The senator listened to the little speech with all apparent interest. Then he leaned forward. “I’ve been in the business of bullshit for more than twice your life, lieutenant. So don’t pull out your tap dance with me. You have nothing.”
Fuck tact, Eve decided instantly. “What we have, Senator DeBlass, is a complicated and delicate investigation. Complicated, given the nature of the crime; delicate, due to the victim’s family tree. It’s my commander’s opinion that I’m the best choice to conduct the investigation. It’s your right to disagree. But pulling me off my job to come here to defend my work is a waste of time. My time.” She rose. “I have nothing new to tell you.”
With the vision of both their butts hanging in a sling, Feeney rose as well, all respect. “I’m sure you understand, senator, that the delicacy of an investigation of this nature often means progress is slow. It’s difficult to ask you to be objective when we’re talking of your granddaughter, but Lieutenant Dallas and I have no choice but to be objective.”
With an impatient gesture, DeBlass waved them to sit again. “Obviously my emotions are involved. Sharon was an important part of my life. Whatever she became, and however I was disappointed in her choices, she was blood.” He drew a deep breath, let it loose. “I cannot and will not be placated with bits and pieces of information.”
“There’s nothing else I can tell you,” Eve repeated.
“You can tell me about the prostitute who was murdered two nights ago.” His eyes flicked up to Rockman.
“Lola Starr,” he supplied.
“I imagine your sources of information on Lola Starr are as thorough as ours.” Eve chose to speak directly to Rockman. “Yes, we believe that
there is a connection between the two murders.”
“My granddaughter might have been misguided,” DeBlass broke in, “but she did not socialize with people like Lola Starr.”
So, prostitutes had class systems, Eve thought wearily. What else was new? “We haven’t determined whether they knew each other. But there’s little doubt that they both knew the same man. And that man killed them. Each murder followed a specific pattern. We’ll use that pattern to find him. Before, we hope, he kills again.”
“You believe he will,” Rockman put in.
“I’m sure he will.”
“The murder weapon,” DeBlass demanded. “Was it the same type?”
“It’s part of the pattern,” Eve told him. She’d commit no more than that. “There are basic and undeniable similarities between the two homicides. There’s no doubt the same man is responsible.”
Calmer now, Eve stood again. “Senator, I never knew your granddaughter and have no personal tie to her, but I’m personally offended by murder. I’m going after him. That’s all I can tell you.”
He studied her for a moment, saw more than he’d expected to see. “Very well, lieutenant. Thank you for coming.”
Dismissed, Eve walked with Feeney to the door. In the mirror she saw DeBlass signal to Rockman, Rockman acknowledged. She waited until she was outside before she spoke.
“The son of a bitch is going to tail us.”
“Huh?”
“DeBlass’s guard dog. He’s going to shadow us.”
“What the hell for?”
“To see what we do, where we go. Why do you tail anyone? We’re going to lose him at the transport center,” she told Feeney as she flagged down a cab. “Keep your eyes out and see if he follows you to New York.”
“Follows me? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to follow my nose.”
It wasn’t a difficult maneuver. The west wing boarding terminal at National Transport was always bedlam. It was even worse at rush hour when all northbound passengers were jammed into the security line and herded along by computerized voices. Shuttles and runabouts were going to be jammed.
Eve simply lost herself in the crowd, crammed herself into a cross terminal transport to the south wing, and caught an underground to Virginia.
After settling in her tube, ignoring the four o’clocks who were heading to the suburban havens, she took out her pocket directory. She requested Elizabeth Barrister’s address, then asked for directions.
So far her nose was just fine. She was on the right tube and would have to make only one change in Richmond. If her luck held, she could finish the trip and be back in her apartment in time for dinner.
With her chin on her fist, she toyed with the controls of her video screen. She would have bypassed the news—something she made a habit of doing—but when an all-too-familiar face flashed on-screen, she stopped scanning.