Strangers In Death

And he watched as her long stride ate up the sidewalk, her coat billowing. Watched until she was swallowed up by distance and people.

13

WITH HER MIND TAPPING OUT DETAILS, EVE headed toward Homicide with the same ground-eating stride Roarke had admired outside. Not a break in the case, she thought, not yet, but damn if she didn’t think she had a crack. And she was going to chisel and hammer away at that crack until it busted wide open.

Another part of her brain registered a need for caffeine, debated between supplying it hot or cold. When cold won, she stopped in front of Vending and eyed the machine with suspicion and dislike.

“Don’t fuck with me,” she mumbled, and plugged in credits. “Tube of Pepsi.”

The machine seemed to consider, to ponder-she all but heard it whistling a taunting tune. And just as she reared back to give it a good kick, it spat out the tube along with its tedious content data. Eve snatched the tube out before it changed its mind, and turning, saw Abigail Johnson sitting on the same bench Tiko had used the day before.

Tension tightened at the back of Eve’s neck as she approached the woman. “Mrs. Johnson.”

“Oh, Lieutenant Dallas. I was daydreaming, didn’t see you there.” Shifting the box on her lap, Abigail got to her feet.

“Is there a problem?”

“No. No, indeed. The fact is, Tiko’s about nagged the skin off my bones about that reward. I felt like he should understand doing what’s right is enough, then, well, I started thinking it’s good for a boy to get something back for doing right. And don’t I punish him for doing wrong, and maybe give him some extra screen time or bake his favorite cookies when he does something especially good?”

“Works for me.”

“So I contacted that number you gave me, to see about it. It was all taken care of already, they said how you’d seen to that.” The bright green eyes stared into Eve’s. “Why it was a thousand dollars, Lieutenant.”

“Early estimates hit about ten thousand a day that ring was pulling in. Tiko was key in shutting it down.”

“I can’t get over it, that’s God’s truth. Fact is, I had to sit down fa

“You baked me a pie?”

“A lemon meringue pie. I hope you like lemon meringue.”

“I’d be a fool not to. Thanks.”

“When they told me you weren’t here, I was going to leave it for you. But I got the strong feeling there wouldn’t have been anything left of it time you got back.”

“You’d be right about that.”

“They said how you’d be back shortly, so I just sat down to wait. They put that right through security downstairs, so they could see I wasn’t bringing in anything dangerous. ’Course I’ve been told my baking’s dangerous to the waistline, but you don’t have to fret about that.”

Because it seemed to be expected, Eve opened the lid, peeked inside. The meringue looked frothy as a snowcap, with golden beads scattered over its peaks and planes. “Wow. It looks like edible art.”

“Isn’t that a thing to say. I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something for what you did for my boy, for my Tiko. He told me all about it, well, about a half a dozen times he told me all about it. I wanted to say to you how it seems to me somebody like you could’ve brushed him off, or could’ve called Child Services, or a lot of other things but what you did. I’ve taught him to have respect for the law, and for right over wrong. But you showed him why, and you put a face on the law and on what’s right that he won’t forget. He won’t be forgetting the reward either, but it’s you he’ll remember first. And so will I.”

“And it seems to me, Mrs. Johnson, that a lot of boys in Tiko’s position could’ve looked the other way-or more, tried to angle their way into a piece of what was going on. But I’ll take the pie.”

“I hope you enjoy it.”

“I may have to knock a few of my men unconscious to get it into my office, but believe me, I will.”

Eve got a good grip on the box, and put blood in her eye as she walked into the bullpen. She swore a dozen noses lifted up, at the very same instant, to scent the air. “Not a chance in hell. Peabody, my office.”

After shooting a smug and evil smile at her sorrowful colleagues, Peabody breezed in behind Eve. “What kind of pie is it?”

“It’s my kind of pie.”

“You can’t eat a whole pie by yourself. You’ll get sick.”

“We’ll find out.”

“But…I brought you crullers.”

“Where are they?”

Peabody’s mouth opened, closed on a pout as she shifted her eyes away. “Um…”

“Exactly.” Eve set the pie box out of reach on top of her AutoChef. “What have you got besides cruller breath?”

“It’s not like I ate them all personally, and you left them behind so-Okay.” She deflated under Eve’s icy stare. “I’ve got the duplicate names, and I’ve started ru

“I think we can take her off the list.”

“Yeah. Also the mayor’s wife and a number of other prominents.”

“We won’t discount them. Staff and volunteers go into the mix, but we’re going to focus on the participants. The women Ava played Lady Bountiful with.”

“I’ve got some with criminal, got some who were or are LCs.”

“Keep them at the top. Trying to figure her. Would she go for somebody with experience, with tendencies, or somebody blank, somebody who’d run below the radar?”

She paced to the window, stared out. “She wouldn’t expect us to get here, to look where we’re going to look. But somebody who plans as meticulously as she does would have to consider all the possibilities. How did she weigh it?”

“Another question would be how do you convince somebody to kill for you.”

“Some people bake pies. Copy all the files, shoot them here and to my home unit. And keep working it, Peabody. If somebody in there was her trigger, I bet she has plans for them, too. I just bet she has plans.”

She worked it as well, formulating notes from her conversations that day, pushing through the repeated names Peabody had culled out. And she considered the logistics and man hours of interviewing literally hundreds of potential suspects.

Needle in the haystack. But sooner or later.

She pushed back, circled her head around her shoulders to loosen knots. Her incoming beeped, and it pleased her to see Nadine had sent her a file. “Copy to my home unit,” she ordered.

She rubbed her tired eyes. Time to go home herself, she admitted. Take it home, pick it up again, bounce it off Roarke.

She shut down, loaded her bag, shrugged into her coat. She picked up the pie box as Mira stepped to the doorway.

“On your way out?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got time. They told me you were booked solid today.”

“I was. And I’m late heading home. If you’re leaving, why don’t we walk out together, and you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“That’d be good. I’ve got this theory,” Eve began.

She briefed Mira as they took glides down to the main level, then switched to the elevator for the garage.

“The dominant personality, the benefactor, or employer, convinces, pressures, or cajoles the subordinate or submissive to execute her will.”

“Execute being the operative term,” Eve commented. “But I think cajole is a passive term for getting someone to do murder.”

“Passivity can be a weapon if used correctly. And such methods have certainly been used for gain. Anything from lying to protect the superior’s mistake or misconduct, to providing sexual favors and yes, all the way up to murder. To insure continued cooperation after the fact, the dominant would need to continue the relationship, offer and supply reward, or threaten with exposure or harm.”