*** CHAPTER TWENTY ***
"They could keep an eye on him during his personal time," Eve said as she drove hard to the Luxury Towers. "Odds are Feeney and McNab will find another couple paintings of hers through his quarters, wired."
"Shouldn't Roarke's bug eaters have tapped them?"
"Feeney'll find out why they went undetected. You got anything on her yet?"
"No, sir. All I get from the run is that she's forty-seven, born in Connecticut. She studied at Julliard, did three years at the Sorbonne in Paris, another two at the art colony on Rembrandt Station. She teaches privately and donates instruction time at Culture Exchange. She's lived in New York for four years."
"She's connected. He's diddled with her records. I'll eat Feeney's ugly new hat if she's from Connecticut. Run the females on the Irish link. All female relatives on the six men who did Marlena. Put it on the monitor so I can see."
"Take a minute." Peabody opened Eve's file, found the labeled disc, and inserted it. "Display females only, with full data."
Eve pulled over a block from the Luxury Towers as the faces began to run. "No." She shook her head, signaling Peabody to go on to the next, and the next. She cursed under her breath, snarled at a glide-cart operator who slid up to try to hawk his wares. "No, damn it. She's in here, I know it. Wait, hold on, go back one."
"Mary Patricia Calhoun," Peabody read off. "Nee McNally, widow of Liam Calhoun. Resides Doolin, Ireland. Artist. Her tax-exempt number's up to date. Age forty-six, one son, also Liam, student."
"It's the eyes, just like the kid in the painting. She's changed her hair, brown from blond, had some face work done. Longer, thinner nose now, more cheekbone, less chin, but that's her. Split screen, display image of Liam Calhoun, son."
The picture popped, joining mother and son. "That's him, from the painting." She stared hard into the older and no less angelic face, the bright and brilliant green eyes. "Got you, bastard," she murmured, then shot back into traffic.
• • •
The doorman from their first visit paled when he saw them. It only took a jerk of Eve's thumb to have him moving aside.
"They must have planned this for years, starting with her." Eve stepped to the center of the glass elevator. "He'd have been about five when his father died."
"Before the age of reason," Peabody commented.
"Right. And she'd have given him the reason. She gave him the mission, the motive. She turned him into a killer. Her only son. Maybe the tendencies were there, heredity and genetics, but she exploited them, used them. Dominated him. That's what Mira said. A dominating female authority figure. Toss in religion and lean it toward vengeance, add in a good brain for electronics, and the training
, you can make yourself a monster."
Eve rang the bell, then laid a hand on the butt of her weapon. Audrey opened the door, offered a hesitant smile. "Lieutenant. I thought we'd agreed on tomorrow morning. Have I mixed up times again?"
"No, change of plan." She stepped in, careful to block the door as she scanned the living area. "We have some questions for you, Widow Calhoun."
Audrey's eyes flickered, then went dead cold, but her voice remained smooth. "I beg your pardon?"
"This round's mine. We made you, and your only begotten son."
"What have you done to Liam?" Audrey curled her hands into claws and leaped forward, aiming for the eyes. Eve dipped under the swipe, pivoted, and wrapped an arm tight around Audrey's neck. She was half Eve's size and no match for a choke hold.
"Her Irish is up, Peabody? Did you hear it? Connecticut, my butt." With her free hand, Eve reached into her back pocket for her restraints. "It's a musical accent, isn't it?"
"My personal favorite." She took Audrey's arm once Eve had clapped on the cuffs.
"We're going to have a nice long chat, Mary Pat, about murder, about mutilation, about motherhood. The three M's, you know?"
"If you've harmed a hair on my boy's head, I'll pull out your heart and eat it."
"If I've harmed him." Eve lifted her brows, and beneath them her eyes were iced. "You doomed him the first time you tucked him in with a bedtime story of revenge."
Disgusted, she turned away, pulled out her communicator. "Commander, there's been a break in the case. I require a search and seizure warrant for the premises and personal effects of Audrey Morrell." She paused. "Also known as Mary Patricia Calhoun."
• • •
They found Liam's hole behind a false wall in a converted pantry. Along with the equipment was a small table covered with a cloth of white Irish lace. Candles sat on it, surrounding a beautifully sculpted marble statue of the Mother of God. Above her, her Son hung from the golden cross.