“She’d keep it with her. That’s what I’d do.”
“If she kept Coltraine’s ring, it’s not with her other jewelry. They haven’t found it yet. Callendar’s shuttle’s on schedule. Morris is taking the sample to the lab, personally.”
“Dickhead won’t mess with him,” Eve muttered, thinking of the chief lab tech. “Not with Morris. I want to pick her up, but we don’t have it. Not yet. Need the DNA, need the ring, the ’link. Any one of them would do it.”
“We could get her down here. Use the Sandy homicide with the Alex Ricker connection. We believe he’s responsible for both murders. We want to pick her brain, anything she might know, any take she might have. How we’re trying to put him away, but we’re hitting walls.”
“Not bad, Peabody. Make it happen. Set up a conference room away from Interview. I don’t want her running into Rouche when Callendar delivers him.”
She turned away to contact Baxter herself. “Why haven’t you found what I need?” she demanded.
“Working on it. We found a passcode. False bottom of her weapon’s lockbox. It’s a bank box. And before you tell me to contact Reo, I already did. We can’t stretch the warrant to the bank box. We need a separate warrant, and we don’t have enough for that.”
“Damn it.”
“Second that. There’s nothing here so far that doesn’t jibe with a cop’s life, a cop’s salary. No high-end electronics, jewelry, art. She’s got some pretty serious weaponry though. Six pieces over and above her departmental issue. A freaking army of knives. Not all under the legal limit either, but she’s got a collector’s license. We checked for prints, for blood. They’re showroom clean. She takes care of her tools.”
“Is there a stiletto?”
“Several. We culled them out for forensics.”
“Keep digging.”
She clicked off as Peabody came back. “Grady’s clearing it with her lieutenant. She’s juiced, I could see it. The idea of coming in and bailing us out, of finding a way to put the screws to Alex. She’s pumped.”
“Good. Keep on Dickhead, will you? But not enough to put his back up. I’m going to move Alex to one of the visitor rooms, put a babysitter with him. We’ll be working Grady, Rouche, and Zeban simultaneously, the way it’s panning. You take Zeban. He’s low rung, but that means he’s going to flip. He just helped out his drinking buddy, and now he’s in the soup. Work him quick and hard, Peabody. Scare the shit out of him.”
“Oh, boy, oh, boy.” Bouncing on her toes, Peabody rubbed her hands together. “Who’s juiced now?”
Eve moved Alex, arranged for Cleo to be taken straight to the conference room upon arrival.
She paced awhile as she worked out the best strategy. And was ready when she got word Detective Grady was in the house. She grabbed a mug of coffee, a file bag, and timed it so she swung into the conference room a few minutes after Peabody.
“Appreciate you coming down.” She kept her voice clipped, just a hair over into resentful.
“Not a problem for me,” Cleo assured her. “Everybody in the squad wanted a piece of this. Now we’ve got one. I hear you have the son of a bitch in holding.”
“For now. He’s got three lawyers with him and more on tap. I want to record this. Okay with you?”
“Sure.”
“Want some coffee, Detective?” Peabody asked.
“Sure. Thanks. I heard about the second murder. Rod Sandy? That’s on Ricker, too?”
“Has to be. Okay, this is the way it’s playing out.” All business now, cop to cop, Eve sat across from Cleo. “Ricker and Sandy kill Coltraine. Ricker does Sandy to put the first murder on him. Could work, but where’s Sandy’s motive? There’s no evidence of anything between Coltraine and Sandy. Sandy’s Ricker’s tool. Was. Like father like son,” Eve said with a shrug. “You use the tool until you’re done, then you break it so nobody else can. Ricker’s blood? It’s poison.”
Cleo only smiled. “That may be your opinion, but that’s not going to put Alex Ricker away for Ammy. If that’s all you’ve got, you’re not as good as everybody says you are.”
“I put the old man away.” Eve let anger—and some pride—punch through the words. “Nobody else ever did, or could. Don’t forget that. I’ll get his spawn, too. Count on it.”
“Then why do you need me?”
“You worked with her. Morris, he’s too close. I can’t get what I need out of him. Everything’s colored with emotion there. You worked with her, were friends with her. According to my partner, the fact you’re female adds another layer to that.”
“You said it yourself,” Peabody told Cleo, “women talk about things to each other. Maybe they don’t talk about those things even to guys they’re sleeping with. Plus, you were both cops.”
“She never mentioned Ricker to me, not by name. But like I already told you, she talked about a guy she’d been involved with. How they’d broken it off, and she’d come here.”
“She must’ve given you more than that,” Eve pressed. “Are you saying you never asked what happened? Nothing?”
“It was her business. Maybe I poked a little.” As if reluctant, Cleo hesitated, then sipped coffee. “I don’t know how it helps, not with a solid case, but she said a few things off and on. Like he had money, and she’d traveled with him some. It just wasn’t meant to be, and that kind of thing. She did say once he was too much like his father, but she didn’t get into it. I didn’t push because I didn’t know we were talking about Ricker, for God’s sake.”
She frowned a moment. Eve could all but see the wheels turning in her head. How much to add, how much to fabricate. “You know, I remember she said something about how he had this friend. How they were practically joined at the hip, and that was annoying. She said she’d have thought they had a love affair except he was too busy doing her.”
No, she didn’t, Eve thought. Coltraine wouldn’t have said that in a million.
“The friend didn’t like her,” Cleo added. “Tension there. Resented her. They had words at the end. He called her a cunt.”
Eve picked up her cue, narrowed her eyes. “You’re sure of that. That exact word?”
“Cunt cop, that’s what she said he said. Said it to her as she was walking out with stuff she had at the boyfriend’s place. She just kept walking. That was Ammy. No point in mixing it up when it was done, you know? She was glad it was over, and that was that. She decided to transfer up here. That’s what she said.”
“But?” Eve prompted.
“I’ve gone over and over it, trying to read the nuances. Hindsight. I guess I’d have to say she was into Morris. She really cared about Morris. But she was still hung up on the guy back home. If I had to judge it, to judge her, I’d say if Ricker contacted her, made the play, she’d have gone for him. To him. He could’ve used her feelings to get at her.”
Eve started to speak, broke off when her communicator signaled. “Crap. Sorry. I have to handle this.”
“We can use some of this,” Peabody said as Eve walked out. “The nuances, like you said, to try to pressure Ricker.”
Keep it up, Peabody, Eve thought, and answered Morris’s signal.
“Dallas.”
“I’m at the lab. Cleo Grady is Max Ricker’s daughter. We’re doing a second test, but—”
“It’s all I need.”
“I’m coming in, Dallas. I need to be there when you take her.”
“I’ve got her now, working her now. She thinks she’s helping me nail Alex Ricker. I don’t want her to see you, Morris.”
“She won’t.”
He cut her off, so she contacted Baxter. “DNA’s confirmed. Contact Reo. I want a warrant for that bank box.”