Promises in Death id-34

by Nora Roberts

  “This is good.”

  “Better is that the Gs included wiping the record of Ricker’s hygiene break.”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Please.” Callendar waved a hand in the air as if flicking off a gnat. “Nothing’s ever gone when I’m around. I’ll dig it out. Meanwhile in the meanwhile, I got authorization to search Rouche’s quarters.”

  “Does he know?”

  “Not yet. We’re-”

  “Keep him in the dark. Make sure he’s unable to make any contact on planet-or off. No communications. Wrap him up, Callendar, and wrap him tight. Bring him and his drinking buddy home.”

  “All over that. This shit is fun!”

  “While you’re having fun, make goddamn sure none of it-not an inkling of it-leaks to Ricker. I want him closed down. If the warden has a problem, he can contact me. But Ricker is shut down tight until further notice.”

  “Total,” Callendar said and signed off.

  Eve added the new data, then rose to expand her murder board.

  “I’m clear,” Peabody said as she came in. “Unless you want to notify next of kin tonight, we…” She trailed off when she noticed the additions to the board. “You got something again.”

  “Callendar confirms Omega transmissions. They’re encrypted, but she says she can break that. And she matched the on-planet send-and-receive to the ’link Feeney found. She’s got the tech-” Eve tapped Zeban’s photo. “The guard Ricker’s bribing bribed him to keep them off the log, and to wipe the recording of Ricker’s shower. But she says she can reconstruct.”

  “She’s good. McNab says straight up. That’s a lot of bribing.”

  “Yes, bribing on a penal colony. I was shocked. It’s a food chain,” Eve muttered. “Ricker at the top. You’ve got Sandy, and Rouche, Zeban, and probably more under that. But there’s the link between Ricker and Sandy. That level. We need to fill that one in to make it all hold.”

  She turned around, frowned. “What time is it in France?”

  “Um.”

  “I don’t know either. I shouldn’t have to know. Roarke would know, but he’s in Vegas. I don’t know what time it is there, either.” She waved her hand before Peabody could inform her. “Find me the head French cop, the one who handles the area where Rouche’s ex lives. I want her watched. I need her communications monitored.”

  “You might have better luck with Global.”

  “They’re greedy. They’ll want her for their own. Let’s try the locals first.”

  It took persuasion, cajolery, and in the end the mention of illegal funds and considerable merchandise purchased with those illegal funds-all housed in France-to ensure cooperation.

  The possibility of confiscating a few million was worth the time and effort to sit on one Luanne Debois, and to monitor her communications.

  “It’ll take time,” Eve complained as they rode down to the garage. “Proper authorization-meaning bureaucratic crapola-before they can implement the watch. But he got a sparkle in his eyes when I outlined the money laundering, seeing as the result of it’s sitting, primarily, on his turf.”

  “You get that, and Callendar comes through, we’ll pin Ricker. Doesn’t pin or even identify his next in command here.”

  “Working on it.”

  Peabody stopped and narrowed her eyes when Eve stepped up to her vehicle.

  “I don’t get it. I just don’t get how come you have to pick something so ugly when you could have anything. Like the 2X-5000, or the big, burly all-terrain, or-”

  “I didn’t pick it; Roarke did.”

  “You’re shattering all my hopes and dreams.”

  “Because he’s smart enough to know it blends. Nobody’ll look twice at it. Do you want a ride home or not?”

  “I’m not going home.” Peabody jumped in before Eve. “I’m going back to your place. All my stuff’s there, and that’s where McNab’s coming when he gets back. Plus, brunch.”

  Eve felt the warning throb behind her eyes. “They’re not still there. Are they? Why?”

  “Because that was the plan, and yes, they are. I checked in.”

  “I was going to go by the morgue.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. We could’ve missed something.”

  “I’ll tag the morgue from here while you drive us to a magolishous breakfast buffet.”

  Life had to be, Morris had said, or what was the point? At the moment she might wish it would be elsewhere, but she accepted defeat. She could work from home, she told herself. Hide out in her office until the houseload of women finally went away. She could work on pinning down that last link while she waited for Callendar to come through.

  She’d need to deal with Rouche, and needed to discuss that deal with the DA’s office. Well, ADA Cher Reo was sleeping off a night of drunken revelry like the rest of them, so that would be handy.

  Plus, she had Mira right on-site, too. Mira would be good with additional profiling.

  They wanted brunch? she thought. Fine. But they were going to work for it.

  She slid her gaze right and noted that Peabody was slumped against the door and out like a light.

  Okay, they’d work for it as soon as they woke up.

  Dawn pearled the air as she approached the house. Probably just as well they were sleeping, Eve decided. It would give her time to recharge, think, pace, work on some angles without a bunch of distractions.

  Quiet, she thought. She could definitely use the quiet.

  She shoved Peabody’s shoulder and got a shocked snort out of her partner. “Wake up, go in, go up, go to bed.”

  “I’m awake. I’m good. Where… oh. Home again.”

  “Don’t get used to it. Take a couple hours down. You can eat when you get up, then you’re on the roll until I say otherwise.”

  “Okay. All right.” She rubbed her eyes as she followed Eve to the door. “Are you going down?”

  “I want to take advantage of the quiet until-”

  She opened the door, and the high-pitched scream had her reaching for her weapon. Peabody grabbed Eve’s arm. “Don’t draw down. It’s the baby.”

  Eve kept her hand on her weapon while her ears rang with wails and screams. “That’s not possible. Nothing that small can make those sounds.”

  But she followed the sounds to the parlor, where a pajama-clad Mavis walked a shrieking, red-faced Bella.

  “Hey!” Mavis walked, patted, swayed. “You’re back. Sorry, she’s a little fussy.”

  “It sounds like she’s being hacked up with an axe.” More, Eve thought, like she wanted to hack somebody else up with an axe.

  “She’s got good lungs.”

  Eve jolted as Mira-a Mira in a peacock blue robe-rose from the sofa. “Here, sweetie, let me take her awhile. Come to Aunt Charley, baby girl. Yes, there we are.”

  “Whew.” Mavis grabbed a mug off the table, glugged. “I brought her down here to keep from breaking eardrums upstairs. She sure is pissed.”

  “Why? What did you do? That can’t be normal. You’re a doctor,” Eve added, pointing at Mira. “You should do something.”

  “I am.” Mira walked, stroked, crooned. “She’s just teething and feeling mad, aren’t you, poor thing? Poor Belle. I bet you could use some coffee.”

  “I bet she could,” Eve muttered.

  Mavis rose, handing Mira some pink-and-blue device that Mira plugged in Belle’s mouth, then Mavis poured another mug of coffee. “Here you go. Peabody?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Since whatever Belle gnawed on took the shrieks down to sucking sounds and whimpers, Eve drank. “So… everybody else is asleep.”

  “As far as I know,” Mavis told her. “Some conked downstairs watching vids. Others crawled off to their assigned rooms. Everyone had a mega-blast. Sorry you got called away.”

  Eve kept a wary eye on Belle, whose eyes were going glassy as she sucked. “Is that thing tranq’d? Is it legal?”

  “No, it’s not tranq’d; yes, it’s legal.
It’s cold. The cold makes her inflamed gums feel better.” Mira stroked Belle’s cheek with her own. “She’s worn herself out. Haven’t you, sweetheart, just worn yourself out. The call was connected to the Coltraine case?”

  “Yeah, one of our prime suspects is in the morgue.” Eve stayed braced, in case the baby decided to erupt again. “Callendar hit hot on Omega. I’m waiting to hear back from her. I’ve got a couple of lines to look down. I could… I’ll go up.”

  “Do you want my input?”

  “It can wait.”

  “I can take her.” Mavis moved over, reached for Belle. “She’s about ready to go down again. Poor little Belly Button, Mommy’s got you. Thanks,” she said to Mira.

  “I loved it.”

  Baffled, because the statement seemed sincere, Eve started upstairs. “Reo’s still here, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. She went up to bed about two, I think. Are you looking for input from the ADA, too?”

  “At some point, yeah.”

  “Why don’t I go get her?”

  “It could wait… But why should it? Yeah, why don’t you go get her?” Eve continued up to her office, and glanced back at Peabody. “I said you could have a couple hours.”

  “I’m awake. And I’m hungry. I’m going to get some breakfast stuff out, if we’re going to have a consult. You looking for protein or carbs?”

  “Whatever.” Eve turned into her office. She went straight to her board and updated it. As she started to run probabilities, Peabody set a plate and a fresh mug of coffee on her desk.

  “Bacon and eggs seemed right. Dr. Mira, how about some breakfast? I’m serving it up.”

  “Oh. That’s an idea.” Mira came in, walked to the board. “Whatever Eve’s having is fine.” She studied the dead photo of Sandy. “One wound?”

  “Yes. One stick, dead in the heart.”

  “Personal again. Close work. Different weapon, different methodology than Coltraine, but the same sentiment, if you will. He likes to watch then die. Likes to be connected. Businesslike about it, but not removed.”

  “Killing’s business for cops. You could say.”

  “Leaving him naked. Humiliation, as with using Coltraine’s own weapon on her, taking it and her badge from the scene.”

  “I guess so.” It threw her for a moment-and Eve realized it shouldn’t have-to see the woman who’d been cuddling and soothing a screaming baby one minute coolly profiling a killer the next.

  “It’s a cover-up, a way to make it look like he got rolled and done,” Eve continued. “Like taking Coltraine’s jewelry, her wallet, were or could be interpreted as a cover-up, to make it initially appear as robbery. But the humiliation follows. It’s a benefit. He was covered with ratty blankets, dirty clothes, filthy tarps.”

  “The killer disliked him, found him of little worth. Easily disposed of.”

  “Ricker likes to dispose of people who outlive their usefulness to him.”

  “Ricker may have ordered the murder, but the person who carried it out would-or certainly could-choose the method. The time, the place. Thank you, Peabody.” Mira sat with the plate Peabody brought her. “You’re focused on Coltraine’s squad. Let’s look at them.”

  “I smell food.” Cher Reo, disheveled in pajamas covered with yellow daisies stopped on her way into the room to sniff the air. “And coffee. Food and coffee, please.”

  “I can be the waitress.” Mavis followed Reo into the room. “Belle’s sleeping, and I’m starved. I feel like French toast.”

  “Mmm,” Reo said. “French toast.”

  “I’ll make it two. Hey, Nadine, want to be a threesome with French toast?”

  “I’d be a fool not to. Who got killed?” Nadine demanded as she strolled in. “Mira wouldn’t spill.”

  “Jesus, go away,” Eve ordered, but resisted yanking at her hair. Or Nadine’s. “I’m working.”

  “I’ll keep it off the record.” Nadine grabbed a slice of bacon from Eve’s plate. “I can help. We’re the smart girls. Let’s solve some crime!”

  When she reached for Eve’s mug, Eve grabbed her wrist. “There’ll be another murder if you touch my coffee.”

  “I’ll go get my own.” But she walked to the board first, and found Sandy’s photo. “One in the heart. No muss, no fuss.”

  Eve frowned as Nadine strolled to the kitchen. The hell of it was, they were the smart girls.

  “Okay, all right. Reo, shut the damn door before somebody else wanders in here.” Then she blew out a breath when Louise did just that.

  “I couldn’t sleep so… oh, French toast!”

  “She’s a smart girl,” Nadine pointed out, and went over to shut the door herself. “Mavis, Louise wants French toast. We’re helping Dallas on a case.”

  Eve resisted-barely-the urge to beat her head against the desk. “Everybody just sit down and shut up. Nadine, I don’t want anything in here on-air, unless I clear it. And I don’t want to see any of it in a damn book.”

  “I won’t air anything without your go-ahead. As to the book? Hmmm, interesting.”

  “I mean it. Louise, you take your medi-van down to Pearl, don’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you ever treated a couple of scavengers called Kip and Bop.”

  “As I matter of fact I have. They-”

  “You can stay. I might have questions. Reo, let me tell you about this guard on Omega.”

  Since they were, Eve started on the eggs while she summed up Cecil Rouche’s connection to Ricker.

  19

  IT WAS RIDICULOUS, BRIEFING A BUNCH OF women-mostly civilians at that-on murder. Women in pajamas, Eve thought as she ran it through for Reo. Women in pajamas eating French toast and nibbling on bacon.

  Smart girls, okay. But still. Other than Peabody, Reo, and Mira, what did they know about cop work? She could stretch it for Nadine, she supposed. Working the crime beat gave Nadine some insight. And she could be trusted not to put a story ahead of ethics. That was something.

  Maybe Louise wasn’t so far out of the box. As a doctor, she’d treated plenty of victims. As for Mavis, she knew the streets, which didn’t really apply here. But she was basically serving coffee anyway.

  What the hell.

  “So, you want to make a deal with Rouche, give him incentive to flip on Max Ricker-and his New York contact who you believe killed both Coltraine and Sandy.”

  “Yeah. If Rouche has the name.”

  “If he has it,” Reo agreed. “And to pressure him to flip on Max Ricker as the orchestrator of the murders. Ricker, who’s already serving multiple life sentences in the toughest penal facility we have. We can’t do any more to him, in any real sense, but Rouche, an accessory before and after, possibly conspiracy to murder-he’d pay for it. If Callendar gets you what you hope, you’d have enough for that, and enough to push him to giving you the name of the actual killer-if he has it.”

  “That’s not the point. If Ricker pushed the button, and he damned well did, he has to be held accountable.” Eve couldn’t-wouldn’t-budge on that single point. “Charged, tried, and convicted of these two murders. One of them a cop. Maybe a couple more life sentences added on doesn’t mean anything, practically. But they matter. It matters for Coltraine.”

  “The law may not be able to make him pay, in any real sense, more than he already is.” Louise looked to the murder board, and Coltraine’s photo. “But if he isn’t held accountable, it’s not justice, is it? Two people are dead because he wanted them dead.”

  “Justice also includes the families and those who loved the victims,” Mira added. “They’re entitled to it.”

  Reo blew out a breath. “I don’t disagree, and I’ll have to pull all that out-and more-to convince my boss to take this metaphorical slap at Ricker, and let another fish off the line to do it. But he doesn’t walk on this, Dallas. Rouche and the tech, they don’t walk.”

  “I don’t want them to. Accepting and exchanging bribes, tampering with security, falsifying documents, money l
aundering. We can pin his ex-wife, too, which adds more pressure. He’ll do cage time, but I’m betting Rouche will consider a stretch of ten a gift against life.”

  “Charge him with conspiracy to commit,” Reo projected, “then deal it down. I’ll take it to my boss if you get what we need. But that deal’s going to depend on what Rouche brings to the table. Do you think he knows the name of the killer?”

  “The actual identity, no. I figure he went through Sandy. But he may know enough to narrow the field. And he may know enough to help us plug up the funnel Ricker’s using to fund his operation. If he’s got one cop in his pocket still, he’s probably got more.”

  “You’re sure it’s a cop?” Nadine asked.

  “Not only a cop, but one of Coltraine’s squad.” She ordered data on her wall screen. “Delong, Vance, her lieutenant. Authority figure who likes to keep things low-key. Family man. Twenty years in, with more administrative interests and skills than investigative. He rarely works in the field, but does so on occasion.”

  “He prefers a steady flow,” Mira said when Eve nodded to her. “While he does possess solid leadership qualities, he’s better suited to running this small squad than he might be in helming a larger, more complex department.”

  “O’Brian, Patrick. Detective,” Eve continued. “The senior man in the squad. Experience. Claims he prefers the slower pace of his squad to the work he used to do. His personal relationship with Coltraine is reputed to be a kind of father-daughter deal. With the way the squad’s set up, he-and the others-would partner up when Delong paired them.”

  “He would be, in my opinion, the most trusted member of the squad. The others respected him,” Mira added. “My read of the files and Dallas’s notes indicated that the squad trusted his opinion more than their lieutenant’s. He’s the team leader.”

  “Coltraine wouldn’t have questioned him,” Peabody said. “If he contacted her, told her he needed her on a case, a follow-up, any kind of op, she’d have done exactly what we believe she did that night. Get her weapons, walk out to meet him. But… Well, he looked really sad at her memorial. And his wife came. It felt sincere.”