Connections in Death (In Death #48)(49)

She pushed up, paced as she rolled, rolled, rolled it around.

Then she broke her own rule—really it would only take a minute—and tagged Mira on her personal ’link.

“Eve.”

She led with, “I’m sorry. This isn’t personal, but I figured if you were in a session or consult you wouldn’t answer.”

“I’m actually about to leave for the day—early. Dentist appointment. Routine,” she says hopefully, as always.

Instinctively, Eve ran her tongue over her own teeth. “Yeah, good luck. It’s about the gang-related murders. I sent you the reports, and realize you probably haven’t read them yet.”

“I did glance at them. You hadn’t flagged them for me as urgent, but after meeting Rochelle, I wanted to see what I could do. Why don’t I come to you? I have a little time before I have to leave for the appointment.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“It’ll take my mind off the dentist chair. Five minutes.”

Eve used it to make herself a kind of chart, working the connections, victims, suspects, players, witnesses.

A lot of links there, she decided, and added the chart to her board.

She turned at the sound of Mira’s heels.

Maybe Peabody had it right about spring, she mused. Mira had certainly dressed for it going for sunny yellow in one of her sleek suits. And the heels made her think of Peabody’s meadow with flowers blooming from toe to spike. She carried a light topcoat in pale, pale blue over her arm.

“Thanks for the time.”

“It’s not a problem.” Mira laid the coat on the visitor’s chair. “I liked Rochelle quite a bit. I’m so sorry she’s going through this.”

As she spoke, she walked to the board, studied it. “Have you told her he was Detective Strong’s CI?”

“Not yet. If that was the motive, or part of the motive, I’d like to keep it quiet for now.”

“Do you think he told someone, other than his sponsor?”

“I think the chances are low. I still have to give his journal a thorough read, but we didn’t find any mentions there. If he didn’t write it in his personal journal, didn’t tell his sister, it’s hard to see him talking about it. That doesn’t mean somebody didn’t find out, or suspect.”

Mira’s eyes, softly blue, studied Eve’s chart. “If they did, that sort of betrayal would almost certainly equal a death sentence.”

“Who planned it, ordered it, and picked the three to carry it out? Because I’m not buying Duff who ends up beaten to death only hours later. She had no standing in the gang, no pull. Add in she was a serious addict. So it’s hard for me to buy she’d not only have access to the illegals, but would leave them behind to try to cover the murder. But . . .”

Eve circled. “She was pissed at him. He’d recently given her the heave. Get lost or I turn you in. You can bet she whined about that. To the other Banger Bitches, to this guy.” Eve tapped Jorgenson’s ID shot. “Since she was trading him sex for flop space.”

“Which would give her motivation to help exact punishment on Pickering,” Mira agreed. “Murder seems extreme if she or the others didn’t know about his CI status.”

Eve tapped again—Slice and Bolt. “These two. Jones is currently top dog, and he and Pickering went back. Similar enough backgrounds, and what might have been a genuine friendship at one time. He offered Pickering second in command if he came back, and that tells me he valued Pickering.”

“Second in command?” Mira eased a hip on Eve’s desk, nodded. “That’s more than friendship, I agree. Yes, I’d say he valued Pickering, trusted and respected him to make such an offer.”

“Then we come back to the question mark. If he subsequently learned Pickering was a CI, he’d be honor bound to take him out. Would he go to the more elaborate OD cover-up—which was poorly executed—instead having the traitor hauled in, then taken out and messed up, killed?”

“To carry out the execution this way, because of their history. It’s possible. Kill, humiliate, attempt to set a scene that makes the victim appear to have lied and cheated. This punishes him, and his family.”

Eve pointed, nodded. “That’s right, and there’s some strategy there. Still, smarter to do it somewhere else, leave the body with some illegals on him as well as in him.

“Jones doesn’t strike me as stupid,” Eve added. “He’s a killer. It’s right there in his eyes.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mira murmured. “You can’t always see it, but just from this? He takes pride in what he is.”

“You’re not wrong. But he’s survived this long because he’s not altogether stupid. Hell, he’s making a decent living in real estate with his partners—and I’m going to have a talk with them later. That says, backup plan. When his days as top dog are over, he’s got the cushion.”

Mira angled her head, studied Eve now. “At the base of it, you don’t believe he ordered a hit on Pickering.”

“It’d be easier if I did,” Eve admitted. “He’s a killer, who takes pride in it, and I want to slap him in a cage and lock the door. But, I don’t. Every time I put it together, it doesn’t fit.”