“It’ll wait.” It was Leonardo who spoke as he carried in a mug of coffee. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said to Mavis, “but she needs to eat, to rest for a little while.”
“Jeez.” Eve took the coffee as if it contained the staff of life. “What is it with men?”
“He’s right.” Mavis pushed her hands though her hair. “He’s right. You look whipped and kicked. We’ll eat. We’ll all sit down and eat.”
They brought in a table, dragged up chairs. While the coffee helped cut through the fog in her brain, Eve had to admit the protein got her blood moving again.
“A hell of an operation,” McNab commented when she’d run through the bulk of it. “What’s funding it?”
“That’s another question. Illegals, weapons, mob money?” Eve lifted a shoulder. “We’ll dig it out. Or Global will. Bullock, Chase, or someone on their payroll murdered three people—that we know of—to protect that operation.”
“And they’re still in New York.” Peabody tried not to hum out loud in pleasure as she swallowed steak. “Why? I mean, after killing Randall Sloan, why not make tracks? It seems they’d want to be long gone before his body was discovered.”
“Another question. They still have business here. They feel safe where they are. From their point of view, they’re removed from the investigation. They were an a
libi for a man who was not involved—and he, in turn, covers them. Another man has confessed to the murders, and being dead, can’t recant that confession. But you’re right, they’d need a reason to stay here, when they could be anywhere else.”
She contemplated as she ate. “They wanted the body discovered, and in good time. No reason to leave the security off and the door unlatched otherwise. The sooner it’s found, the sooner they can put this whole untidy business behind them. Must be irritating,” she decided, “to be so rich and powerful and have little people picking at your foundation. Like ants.”
“I don’t think ants pick,” Peabody said. “They more dig, probably.”
“Whatever. You are what you are, and they’re nothing. Tried to buy the nosy accountant off, but she’s annoyingly honest. You’re not going to see your whole lifestyle, your rep, your wealth put in jeopardy by some number cruncher. That’s why the murder was personal. She got in your face, so you got in hers. I can come right into your home, you stupid bitch. What are you going to do about it? And I’m going to hurt you because you had the nerve to threaten me and mine. Then, when I’m satisfied you’ve told me everything I need to know, I’m going to kill you with my own hands, and watch you die. But not before I tell you that I’m going to do the same thing to your lover. So you die in pain, in fear, and in grief.”
She forked up a tiny new potato. “What?” she demanded as the table sat in silence, staring at her. “What?”
“Creepshow.” Mavis picked up her water glass, drank deep. “Squared.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“How do you know he thought those things, felt those things?” Leonardo stroked Mavis’s arm as he goggled at Eve.
“Well, he sure as hell wasn’t thinking about the weather.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Randall Sloan kept a car garaged. He didn’t use it that night. Both he and his alibis stated they used cabs. Let’s see if there’s any sort of log in and out of the garage. The killer may have borrowed it for the job. If not, we start checking rental companies. Or car services. The Bullock Foundation may keep a car in the city, or use a specific service when they’re here.”
When Peabody dug out her memo book to note it down, Eve shook her head. “No, you’ve already got enough going. I’m going to tag Baxter. He wanted in on this. He can take that assignment.” She pushed back from the table. “I’ll contact him now, then I want to look at the lists of those agencies you got on Tandy.”
Across the table, Mavis closed her eyes, took a long breath. “Thanks. Thanks, Dallas.”
Eve waited until she’d talked to Baxter, then asked Mavis to come with her to a sitting room. Closed the door.
“You’re going to tell me you think Tandy’s dead.”
“No, I’m not. Sit down.” When she did, Eve sat across from her, leaned in so their eyes were level. “But I am going to tell you that you need to prepare yourself for that possibility. She was taken for a reason, and everything’s pointing to the baby being that reason.”
“And once she has it…It’s been since Thursday. She could—”
“A lot of things could,” Eve interrupted. “We’re going to deal with what is. Look, I know it might seem like I’m not paying much attention to this, not looking hard enough. But I promise you, it’s in my head. And Peabody’s working it when I’m not.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re not paying attention.” Mavis reached out now, took Eve’s hands. “I don’t think that. And I know Peabody’s doing everything she can, and—and that she’s good. But Dallas? She’s not you. That’s a bitch-weight of pressure, I know, but—”
“Don’t water up. Come on, give me a break on the tears.”
“I’m so scared for her. And I keep thinking, what if it was me? What if I was locked up somewhere, couldn’t protect my baby. It’s going to sound Princess of Drama, but I’d rather die than have anyone take my baby, or hurt it. I know Tandy feels the same. She said once that’s why she decided to have it, to keep it, even though she’d be on her own. That even though there were good people who wanted babies, who’d give hers a good life, it was hers. And she’d never be absolutely sure they’d love it as much as she did.”
“What kind of good people? Did she ever give any details, anything specific?”
“No, it was just…wait.” Eyes closed again, hands rubbing light circles over her belly, Mavis breathed slowly in and out.
“Oh, shit. Shit! Are you—”