Vendetta in Death

by Robb, J. D.

  Nodding, Eve waggled her fork. “Which is why she’s not all the way off the list. Maybe she’s covering for Darla. She might not be absolutely sure what Darla’s up to, but she covers for her. Like I said, the affection, devotion between them reads real. Would Darla leave her grandmother, still recovering from a serious illness, alone? Would she go out hunting and leave Eloise alone? Spend hours torturing her targets while Eloise slept upstairs?”

  “Lady Justice,” Roarke reminded her. “You and I know very well one can justify anything if they believe or want enough.”

  “You’re right.” She gestured with her wineglass. “You’re damn right. Still, what if Grand—she calls her Grand—wakes up while you’re out, comes looking for you? How do you explain that? Oh, I just went out for a walk or whatever—and left you alone.”

  “But if Darla attended the support group, she’d have left Eloise alone.”

  “Not really. Last time she went—last December—she talked about worrying her grandmother was coming down with something. They have a nurse come in during the day, but they both stated Darla’s the main caregiver, and the one in charge in the evenings, through the night. Droids.”

  Eve ate as she considered it. “Crowded club, dim lights. Could she send a droid? Pettigrew couldn’t have had more than a couple minutes with the LC, so would he have made her for a droid?”

  “How long does it take you to make one?”

  Eve huffed out a breath. “I’m a cop. A really well-made droid could pass for a short time, especially in dim light. It lowers the risk, and it hits the irony meter hard re Pettigrew. Another droid to drive—or you have the one droid order autopilot at least until the target’s compromised. A droid could easily lift an unconscious man, or a dead one.”

  “Death by droid?”

  “No, no, she needs to do that herself” Needs the blood, Eve thought. Needs to hear them scream.

  And ultimately, needs to cut away what makes them men.

  “Sure, with her knowledge she’d be able to program droids for violence and block detection,” she considered. “Probably. But she needs to confront, torture, kill. She’s not going to be a passive observer to that. Lady Justice has to act.”

  She stabbed some steak, then narrowed her eyes. “Better—maybe better. How good is she at the programming, the creation? Maybe you’ve programmed a droid to watch over Grand while she sleeps. One who can send you a notification if you need to abort and get home, or get cleaned up—torture’s messy—and get up to her. You can program a droid with medical skills, same as you do a beat droid, a domestic, a sex droid with whatever skills are needed.”

  “Risky,” Roarke pointed out. “If something happened to her, something went wrong while she was out of the house, how to explain it?”

  “But nothing’s gone wrong, has it? They’ve got a domestic droid,” Eve added. “At least one that I saw. She piled on the shock and grief, Roarke. I mean piles and piles of it, and that just keeps hitting me wrong. It’s off. Are you going to feel all that for a man who screwed you over? Still feel all that for two years?”

  Studying Roarke, Eve considered.

  And he sighed. “I know that look.”

  “I’d never get over you. If you screwed me over like that, it would crush me—I’d do my best to make you pay for it, but it would crush me.”

  “No graphic example of making me pay?”

  “They’d never find what was left of your body.” She smiled with it. “But the point is, I wouldn’t let people see it. If I grieved, if I still had feelings, they wouldn’t see it. Or not like that.”

  “Well, to be fair, not everyone is capable of controlling their reactions, their emotions.”

  “Two years. I’m going to buy she’s carried all this emotion for him around for two years when he stole what she built herself, when he tossed her aside for a younger—lots younger—woman with bigger tits? And at the same time, the group leader has notes on how Darla seemed to have turned a corner, how she seemed steadier and all that, but was still angry and bitter.”

  Eve scooped up the last of the potatoes. “Steadier,” she continued, “maybe steadier because she’d worked out a plan, a solution. She bonded with the women in the group—that’s in the notes. She brought in gifts for Christmas. She gave one of them money to help her get a safe place to stay. She found her …”

  She trailed off, searching, then grabbed the wine. “Tribe. Sort of. Her tribe, and designated herself as their warrior, their avenger. Justice seeker.”

  Pushing up, she went back to the board, circled, circled. Roarke stayed where he was, watching, enjoying watching her work.

  “Maybe one or more of them joined in with her, but I don’t think so. I don’t see it—at least not yet. She’s doing it for them. For herself, sure, but for them. For women who get screwed over, who get knocked around, forced, harassed. All of it. She’s going to take care of the tribe first.”

  “Not to toss a spanner in the works, but if she continues to kill men connected to women in the group, isn’t she bringing the investigation to her own door?”

  “Already has,” Eve agreed. “Maybe she didn’t expect us to connect the group this fast, but she’s smart. She brings up the group herself. She can’t know we already know about it, but she brings it up herself to throw suspicion away if we move in that direction, or someone else mentions it.”

  “Of course. Why would she mention it if she used it to select her prey?”

  When Eve glanced back at him, her eyes were flat and cool. All cop. “She thinks she’s got it all covered. And she’s done a pretty good job of it. I’ve got no probable cause. None, zip. I just know.”

  “How many in the group?” Roarke asked.

  “It averages about fifteen.”

  “When do they meet again?”

  “Not soon enough. Not for another ten days. She’s already got another lined up. It’ll be soon, really soon. But who and where and why? She’s the only one who knows.”

  Shaking her head, she jammed her hands in her pockets. “And I could be wrong, just wrong, and it’s someone else in the group. Someone we haven’t interviewed yet, who hasn’t connected yet. So I need to put this aside, dig into what I’ve got. Painted concrete and a list of first names.”

  “Isn’t it likely some of the women bonded outside the group? Met outside the group for additional support? Forged friendships?”

  “Yeah. Leah Lester indicated as much, but none of the three women we’ve interviewed knows full names—or admits to it.” She aimed a stare at Darla’s ID shot again. “Except … Darla gave money to another member of the group. What did she do, just hand her a wad of cash? Unlikely.”

  “Didn’t you say the money was to help the other woman secure a safe place to live?”

  “Yeah, yeah, let’s just give that a push.”

  She went back to her command center, found what she needed, tried Darla’s ’link.

  “Hello, yes, Lieutenant. Have you found who killed Thaddeus?”

  “We’re pursuing a line of investigation. You may be able to help.”

  “Oh, of course. Anything. Just—I’m going to take this in the other room, Grand, and have Ariel make us that vid snack.”

  Eve heard the murmur of a second voice, saw Darla give a quick smile. “You know I will.” The screen wobbled a little as Darla moved from what Eve could see was a bedroom done in elegant rose and cream.

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I was just helping Grand settle in for the evening. We’re actually going to watch The Icove Agenda. She wants to see it again now that she’s met you. It’s been a …” Her voice shuddered, tears swirled. “Just a horrible day. We both need some entertainment. What can I do to help you?”

  “You made a monetary gift to another member of the support group last December.”

  “Oh.” Distress rippled over her face. She ran a hand over the hair still drawn back in a tail. “That’s confidential.”

  “Not anymore. I need the full name o
f the recipient.”

  “Lieutenant, the entire framework of the group is built on mutual trust. And I don’t see that helping a—an acquaintance applies to this awful thing.”

  “Two men connected to women in the group are dead. It applies. From what I’ve already learned, Una needed financial assistance to rent an apartment for herself and her young son.”

  “He beat her!” Fury spiked, hot and fast. “She was living in a shelter.”

  “Did she go to the police?”

  Darla shut her eyes, and when she opened them, sorrow lived in them. But Eve had seen that fury, that fire.

  “No, at least not the last I heard. He said he’d kill the boy if she did. She’d gotten a restraining order months before, for all the good it did. She was terrified. I can’t—I can’t talk to you about her private business. It’s not right.”

  “Do you want your ex-husband’s killer brought to justice?”

  “I—of course I do!”

  “Give me her name before someone else dies.”

  “You put me in a terrible position.”

  “Let’s try this. Where did you transfer the money?”

  As she pressed a hand to the side of her face, Darla’s eyes watered up again. “Oh God, how is that not just as bad? I wanted, I just wanted to do something good, something positive. I wanted to end a period of my life where I’d spent so much time wallowing in bitterness and self-pity into something positive.”

  “And you did.”

  Eve heard Eloise’s voice, saw Darla turn her head, watched her tears spill over. “Oh, Grand.”

  “Tell Lieutenant Dallas what she needs to know, Darla. It’s the right thing, and your friend will understand that. Do the right thing, sweetie.”

  “Nothing feels right.” Darla closed her eyes again, drew a breath. “She was trying to scrape together enough money for an apartment so she and her little boy could move out of the shelter. She’d gotten a job, but she just didn’t have enough. I paid the security deposit and first and last month’s rent, to give her a start, a chance. A place downtown. I honestly can’t remember the address. I’d have to look up the transfer.”

  “Her name. I’ll find her.”

  “It feels wrong,” Darla countered. “Una Kagen. Her little boy’s Sam. She’d never hurt anyone.”

  “It’s imperative we contact members of the group. Do you have any other names?”

  Darla began to rub the spot between her eyebrows. “I had coffee a few times after the meetings with Una and Rachel—they were close in age, both single mothers, and became friends. Una would know her full name. I think she’s the one who helped Una find the apartment. It was in Rachel’s building if I remember right.”

  “Okay, that’s helpful. Thank you.”

  “Please, Lieutenant, these women have already been through so much.”

  “And I’ll do my best to prevent them from going through more. Thank you again.”

  “She took back her maiden name,” Roarke said when Eve ended the transmission. “She’s Una Ruzaki since the divorce finalized in February. Hold a moment,” he added, as he continued to work his PPC. “There’s a Rachel Fassley at the same address. One marriage, widowed, one son, age six.”

  “You keep being handy.”

  “My mission in life. Are we having a trip downtown?”

  “It’s always better to deal face-to-face. I’m going to say, first, you don’t have to go with me. Second, a man might skew things. But third, it’d be good to have someone else’s impressions, especially if I can get to both of them. And when you put on Charming Roarke, it usually skews to the positive.”

  “It’s easy, darling.” He swept a fingertip down her cheek. “Charming’s my default.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. You drive,” she added as they started out. “I want to look into the restraining order.”

  When they got outside, she studied the vehicle he’d ordered out of the garage. Sleek, shiny, and cherry red, with doors that opened up in an arch rather than out.

  “What is this?”

  “New,” Roarke said easily and got behind the wheel.

  Inside, the dash looked like the pilot’s cabin of a luxury off-planet shuttle. “How many vehicles do you need?”

  He answered smooth as cream, “I’ve yet to find out.”

  When the engine gave a throaty roar, when they flew along the driveway, she wished she’d taken the wheel.

  Next time.

  She spent her time on her PPC. “TRO against Arlo Kagen, age thirty-one, granted to Una Kagen. We’ve got a history of domestic disturbance reports spanning three years prior. Kagen did three months for misdemeanor assault—out in ninety days with probation, mandatory anger management. Bullshit. Guy’s got a serious drinking issue—it’s clear from what’s on the reports. Tunes up the wife or goes on a rampage. She filed for divorce, got the TRO, and he went at her again. Charges dismissed there, as he claimed she went at him—and they both had injuries.”

  “More bullshit.”

  “Yeah, it is.” She switched to Rachel Fassley. “Fassley’s husband of three years was killed during a robbery attempt five years ago. It looks like he tried to intervene, got stabbed multiple times. I don’t see anything … Hmm. Her employment history. Office manager until she had the kid, then professional mother status. Into the outside workforce last fall. Office manager—different office. Back to PM status after three months.”

  “You assume something happened at the workplace.”

  “Can’t assume,” Eve said. “But there’s nothing else. No reports filed. None filed during the three-year marriage on the husband.”

  Eve sat back, let it cook. “I want to talk to both of them.”

  15

  Roarke opted for a lot near the apartment building on the Lower East Side. Considering the ride, Eve couldn’t blame him for rejecting a street slot, even if they found one.

  Plus, since the piss-trickle rain had finally stopped, it wasn’t a bad night to walk a few blocks.

  “I still have to try to run down the concrete, the epoxy,” Eve commented.

  “You’ll learn that Mildock’s been in business more than a century, and the floor you’re looking for may have been poured long, long ago.”

  She’d thought of that herself, but still scowled. “That’s not helpful.”

  “Alternately, it may be a newer pour, or a resurfacing before the color sealer. I’d push more on the epoxy, which would need refreshing every decade or so if the floor gets any real traffic.”

  She blew out a breath. “Odds of me hitting anything on either are slim to none. What it gives me is a match when we find the kill zone.”

  He took her hand. “I wager I could dig up blueprints of Eloise Callahan’s home here in New York without too much trouble. Then you’d know if a basement area exists.”

  “A garage does. I saw it. But I like basement better. Or there might be another outbuilding behind the main house.”

  “I’ll have a look when we get home again.”

  They paused outside the building, both studying the layout, the security.

  “I’d say the odds of the basement or subfloor of this building having a top-grade epoxy finish in Burnished Gold are too long to measure.”

  Eve nodded. “Decent, working-class, reasonable security, but nothing approaching top-of-the-line. Door cam, and it looks like it’s in working order. We can take a look at the feed from the last couple nights, just to eliminate, but this isn’t it. It’s not going to be a multiresident building. Not private enough.”

  Eve glanced up. “They’re both on the fifth floor. Let’s take Ruzaki first, and see if we can pull Fassley in. Hitting them together’ll give me a sense of the dynamic.”

  Ignoring the buzzer, she mastered into a small lobby that smelled lightly of pine cleaner and somebody’s take-out Chinese. She eyed the pair of elevators suspiciously.

  “Let’s risk it.” Roarke called the car, tugged her inside. The elevator smelled exactly l
ike the lobby.

  When they exited on the fifth floor, she caught the pine, but not the Chinese.

  “Right across from each other,” Eve noted, glancing from one apartment door to the other. “Ruzaki’s got police locks and a door cam.”

  “Violent ex-husband,” Roarke surmised. “Still worried there, I’d say. Just the standards on Fassley’s, so either she can’t afford the extras, or she isn’t worried about someone forcing his way in.”

  “I’m betting on the second.” Eve pressed the buzzer on Ruzaki’s door.

  It only took a moment for the cautious voice to come through the intercom. “Yes?”

  “Lieutenant Dallas and civilian consultant, NYPSD.” She held up her badge. “We’d like to speak with Una Ruzaki.”

  “About what?”

  “Ms. Ruzaki?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be easier if we came in to speak with you.”

  “Would you hold your badge a little higher? I’m going to contact the police and verify it.”

  “Sure. Contact Cop Central.”

  While they waited, Eve heard the murmur of entertainment screens, occasional kid squeals. Then the locks opened.

  “I’m sorry. It’s better to be careful.”

  “No problem.”

  A quiet-looking brunette, Eve thought, mixed race, about five-three, on the thin side. She was dressed in what looked like plaid pajama pants, a white T-shirt, and bright red house skids.

  “What’s this about? Sorry, come in.”

  The living area was decorated in quiet colors like the woman, except for an area sectioned off in a kind of playroom. That held brightly colored blocks and toys in a bin. Another section held a small table and chairs. The tablet, the glass of something fizzy indicated Una had been sitting there when they arrived.

  “Your name’s come up during the course of an investigation. We believe you might be able to provide additional information.”

  Her fingers twisted together to match the nervous expression on her face. “What kind of investigation?”