“Yeah, he’s got a nice supply. Including a little Whore, a little Rabbit.”
McNab’s easy amusement vanished. “Not admirable, even in a sick way.”
“Any correspondence with the vic?”
“Not on that unit.”
“Research on poisons? Ricin or others?”
“Nothing. May be buried deeper, and I can take it in and look. His schoolwork is on there, too. Lesson plans, grade book, like that. Nothing that looks off on that end.” He cocked his head up. “Bet there’s a camera in there.”
“Camera.” She narrowed her eyes at the mirror. “Really.”
“Five gets you ten on it. Want me to have a look?”
“You do that.” She moved to search the bath. “Stay out of the toy drawer.”
“Aw. Lieutenant Spoilsport.”
10
THEY FOUND NO EVIDENCE LINKING WILLIAMS to the poison, or Craig Foster’s death, but they found plenty to tangle him up. Eve ordered in a team of sweepers, just to tie it off, then prepped for the interview.
“We’re going to start with the murder, standard routine questions,” Eve told Peabody. “He hasn’t lawyered up. Feels too cocky.”
“You ask me, this guy thinks with his cock most of the time.”
“You got that right. So we use it. Just a couple of girls. From that quick preview of the discs McNab dug up, this one likes multiples. So we poke at him about the vic, then we jam him with the illegals we found in his place, then we work him on the murder again.”
Juggle it, Eve thought as she went into the interview room. Keep him off balance.
“It’s about damn time. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?” Williams demanded. “Do you have any idea what it does to my professional reputation to have a couple of police goons pull me out of class?”
“We’ll get to that professional reputation in a minute. I need to log this interview in, give you your rights and obligations. Formalize it.”
“My rights?” His body twitched, as if he’d experienced a small electric shock. “Am I under arrest?”
“Absolutely not. But this is a formal interview, and there’s procedure designed to protect you. Do you want something to drink besides that water? Coffee—it sucks—a soft drink?”
“I want this done so I can get out of here.”
“We’ll try to keep it moving.” She logged in for the recorder, read him the Revised Miranda. “Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter, Mr. Williams?”
“Of course I do. That doesn’t make this any less annoying.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t. Now, let’s go over your movements on the day Craig Foster was murdered.”
“Christ! I’ve given you my statement already. I’ve cooperated.”
“Listen.” Eve sat, stretched out her legs. “This is a homicide, and one that took place in a school where minors have been involved and affected.”
She turned her hand over, palm up, in a gesture of what-can-I-do. “We have to dig for every detail. People often forget details, so we routinely repeat interviews.”
“We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” Peabody added with an understanding smile. “We’ve got to be thorough.”
“Fine, fine. Try to get it right this time?”
Oh, yeah, Eve thought. Very cocky and used to intimidating the girls. “We’ll do our best. From your previous statement, and the statements of others, you saw and/or spoke with the victim at least twice on the day of his death. Is this correct?”