Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(17)

“She ain’t got no room here, not anymore.” Jewell fisted her hands on her hips. “I said I’m done! Got rid of her things. And you don’t come in here without a search warrant.”

Before Jewell could slam the door, Eve slapped a hand on it.

“You continue to hold professional mother status and collect your payment for same every month.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

“Because, by your own statement, you’re done being Dorian’s mother. She’s been missing for nearly a year, but you filed no police report. You said she no longer lives here, and you’ve tossed out her belongings.”

“So the fuck what? I’m still a mother. Gave birth to her, didn’t I?”

“You’ve willfully defrauded the federal government and the state of New Jersey. Believe me when I tell you I’m going to report same, and you’ll be getting another visit from the authorities. You’ll also face questions on the fact you haven’t reported a missing minor child in your custody—all while reaping the monetary benefits.”

The look in her eye, ice-cold rage, had Jewell backing up a step.

“You’re going to do some time, Jewell.”

“I am not! You shut the fuck up over there,” she shrieked as a burst of laughter erupted behind the neighbor’s door.

Instead of shutting up, the woman shoved the door open.

She had an easy decade on Jewell Gregg and lacked her tired beauty. In its place was cool dignity.

“She smacked that child around. I saw it myself.”

On a howl, Gregg shoved Eve with murder in her eye for the neighbor.

“That’s called assaulting an officer.” Eve spun her around, slapped restraints on her. “Peabody, notify the locals so we can get the ball rolling here on Ms. Gregg.”

“Happily.”

“Stay there, would you?” Eve asked the neighbor, who beamed smiles.

“Happily.”

“Jewell Gregg,” Eve began, “you’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer. Additional charges to follow will include filing false reports on your minor child’s status in order to receive the monthly stipend for professional parent, failure to report a missing minor in your custody, destroying or removing evidence.”

“You’re not in New York! Get your hands off me.” She tried to jab Eve with an elbow.

“And now top it off with resisting arrest.”

“Bullshit. This is bullshit. I know my rights. I know my rights.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to read them out to you anyway. You have the right to remain silent.”

Two other doors opened. A young woman juggled a baby on her hip in one. A man who’d surely hit the century mark watched from another.

“This is harassment. You all see this harassment? I’m getting a lawyer. Lawyer, lawyer, lawyer!”

“Heard you the first time. One’ll be provided for you, as since you owe the government every dollar you raked in since Dorian went missing, you may not be able to afford one.”

“I don’t owe nothing to nobody!”

“Add the fines—pretty steep—plus the interest on the money you took by fraud?” Eve sucked in a hissing breath. “Ouch.”

Down the hall, the old man applauded.

“Any charge for being mean as a snake?” he called out.

“You shut up, you old fuck, or I’ll shut you up.”

“You really don’t want to threaten physical violence on your neighbors in front of the police.” Peabody spoke cheerfully. “Freehold officers on the way, Lieutenant. And I’ve notified the Professional Parent Service for this county of the fraud.”

“Good. Contact Dorian’s caseworker. I want a conversation. In New York,” she added as she calculated the time. “He or she can get his or her ass to us.”

It took time, more than she’d bargained for, to brief the local cops, file the assault and resisting charges, and turn Jewell over.

But she took more to speak to the neighbors, starting with the one across the hall.

“Ms. Rhimes—”

“Just call me Tiffy. I feel like we’ve been through a battle together. I told the social worker that woman mistreated that girl. Smacked her in the face—I saw it myself more than once. Last time I saw her shove that girl out the door, smack her twice, and tell her to get the fuck out. How that man—can’t remember that one’s name—could stay as long as he wanted. I know it was after ten at night when she booted her out the door.”

Tiffy sighed.

“I waited till she’d shut the door again—you could hear her laugh through it while that little girl’s on the floor there where she went down. I asked Dorian if she wanted to come in. I told her she could sleep in Edwin’s room. Our son,” she explained. “He’s in college, gonna be a teacher. But she said she’d be okay.”

“Did you see or speak to her after that incident?”

“Once or twice. I work at home four days a week, so I’m mostly here. You ask anyone on this floor, or my friend Karlie two floors down, or Mr. Brewster on the first, that girl never caused any trouble around here. And you’d see her with bruises, or a split lip—one time a damn black eye. I told that social worker, but that woman, she said Dorian was clumsy, and she got into fights, too. I guess Dorian didn’t say different.