“Mira might back you up on the need for those warrants.”
“Yeah, I’m holding her in reserve. The killer knew Bart’s routine, that’s part of the thing. His inside-his-own-place routine, and that takes a certain intimacy. It’s like this, us,” she explained wagging a finger between them. “The way I knew you’d be sitting here when I came out of the shower. Drinking coffee, petting the cat, checking the stocks and morning media. It’s what you do. You deviate now and then, as necessary, but odds are it’s like this.”
“Mmm.” Roarke cut a bite of waffle. “And the killer played the odds.”
“They were good odds. Just like I favor the odds on whoever killed him making a move to take the leadership role at U-Play. Bart’s death leaves a void, and part of the benefit of that death would be filling it.”
“You’re leaning away from more than one of them being involved now.”
“It’s still a good possibility, but killing a friend, a partner, it’s an absolute betrayal of trust.”
He nodded. “And anyone who’s capable of that sort of betrayal wouldn’t easily trust someone else.”
She tapped her fork in the air. “You got it in one. These people live by creating scenarios, and calculating all the steps. Take this choice, get this result, and that leads to the next. I think the killer would have calculated the pros and cons of pulling someone into it with him.”
“If the other weakens, makes a mistake, threatens, it’s a new problem. Difficult to kill another partner,” Roarke commented. “It would shine your light brightly on the remaining two. But…” He knew her, too. Her routine, her thought patterns. “You’re concerned that might happen.”
“It depends on what’s to be gained, or lost-and how much ego and satisfaction were stoked by the first kill. When someone believes they’re smarter, more talented, just plain more right than anyone else, and they harbor this kind of need, they’re very, very dangerous.”
Eve tried Cher Reo first. The APA was another friend, and Eve supposed in a broad sense, another partner. I knock them down, she thought as she pushed her way through morning traffic, you put them away.
When she contacted Reo’s office she learned the APA was already at Central overseeing Reineke’s case.
That didn’t take long, she mused, and cut west, away from Broadway and the crowds that inevitably partied there.
The pizza would roll on the pipe wrench, she concluded-or vice versa. One would take a deal, and the other would do the full weight.
And that had to be enough.
She left a voice mail on Reo’s ’link, requesting a meet as soon as she finished sealing the deal, but it surprised her to find Reo already waiting-with coffee, in her visitor’s chair.
“Thought you’d take longer,” Eve commented.
“They were at it since just after two this morning, which was when your boys decided the happy couple had had enough snuggle time.” Reo stretched, rolled her shoulders. “She’d slipped into his place about eight. Lights went off at midnight. Or thereabouts. They have it documented.”
She yawned, combed her fingers through her fluffy blond hair. “They got sloppy. Didn’t even bother to pull the privacy screen. Your guys got quite a little show before and after the lights went out.”
“I’m betting the wife rolled on the lover.”
“Like a wheel down a steep road. Tried all the usual first, apparently. She was just looking for comfort after the loss.” Reo widened her eyes, batted her lashes. “Oh my God, he killed my husband! Shock, dismay, tears. Anyway.” She shrugged. “They got very detailed confessions out of both, and I saved the taxpayers a bundle. She’ll do a solid dime, he’ll do double that.”
She held up a finger before Eve could speak. “Yeah, we probably could’ve gotten them both life in a trial, but this seals them up. It’s not a bad way to start the middle of the night.”
She might’ve argued, for form’s sake, but Eve wanted Reo’s good graces. “I need three search warrants.”
“For what?”
Eve got her own coffee, sat, and spelled it out.
Frowning, Reo tapped a finger to the side of her mug. “No physical evidence on any of them?”
“That’s why I need the warrants. To find some.”
“You don’t really know what you’re looking for.”
“But I’ll know it when I find it. The weight’s there, Reo. Motive, means, opportunity, e-skills-and an intimate knowledge of the vic’s domicile, habits, and security. Add in by their own statements only those three had full knowledge of the game.”
“They’re alibied.”
Eve shook her head, dismissing it. “The alibis are soft. They’re so soft they’re squishy. You haven’t seen the place. I have. It’s like a beehive, with the bees buzzing everywhere. It’s a five-minute walk to the scene. Any one of them could have slipped out for an hour without anybody knowing. And if someone had, the killer would’ve had another alibi ready. It’s the way they think-in cause and effect, action and reaction. Mira’s profile adds more. He knew his killer.”
Reo puffed out her cheeks. “I can work it. You say they’ve been cooperative so far?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You could always request a search, see how each of them reacts.”
“And that gives any of them time to ditch whatever it is I might find.”
“I can work it,” she said again. “And I sure hope you find something.” She rose. “Do you know how uncomfortable that chair is?”
“Yeah.”
Reo laughed, rubbed tired blue eyes. “Regardless, if you’d been another ten minutes, I’d’ve been asleep in it. I need a damn nap. See you tonight? Nadine’s party?”
“I’ll be there.”
“I’m going to have to trowel on the enhancers to look half human. I’ll get your warrants,” she added as she headed out.
“Thanks.”
One down, Eve thought, then walked out to pull Peabody away from her desk. “Let’s go have another talk with CeeCee.”
As they started for the glide, she spotted Reineke at one of the machines in Vending. “Good work, Detective.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. Jenkinson’s walking them through processing.” He drew a very sad-looking Danish out of the slot. “You know, turns out in the end they were just a couple of idiots. He still had the clone phone he used to tag her before he went out and bashed the dead husband, and the pizza box hadn’t run through his recycler yet. And her? She bought fancy underwear online a couple hours after she’s notified she’s got a dead husband. Stupidity shoulda gotten them more than ten and twenty.”
“I bet they don’t come out any smarter. Good work,” she said again. “And I don’t want to find out you and Jenkinson shared the surveillance doc around the bullpen.”
“It’s too bad because they may be stupid, but they’re damn flexible.”
She waited until she was on the glide to grin.
“We’re not looking at the girlfriend? CeeCee?” Peabody asked.
“No. It’s one of the partners, but she may know more than she thinks. She’s had some time to settle. I want to poke at her memory, and impressions.”
They found CeeCee at home, in a tidy little apartment she shared with a trio of goldfish in a glass bowl.
Eve wondered about people who kept fish. Did they like to watch them circle, circle, staring out with those weird eyes? What was the appeal?
“I took some time off work.” CeeCee sat in a high-backed scoop chair. She’d pulled her hair back in a tail and hadn’t bothered with enhancements. She looked pale and tired. “I just can’t go back yet. It feels like if I do, it’s saying Bart didn’t matter enough for me to stay home. And he did.”
“Have you called a counselor?”
“No. I guess… I guess I’m not ready to feel better. That sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Peabody told her.
“I don’t know if we’d have stuck. I mean, things were good, and I think maybe… But I don’t know, and I keep thinking about that. Would we have moved in together, or even gotten married? I don’t know.”