Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(64)

“Agreed. Now that we know we’re looking for secrets, and possibly the horrific, it should be easier to find. He’s going to run about the same,” Eve said, glancing at Wymann. “His injuries, COD, the works. But if you come up with any surprises, let me know.”

“I will, of course, but that reminds me. I thought little of it at the time, but the senator has a small tattoo.”

“Lots do.”

“Including myself. His was barely visible, again, due to the bruising. Groin area.”

“He has a tat there?” Eve said as Peabody went, “Ouch!”

“Just to the left of the root, we’ll say, of the penis.” He offered Eve microgoggles, took a pair for himself.

“Check the new guy,” she told Morris as she put on the goggles, bent down, searched. “Yeah, yeah, I see it now. Barely. It . . . it looks Celtic, right? Like one of those Celtic symbols. Mira’s not Irish or Scots, though. Is it?”

“Arabic, perhaps, or American Indian. But . . . yes, your second victim has the same. Same tat, same area.”

“Can you tell me when? How long ago they got the ink?”

“I’ll work on that. I’ll excise the dermis, test it myself, and send it to the lab.”

“What the hell does it mean? Peabody, get a picture of it. Let’s run it, see if it has a specific meaning.”

“You’re already there, ah, with the goggles.”

Eve only rolled her eyes, dragged out her ’link. She called up the camera function, took three shots. “It’s going to need to be enhanced, cleaned up.”

“I can do that,” Peabody began, but Eve was already tagging her expert.

“Hey.”

“And a hey back to you,” Roarke said.

“Quick one, just in case you know. What’s this symbolize or mean? Wait a sec.”

She fumbled a little, but managed to send him the image.

“Can you see the tat? There’s a lot of bruising and discoloration, but—”

“I see it, yes. And it happens I do know its meaning, as my mates and I nearly had the same done one memorably drunken evening. It’s a Celtic symbol for brotherhood.”

“‘Brotherhood.’ Yeah, that fits. Why didn’t you get the ink if you were drunk enough to think about it?”

Amusement sparked in his eyes. “Not quite drunk enough to forget identifying marks aren’t wise for some of us in certain areas of business. I’ve a meeting in a moment, unless you need more.”

“No, that’s great. Thanks. Buy that solar system.”

She clicked off, looked back at both victims. “Brotherhood,” she repeated.

—

Back in the car, she headed for Central. “Tag Harvo at the lab. See if the Queen of Hair and Fiber found anything on the rope fibers. Odds are low, but we’ll check. And whatever other hair or fibers the sweepers managed to get to her.”

As Peabody contacted the lab, Eve tried Mira’s personal ’link.

“Eve.”

“Sorry it’s so early.”

“Not at all. We’re up. I thought I’d come in early today in any case.”

“I need some time.”

“As much as you need, whenever you need it. I can come to you.”

“That would save me some steps. I need to tell you Jonas B. Wymann’s been murdered.”

“I . . . we know him. He was a close friend of Edward’s.”

“He died the same way.”

“Oh, dear God. Are you at Central?”

“Heading there now.”

“I’ll be on my way in ten minutes.”

“Can you put Mr. Mira on?”

“Oh, yes, just a moment.”

Eve heard murmuring, shuffling. Then Dennis Mira’s gentle face came on her screen. “This is very distressing,” he said. “Jonas Wymann. He was a brilliant economist.”

“Yes, I heard that. Mr. Mira, do you know when your cousin got his tattoo?”

“Edward?” Those dreamy green eyes went blank. “Edward had a tattoo? That doesn’t seem in character at all, does it?”

“You weren’t aware he had one?”

“No. I can assure you he didn’t have one when he went off to college. We spent the last weekend before he did at the beach, and there was some midnight skinny-dipping involved. I would have noticed no matter where it might have been. I do tend to forget things here and there, but I’m sure I’d remember that.”

“Okay, that’s helpful. One more thing: your last name? No Celtic connections?”

“Celtic? No. There’s a bit on my mother’s side, if that helps.”

“That’s all I needed.” She imagined Mira had been at the bruising scrape on his temple with a healing wand regularly, as it barely showed now. “You’re feeling okay?”

“Absolutely fine. And how are you?”

“Good. I’m good. If you’d tell Dr. Mira I’ll be waiting for her. Thanks.”

“You be careful now. Someone very, very angry doesn’t want you to find them.”

“You got that right. I’ll be in touch.”

“He’s about the sweetest man on the planet,” Peabody commented.