"Who's primary?"
"Renfrew, Detective Matthew."
"Ah." Morris plumped the pillows behind him, laid back. "Territorial little bastard, poor social skills, and a tendency to refuse to broaden his focus."
"In other words, a flaming asshole."
"In other words. I think I'll go in and take a look at the recently departed myself. I'll get back to you."
"Thanks, Morris. I owe you one."
"Yeah, I like that part."
"Morris? What's the tattoo?"
Grinning, Morris tapped a finger on the illustration just under his left nipple. "The Grim Reaper. An equal opportunity employer."
"You're a sick man, Morris." She clicked off. "A sick man."
She'd kept her back to the reporters as she talked, and her radar up. Most of them, with nothing to feed on, were slipping away to do quick live-remotes.
McNab jogged up to her.
"Walk and talk," she ordered. "I want to keep clear of the media. Once they make a connection, we lose whatever advantage we've got."
"It was McNamara's sedan. Good and torched. NYFD's saying there was a chemical accelerant. RD-52. It's a kind of flammable acid. You get a flash, fire burst, and it eats right through the metal while it burns. Really thorough. Witness saw the flash, went to take a look-see, and had the presence of mind to note down the vehicle ID before it evaporated. Five, ten more minutes, we'd have had nothing."
"Smart, but not smart enough. They should've blasted off the ID before they torched it. Little mistakes." She looked back toward the river. "Robbery, my ass. Who rolls a guy, even takes his clothes, then wastes a luxury sedan? What do you bet McNamara paid his killer a visit after I talked to him?"
"I'd put the bank on it."
"If Renfrew was less of a moron, we could wrap this up tonight." Staring into middle distance, she juggled possibilities. "Dunwood doesn't know Renfrew's a moron. Renfrew'll notify next of kin, but that's the wife. No reason for the grandson to come into play there. And no reason for me not to pay him a visit to express my sympathy for his loss and question him. Lucias Dunwood. Get his address. Let's shake him up."
"You got it."
They separated, and Eve made another call. This one to home. "Hi." She tried a smile when Roarke came on. "I guess they're still there, huh?"
As there was music blasting and the sound of half-drunken laughter rolling over it, Roarke just shrugged.
"Look, I'm sorry I dumped it on you. Maybe you should lock yourself in one of the rooms. They'll never find you in that place."
"I'm considering it. I take it you've called to let me know you'll be some time yet."
"I don't know how long. A lot going on. If I can't close it down tonight, I'm still going to need Mavis and Trina tomorrow. Maybe you should lock them in a room."
"Not to worry. I suspect they'll pass out soon enough."
"There's that. Hold on." She turned to McNab. "What?"
"Got an address, but it's bogus."
"What do you mean, bogus?"
"I mean the address listed for Lucias Dunwood is the Fun House, Times Square. I know because I spend a lot of time there. It's a big e-amusement center. No residences on premises."
"He likes to play games," she replied. "Give me some room here." She stepped away until she was out of earshot. "Listen – "
"You'd like me to find Dunwood's actual address."
"McNamara would've had it. I'm not going to be able to access his files from here because the primary on this is playing big stud dog with the investigation."
"I see." Roarke was already moving away from the music.
"I could call Whitney and get clearance, but that's messy. Plus, it makes me feel like a tattletale or something."
"Mm-hmm."
"I could tag Feeney, and he'd wangle authorization through EDD, but I've already gotten one person out of bed tonight." She glanced back at McNab. "Maybe more."
"And I'm already up."
"Yeah. Technically… well, just skimming the technicalities, I'm authorized to access some data because he's a suspect. Whether this data includes his address files or personal data is debatable, but I'd have clearance for it in the morning anyway so…"
"Why wait? Would you like that address now, or would you like to keep rationalizing a bit longer?"
She blew out a breath, noting that he'd gone up to his office while she'd been talking. "I'll just take the address."
He gave it to her. "Oh, Lieutenant? Since that's only a few blocks from here, perhaps you'll make it home while I still have my sanity."
"I'll do my best. Guess I owe you one, too."
"Be sure I'll collect."
She broke transmission, signalled McNab. "Get Peabody. We're moving."
She was nearly to her vehicle when she saw Nadine, leaning on the hood and examining her nails.
"That's city property you're resting your ass on."
"Why do they go out of their way to make official vehicles so ugly?"
"I don't know, but I'm taking it up with my Congressman first chance I get."
"Rumor is you and Detective Renfrew got into a little power tussle."
"Rumors are your department."
"Then you wouldn't be interested that rumor continues that he's a jerk and you cut him down bloodlessly." Nadine tossed her streaky blonde hair. "But you may be interested in a deduction, since deductions are your department. I deduce that Dr. Theodore McNamara plays into the sexual homicides you're investigating, that robbery had nothing to do with his ending up in the river, and that you have a very good idea who bashed him about the head and face earlier this evening. And whoever that may be has a starring role in your homicides."
"That's a lot of deducing, Nadine."
"Will you confirm?"
Eve merely crooked a finger, walked away. When the camera operator fell into step behind Nadine, Eve stopped her with one steely stare.
"Wait for me," Nadine told her. "She's just doing her job, Dallas."
"We're all just doing our jobs. Turn the recorder off."
"Recorder?"
"Don't waste my time. We go off record, or you get nothing."
Nadine sighed, heavily and strictly for form, then disconnected the recorder worked into her gold lapel pin. "Off record."
"You don't go on the air with anything until I tell you."
"Do I get a one-on-one?"
"Nadine, I don't have time to negotiate with you. For all I know there's another woman dead tonight and no one's found her yet. You go on air with your deductions and there could be another one dead tomorrow."
"Okay. It stays in holding until you say."
"McNamara's connected. I talked to him this afternoon. He wasn't cooperative. I believe he knew or suspected the identity of the killer. I believe he confronted that individual after our conversation, and as a result ended up a floater."
"That only confirms my deductions."
"I'm not finished. I believe the root of these murders goes back to a project partnered by J. Forrester and Allegany Pharmaceuticals nearly twenty-five years ago. Sex, scandals, illegals abuse, payoffs, and cover-ups. Dig there for your background and you'll be several steps ahead of the other networks."
"Was McNamara directly involved in the killings?"
"Years ago he spent a lot of time, energy, and money making sure that facts, actions, and criminal activities that should have been part of the public record were sealed. He refused to cooperate by volunteering information pertinent to the investigation of the murder of two women and the attack on another, instead opting to withhold that information. Did he kill them? No. Is he responsible? That's a moral call. That's not my department either."
Nadine touched her arm as Eve turned away. "I have a contact at the morgue. McNamara was struck several blows on the head and face nearly an hour before he died. One defensive wound, right wrist. While the initial injuries came from a blunt instrument about eight inches wide, the killing blow was delivered by a different weapon. A long, slim metal object such as a crowbar or tire iron that might be found in the tool kit of a car."