Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(65)

“And insightful. ‘Angry,’ he said. Not sick, twisted, dangerous, violent. Angry,” she repeated with a slow nod. “And he’s right because it’s anger leading the charge. What have you got?”

“Rope’s as common as they come, like you’d figure. And no hair other than the vic’s on the body. No fiber.”

“They had to get him back in the house. Wrapped or rolled him in plastic.” She nodded again, visualizing it. “At least two of them, so they could carry him inside. After what they did to him he’d be too weak to fight even if he’d been conscious. Wait until the middle of the night, haul him in there, unroll him, and string him up.”

She pulled into Central’s garage, beelined for her space. Then sat a moment, thinking.

“It’s a hell of a lot of trouble. A body dump’s easier, but it’s not enough here. Taking an injured, probably unconscious man back into an upscale neighborhood, even middle of the night, says the murder site’s as important as the murder. Home. A safe place. A safe, upscale place. It has to mean something.”

“Maybe the killer or killers are familiar with the safe, upscale place. If we go back to sex, maybe that’s somewhere it happened. If it deals with rape—”

“It’s going to.”

“Okay, maybe that’s where the rapes took place.”

“Maybe. Just maybe. Get in touch with the housekeeper again while I’m with Mira,” Eve ordered when they got out, walked to the elevator. “You gotta figure somebody who cleans your house, washes your sheets, like that, has a pretty good idea what you do in it and in them.”

She got a sudden flash of Summerset—horrifying—and willed it away. Far away.

“Any signs of sexual activity in the Spring Street house other than the boner drugs since the grandfather died. And have McNab drill the house and sex droids at Wymann’s, same deal.”

“I know rape’s about violence, power, control more than sex,” Peabody began.

“It’s about all of that. All of it. If sex wasn’t a factor, sex wouldn’t come into it.”

“Still, both the vics could get, and did get, plenty of sex. They were both powerful in their field, in their lives. Prosperous, attractive older men who could have paid high-class LCs if they needed to. Why force anyone?”

Eve thought of Richard Troy—no way to avoid it. He’d raped his own child, again and again, because he’d been a predator, a brutal man, and one with a purpose. But when all that was put aside?

“Because they could. I want to hear from Baxter and Trueheart the minute they get back. Two men don’t know each other for half a century, stay pals, then end up murdered the same way unless there’s overlap. At least one of the women on the senator’s list is going to be on Wymann’s. Let’s find which one.”

She went straight to her office, grabbed the time she had to update her board and book. She needed to talk to both of Wymann’s ex-wives, his daughter, any known associates, companions.

The overlap was there; she could already see pieces of it. And at some point, she’d find the major cross, the point of origin.

She needed to try to convince someone at Inner Peace to talk to her about Su and MacKensie. Try to get some data on those insomnia studies.

She heard the quick click of heels, pushed up from her desk so Mira could take the single decent chair.

Mira rushed in. She wore a winter-white scarf with glints of icy silver carelessly wrapped around her neck. The clicks had come from the high silver heels of gray boots. Her coat was a soft cloud of blue over the bolder pop of her blue suit.

Eve expected to find her upset. Instead, she found Mira angry.

“I could use some coffee,” Mira said briskly as she tossed her coat and scarf on Eve’s visitor’s chair.

“Sure.”

“I should tell you, right away, Jonas was always polite and pleasant to me on the occasions we’d meet. We had socialized a bit more in the past, as his first wife and I were—are—friendly.”

“Yeah?”

“Vanessa’s a pediatric surgeon, and an interesting woman. We’re friendly enough to have the occasional lunch when it fits into our schedules—which isn’t often, as she’s based in Chicago. Though we aren’t and weren’t close enough for confidences, it was no secret she and Jonas divorced because he was unfaithful.”

“Must’ve pissed her off.”

“I imagine so, but she never spoke of it to me.” She took the coffee Eve handed her, sipped, and paced. “She handled it quietly, and built a life and a career, raised her daughter. She remarried about twelve years ago—quite a gap between marriages—and appears very happy. She has grandchildren she visibly adores, and appears close and content with her second husband’s children and grandchildren.”

“One of her grandchildren would be Jonas Baker.”

“Yes.”

“That’s who found Wymann.”

“Oh.” Mira sank onto Eve’s desk chair. “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s a fine young man, very talented. Whatever acrimony Vanessa might have felt for Jonas, they were absolutely united in their love and support of that boy. Their daughter and her husband had a different attitude toward his ambitions.”

“Yeah, I got that much.”