She took a disc from her bag, offered it. “I have a list for you, though I can’t see how it applies. Darlene researched and investigated all grant requests. She, Marcus, Sean, and two other foundation officers would then review and vote on the grants.”
“They—these officers, staff—draw a salary?”
“Yes.”
“Who runs the show now?”
“Sean would be acting president, and acting CEO of the business. I can also tell you these aren’t positions he wants. He and his wife are well settled in Europe. His youngest child is in school there, his oldest—with his first wife—lives minutes away with his own wife and children. The loss of Darlene and Marcus is shattering, and so close to the loss of Gareth and Bria. It’s going to take time and work to restructure the positions, the responsibilities.”
“Best guess?”
“They’ll try to keep it in the family. I would recommend they divide both Marcus’s and Darlene’s positions. Several candidates stand out, but none of them would kill for the job.”
“People kill for all sorts of reasons,” Eve said. “Maybe one of them told her about a medium, guided her where they wanted her to go. Who was she close to? Who would she tell when she decided to go this route?”
“Marcus, and obviously he didn’t know. Henry, the same. And Louise Dimatto, whom I know you’re aware was a close family friend. Darlene had other friends, of course, but those three were her foundation. If she told none of them, she told no one. I wish she had. I wish she’d talked to me. We had a good personal relationship.”
Tears swam into her eyes, and she paused for a moment until she’d controlled them.
“If she’d come to me, I might have been able to help her. I could have used my resources to find her the right person, someone gentle and kind as well as gifted.”
“So she could talk to her dead parents.”
“While I may be a bone-deep skeptic on such matters, I discount nothing. But I know this: If she’d been able to reach them, they’d have told her to move on with her life, and they’d never have suggested she use drugs. So I have to conclude she didn’t reach them.”
“We’re going to agree on that.”
“The family requested I ask when they can have Marcus and Darlene.”
“We’ll release the bodies as soon as we can.”
“Sean—particularly—would like to see them. Henry, he needs to see Darlene.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Eve gentled her tone, just a little. “No one needs to see Darlene as she is now. Trust me on that.”
“They’ll insist.”
“Let me talk to the ME, see if anything can be done to . . . minimize the damage.”
“That’s very kind of you, and much appreciated.”
“You’re going to be with the family. If you get any sense, hear anything that leads you to believe someone played a part, I want to hear it.”
“You can depend on it. I won’t, but I also won’t withhold any information that pertains to their deaths. They mattered to me, Lieutenant, as much more than clients.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Obviously complimenting Dickhead’s excuse for a goatee worked, as Eve had his report in her inbox when she returned to her office.
The minute she read it, she sent a copy to Mira, then headed out.
“Dallas?” Peabody called from her desk. “Are we back in the field?”
“I need Mira first. Work out the best route to hitting the rest of the psychic list. I’ll be back in ten.”
She had to get through Mira’s snarly admin, but she needed answers. Louise was an option, she thought as she jumped in an elevator despite the crowd inside. She’d given Louise the data mostly to keep her busy, but she’d be a good source.
Still, she was strictly medical, and Mira was both a medical and a head doctor. And a superior profiler.
By the time Eve made it to Mira’s office, she was ready to attack. It came as a slight letdown to see the admin’s desk unoccupied and Mira’s office door open.
“Did someone slay the dragon?”
Mira glanced over. “She’s still at lunch. I’ve only gotten back myself now. Your toxicology report—”
“Have you read it?”
“I just reviewed it. Sit.”
“No, I’m revved up, need to get back in the field. That combination inside her—inhaled, ingested—that’s extreme.”
“Yes. Even in these minute amounts, and particularly when combined with regular use of this sleep aid. The aid itself is perfectly harmless, and potentially beneficial, but no sensitive, no legitimate one, would combine these other substances, even not knowing the client was taking a valerian-based holistic.”
“She’d hallucinate.”
“She would have been very susceptible to hallucinations, yes. I’m having tea.”
“No, please. I mean go ahead, but I don’t have time for it.”
In sapphire blue heels to complement her winter white suit, Mira ordered tea from her AutoChef.
“Not only would she have experienced an altered state—a sensation of extreme well-being—but a kind of spacial confusion. I’m surprised she was able to navigate to her brother’s apartment.”
“The doorman said she walked to the building. Maybe whoever gave her this crap transported her close to the building.”
“I don’t believe she could have driven herself in this state. Eve, I’ve never seen this combination of drugs—herbal and chemical, but with some of the derivatives sometimes used to aid in hypnosis, to relax the patient, help open them to suggestion. Some practitioners use small doses to aid in weight loss, rehabilitation of substance abuse, even anger management. But this combination?” Mira took a sip of tea from one of her delicate china cups. “I would want to do a full analysis myself, but I believe this would have left her open to post-suggestions with hallucinations and altered perceptions. The addition of phencyclidine?”
Eve wasn’t a chemistry whiz, but she was a cop. “That’s the base element for Zeus.”
“Yes, and while this amount and combination isn’t Zeus, it could cause someone to harm themselves. To burn themselves—even set fire to a building mistaking a flame for a flower, for instance. Or cut themselves believing a knife was a bar of soap. To fall, seeing a drop off a building as a set of stairs.”
“She stabbed her brother three times. She might have thought she was giving him a love tap. She fell fifty-two floors, maybe thinking she’d sprout wings and fly.” This fit, Eve thought. This worked for her, both brain and gut. “We may never know, but it’s pretty damn clear somebody fucked her up, and if she needed help getting to her brother’s place, they wanted him dead, too.”
Nodding, Mira brushed back a curve of rich brown hair. “Look for someone who’s skilled. This combination took time and practice to perfect. Someone also gifted. It’s very likely they are indeed a sensitive, as they read this victim very well. They also gained her trust, and I would say gained it quickly.
“It’s most likely a male—she would see a male as authoritative, experienced. Probably between forty and sixty. He’s experienced, he’s studied, and she wouldn’t have been as susceptible to a younger man.”
“Misses father, depends on older brother.”
“Yes. Your killer is a sociopath who exploits his own gift. He’s organized and intelligent, and enjoys having control over others, and looks for gain. He likes to live well. He may also be a psychopath, finding pleasure in causing death, yet he has no direct hand in the killing.”