Big Jack

“Hot damn!”

The first stop was a small theater originally constructed in the early twentieth century. Her badge got them through to the foreman. Though he bitched about workload and schedule, he took them through. The lobby floors were the original marble, and apparently a point of pride for the foreman. The theater section was bare particleboard on the floor and as yet unsealed. The walls were old plaster.

Still, she went through the entire building, using her scope to look for blood traces.

They suffered through late-afternoon traffic en route to the next stop.

“The sealant, professional-grade, can be purchased wholesale or retail in five-, ten- and twenty-five-gallon tubs.” Peabody read the data off her PPC. “Or you can, with a contractor’s license, purchase it in powder form and mix it yourself. Residential-grade comes in one- or five-gallon tubs. No powder available. I’ve got the suppliers.”

“You’ll need to hit those. We’ll want a list of individuals and companies who’ve bought the sealant so we can cross-check them with the construction crews on these sites.”

“Going to take a while.”

“He’s not going anywhere. He’s right here.” She sca

He let himself into his apartment and immediately ordered the house droid to bring him a gin and tonic. It was so a

But the old man was tying up the purse strings, demanding he show more interest in the company.

Your legacy, son. What bullshit! His legacy was several million in Russian whites.

He couldn’t care less about the company. As soon as he was able, as soon as he had what was his, by right, he’d tell the old man to fuck himself.

It would be a fine day.

But meanwhile he had to placate and coddle and pretend to be the good son.

He stripped down, letting his clothes fall as he went, and lowered himself into the one-man lap pool built into the penthouse’s recreation area.

The fact that the company he despised and deplored paid for the penthouse, the clothes, the droid, never made a scratch on the surface of his ego.

He reached up a hand for the g and t, then simply sprawled in the cool water.

He had to get to Ga

As it stood now, they could have no clue. He could be an obsessed fan, or a lover of the maid’s who’d been in league with her to burgle the Ga

But if he went to Maryland he might be seen, or traced. He would hardly blend well in some silly small town. If he killed Samantha Ga

If he could get to Ga

But she had to surface sometime. She had to come home sooner or later.

If he had all the time in the world, he could wait her out. But he couldn’t tolerate dragging himself into that stupid office much longer, dealing with the idiotic working class or paying lip service to his pathetic parents. All the while knowing everything he wanted, everything he deserved, was just beyond his reach.

He sipped the drink with one arm braced on the pool’s edge to anchor him. “Screen on,” he said idly, then sca

Nothing new, he saw with satisfaction. He couldn’t understand the mind-set of those who fed on media, on what they perceived as the glory. A true criminal gained all the satisfaction necessary by succeeding at his work, in secret.

He liked being a true criminal, and liked-very much-raising the bar on his own exploits.

He smiled to himself as he looked around the room at the shelves and displays of antique toys and games. The cars, the trucks, the figures. He’d stolen some of them, simply for the buzz. The same way he sometimes stole a tie or a shirt.

Just to see if he could.

He’d stolen from friends and relatives for the same reason, and long before he’d known he came by the habit… honestly. That thievery was in his blood. Who’d have believed it looking at his parents?

But then, he’d gotten his interest in the toy collection from his father, and it had served him well. If his fellow collector and acquaintance Chad Dix hadn’t bitched to him about his girlfriend, about the book she was writing that was taking all her time and attention, he wouldn’t have known about the diamonds, the co

He might never have read the book. It wasn’t the sort of thing he did with his time, after all. But it had been a simple matter to pry Dix for more details, then to wheedle the advance copy from him.

He finished off the drink, and though he wanted another, denied himself. A clear head was important.

He set the glass aside, did a few laps. When he pulled himself out of the pool, the empty glass was gone and a towel and robe were laid out. He had a party to attend that evening. He had a party of some sort to attend every evening. And he found it ironic that he’d actually met Samantha Ga

He’d never had more in common with a woman.

He might have to take the time and the trouble to pursue her romantically, which would certainly be considerably less lowering than his brief association with Tina Cobb. No more his type, when it came to that. Not from what he’d observed of her, in any case.

Full of herself, he thought as he began to dress. Attractive enough, certainly, but one of those brainy, single-minded females who either irritated or bored him so quickly.

From what he’d been told of her by Chad, she was good in bed, but entirely too absorbed with her own needs and wants outside the sheets.

Still, unless he could figure out a more efficient, more direct way to the diamonds, he would have to spend some quality time with Jack O’Hara’s great-granddaughter.

In the meantime, he thought as he flicked a finger over the scoop of a clever scale-model backhoe, he thought it might be time for a heart-to-heart with dear old dad.

Chapter 10

There was a headache simmering like a hot stew behind her eyes by the time Eve got home. She’d only managed to hit three sites. Construction workers, she learned, called it a day long before cops did. She’d gotten nothing from the ones she’d managed to survey but the headache from the clatter of tools, the blasts of music, the calls of workers all echoing in empty or near-empty buildings.

Added to that was the hassle of cajoling, browbeating or begging suppliers for their customer lists. If she never visited another building-supply warehouse or outlet in this lifetime, she would die a happy woman.

She wanted a shower, a ten-minute nap and a gallon of ice water.

Since she’d pulled up behind Feeney’s vehicle, she didn’t bother to check the in-house. Roarke would be upstairs with him, in the office or the computer lab, playing their e-geek games. Since the cat didn’t come out to greet her, she assumed he was with them.

She scotched the idea of ten minutes with her eyes shut. She couldn’t quite bring herself to get horizontal with another cop in the house, especially if the cop was on the clock. It would be too embarrassing if she got caught. She compromised with an extra ten minutes in the shower and felt justified when the headache backed off to threatening.