Strangers In Death

Bebe heaved out a long breath. “She didn’t get in touch after that to ask me to volunteer. I figured she was embarrassed. And when I went to the retreat, the last one I went to at the end of August, she avoided me. When I pi

“Did you notice her being friendly with anyone in particular at that retreat?”

“I stayed away from her. Like you said, my father used me. My brothers. Then I put myself in the position so the johns could use me, and the dealers. I stopped letting myself be used and I met Luca.”

Resentment, and some of the spit came back in her eyes. “I got it, okay? I got it. After that, she was using me. I didn’t blame her so much, considering, but I wasn’t going to put myself in that spot again. So I stayed away.”

“Smart move.”

“Is that enough? Is that want you wanted?”

“It ain’t bad.”

“You’re going to push for them to open Luca’s case? You’re going to do that?”

“I did it this morning,” Eve told her. “The two cops you made who had lunch in the place you work are supposed to be good, and they’re picking it up. They’ll be in touch with you after they review the file.”

“You…why did you do that when I didn’t give you anything for it?”

“Because your husband deserved better than he got. Because it seems to me you and your kids deserved better. And because I don’t like it when a good man is killed for no good reason.”

Bebe stared for another moment. Then she simply laid her head down on the table and wept.

“Record off.” Rising, Eve signaled Peabody. As she left the room, she heard Peabody’s voice comforting the sobbing woman.

17

EVE TAGGED FEENEY ON THE WAY FROM INTERVIEW to her office. “Give me something.”

“Christ, kid, do you know how much I got piled up here from being out? I got the backlog down from my armpits to my asshole. I’ll get to your box.”

“Can’t you just open it and see if she reprogrammed or reloaded it before…” She trailed off at his stony stare. He had a good one, she thought. She’d modeled hers after it. “Okay, all right. Just as soon as you can.”

“If you don’t interrupt me to nag, it’ll be sooner.”

She clicked off.

Circumstantial, she reminded herself. Even if Feeney proved that the dispenser had been reprogrammed and/or reloaded, it was circumstantial. She hated building a case on circumstantial. And that’s all she had. Impressions, comments, Bebe’s statement, personalities. And not a single solid piece of evidence.

Yet.

She strode back into Homicide, where Baxter turned from the AutoChef. “Dallas. The boyfriend/tra

“Right. Sorry, my mind’s elsewhere. What’s your sense, Baxter?”

“That the case is as cold as the victim. The kid and I can keep taking pokes at it when we squeeze out some time. I don’t want to put it in Inactive yet. We’re going to have to slap it down to the bottom of the pile, maybe give it a shake every now and then.”

“Not all of them close.”

“Yeah. I know. Pisser when they don’t. We closed six others since we caught this one, and it’s still a pisser.”

She sympathized, but she had her own case to close, and needed to shuffle some of the pieces, try to see a different angle. In her office, she pulled up a couple of the possibles who’d come in below Petrelli on her list. After zeroing in on the next, gauging the time, she detailed a report on the interview with Petrelli, added notes and speculations.

“Computer, run probability. Given the data, the statements, what is the probability Ava Anders is a big, fat liar?”

Your question is not properly structured and ca

“Seemed straightforward to me. Try this. Run probability given the data and statements included in the Anders, Thomas A., homicide that Anders, Ava, has lied to the primary and/or to other individuals who gave an account of conversations with subject.”

Working…

Eve rose, programmed coffee. Stared out the window.

Task complete. Conflicting statements given regarding conversations with subject indicate a 97.3 percent probability Anders, Ava, has given false statements. Probability ca

“I think I can figure that out. Run second probability. Given the data, and assuming the statement just logged by Petrelli, Bebe, is factual, what is the probability that Anders, Ava, arranged, devised, or is involved in the murder of Anders, Thomas A.”

Working…

“Yeah, chew on that. Circumstantial, more circumstantial. But probabilities have some weight. Enough weight, somebody sinks. Who else did you set up the way you set up Bebe, Ava? Who else did you have on the line?”

Task complete. Factoring Petrelli statement as a factual account, the probability is 50.2 percent that Anders, Ava, arranged, devised, or is involved in the murder of Anders, Thomas A.

“Bollocks to that,” Eve stated, pulling out one of Roarke’s phrases. “Fifty doesn’t add weight. It’s a wash. I need another. I need one of the other fish on the line to flip.”

“Dallas.” Peabody gave the doorjamb a quick rap. “I arranged transpo for Petrelli. Didn’t want her having to deal with the bus or the subway. She was pretty wrecked.”

“Fine.” Eve turned, held out a hand, rubbed her fingers and thumb together.

Peabody shoved her hands in her pockets. “I don’t have twenty on me. Isn’t it enough reward that you got her to spill it on Ava?”

In answer, Eve simply wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hand.

“Okay, okay, man.” She snatched up a memo cube from Eve’s desk. “This is going to have to come out of my Roarke fund.”

“You have a fund for Roarke? To donate to him, or to try to buy him?”

“I wish-on the buying part. It’d be a skim for McNab. We have a deal where we both got to pick one person, and if we ever got the chance to…” She closed her fist, pumped it while she wiggled her eyebrows. “With said person, the other of us would understand. A one-shot deal. I picked Roarke.”

“Well, he’s a superior lay, so you’d have that before I peeled the skin off your still quivering body, roasted it on an open fire, then force-fed it to you.”

“Okay then. So…” Clearing her throat, Peabody turned the cube on record. “I owe Dallas, Lieutenant Meaniepants Eve, twenty dollars to be paid out of my hard-earned, under-appreciated detective’s salary next payday. Peabody, Detective Churchmouse Delia.”

She tossed the memo cube. Eve caught it one-handed, slid it into her pocket. “What’s the Roarke fund?”

“Oh, I’m earmarking a little every payday and socking it away. When I get a decent amount I’m going to have him invest it for me. He said he would. It’s not a superior lay, but hey, could be a nice bang.”

“Never known him to misfire. Start on the interviews on old man Anders. Plowder and Bride-West are on there. Don’t hit them. Start with out-of-towners. Start with the ones Ava isn’t tight with. The girl toy, any of the staff who were there, particularly any temps or staff who’ve been fired or have resigned. Low-key it, just following up on additional information that’s come to light. Just reconfirming, blah blah. I’m heading into the field shortly, then I’m working from home.”

“You’re going solo?”

“Actually, I’m going to call in a superior lay, who also looks like a superior lay. He could be handy in my next interview.”