Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(26)

“She started crying again.”

“It’s a mom thing.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here and go do the cop thing.”

“There’s cake.”

“Your pants are loose, Peabody.”

“Damn it.” As she rushed after Eve, Peabody glanced back at the refreshment table. “Having loose pants means I could eat a little cake.”

“Having loose pants means you can get out of them quicker so we can get back in the field.”

“Somebody said it was buttercream frosting.” But with a heavy sigh, Peabody got in the elevator.

—

Back in her street clothes, Eve took a few minutes in her office to connect with Hanson. Still no communication from Senator Mira, or his probable abductor. Hanson and his partner would interview Vinnie, the driver, and had already spoken to Silas Greenbaum. They’d work their way through the Mira Institute while Eve and Peabody took on the list of women.

By the time she came out Jenkinson and his tie were back at his desk, Santiago at his, and some of the uniforms had trickled in.

“Is anyone actually working today?”

“We’re on it, Dallas.” Knowing her sharp eye, Jenkinson hastily brushed cake crumbs from his shirt. “It was a good thing.”

“Yeah, it was a good thing. You know what else is good? Catching murdering bastards.”

“I like that even better than buttercream frosting,” Santiago said, earning a glare from Peabody.

“You guys are just mean.”

“Then catch me some murdering bastards,” Eve advised. “Peabody, with me.”

“You on a hot one, Dallas?”

She glanced back at Jenkinson as she strode toward the door. “I’ll let you know when I know. Don’t even think about whining over buttercream frosting,” Eve warned, and Peabody settled into a pout as she got on the elevator.

“We’ll hit the baby skirt at the gallery where she works. We’re going by the crime scene first. I want another look around, and you haven’t seen it firsthand.”

“Mira said Mr. Mira was okay, but she looked really stressed. She hardly ever looks stressed.”

“She’ll deal.”

Eve considered herself lucky that the elevator only stopped five times on the descent, and no more than a dozen people filed on, filed off.

“We’ll make a circuit with the known sidepieces,” Eve said as they got in the car. “Say he’s still seeing the artist, but she’s starting to make noises. Oh, Senator Granddaddy—”

“Eeww.”

“Yeah, well. She’s all, If you get a divorce we could be together all the time. And he’s, Now, now, Sweet Baby Sidepiece—”

“Ick, ick, mega ick!”

“Can’t ditch my marriage: appearances, finances, blah blah. How about some ice cream!”

“This is really turning my stomach, so I don’t even want any buttercream frosting. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Or she’s got a former, more age-appropriate but poor boyfriend—maybe even current—and they figure they’ll pound and intimidate a nice fat chunk of the change out of him. Maybe start off the blackmail with a black eye. Then Mr. Mira walks in, and panic changes their plans.”

“I like it.”

“Or, the next up the line gets steamed, stews, and thinks how he’s dumped her more mature ass for this baby slut. Now he must pay. Also requires a partner.”

“To pose as the Realtor to get him in the house.”

“Then it’s, Surprise, you horny bastard, we’re going to tune you up.” She paused at a light. “I’ve got problems with all those scenarios, but they’re a launch point.”

She played with all the problems as she drove, then shot out another launch point. “MacDonald’s alibied tight. Hanson will follow up, but her alibi’s going to hold. So maybe if she’s been a sidepiece, or there’s another issue, she hires somebody to deal with him. We’ll look at her finances, but we’re not looking at a pro. Still, a lawyer’s bound to know some shady types, especially a political lawyer.”

She studied the neighborhood as she approached the brownstone. “Quiet, established, upper end. The canvass got nothing, but then most people would be at work, or occupied. Who stares out the window checking for activity on the street or around their neighbors on a crappy day? That’s just luck, and it bothers me. It’s just luck getting an injured man out of the house, into a vehicle without anybody seeing anything.”

“Lucky that it was crappy, gloomy daylight and not broad.”

“Yeah, nobody can plan that.”

Eve got out, took another minute to study the house, its position.

“It’s really beautiful,” Peabody commented. “Old, but in a dignified, ageless sort of way. I can see why Mr. Mira wants to keep it.”

“It’s more what’s inside—I don’t mean the stuff. It’s what he remembers, what he felt, the pictures in his head. And he promised, that’s the big one. If Edward Mira knew him at all, he’d know Mr. Mira wasn’t about to break his promise.”

“Wait! What if this is all a ploy to get him to do that?” Running with it, Peabody loosened her scarf as they walked through the little gate. “He stages it all, and it’s Mr. Mira who’ll be contacted after he’s worried half to death.”