Memory in Death

Chapter 14

SHE WAS STANDING IN A ROOM, BRILLIANTLY lit, drinking champagne with a group of women. She recognized their faces. The California lawyer was drinking right from the bottle and doing a hip-swinging dance in high red heels. Carly Tween was sitting on a stool with a tall back, sipping delicately while she rubbed her enormous belly with her free hand.

The others—the others who’d been like her—were all chattering the way women do at girl parties. She’d never been fluent in the language of fashion and food and men, so she drank the frothy wine and let the sounds roll over her.

Everyone was duded up. She herself was wearing the same outfit she’d donned for the holiday party. Even in the dream—even knowing it was a dream—her feet ached.

Part of the room was sectioned off, and there the children they’d been sat, watching the party. Hand-me-down clothes, hungry faces, hopeless eyes—all closed off from the lights, the music, the laughter by a sheer glass wall.

Inside it, Bobby served the children sandwiches, and they ate ravenously.

She didn’t belong here, not really. She wasn’t one of them, not quite. And the others sent her quick, sidelong glances, and whispered behind their hands.

Still, it was she who walked first to the body that lay on the floor in the middle of the celebration. Blood stained Trudy’s nightgown and congealed on the glossy floor.

“She’s really not dressed for it,” Maxie said, and smiled as she chugged down more champagne. “All the money she carved out of us, you’d think she could afford a nice outfit. It’s a fricking party, isn’t it?”

“She didn’t plan to be here.”

“You know what they say about plans.” She gave Eve an elbow nudge. “Loosen up. We’re all family here, after all.”

“My family’s not here.” She looked through that sheer glass, into the eyes of children. And wasn’t so sure. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“Suit yourself. Me, I’m going to get this party started.” Maxie turned the bottle over, gripped the neck in both hands, and with a wild laugh smashed it against Trudy’s already shattered head.

Eve leapt forward, shoved her back, but the others swarmed in. She was knocked down, kicked aside, trampled as they fell on the body like dogs.

She crawled clear, struggled to stand. And saw the children behind the glass. Cheering.

Behind them, she saw the shadow, the shape that was her father.

Told you, didn’t I, little girl? Told you they’d toss you into the pit with the spiders.

“No.” She jerked, struck out when someone lifted her.

“Easy now,” Roarke murmured. “I’ve got you.”

“What? What?” With her heart skittering, she shook herself awake in his arms. “What is it?”

“You fell asleep at your desk. Small wonder as it’s nearly two in the morning. You were having a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t…” She took a moment to steady herself. “It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. It was just weird. Just a weird dream. I can walk.”

“I like this better.” Still carrying her, he stepped onto the elevator. “We’d have headed for bed sooner, but I got caught up.”

“I’m fuzzy.” She rubbed her face, but couldn’t scrape away the fatigue. “You get anywhere?”

“What a question. Three accounts so far. I suspect there are more. Feeney can take over with it in the morning. I’ve some work of my own to deal with.”

“What are—”

“Morning’s soon enough. It’s nearly here, in any case.” He stepped out of the elevator, took her straight to the bed. When he started to tug down her pants, she tapped his hands aside.

“I can do that. You might get ideas.”

“Even I have limits, broad though they may be.”

Still, when he slid into bed with her, he drew her close to his side.

She started to nag him into giving her some of the data. And the next thing she knew, it was morning.

He was having coffee in the sitting area, with the viewing screen split between stock reports and the morning bulletins. At the moment, she didn’t care about either. So she grunted what passed for a morning greeting and slogged off to the bathroom.

When she came out, she smelled bacon.

There were two plates on the table. She knew his game. He’d fill her in if and when she ate. To expedite it, she plopped down across from him, grabbed the coffee first.

“So?”

“Good morning to you, too. Such as it is. Forecast is for sleet, possibly turning to snow by midmorning.”

“The fun never ends. The accounts, Roarke.”

He pointed a finger at the cat, who was trying to belly over toward the food. Galahad stopped, and began scratching his ears.

“The accounts the lawyer gave you were closed. Timing coordinates with the cutoff. I found others, off shore and off planet. Numbered, of course, but with some finessing, I unearthed the certified names. Roberta True and Robin Lombardi.”

“Not very imaginative.”

“I don’t think imagination was her strong suit. Greed certainly was. She had close to a million in each. Tracing back, I’ve got the lawyer’s transfers. And another six figures transferred from an account under the names Thom and Carly Tween.”

“Yeah, I knew she’d been scalped some.”

“Also a chunk from a Marlee Peoples.”

“Peoples—that’s the doctor, pediatrician, in Chicago. I wasn’t able to reach her yesterday.”

“There’s more. I made you a list. Deposits that I’ve found so far go back about ten years.”

“Round about the time she’d have lost the pro-mom status. You got a kid in college, you keep the status until he’s done, or turns twenty-four.”

“A handy way to make up for the loss in income.”

“But she doesn’t buy a nice outfit for the party.”

“Sorry?”

“Stupid dream.” Eve shook her head. “Or not so. What the hell did she do with her money, anyway? Comes to New York, stays in an economy hotel.”

Roarke plucked up a piece of bacon, handed it to her. “For some, it’s simply the having, the accumulating. It’s not what you can buy with it.”

Because it was in her hand, she ate the bacon. “Well, Morris said she’d had good face and body work, so she spent some on that. Daughter-in-law stated Trudy left her better jewelry at home, so she spent some there. Personal stuff,” Eve mused. “Appearance. That fits her. And maybe she invested in something. Bobby’s in real estate. Could be she’s got property. Something she figured to retire to when she was done bleeding her former charges.”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. How much she had, who knew she had it, who had access. It might matter.” She ate as she thought about it. “I couldn’t find anything that points to Bobby or his bride. I went through financials, medical, education, criminal. But if either or both of them knew she had a couple million stashed away, and thought there was a shot at doubling that, maybe.”

She toyed with it a moment. “If we can freeze the accounts, prove the funds were from illegal means… Might get the killer to try to follow Trudy’s path to blackmail. Might piss him off, too. And eventually, through the maze of red tape, we might even get the money back where it came from.”

“And justice for all.”

“In a perfect world, which isn’t even close to this one. But it’s an angle. If money was the motive, removing the money could stir things up.”

With some surprise she realized she’d finished her breakfast. She rose. “I’m going to get dressed, get started. Maybe we’ll lower the visual on the security I’ve got on Bobby and Zana. Make it seem like it’s eased up. Need some bait, is what we need.”

She went to the closet, remembered what he’d said about sleet and snow, so detoured to her dresser to dig out a sweater. “It’s the twenty-third, right?”

“Only two more shopping days before Christmas.”

“Makes sense, lighter duty this close to the big day. Couple of out-of-towners cooped up in a hotel. They’d start whining about getting out some. So we let them. See what we can see.”

* * *

At Central, she set up a briefing in one of the conference rooms. She called in Detective Baxter and Officer Trueheart, as well as Feeney, Peabody, and McNab.

She caught them up, then began to assign duties. “Feeney, you’ll continue to follow the money. I realize this isn’t your top priority, so whatever time and manpower you can spare.”

“Things are pretty loose. Losing a lot of my boys over the next day or two. Including this one.” He jerked a thumb at McNab. “No reason I can’t work their asses off until then.”

“Appreciate it. I’m going to need a couple of homers,” she told him. “I want small and discreet. I’m going for a warrant to use them on our two protective custodys.”

“A warrant?” He scratched his fingers into his wiry, ginger-colored hair. “You don’t figure they’ll grant permission?”

“I’m not going to ask for it. So I want something I can get on them without them being aware. You got something in your bag of tricks that’ll give me some audio, it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Tricky.” Considering, he rubbed his chin. “Warrant for something like that, you generally got to have some evidence points to them as suspects, or have their prior knowledge and cooperation.”

She’d already worked the skirt around that one in her head. “In the opinion of the primary, the subjects are already under duress and stress. The purpose of the homers is for their own safety, as the female subject was purportedly abducted once.”

“Purportedly?” Peabody repeated.

“We’ve only got her word on it. We’re running a thin line with these two, between victims and suspects. Homers are my method of walking the line. I’m going to do a dance for the warrant. I’ll call Mira in to back me up if necessary. We get them wired, and we open the cage.”

She turned to Baxter. “That’s where you and your partner come in. I want you out there, soft clothes, tailing them. I want to know where they go, how they look.”

“You’re tossing us out on the street on Christmas Eve—Eve… Eve.” Baxter grinned. “Somebody had to say it.”

“It would be you. They split up, you split up. You stay in contact with each other, and with me. This is low risk, but I don’t want sloppy. They may be approached. It’s unlikely they’ll be harmed. Probability’s in the low twenties. Let’s take that down to zero and keep sharp.”

“Lieutenant?” As was his habit, Trueheart raised his hand. He wasn’t as green as he once was, Baxter was ripening him. But a little color rose up his throat over his uniform collar when Eve turned to him.

“If they are approached, do we move in to apprehend?”

“You observe, use your own judgment. I don’t want you giving chase and losing this guy on the street. You take him if you’re close enough to do so without risk. Otherwise, you follow, give me the coordinates. From all evidence, the victim was target specific. There’s little risk to the populace, so let’s keep it that way.”

She gestured to the board, and Trudy’s picture. “Still, he did that, so we’re dealing with someone who can and will kill if motivated. I want everybody home for Christmas.”

She held Peabody back when the others left. “I’m going to see Mira, run this by her and get her behind me on this warrant. I’ve got names of former fosters. The ones I was unable to reach are marked. See what you can do with them. But first, contact Carly Tween from that list. She wouldn’t talk to me. She’s eight months pregnant, scared, and cranky. Use your soft sell. If you can confirm her husband’s whereabouts for the murder, so much the better.”

“She got a father? Brothers?”

“Shit.” Eve rubbed her neck. “Can’t remember. Doubtful on the father as she was in foster, but check it out.”

“On that. Good luck with the warrant.”

* * *

To Eve’s shock and surprise, Mira’s admin didn’t throw herself bodily in front of the office door. Instead, she beeped through, got the okay, then gestured Eve in.

“Oh, Merry Christmas, Lieutenant, if I don’t see you before.”

“Ah, thanks. Same to you.”

She glanced back, still baffled, as the dragon at the gates began to hum “Jingle Bells.”

“You’d better do a head exam on your admin,” Eve said to Mira as she shut the door. “She’s suddenly perky and she’s out there singing.”

“The holidays do that to people. I told her to put you through at any time, unless I was in session. It’s important that I keep up, not just with the progress of your investigation, but with your emotional state.”

“I’m fine. I’m good. I just need—”

“Sit down, Eve.”

Because Mira turned to her AutoChef, Eve rolled her eyes behind Mira’s back. But she sat, dropping into one of the pretty blue scoop chairs. “I’m hitting snags and dead-ends on the investigation, so I’m pushing it open. I want to—”

“Have some tea.”

“I really don’t—”

“I know, but indulge me. I can tell you didn’t get much sleep. Are you having nightmares?”

“No. Not exactly. I worked late last night.” She took the tea—what choice did she have? “I dropped off for a few minutes. Had a weird dream. Nothing major.”

“Tell me anyway.”

She hadn’t come for a session, damn it. But she knew that arguing with Mira on her own turf was like beating your head against rock.

She described the dream, shrugged. “Weird, mostly. I didn’t feel threatened or out of control.”

“Even when the other women stampeded you?”

“No, that just pissed me off.”

“You saw yourself, as a child, through the glass.”

“Yeah. Having a sandwich. I think it was ham and cheese.”

“And, at the end of it, your father.”

“He’s always there. Can’t get around it. Look, I get it. Him on one side, her on the other. Me in the middle. Then and now. I’m squeezed on this, but it’s not a problem. For once, nobody’s trying to kill me.”

“Do you really feel that different—that distance from the others? The other women?”

“I feel different from most of the women I know. Never can figure out how I end up pals with them, when half the time they’re like another species. Okay, I understood where Maxie was coming from. I know why she felt the way she did, at least initially. Somebody who screwed with her is dead. I don’t feel the same way. Not like busting out the champagne. If I wanted everyone I disliked dead, the city’d be a bloodbath.

“I don’t blame her, but I don’t agree with her. Death isn’t an answer, it’s an end. And murder’s a crime. That makes Trudy, whether I liked her or not, mine. Whoever ended her has to pay for it.”

She hesitated a moment, then decided to finish it out, to close it off with what had just gone through her mind. “I wish I’d had the chance to say what I went there to say to her. To face her like that. More, I wish she were alive so I could help put her away for dogging those women all these years, exploiting them, taking their money and their peace of mind.”

“And you can’t.”

“No. Life’s full of disappointments.”

“Cheery thought,” Mira added.

“Here’s a cheerier one, then: She can’t take from me what I’ve got. I know that. She didn’t. She thought she could get under me, use me. She wouldn’t have. It helps knowing that. Part of what she couldn’t take was what I am. What I am is the cop who’s going to close this case. That’s it.”

“All right. What do you need from me?”

Eve told her of the plans to try for a warrant.

Mira sipped at her tea, and from the expression on her face, Eve knew she was far from convinced. “That’s a shaky line, Eve.”

“I’m freezing the accounts. Money’s cut off. Nobody can get to them in the hotel. Sooner or later I’ve got to spring them. So maybe he waits until I do, until they’re back in Texas. Maybe he goes after one of them there, when they’re not being protected. There’s no motive, at this point, to attack them. Approach, yes, but not attack. Not if money’s the root.”

“What else?”

“Payback, maybe. But I’m hitting dead ends there. The fact is, she could’ve—and probably did—piss off a lot of people we don’t know about. But Zana’s abduction points to money. So that’s our first stop.”

“I’ll back you on this since I agree the physical jeopardy is low. It could be argued that their emotional state is exacerbated by being kept in the hotel, under guard. Some return of normalcy could benefit them, while aiding your investigation.”

“That’s good enough. I’ll get on it.” She rose. “Peabody and McNab are heading for Scotland tomorrow.”

“Scotland? Oh, his family, of course. They must be excited.”

“Peabody’s running on nerves over it. His family and all that. If nothing breaks today, this is going to cool on me over the holiday. Right now, this is my best chance to keep it hot.”

“Then I wish you luck. And if I don’t see you, have a lovely Christmas. Both you and Roarke.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ve got to take care of a couple things regarding that yet.”

“Ah, another last-minute shopper.”

“Not exactly.”

She started toward the door, then turned back and took another study. Mira wore a suit in a kind of rusty red today, and the shoes matched. Her necklace was short, thick gold with a lot of little stones sparkling in it. Multicolored, triangular shape. Her earrings were thick gold triangles.

“Something else?”

“Just a passing thought,” Eve began. “How much time and thought did it take for you to deck yourself out this morning?”

“Deck myself?” Mira looked down at herself.

“You know, to pick the outfit and the stuff, to fiddle with your hair and face. All that. So you’re all put together just so.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s a compliment. Probably the best part of an hour. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Wait.” Mira held up a hand before Eve opened the door. “How long did it take you?”

“Me? I don’t know. Ten minutes?”

“Get out of my office,” Mira said with a laugh.

* * *

Eve gave the warrant a good, solid push. It took over an hour, a lot of tap dancing, but at the end she got what she wanted.

She was told to consider it a Christmas present.

Satisfied, she headed out to the bull pen. “Suit up,” she told Baxter. “Get your boy. I want you in position, at the hotel, in thirty.”

“It’s going to snow. Did you know it’s supposed to start snowing?”

“Wear boots, then.”

Ignoring his whine, she walked to Peabody’s desk, got a little brush-back. “I hear you, Carly.”

Peabody used an earpiece on privacy mode. “You’ve only got one thing to worry about now, and that’s your family. Having another beautiful, healthy baby boy. It’s a big help to us that you cooperated. Now I want you to put it out of your mind, and go enjoy the holidays.”

She listened for a moment, smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch when we have more information. Merry Christmas to you and your family.”

Peabody pulled off the earpiece, then made a show of buffing her nails on her shirt. “I’m good.”

“Did you stop short of sending her a gift? Jesus. What’d you get?”

“Husband’s out of it. He was with her Saturday, in the hospital. She had false labor, and they were there several hours. I ran a secondary check on that while I had her on ‘link. Pans out. No brother, no father. Only child. Jeez, Dallas, she had it rough.”

“Walk and talk. We’ve got a warrant coming through, and I want to head up, see what toys Feeney’s picked out for me.”

“Mother was a junkie. Used while she was pregnant, so Carly was born an addict. She got passed around, various relatives. Too much for them to handle, too much expense, too much trouble.”

They hopped on a glide, blissfully uncrowded as the holidays had everyone who could manage it copping time off.

“She’s dumped in the system. Her physical problems are dealt with, but she’s a hard placement. Scrawny, possible physical complications. Mother cleans up, supposedly—at least enough to get the courts to put the kid back in her care. Then she starts using again, turning tricks. Kid’s ten, and it’s a bad life. Mother gets popped again, but not before she uses the kid to sell a little kiddie porn on the ‘net. Back in the system, and she ends up with Trudy.”

“Who made things worse.”

“I’ll say. Made her scrub in cold water every night. And other various torments. Kid squeals, but nobody’s buying. Not a mark on her. No outward signs of abuse, and it’s all put down to her prior difficulties. Until she tried to off herself. Slashed her own wrists with a kitchen knife.”

Eve paused long enough to breathe out. “Oh, hell.”

“Said it was Bobby who found her, called an ambulance. When she woke up in the hospital, they told her she’d attacked her foster mother. She swore that was a lie, but Trudy had superficial stab wounds on her forearms.”

“Bitch did it to herself.”

“I’m with that. But she’s back in the system again, and this time she stays in state schools until she’s of age.

“She turned her life around, Dallas, you gotta admire it. Scraped it together to go to college for a degree in Elementary Ed, snagged a couple scholarships. She settled out in Iowa, said she just wanted to put it away. Close that door. Met her husband five years ago, got married.”

“Then Trudy comes back.”

“Parents might not like the idea of someone with her background teaching their tots, that’s how Trudy put it. If she wanted to keep all that boxed up, it would cost. These aren’t wealthy people, but Carly was scared. They paid. When I told her we were going to try to get the money back, she cried.”

“How much did Trudy take her for ?”

“Over the years, about a hundred and fifty thousand.”

There was an account Roarke had opened in her name when they’d married. She’d never touched it, had never intended to do so. But, she thought now, if the system didn’t do right by Carly Tween this time, she’d do it herself.

* * *

In EDD, Eve studied the homers Feeney offered. They were bigger than she’d wanted, almost thumb-sized.

“How am I supposed to get these on the subjects without them being aware?”

He gave her one of his morose scowls. “Hey, that’s your part of the show. You wanted audio. You settled for a simple beacon, I get you something not much bigger than a piece of lint.”

“I want audio. I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re welcome,” he muttered.

“Sorry, sorry. Jesus. You’re the god of electronics. Appreciate you doing this. I know you’re shorthanded.”

“Might as well be doing something.” He nodded toward his office door where the sounds of loud music, loud voices pressed.

“They’re having a party. A quick one. I gave them an hour to blow off the steam, do the Secret Santa crap. Anybody who’s not on an active’s not coming in next two days.”

“Cops know better than to figure crime takes holidays.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got some boys on call. I’m coming in a half-day, just to round things up. Wife’s making Christmas dinner, and you’d think she was cooking for the royal freaking family. Says we gotta dress for it.”

“What, you generally eat naked?”

“Dress, Dallas. Like formal or some shit.” His already droopy face sagged. “She got the damn idea from you.”

“Me? Me?” Insult, and a little fear, jumped into her voice. “Don’t hang your marital weirdness on me.”

“It was the party at your place did it. Everybody all duded up and sparkly. Now she wants us all to get fancy. I gotta wear a suit in my own house. At my own table.”

Because she felt guilty, Eve pulled her hands through her hair, and struggled to tug out an idea. “You could spill gravy on it right off.”

His eyes brightened. “I knew I kept you around for something. The wife’s gravy’s lethal, too. I spill that on the suit, it’ll practically eat through the lining. Hey, Merry freaking Christmas, kid.”

“Back atcha.”

She toted the homers out, and had to slap a hand to her cheek as a muscle twitched. Straight in her line of vision, Peabody and McNab were locked in a big, sloppy kiss, hips grinding together as they used the music as an excuse for vertical humping.

“Stop! Cease and desist, or I’m locking you both in separate cells for public lewdness.”

She kept walking. When Peabody caught up, she was huffing. Eve didn’t think it was the quick trot that had her breathing heavy.

“We were just—”

“Say nothing,” Eve warned. “Do not speak. We’re heading to the hotel. I’m going to get these wires planted, give the subjects the talk. You’re going to check out the banks on the list I’m going to give you. Show them Trudy’s picture. See if anyone remembers her coming in for a big bag of credits on Thursday or Friday.”

“Where do you want me after?”

“I’ll tag you, let you know.”

She dropped Peabody off, continued to the hotel. Spotting the security, she walked over.

“I’m pulling my uniform. At least I want it to look that way. Can I plug him into one of your security areas, give him access to the cam on the fifth floor?”

“We can do that.”

“I’m keeping the Lombards unapprised.”

“No problem. Just send him to me when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” She moved to the elevator, going over the steps in her head as she rode up.

Once the uniform was given his orders, she knocked.

Bobby answered. “You’ve got news.”

“We’ve had some progress. Nothing much I can tell you at this point. All right if I come in?”

“Sure, sure. Sorry. Zana’s in the shower. We slept in. Not much else to do.”

“I want to talk to you about that,” Eve began. “Why don’t you go in and tell Zana I’m here.”

“Oh. Okay. Be right back.”

“No rush.”

The minute he went into the bedroom, Eve hurried to the closet by the door. The tidy state of the suite told her these were people who put things in their place. She found their coats where she expected.

She took out the two homers, slid one under the collar of each coat, secured them, then engaged. There were two jackets as well, and she considered.

It was cold, she thought. They were from Texas. They’d wear the coats.

She glanced toward the bedroom doorway. “Feeney, if you read, beep my communicator.”

When the beep sounded, she closed the closet door, stepped away. Moments later, Bobby came out.

“She’ll be done in a minute.”

“I guess the two of you are getting antsy, stuck in here.”

“Maybe.” He smiled a little. “I can do some work from here. And I’ve been making arrangements. For my mother. Zana’s been a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without her, don’t know how I managed before she came along. Lousy Christmas for her. I thought maybe I could order a little tree. Or something.”

“I’m going to clear you to go out.”

“Out?” He looked toward the windows as if they were prison bars. “Really? You think it’s safe, after what happened?”

“I think the chances of you being approached or accosted, especially while you’re together, are pretty low. Basically, Bobby, I can’t keep the two of you holed up like this as material witnesses when you didn’t see anything in the first place. If you’ve thought of anything else, remembered anything, that might help.”

“I’ve gone over it and over it. Not doing a lot of sleeping since… since it happened. I don’t understand why my mother would’ve gone to you for money. She’s—she was—pretty well set. And I’m doing good. Good enough, and better now that we closed that big deal. Somebody must’ve pushed her to do it. But I don’t know who’d do that. I don’t know why.”

“Get out, clear your head a little bit. Maybe something will come to you.” If not, Eve thought, she was going to bring them both in, formal interview. Hit them with the facts, she decided, straight out. See what shakes.

“We could—” He broke off when Zana stepped out.

She was dressed in a white sweater and trim pants with tiny brown and white checks. Eve noted she’d taken the time to put on some lip dye, a little cheek color.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. We’re getting a late start today.”

“It’s okay. How’re you feeling?”

“All right. It’s all starting to seem like some long, strange dream.”

“Eve said we can go out for a while,” Bobby told her.

“Really. But…” As he had, Zana glanced toward the window, bit her lip. “But what if… He could be watching.”

“I’ll be with you.” Bobby walked over, put an arm around her. “We’ll go out, buy a little tree. We might get some real snow.”

“I’d really like that, if you’re sure.” She looked back at Eve. “I guess we’re both going a little stir-crazy.”

“Take your ‘link,” Eve advised. “I’ll check in with you now and then.” She headed for the door, stopped. “It’s pretty cold. You’ll want to dress warm if you’re going to be walking around.”

As she headed for the elevator, she pulled out her communicator again. “Peabody, status.”

“Two blocks west. Got what we were looking for, first stop.”

“Meet me in front of the hotel.”

“Are we a go?”

“We’re a go,” Eve said. She switched over to Baxter. “We’re in place. You have the signals.”

“That’s affirmative.”

“Give them some room. Let’s see how they spend their day.”

On the street, she took a look around. If Trudy’s killer had tracked them to the new location—and anything was possible—where would he wait and watch? There were always places. A restaurant, another hotel room, even the street for a period of time.

But those chances were slim. Tracking them wouldn’t have been a cinch. That would take skill, smarts, and luck. Finding a spot to watch for a couple of days would take a great deal of patience.

And for what purpose? Money, if money was the object, would only come through them if she paid it out. Smarter, simpler, to try the direct blackmail route.

Smarter, simpler, to try to shake her rather than the victim’s daughter-in-law.

She leaned on her car as she waited for Peabody. If money was the motive for murder, why wasn’t the killer pushing harder for a payoff?

Peabody hiked up, rosy-cheeked from the cold and the walk.

“What if the money’s the beard?”

“Whose beard?”

“The beard, Peabody. I keep circling back to payback instead of payoff. It just slides in better. But if it’s payback, why do you wait until she’s in New York, coming after me? Why do you smash her head in after she’s made contact? Why don’t you wait until you see if she gets the dough first? Or you take her out at her home base, easier to make it look accidental.”

“Maybe the killer lives here. In New York. Maybe she was playing two at once.”

“Maybe. But so far, I’ve got nobody who’s local popping out of her file. If it was impulse, why hang around trying to threaten Zana into coughing up money she doesn’t have?”

“Because now you’re greedy.”

“Yeah, greed’s usually good.” But it wasn’t gelling for her.

She got in the car. She didn’t want to be loitering out front when and if the Lombards came out.

“What did you find out?” she asked Peabody.

“National Bank, a block from the boutique. One of the tellers made her photo straight off. She was in right before they closed, Friday afternoon. Wanted two hundred single-dollar credits. Snippy about it, so says the teller. Wanted them loose. No bag, no rolls. Just dumped them into her purse. Oh, they want a warrant before they turn over any security discs.”

“Get one. Let’s tie up all the threads.”

“Where are we heading?”

“Back to the murder scene. I’ve run re-enactments on the comp. I want to try it on the spot.” She dug out her homer, stuck it on the dash. “Baxter and Trueheart can handle the shadow, but we’ll keep an eye on them anyway.”

“Haven’t moved yet,” Peabody observed.

“They will.”

Eve took a second-level street slot at the West Side Hotel. “How could there be anything left in the city to buy?” She clambered down, scowling at the masses of people. “What more could they possibly want?”

“Speaking for myself, I want lots and lots. Piles of boxes with big shiny bows. And if McNab didn’t spring for something shiny, I’ll have to hurt him. Maybe we’ll get that snow.” She sniffed the air like a hound. “Smells like it.”

“How can you smell anything in this city but city?”

“I got a prime nose. I can scent soy dogs grilling. And there they are, down the block. I’m sort of going to miss being here for Christmas. I mean, it’s exciting—scary, too—going to Scotland, but it’s not New York.”

Inside, the same droid worked the desk. “Hey!” He signaled. “When you gonna unseal the room?”

“When justice is served.”

“Manager’s busting me on it. We got reservations. Full house next week for New Year’s Eve.”

“He’s got a problem with my crime scene, tell him to contact me. I’ll tell him what he can do for New Year’s.”

She checked her homer on the way up. “They’re moving. Baxter?” she said into the communicator. “They’re coming out.”

“We’ve got them. Got audio. They’re talking about heading over to Fifth, window shopping. Looking for a tabletop tree for the room.”

“I can hear them. I’m tuning down the audio. Tag me if there’s anything I should know.”

“They’re stepping out. My youthful companion and I will be taking a stroll. And we’re out.”

Eve pocketed her communicator, took out her master to break the seal. A woman opened the door across the hall a crack.

“Are you the police?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eve drew out her badge.

“Somebody said a woman was killed in that room, just a few days ago.”

“There was an incident. There’s no reason for you to be concerned.”

“Easy for you to say. Larry! Larry, I told you there was a murder. The cops are right here.” She poked her head back out. “He wants to get his vid cam. Get something we can show the kids tomorrow.”

Larry, busting with smiles as he pushed the door open, led with the camera. “Hi! You think maybe you could put your hand on your weapon, maybe hold up your badge. Look tough. The kids’re going to love it.”

“Now’s not really a good time, Larry.”

“It’ll only take a minute. You going in? Great! I can just get a quick shot of the inside. Is there still blood?”

“What, are you twelve? Put that thing down, go back in your room before I arrest you for being dirt stupid.”

“Great! Great! Keep going.”

“Jesus Christ, where do people come from? What dark hole vomits them out into my face? Peabody.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside now. This is a police investigation.” She lowered her voice as she moved to block his view. “You don’t want to tick her off. Trust me.”

“Can you say your name? Like this is Officer Smith, ordering you to cease and desist.”

“It’s detective, and, sir, you will have to cease and desist before—”

Eve simply stepped forward, wrenched the little camera out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“If you don’t want me to drop it, and have it somehow end up under my boot, you’re going to go back inside.”

“Larry, give it a rest.” The woman elbowed him back. “I’ll take it.”

“I got some good stuff on there,” Larry said as his wife nudged him back inside. “You can’t buy this kind of stuff.” The door finally shut after him.

Eve glanced back. She knew damn well Larry had that damn camera up to the security peep. She broke the seal on room 415, jerked a thumb at Peabody. She kept the door open just enough for her partner to squeeze through, then followed. Closed it. Locked it.

“Asshole.” Eve scanned the room, shook off the incident in the hall. “She comes in Friday, worked up. Got herself a new plan. Following a pattern we’ve established. Doesn’t mind hurting herself or her property to pin it on someone else. Complicate their lives. Pay them back. She’s laid in some supplies. We’ll check some of the markets. Harder to pin that down, though. But she’s going to have some supplies. The wine, soup, easy food.”

“She’s already planning how to take care of herself once she’s hurt. Blockers, then,” Peabody added. “Some soothers.”

“If she didn’t travel with enough, yeah. We’ll check that, too. Bet she has a drink first. Yeah. A big gulp of wine maybe. Maybe some solid food. Thinking, working it out.”

Eve walked the room as she imagined it. “Does she call her killer? I don’t know, I don’t know. Why? This is her deal. She’s in charge. And she’s hot. She’s plenty steamed.”

“Have to be gritting down to do that to herself.”

“She thinks how it’s going to play out. How it’s going to make Roarke scramble. Thinks he can brush her off? Well, she’ll show him. Rips the socks apart. Pulls off the tag, balls it up, tosses it and pulls the pair apart. Tosses the spare, floor, dresser. Fills the one with the credits. Checks the weight. Maybe takes a blocker first, gets ahead of the pain.”

Eve strode to the bathroom. “In here. You’d do it in here, in case the pain makes you sick. Don’t want to puke on the floor. Who’s going to clean it up?”

Eve stepped to the sink, looked into the mirror. “Takes a good look. She’s paid good money to keep her face in tune. But that’s all right, that’s okay. There’ll be more. And there’s no way that son of a bitch is going to get away with treating her that way. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

Eve brought her fist up hard, right below the chin. Fast enough, violently enough to make Peabody jolt behind her.

“Jeez, I could almost feel it.”

“Saw stars. Pain grinds right down into the gut. Dizzy, half sick. Gotta do the rest, gotta do it while you’ve still got the courage, and the strength.” She mimed the blows, imagined them. Tipped forward, gripped the sink as if for support.

“They got her prints off the sink? Where?”

Peabody pulled out her PCC, called up the file. “Pretty much where your hand is. Good imprints—all four fingers and thumb, left hand.”

“Yeah, cause she’s still holding the sap in her right, had to grab hold to stay upright. Good grip, good prints. Got to bleed a little, from the face.”

She turned, reached out for a washcloth. “Should be two of these. She takes one, holds it to her face, maybe dampens it first. So we get a little of her blood in the sink. But the cloth’s not here when we find her.”

“Killer took it? Why?”

“To keep the illusion she was beaten. Trudy takes the cloth, probably puts some ice in it, just to cool her face. None of her clothes had blood on them, except for the nightgown. Most likely she wore it while she clocked herself. Don’t want to mess up a nice outfit. Besides, she’s going to want to lie down for a while anyway. Sleep off the pain.”

“It still doesn’t make sense.”

“Call up the list of her belongings. Is there a vid cam?”

“Hold on.” Peabody shoved at her hair, then found the file. “No cam, but… hey. There’s a disc for one. Unused. It was in her purse.”

“Tourists don’t come to New York without a vid cam. Just like our pal, Larry. And she used recordings before. Sleeps it off, first. Has to have her wits about her when she documents her injuries. Sets the stage, works up some tears, some shakes. Puts the finger on Roarke, or me. Or both of us.”

Eve looked toward the bed, could picture Trudy sitting there, her face battered, tears streaming. “‘This is what they did to me. I’m afraid for my life.’ All she has to do is get a copy of it delivered to one of us. Have to have some subtext on the recording. ‘I don’t know what to do. Should I go to the police? But she’s the police. God help me, ’ blah-blah. ‘He’s so rich, so powerful. What will happen if I take this recording to the media. Will I be safe?’”

“Figuring you’d read between the lines.”

“And when we contact her, she’ll insist one of us come here. No ‘link conversations that can be turned around on her. Face-to-face. Give me the money, or I ruin you. But it doesn’t get that far.”

“Because her delivery boy took her out.”

“Had to come in the door. I just don’t buy the window, not with this scenario. Security’s not heavy here. Anybody wants to walk in, they walk in. Or he could’ve been staying at the hotel. Keep him close that way, under her thumb that way. At her beck and call. We’ll run the registration list again, go deeper there. Find a connection. Better if your minion’s close by. She tells him to come up.”

“She couldn’t be feeling her best, even with the blockers, the alcohol.”

“No, and she’d want to be able to complain to somebody. Fix me a drink. Get me some soup. Maybe bitching—if she’d sent the disc with him—why we hadn’t jumped already. What’s taking us so long? Maybe she slips about the amount she’s going to demand, or maybe she just pushes the wrong button. But she’s not concerned. Pacing around in her nightgown. She’s there.”

Eve pointed so that Peabody would assume Trudy’s position. “Back to him. He picks up the sap, takes her down. Rug burns on the heels of her hand. Get down, Peabody.”

“Cops have no dignity.” Peabody went down on her knees, shot her hands out as if catching herself.

“And again, from above. One more to make sure. Blood. Had to get some blood on him. Now he’s got to figure it out, cover his tracks. Take the weapon, take the ‘link, take the camera. Record would be on the hard drive, if anyone decided to look. Make sure. Washcloth, towel, sock. Anything with her blood on it. Wrap everything up in a towel. Go out the window. Leave the window open. Logic says the killer came in that way.”

By the window now, Eve looked out. “Down and gone, no problem. Or…” She studied the distance to the window of the next room, the emergency platform. “Next room was empty. Maybe…”

She turned back. “Let’s have the sweepers take a look next door. I want those drains checked for blood. Bring them in now. I’ll go down and deal with the desk droid.”

He wasn’t happy about it. The room was occupied, and moving guests generally made them unhappy.

“They’ll be a lot unhappier if they’re in there while my crime scene team’s tearing up the room. You’ll be a lot unhappier if I go through the trouble of getting a warrant to shut down this establishment until my investigation is closed.”

That did the trick. While she waited, she checked in with Baxter.

“What’s the status?”

“They’re making up for lost time. I think we’ve walked five fricking miles. And it’s spitting some wet snow.”

“So button up. What are they doing?”

“Shopping mostly. Just bought a little tree after looking at all the little trees in the borough of Manhattan. They’re talking about heading back, thank the tiny baby Jesus. If anyone’s tailing them but me and my faithful sidekick, I’m a monkey.”

“Stick with them.”

“Like glue.”

In Midtown, Baxter shoved his communicator back in his coat pocket. On his earpiece he heard Zana talk about lunch. Should they buy some dogs and stay out a while longer? Or go drop off their things, have lunch at the hotel?

“Hotel,” he mumbled. “Go to the hotel. The one with a nice warm coffee shop across the street.”

Trueheart shrugged. “It’s nice being out. Being able to see all the decorations. The snow just adds.”

“You kill me, kid. It’s thirty degrees, windy, and this snow is more like sleet. The sidewalks are jammed, and we’re walking the soles of our shoes thin. Shit. Damn it. They’re going for the dogs.”

“And glide-cart coffee.” Now Trueheart shook his head. “They’ll be sorry.”

“And now she’s window-shopping. Typical female. He’s got to haul the bags, buy the dogs, juggle it all so she can sigh over a bunch of sparklers they’ll never be able to afford.”

“If they’re blackmailers they can.”

Baxter gave Trueheart a look of pride and approval. “Now that’s the kind of cynicism I like to hear. Take the point, move on the cart once he’s got his dogs. Order up a couple. It’s crowded. Hard to keep a visual going. I’ll hang back in case she talks him into going in the store.”

Baxter eased right, toward the buildings, and caught a glimpse of Zana looking over her shoulder, smiling as Bobby came over, balancing food and packages.

“I’m sorry, honey!” She laughed, took one of the bags, one of the dogs. “I shouldn’t have left you with all that. I just wanted a peek.”

“You want to go in ?”

She laughed again. “I can hear the pain in your voice. No, I just wanted to look. I wish I’d thought to wear a hat, though. My ears are cold.”

“We can go back, or we can buy a hat.”

She beamed at him. “I’d really like to stay out just a little while more. There’s a place across the street.”

“The one we walked by to get to this side of the street?”

“I know, I know,” she said with a giggle. “But they had hats and scarves. On sale. You could use a hat, too, honey. Maybe a nice warm scarf. And I just can’t face that hotel room again right now, Bobby. I feel like I’ve been let out of prison or something.”

“I know. I guess I feel the same way.” He shifted the bag holding their tree. “We’ll go buy hats. Then we could walk over, watch the skaters, get another look at the big tree.”

“That’d be just perfect. What makes a soy dog taste so good when it’s cooked outside on a cart in New York? I swear you can’t get a real grilled dog anywhere on the planet outside of New York.”

“Pretty damn good,” he agreed around a bite of it. “Especially if you don’t think about what’s in it.”

Her laugh was light and blissfully happy. “Let’s not!”

When they got to the corner, squeezed in by the crowd, he managed another bite. “I didn’t know I was so hungry. Should’ve gotten two.”

They made it to the curb. He started to step out, when Zana gasped. His fingers closed over her arm like a vise.

“I spilled my coffee, that’s all. Damn.”

“You burned?”

“No. No.” She brushed at the stain on her coat with her hand. “Just clumsy. I got bumped a little. Gosh, I hope this doesn’t stain. Oh, now we missed the light, too.”

“There’s no hurry.”

“Tell that to everyone else,” she murmured. “People weren’t pushing so much, I wouldn’t have coffee on my coat.”

“We’ll get something and—”

He pitched forward, straight into the path of an oncoming cab.

The bag he held went flying. The last thing he heard before he hit the pavement was Zana’s screams and the shrill shriek of brakes.

* * *

While Eve waited for the room to be cleared and the sweepers to arrive, she ran a check on Trudy’s debit and credit statements. The charges and withdrawals had just been put through. Spent a few bucks on Friday at the drugstore, she noted. Time stamp confirmed that that came after the socks, after the bank.

Lining up your ducks.

Market, too.

What happened to the bags?

As she was working out a theory, her communicator beeped.

“Dallas.”

“We’ve got a problem.” Baxter’s face held none of its usual sarcasm. “Male subject’s been hit by a cab, corner of Fifth and Forty-second.”

“Well, Jesus Christ. How bad?”

“Don’t know. MTs are on-scene. Wife’s hysterical. They were on the sidewalk, waiting for the light. I had them on audio, Trueheart had a reasonable visual. But the corner was packed. He only got a look at the guy doing a header into the street. He got clipped pretty good, Dallas, I know that. Damn near run over. I got the cabbie here.”

“Have some uniforms take him down to Central until we can get his statement. Stick with the subjects. Where are they taking him?”

“ER at Boyd Health Center. Straight shot down Fifth.”

“I’ll meet you there. One of you go in the ambulance with him. I don’t want either of them out of your sight until I’m there.”

“You got that. Jesus, Dallas. Guy was eating a dog, drinking bad coffee. Then he just flew. MTs are giving the wife something to calm her down.”

“Make sure she’s coherent. Damn it, Baxter, I don’t want her put out.”

“Let me get on that. I’m out.”

She whirled toward the door, pulling it open just as Peabody pushed from the other side. “Sweepers are heading up.”

“We’ll get them started. We’ve got to go. Bobby’s heading to the hospital. Hit by a cab.”

“Hit by—what the hell—”

“Don’t ask, I can’t tell you. Let’s just get this moving, and get there.”

She went in hot, dodging clogged traffic as her sirens blasted. And doing her best to ignore quick, sharp pinches of guilt.

Had she put Bobby in a position to be hurt? Two cops on him, a homer with audio. Still not enough?

“Could just be an accident.” Peabody tried not to whimper as they threaded between a van and a cab with a layer of cheap paint to spare. “People, especially out-of-towners, have road accidents in New York every day. Step out too far, don’t look where they’re going. Gawking at the buildings instead of watching the lights.”

“There’s no point in hurting him. No point.” She rapped her fist on the wheel. “What does it get you? Roarke’s not going to cough up two mil because some guy he doesn’t know is in the path. Why should he? Why would he? It serves no purpose to hurt Bobby.”

“You said Baxter reported he was eating and drinking, at the curb. He gets bumped, or slips. It’s sleeting, things are slippery. Dallas, sometimes things just happen. Sometimes it’s just bad luck.”

“Not this time. No bullshit coincidence.” Her voice was fierce and furious. “We missed it, that’s all. We missed something, someone, and now we’ve got a witness in Emergency.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I made the call, so it’s on me. You make copies of the recording. Get a copy shot down to the lab. I want to be able to hear everything, every voice.”

She pulled up to the emergency entrance. “Park it,” she ordered, jumping out. “I need to get in there.”

She strode to the doors, through.

It was the usual place of pain. Victims waiting to be heard, to be helped. The sick slumped in chairs. The healthy waiting impatiently for whoever they’d come with to be treated, released, admitted.

She spotted Trueheart, somehow younger in a sweatshirt and jeans. He sat close to Zana, holding her hand, murmuring to her as she wept.

“Eve! Eve!” Zana jumped up, threw herself into Eve’s arms. “Bobby. Oh, my God. It’s all my fault. Bobby’s hurt. He’s hurt so bad. I don’t know—”

“Stop.” Eve pulled back, gave Zana one brisk shake. “How bad is he hurt?”

“They didn’t say, they won’t tell me. He was bleeding. His head. His head, and his leg. He was unconscious.” Tears spurted. “I heard them say concussion, and something broken, and maybe—”

“Okay, what happened?”

“I just don’t know.” Now she sank back into the chair. “We were just waiting for the light. We’d gotten some soy dogs and coffee. It was cold, but it felt so good to get out. And I said I wanted to buy a hat, and they were across the street. Then I spilled my coffee, so we missed the light and couldn’t go. We were waiting and he just fell. Or slipped. I just don’t know. I tried to grab his coat. I got my hand on it. I think I did.”

She stared down at her hand. Eve noted the light bandage. “What happened to your hand?”

“I spilled the coffee. It splashed all over when I grabbed for him. Burned my hand a little. I started to fall. I think. Somebody pulled me back. But Bobby…”

Zana wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked. “The cab hit him. It tried to stop, but it was too quick, and it hit him, and then he flew back, and fell. So hard.”

“Where is he?” She looked at Trueheart.

“They took him to Treatment Room Two. Baxter’s on the door.”

“Zana, stay here. Trueheart, stand by.”

She strode through the waiting area, straight by a nurse who called out for her to stop, and swung right when she saw Baxter at a pair of double swinging doors.

“Goddamn it, Dallas. We were ten feet away. One on either side.”

“Wife thinks he slipped.”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe. What are the odds? They’re working on him. Arm’s broken, that’s for certain. Maybe the hip, too. Head took a hard crack. I couldn’t tell how bad, and the MTs wouldn’t say.”

Eve rubbed her hands over her face. “You get any sense somebody helped him in front of that cab?”

“Second-guessing myself now. We had a good tail on them, good observation. But it’s insane out there, Dallas. You know how it is this time of year. Sidewalk is a sea of people, and everybody’s either in an all-fired hurry, or they’re gawking and taking vids. You got street thieves making more this holiday week than they do in six regular months. If I had to swear nobody got by us, I couldn’t. The thing is…”

“What?”

“Just before, she spilled coffee on herself. Said she got bumped. And I got this little tingle, started moving in a little. Then our guy’s airborne.”

“Fuck.”