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“Yeah.” She might have been tired, but Peabody clued in quickly. “A one-night-only, too. She’s pretty hot.”

“She’s beyond hot,” Dickie said. “I got me two tickets. Pulled a few strings. Second balcony.”

“Those kind of strings make your nose bleed.” Eve examined her fingernails. “I can get two in the orchestra, with backstage passes. If I had a pal, that is.”

His head shot up, and his clever spider’s fingers gripped her arm. “Is that straight shit?”

“The straightest. If I had a pal,” she repeated, “and that pal was busting his ass to get me data I needed, I’d get him those tickets and those passes.”

Dickie’s puffy eyes went moist. “I’m your new best friend.”

“That’s so sweet. Start feeding me results, Dickie, within the hour, and those tickets are in your greedy little hands. You find me something, anything that gives me a line on this guy, and I’ll see to it Mavis plants a big, wet kiss right on your mouth.”

She patted his head, started out. At the door she glanced back saw him standing, staring, his mouth still hanging slack. “Fifty-nine minutes, Dickie. Ticktock.”

He all but leapt at his scope.

“Slick,” Peabody said as they headed out. “You are so slick.”

When they got back to Central, Eve sent Peabody off to write the initial report from the record and notes on-scene. And Eve made the miserable call to the next of kin.

It took longer than she had to spare, did little more than depress her. Bayliss’s wife had no answers for her, and if there were any buried in the shock, it would take too long to dig them out.

The widow declined the option of making a video identification of the deceased, became increasingly hysterical, until her sister took over the ’link.

Eve could hear the woman sobbing in the background as a pretty, pale-cheeked brunette came on-screen. “There’s no mistake?”

“No, there’s no mistake. I can arrange for a counselor from the local police department to come by your hotel.”

“No, no, she’ll do better with me. She’ll do better with family. Strangers only make it worse. She bought him cuff links this afternoon. God.”

The brunette shut her eyes, took a breath. She seemed to steady, which did a great deal for Eve’s peace of mind. “We’ll arrange to come back immediately. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of my sister.”

“Contact me as soon as possible. I’ll need to speak with Ms. Bayliss again. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Eve sat back, stared at the blank screen.

Kohli, Mills, Bayliss. She took a mental step away from the evidence and tried to see the people. Cops. Though they’d all carried badges, each one had carried his differently. All, she was certain, had known their killer. The first two had known him well enough to trust him.

Especially Kohli. A late-night chat over drinks in an empty club. That was something you did with a friend. Still, he’d talked of a meeting with his wife. If he meant that literally, perhaps it had been more an associate than a friend. One he’d respected. Someone he’d felt he could ask advice. Informally. Over a beer.

Someone, she thought, from his own house. Someone, she suspected, who had some link to Ricker.

“Computer, compile roster from Precinct One two-eight, this city, including any retirees within the last two, no correction, within the last three years. Run a search and scan for any cases or investigations connected to any police officer of said precinct regarding Max Ricker. Secondary search and scan, same parameters regarding . . . what was his name, the son. Alex. Alex Ricker. Final search and scan, include any investigation wherein Canarde acted as representative during interview or court appearance.”

Working . . . multitask request of this nature will require minimum of four hours-twenty minutes to complete . . .

“Then you’d better get your ass in gear.”

Command unknown. Please rephrase command . . .

“Christ. Begin task.”

She fueled up on coffee and let the computer hum while she ducked out and into the conference room. On that unit, she brought up all the current data on Vernon. She should’ve been able to run the data on her machine while the search and scan was in progress. It was a new one, a gem compared to the whining, stuttering heap she’d been stuck with before.

But she didn’t trust her luck.

She spent an hour going over Vernon’s data. She’d be pulling him into interview shortly. She intended to hit him and hit him hard.


Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery