Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(54)

“He moved to New York in 2004—at eighteen. I’ve got sketchy employment and residence until 2008. Enrolled in community college, add night school, part-time work at what looks like a pizza joint. Got a degree in marketing with a minor in sociology. Took him five years. Landed an entry-level at someplace called Adverts Unlimited, five years there, and he bounced to Young and Bester Marketing, seven years, climbed up to junior exec before shifting to Digby—that’s where he’d have met and worked with Dowell—where he kept climbing to department head until he left to join Dowell’s start-up. Wait, there are a couple of gaps.”

Eve pulled into Central’s garage. “What and where?”

“Three-month gap, from what I can tell. From April through August of 2031, then another in ’38.”

“When his father died. We’ll look, but maybe the father got sick in ’31, he went back home to help out. Then he goes back when his father died.”

“Digby hired him back, both times, but again what I’m seeing? He took a salary cut. Talk about sharks.”

“And when did Dowell start up?”

“In 2046.”

“We’re going to take a deeper look at the parents, get a good round picture. He hits too many points not to push on it.”

“But?” Peabody asked as they got on the elevator.

“He works with Covino, hangs out with her now and then outside the office. He knows her routine. But he doesn’t grab her first. Okay, maybe her plans for the trip gave him the opening he was after, but he couldn’t know those plans would blow up.”

“She’d never spent the night at Teeg the Dick’s apartment before. He counted on that.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Hands in pockets, Eve jingled loose change. “Timing feels off. What did his mother look like? Young.”

“I’ll find that once we’re upstairs. There wouldn’t be national ID back when she was in her twenties, even thirties.”

“Right. Dig there. I’m going to shift over to Hobe, see if I can find any other way she could have crossed with Mosebly.”

And she had to push on Roarke’s list. Wouldn’t it be damn handy if Mosebly’s residence was on it? Another box checked.

As they walked toward Homicide, Jenkinson and Reineke headed back from Interview with springs in their steps.

“We bagged one.” Jenkinson held out a fist for his partner to bump. “Guy’s just trying to teach his girlfriend a lesson, right? Just give her a little tune-up.”

“And what does she do?” Reineke picked it up. “Why, that salty bitch shoved him, even slapped him, tried to run. What the hell else was he supposed to do but give her a good beatdown?”

“During which he cracked her skull like an egg, left her dying on the floor in puddles of her own blood and puke, and went out to have himself some waffles.” Jenkinson cast his eyes heavenward. “Frigging waffles.”

In their practiced rhythm, Reineke ran the next. “Comes back, finds her dead, and tries to cover it up by busting the door lock—from the inside—and calling it in like somebody broke in and beat her to death.”

“He still got her blood spatter on his shoes,” Jenkinson added. “Changed his shirt, but shoved it into the recycler. And his knuckles are all torn up. His cheek’s got her nail marks from eyeball to jaw where she got a piece of him.”

“So he changes his story to add how he saw the guy running out of his place, pursued, got into a tussle. Big guy, like six-six, this mope claims. And how when he ran back to the apartment, he found his dead girlfriend.”

Eve considered. “So did he spill the truth because you scared him out of it with that tie?”

Jenkinson gave a closed-lip grin and fluttered the orange tie covered with purple insects with bugged-out eyes. “It didn’t hurt, but we broke him down with our exceptional interview skills.”

“His dumbass stupid didn’t hurt, either.” Reineke held out a fist for a second bump.

“So you’re clear.”

“Soon as we write this puppy up.” Jenkinson smoothed down his tie.

“Do that, then pull the file on Anna Hobe. Missing person, fits the profile for abduction by an unsub who shackled and held Lauren Elder for ten days before slitting her throat.”

“The body on the bench near Mavis’s new place. And yours,” Jenkinson said to Peabody.

“That’s right. If he’s got Hobe, he’s had her for eight days. Her clock’s running down. Take a look. I could use fresh eyes.”

“You got it, boss.” Reineke turned to Jenkinson. “Ready to roll on?”

“Always ready.”

“Dig deep as you can,” Eve told Peabody. “And when you find a photo of the mother in the age range, send it.”

“Getting my shovel.”

Eve hit the AC for coffee the minute she walked into her office. With it, she sat down to update her book and send a fresh report to Mira, including her outline of data, her impressions of James Mosebly.

“A lot of check marks, Jim,” she muttered, and printed out his ID shot to add to her board.

When she completed her board, she sat again, brought up the list Roarke had sent while she’d been in the field.

And checked off another. Mosebly’s residence was on it.