Connections in Death (In Death #48)(45)

Romance, Eve thought, and headed to the bar.

The single tender, a brute with arms like cut steel, sat on a stool playing with his PPC. Idly, Eve wondered if monsters fought on his screen. Whatever he played, he had the time as only a scatter of customers drank the swill or watched the show.

“Is Crack around?”

“Busy.” The bartender didn’t bother to look up. “Drink or blow.”

Since it was precisely the level of charming service Eve expected at the D& D on a spring afternoon, she palmed her badge rather than flashing it.

“Tell him Dallas and Peabody want a word.”

He looked up, gave her one hard study, then nodded. “Shoulda said.”

“I’m saying now.”

“Back in the office. Hold it.”

He got up, all rippling cut steel, a single blue braid spilling out from an otherwise shaved head, and went through a door behind the bar.

“How do they get bodies like that?” Peabody wondered. “Do they pump iron twenty hours a day? Eat some special protein? Sacrifice goats to some primeval god?”

The last got a snicker out of Eve.

“It’s scary and exciting at the same time. I’m glad McNab’s not built like that. I don’t think I could handle being scared and excited every day.”

Crack came out—more rippling cut steel. He wore a deep blue shirt, one that actually buttoned and made him almost look like a businessman.

“You get them?”

“Not yet. Can we talk?”

“Yeah.” He gestured as he came around the bar, led the way to one of the privacy booths. Though it made Eve’s back twitch a little when he lowered the dome, she didn’t object. Especially when he hit Mute on the control, and the band noise dropped to a faint murmur.

“Dinnie Duff was killed last night.”

“Son of a bitch. How?”

“Beaten to death, multiple rapes, some choking. Morris will confirm. He’s my next stop. They left her in the neutral zone between Banger and Dragon turf.”

“I heard a report on a body found there, but they didn’t give a name or much else.”

“They will now, since we’ve notified her next of kin.”

“They killed her so she couldn’t talk. Don’t have to be no skinny-ass cop to figure it. How you gonna find those three motherfuckers now?”

“By doing the job. If being a skinny-ass cop was easy, everybody would do it.”

“It’s the job even when the cop doesn’t have a skinny ass.”

Crack managed a smile at Peabody. “You’ve got a fine ass, girl. I’m just worried about Rochelle, her family, too. Miss Deborah took it hard, real hard.”

“The grandmother.”

“She had her kids all back together, you see. She had the one everybody thought was lost come home. Really come home. And now . . . They’re going to see him today, and I know how hard that is. But I thought it best I stayed back, let them go as a family. Maybe I should go. Maybe I should.”

“I think you made the right decision,” Peabody told him. “Give them this time, then you’ll be there.”

“We just left Rochelle and her brother Walter at the apartment. She was packing up some things.”

He nodded at Eve. “She let me know she was gonna meet you, and we’d already talked about her staying with me. Not so much room over at Martin’s place. I ain’t going to let her go back to that apartment. That’s a talk we’ll have when she’s settled some more.”

“There were some things missing.”

“They stole from her, too.” His eyes, already hard, turned to stone. “What did they take?”

“They emptied out Lyle’s coin jar, took his good shoes, his earbuds. I’m going to confirm the buds, make sure he didn’t leave them at work.”

“He wouldn’t’ve. No way. It wasn’t just because they were prime ones, but he got them from Martin. Martin was kinda a holdout on Lyle. He held back the longest, and the buds? Well, it was saying how he trusted Lyle again, had his back again. He’d never have left them somewhere.”

“Rochelle had a red purse in her closet. It’s gone.”

“That little red job?” Obviously puzzled, he held his big hands out to indicate size. “It have money in it?”

“No. Just the purse.”

“That don’t make a spit worth of sense.”

“It might. They took her mother’s pin—brooch—from a box in her dresser, and a bangle bracelet.”

“That makes more sense. They ain’t worth anything, but if you’re a fuckhead you could think they’re worth something. That pin was sentiment. I hope you can get it back.”

“They took the earrings you gave her for Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, shit.” He punched the menu, ordered a brew. “Want a drink?”

“No, we’re good. The other jewelry was costume, no real value. I’m betting the earrings were the real deal, whatever Rochelle thinks.”

“If I said how they’re real, she’d be too nervous to wear them.”

“Are they insured?”

“Yeah, yeah.” As his big hand, tapped, tapped, tapped on the table, he scowled through the dome. “I look like a fool to you?”