Connections in Death (In Death #48)(96)

“And did Bolt tell you how to do it? How to do what had to be? You, Barry Aimes, Burke Chesterfield.”

“Fist and Ticker,” Peabody said helpfully.

“Fist gotta prove himself, don’t he, he wants to be a Banger. Ticker, too. Gotta prove worthy.”

“By killing Pickering.”

“Turned his back on his family. We took him out. I ain’t afraid to say so.”

“Dinnie Duff let you, Aimes, and Chesterfield into the apartment.”

“She Bolt’s bitch, so does what she told.”

“And did she help you kill Pickering?”

“Don’t need no bitch to help. Gonna mess you up.” He snapped and rocked. “Mess you up good. Show you what bitches is for.”

In the zone, Eve thought, she had him in that hate-filled pride zone. “So you sent her out. Only you, Chesterfield, and Aimes murdered Lyle Pickering.”

“Executed, bitch. You feel? What had to be.”

“Where was Pickering when you went inside to execute him?”

“In the kitchen. Fist, he gets a good hold, and Ticker jabs him with the takedown juice. I say that part’s bullshit, and we should mess a fucker up, but Bolt, he says we gonna make it look like he OD’d. Like he was a liar.”

“Who gave you the illegals to plant in the apartment?”

“Bolt can get what he wants. Man ought to be leading the Bangers. We put the junk in the fucker’s room like Bolt say to do.”

“What did you take from Lyle’s bedroom?”

“Just some coin, man. Not like he could spend it.” He snickered.

“Where were the buds?”

“In his pocket. He don’t need ’em no more.”

“And from the other bedroom?”

“Just some glitters, who cares? Fist, he liked this red purse. Thought he might trade it for getting laid. Boy’s a dumb shit.”

“Why did you kill Dinnie Duff?”

He sat for a moment, snapping.

“She helped you out,” Eve reminded him. “Helped you do what had to be.”

“Bolt say she whining. How she didn’t know we gonna kill him or nothing. How she maybe tell Slice, maybe the cops. She Bolt’s bitch, but she whining about cops? That ain’t loyalty, man.”

“You had to stop her,” Peabody said. “She wasn’t being loyal to Bolt of the Bangers.”

“Bitch high all the time, run her mouth everywhere. So Bolt say we got to take her out.”

“To beat and rape her in the neutral zone,” Eve prompted.

“Ain’t no rape. Bitch puts out for anybody anytime. We just take what she gives anyway.”

“And beat her to death.”

He shrugged. “Slice don’t have the balls to take on the Dragons, to take back our turf. We take her out, we get the war. But even then, he’s got no balls! He’s the coward.”

“So you need to push harder,” Eve continued. “Why Fist? Why kill him?”

“His bad luck is all. Bolt don’t think he’s got what it takes, and how he’s stupid with it, right? And lazy. Stupid and lazy don’t make Bangers. We do him and do him good, me and Ticker and Bolt, and me and Ticker dump his lazy ass right on that fucker Fan Ho’s door. That’s what we did.”

He bared his teeth at Eve. “Ain’t no one take on Fan Ho like that before. No one but us.”

She worked the details out of him, the murder itself, the transportation of the body. When he’d finished, he sat back, sneered at her.

“Who’s a coward now, bitch?”

“I think you’ll answer that for yourself after a couple years in a cage on Orion. Denby Washington, you are hereby charged with murder in the first, three counts, and other charges related to those crimes. You will be reprocessed and transported to Riker’s to await your day in court. Dallas and Peabody exiting interview. Record off.”

“You think I’m afraid?” he shouted after them. “I ain’t afraid of nothing.”

After Eve signaled uniforms to take Washington, Peabody hissed out a breath.

“He gave us everything. Everything. We didn’t even have to push that hard.”

“Because he’s not just stupid, he’s proud of what he did. He flipped on the others, but doesn’t see it that way. He sees them being proud of it all, too. Take a break.”

“I’m good, really.”

“Take one anyway. I need to check in with the other teams, see if the lab’s come through on the DNA before we have Chesterfield brought up.”

One down, Eve thought, and walked into Observation to check the status.





20

Dealing with Burke Chesterfield took under an hour. Another big guy with his straw-colored hair worn in a stiff, high crown, a tat of a tear at the inside corner of his right eye, he started off interview with a smirk.

Eve deduced that the cartoon bomb, fuse lit and sparking, on the side of his throat explained his street name.

He didn’t have his murder partner’s old, bitter eyes, but instead a flat emptiness she’d seen in stone-cold killers far too often.

“Our information indicates you’re not yet a member of the Bangers.”

Smirk turned to sneer. “Show’s what you know.”