did hurt her. Several hours after she left my husband’s office, where she attempted to shake him down for two million. She left empty-handed. That tells me she was working with someone, and that someone was seriously pissed off. She walked into Roarke’s office and wanted two million to go back to Texas and leave me alone. It’s on record, Bobby.”

There was no color left in his face. “Maybe… maybe she asked for a loan. Maybe she wanted to help me out, with the business. Zana and I are talking about maybe starting a family. Maybe Mama… I don’t understand any of this. You’re making it sound like Mama was— was—

“I’m giving you the facts, Bobby.” Cruelly, she thought, but the cruelty could take him off the suspect list. “I’m asking who she trusted enough, cared for enough to work with on this. The only ones you’re coming up with are you and your wife.”

“Me and Zana? You think one of us could’ve killed her? Could’ve left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room? Over money? Over money that wasn’t even there? Over anything?” he said and sank back onto the side of the bed.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because someone left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room, Bobby. And I think it was over money.”

“Maybe your husband did it.” His head shot up, and his eyes were fierce now. “Maybe he killed my mother.”

“Do you think I’d be telling you any of this if there was a chance of that? If I wasn’t absolutely sure, if the facts weren’t rock solid on his side, what do you think I’d do? Open window, escape platform. Unknown intruder, botched break-in. Sorry for your loss, and that’s that. Look at me.”

She waited until he took a good long look at her face. “I could do that, Bobby. I’m a cop. I’ve got rank, I’ve got respect. I could close the door on this so nobody’d look back. But what I’m going to do is find out who killed your mother and left her lying on that floor. You can count on it.”

“Why? Why do you care? You ran away from her. You took off when she was doing her best by you. You—”

“You know better, Bobby.” She kept her voice low, kept it even. “You know better. You were there.”

He lowered his gaze. “She had a hard time, that’s all. It was hard raising a kid on her own, trying to make ends meet.”

“Maybe. I’ll tell you why I’m doing this, Bobby. I’m doing it for me, and maybe I’m doing it for you. For the kid who snuck me food. But I’ll tell you, if I find out you’re the one who killed her, I’ll lock you in a cage.”

He straightened; he cleared his throat. His face, his voice, were very set now. “I didn’t kill my mother. I never once in my life raised a hand to her. Never once in my life. If she came for money, it was wrong. It was wrong, but she was doing it for me. I wish she’d told me. Or—or somebody made her do it. Somebody threatened her, or me, or—”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” His voice cracked and shattered. “I don’t know.”

“Who knew you were coming to New York?”

“D.K., Marita, the people who work for us, some of the clients. God, the neighbors. We didn’t keep it a secret, for God’s sake.”

“Make a list of everyone you can think of. We’ll work from there.” She rose when the door opened.

Peabody came in all but carrying a pale and shaking Zana.

“Zana. Honey.” Bobby sprang off the bed, leaped to his wife’s side, caught her in his arms. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. A man. I don’t know.” Sobbing now, she threw her arms around Bobby’s neck. “Oh, Bobby.”

“Found her a block east,” Peabody told Eve. “Looked lost, shaken up. She said a man grabbed her, forced her into a building.”

“My God, Zana, honey. Did he hurt you?”

“He had a knife. He said he’d cut me if I screamed or tried to run. I was so scared. I said he could have my purse. I told him to take it.

“I don’t know. I don’t think… Oh, Bobby, he said he killed your mama.”

Eve waded through the next flood of tears, muscled Zana away from Bobby. “Sit down. Stop crying. You’re not hurt.”

“I think he—” With a trembling hand, she reached down the small of her back.

“Take off the coat.” Eve noted the small hole in the red cloth, and the tear in the sweater Zana wore under it. There were a few spots of blood. “Superficial,” Eve said, then pulled up the sweater, examined the shallow cut.

“He stabbed you?” Horrified, Bobby slapped at Eve’s hands to get a look for himself.

“It’s a scratch,” Eve said.

“I don’t feel very well.”

When Zana’s eyes started to roll back, Eve grabbed her and shook. “You’re not going to faint. You’re going to sit down, and you’re going to tell me what happened.” She pushed Zana into a chair, then shoved the woman’s head between her knees. The thin silver dangles at her ears swung like bell clappers.

“Breathe. Peabody.”

“On it.” Already prepared, Peabody came out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth. “It really is a scratch,” she said gently to Bobby. “A little antiseptic wouldn’t hurt.”

“In my travel kit. It’s already packed.” Zana’s voice was weak and wavery. “In my little travel kit in the suitcase. God, can we go home? Can’t we just go home?”

“You’re going to make a statement. On record,” Eve said and showed Zana the recorder. “You got up, went out to get coffee.”

“I feel a little sick to my stomach.”

“No, you don’t,” Eve said brutally. “You left the hotel.”

“I… I wanted to be able to offer you something when you got here. And Bobby’s hardly eaten a thing since… I thought I’d just run out, pick up a few things before he woke up. We didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Okay, you went downstairs.”

“I went down, and I said good morning to the desk clerk. I know he’s a droid, but still. And I went outside. It looked like a nice day, cool though. So I started buttoning up my coat as I walked. Then… he was just there. He had his arm around me so fast, and I could feel the point of the knife. He said if I screamed he’d ram it right into me. Just to walk, keep walking, look down, down at my feet and keep walking. I was so scared. Can I have some water?”

“I’ll get it.” Peabody moved into the kitchenette.

“He walked really fast, and I was afraid I’d trip. Then he’d kill me right there.” Her eyes went glassy again.

“Focus. Concentrate,” Eve snapped. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Zana shivered, hugged herself. “I said, ‘You can have my purse.’ But he didn’t say anything. I was afraid to look up. I thought maybe I should run, but he was strong, and I was too afraid. Then he pushed open this door. It was a bar, I think. It was dark and there was nobody there, but it smelled like a bar, you know. Thank you.”

She took the water in both hands, and still it slopped over the rim as she brought it to her lips. “I can’t stop shaking. I thought he was going to rape me and kill me, and I couldn’t do anything. But he told me to sit down, so I did, and keep my hands on the table, so I did. He said he wanted the money, and I told him to take my purse. Just take it. He said he wanted the full two million, or he’d do to me what he did to Trudy. But he’d cut me up so nobody’d even recognize me when he was finished.”

Tears streamed down her face, sparkled on her lashes. “I said, ‘You killed Mama Tru, you killed her?’ He said he’d do worse to me, and to Bobby, if we didn’t get him the money. Two million dollars. We don’t have two million dollars, Bobby. I told him, my God, where are we going to get that kind of money? He said, ‘Ask the cop.’ And he gave me what he said was a numbered account. He made me say it back, over and over, and said if I screwed it up, if I forgot the number, he’d come find me, and he’d carve it into my ass. That’s what he said. 505748711094463. 505748711094463. 505—”

“Okay, we got it. Keep going.”

“He said for me to just sit there. ‘You sit there, little bitch,’ that’s what he said.” She swiped at her wet cheeks. “ ‘You sit there for fifteen minutes. You come out before then, I’ll kill you.’ And he left me there. I just sat there in the dark. Afraid to get up, afraid he’d come back. I just sat until the time was up. I didn’t know where I was when I came out. I was all turned around. It was so noisy. I started to run, but my legs wouldn’t run, and I couldn’t find my way back. Then the detective came, and she helped me.

“I left my purse. I must’ve left my purse. Or maybe he took it. I didn’t get the coffee.”

She dissolved into tears again. Eve gave her a full minute of them, then pushed. “What did he look like, Zana?”

“I don’t know. Not really. I hardly got a look. He was wearing a hat, like a ski hat, and sunshades. He was tall. I think. He had on black jeans and black boots. I kept looking down, like he said, and I saw his boots. They had laces, and they were scuffed at the toes. I kept looking at his boots. He had big feet.”

“How big?”

“Bigger than Bobby’s. A little bit bigger, I think.”

“What color was his skin?”

“I hardly saw. White, I think. He wore black gloves. But I think he was white. I only got a glimpse, and when he took me inside, it was dark. He stayed behind me the whole time, and it was dark.”

“Facial hair, any scars, marks, tattoos?”

“I didn’t see any.”

“His voice? Any accent?”

“He talked down in his throat, low down. I don’t know.” She looked piteously at Bobby. “I was so scared.”

Eve pressed a little more, but the details were getting hazier.

“I’m going to have you escorted to your new location, and I’m going to put a uniformed guard on you. If you remember anything else, however slight, I want you to contact me.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Why would he kill Mama Tru? Why would he think we could give him so much money ? ”

Eve looked over at Bobby. Then she signalled for Peabody to arrange for the escort. “Bobby will tell you what we know.”