Connections in Death (In Death #48)(102)

Fury rippled over Bolt’s face, but he again leaned to his attorney. This time it took a little longer.

“My client relates that if his cousin’s vehicle was used in the commission of a crime, numerous people knew where said vehicle was kept.”

“Yeah? How many of them had the access code to the garage where it was kept, or the codes to the van itself? How do you explain your client’s prints on and in the van?”

This time when Bolt leaned toward Quentin, Eve rolled her eyes.

“For Christ’s sake just say it. Do you want to be in the box all day?”

“My client assists his cousin on a part-time basis in his delivery service, therefore his fingerprints could certainly be in and on said vehicle. Lieutenant, you have nothing but circumstantial evidence and supposition in regards to my client. I believe it’s time to conclude this interview.”

“Do you? Well, let’s do one more thing. Peabody, cue it up and roll it out.”





21

Eve just sat back and enjoyed while Peabody ran portions of the interviews. Washington implicating Jorgenson, Chesterfield confirming the implication.

Back and forth, back and forth.

When Quentin tried to interrupt, Eve just pointed at him. “Stop talking.”

She ended the screening after Chesterfield stated Jorgenson brought the van to the lot where they’d lured Aimes with the idea of getting high and shooting baskets.

*

Me and Snap can’t drive, don’t know how, so Bolt, he drives, then me and Snapper we carry Fist down the alley and shove him behind the recycler. After Bolt takes the van back so his cousin don’t know nothing, then we go change ’cause we’re bloody. And I traded that bracelet thing to Yolanda, got a BJ.

Then we go get some eats.

Eve signaled Peabody, then turned to Jorgenson. “Yeah, slitting throats and trying to incite gang wars sparks up the appetite. I’ve got cops at the diner now, talking to the staff. We’ll nail you there, with the assholes you enlisted. Oh, and just another small detail. I guess you haven’t helped out in your cousin’s business in the last few weeks. He installed a security cam over the door.”

Eve circled a finger in the air, then pointed it at Jorgenson. “Gotcha.”

“I need to consult with my client.”

“Bet you do. Dallas and Peabody exiting interview. Record off.”

At the door, Eve looked back at Jorgenson with a smile that could have sliced bone.

“Check in with the sweepers,” Eve ordered once outside of the interview room. “I’ll tag Officers Carmichael and Shelby.”

“On it. I’m getting a fizzy—need a boost. Do you want Pepsi?”

Eve only nodded. “Officer Carmichael.”

As she listened to him her smile turned to one of pure satisfaction.

She took it with her into Observation where Reo sat, coffee in hand, watching the screen split into various interviews. She muted the sound.

“You just missed Mira. She’ll be back. We both agree you’ve got Jorgenson on the ropes. And she didn’t see the last few minutes.”

“I got more. I’ve got witnesses at the diner where he had “eats” with Washington and Chesterfield after dumping Aimes and ditching the bloody clothes.”

“You’ve got someone who puts all three of them there, together?”

“Two someones. My cops tracked down the cook and a waitress from the night shift. Both state all three came in, together, right about three-thirty. That works, given the time the witness from across the alley thinks she heard voices. Add the time for them to get the van back to the cousin’s garage, change, for that idiot Chesterfield to trade the stolen bracelet for a quick BJ. Yeah, it works. And the waitress states Jorgenson paid for all three, said it was for doing what had to be done.”

“That should put him on the mat. Not out, but down. His lawyer’s going to want to deal. Call me in if and when he does. I’ll enjoy shattering his dreams.”

Peabody came in. “Hey, Reo.”

“Sit,” Eve ordered. “Put the knee up.”

“I will, for a minute, while I tell you . . .” She sat, breathed slowly in and out as she lifted her foot onto a chair Reo moved over for her. “The sweepers are still processing, but they’ve got Jorgenson’s prints as reported earlier. Driver’s door, cargo doors, the wheel. No surprise there, or finding the other two idiots’ prints. The new is they’ve picked up some blood in the cargo area. Not readily visible—laying the body on plastic was, at least, semi-smart. But it didn’t catch it all. They’re taking samples, doing an on-site comparison.

“Oh, and the cousin’s pissed. He claims he cut Jorgenson off over the winter because he knew Jorgenson was stealing from him, suspected he took the van out for joyrides, or to have sex. It’s why he installed the door cam.”

“Why didn’t he change the damn code on the garage?”

“He did, and that seemed to solve things. He caught Jorgenson trying to get in once on the feed, then that was it. He hardly checked the feed the last couple weeks because, no more trouble. Until he found out this morning Jorgenson threatened one of his drivers into giving him the code just a few days ago. She was too scared to tell him what happened, then let it all out when the cops came to the office.”