Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(18)

“I last saw her—I think it was last August. I know it was hot because Hank and I—my husband—went out to sit on the fire escape to get some air. Building’s going to hell as you can see. It didn’t used to be this way, but it’s going to hell now. We saw her walking toward the town center. She had her backpack. I never saw her come home. Never saw her again. I hope she’s all right.”

“So do we.”

“I know I’m no relation, but I’d sure appreciate it if you’d let me know when you find her. Let her know Tiffy and Hank and Ed, too, are thinking of her.”

She had Peabody talk to the woman with the baby while she took the old man.

Statements and memories ran close enough to Tiffy’s to solidify the pattern.

The Freehold police secured a search warrant, and opened the door for New York.

It didn’t surprise her to find no trace a kid ever lived there. Or to find Jewell had a closet full of clothes and shoes. A decent supply of wine and beer. And a tidy supply of illegals.

“No wonder the kid took off,” Peabody said as they got back in the car. “I mean, if she took off.”

“She took off. She may have gotten snatched up before she got far, might’ve spent some time on the streets first. But she took off. And no, it’s no wonder.”

“That woman? It’s like she hated the kid. Not just she didn’t love her or take care of her, but there was real animosity there.”

“The kid was a meal ticket.” Eve didn’t hit the sirens because she needed time to settle. “Nothing more than a way to pull in a monthly check without doing anything for it. She abused a program set up for parents so they can opt to stay home full-time, so they have that choice. Or because the job they can get won’t cover child care. It was a damn good day for her when Dorian took off. Now she could get the check and not have the annoyance of the kid.”

“I thought you were going to punch her.”

Surprised, Eve glanced over. “Did I look like I was going to punch her?”

“No, that’s why I thought you might. You were so pissed, and not letting it show.”

Eve looked at the signal on her in-dash. “The Cabot family’s on their way to Morris. I imagined punching her,” she added. “Arresting her, knowing she’ll probably do two to five for the fraud—and that’s before they found her illegals, and doesn’t include charges, if they go for it, of child abuse, neglect and so on. I’m going to imagine she does a solid five inside.

“Better than a punch,” Eve decided, then hit the sirens.

Peabody grabbed the chicken stick. “Here we go again.”



* * *



When Eve walked into Homicide, Jenkinson’s tie assaulted her eyes. He’d outdone himself—if such things were possible—with a single, huge, atomic-pink, googly-eyed cat staring out from a neon-purple background.

She pointed at him. “My office. Peabody, set up a conference room.”

She went straight to her AutoChef, waited as Jenkinson shuffled in.

“You like cats,” he began.

“I like my cat. I mostly like cats. That cat looks like somebody shoved a shock stick up its ass.”

Desperate to ignore it, she jerked a thumb at the AC. “Want coffee?”

Suspicion flickered into his cop’s eyes, but he stepped over to program some. When you got a shot at Dallas’s coffee, you took it.

“Give me a roundup.”

Suspicion flickered away again. “Carmichael and Santiago just caught one. Headed out about ten minutes ago. Stabbing death, a customer in one of the fancy boutiques in the Meatpacking District. Baxter and Trueheart are in Interview A, pushing the prime suspect on the one they caught a couple of days ago.”

“Strangling, loft apartment, East Village.”

“That’s the one. They liked the ex for it all along, but he’s been slippery. But the slippery slipped up, and they think they’ve got him. Me and Reineke, we pulled out a cold one until something comes in hot.”

He eased a hip on the corner of her desk. “Remember that double, seven years back? Married couple, well-off, both about fifty, bound and gagged in their living room, throats slit.”

Eve flipped back in her mental files. “Upper East Side, private residence. Looked like a break-in, but that didn’t jibe. Was that yours?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head in disgust. “Knew it had to be the son but couldn’t shake his alibi. Insurance money, that’s why he did it. Five-million-dollar policy on each of them, with double indemnity. He walks away with twenty. He just had to slit Mom and Dad’s throats to get it.”

“Got a new angle on it?”

“He thinks he’s in the clear, right? Smug bastard. He’s got himself a fancy penthouse—same building as Nadine.”

“Nadine?”

“That’s right. Fancy digs, keeps a boat, too. Living the high life, but not with the skirt he used for his alibi back then. He dumped her a while back. He’s got a new one now.”

“And maybe the old one will find her memory adjusting.”

“That’s the hope.”

Eve nodded as she programmed coffee for herself. “It’s worth the push. Meanwhile.”

In defense, Jenkinson pressed a hand over his atomic cat. “Now, boss.”