Vendetta in Death (In Death #49)(59)

“And the other partner?”

“Apparently scrambling to try to put out fires the murder, and the scandal attached, have lit. The company’s taking a hit. Lawsuits threatened. I believe this guy with the grim.”

“Keep at it. It’s not going to involve the company, unlikely the partners, but let’s tie up all the threads.”

She rolled it around as she took the glides to Mira’s level. No, not the company, not the partners, any more than it had to do with Pettigrew’s law firm or partners.

It came down to the men themselves, sex, rape, greed.

She found Mira’s dragon of an admin at her post. The woman gave her own wrist unit a hard look but, as Eve hit the outer office exactly on time, couldn’t work up a bitch.

“You’re cleared to go in, Lieutenant.”

Mira, her sun-tipped mink-colored hair falling in a curly bob, stood by her AutoChef. Spring obviously inspired the trim lilac suit, the shoes of a few shades deeper with skinny heels so clear they looked like glass.

She’d added small purplish dangles to her ears, a trio of thin, braided chains around her neck, and as always, looked simply perfect.

She smiled at Eve, her soft blue eyes warming. “I’m just making tea—and yes, I know, but I think you could use something calmer than coffee by this time of your day. You’ve been at it since before dawn.”

“She likes to kill early, after a long night.”

“Yes, I’ve read the reports.” Mira gestured to one of her blue scoop chairs as she brought over two delicate cups of floral-scented tea.

“Now.” She handed Eve one, sat, crossed her very fine legs. “You say she, and I’m going to agree the killer is female, a justice seeker who believes she’s enacted that justice by the violent murder of men who have misused other women.”

“The violence escalated with the second victim.”

“It often does, as we know. And executing—as I believe she sees it—two men in two nights is not only vindicating, but exciting.”

“Could she have had a more personal issue with Pettigrew?”

“It’s certainly possible, but if she kills again, somewhat less likely. She killed him not first, but second. If there are more victims it’s less likely, as the more personal would more likely be saved for the end. The crescendo, so to speak.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have an end in mind. McEnroy was a kind of practice. Can I pull this off? Yeah, I can, so move on to the personal target.”

Interested, Mira sat back, lifted her eyebrows. “Do you have a reason to believe that?”

“Pettigrew’s ex-wife rings some bells for me.”

“What sort?”

“Her reaction to his murder? Way over the top. Divorced two years, right? And this is a guy who cheated on her, then dumped her for the younger skirt, and basically swindled her out of the company she’d built. For this guy she’s a weeping wreck? I don’t buy it.”

“Some love regardless of the insults and injuries.”

“Yeah, maybe so. But no.” The more she rolled it around, the more certain she felt. “Just no on this one. I can’t tell you exactly why, but just no. Add a shaky alibi, but one that’s corroborated, sort of. She has considerable e-skills and Pettigrew’s accounts were skillfully hacked. Big house, private house, plenty of room to do dirty deeds.”

“You believe she’s your killer.”

“At this point, yeah. I have to look at all the angles, but, if she’s not the killer, she’s not altogether right. Just off somehow.”

“Keep me apprised there.”

“I will. Otherwise, the killer has the connection, one way or the other, with this support group. No way she just happened to target two men with women they’d … misused in that group.”

“So it may be more than one involved.”

“We’ve seen it before, but … I don’t think the woman heading the group would have missed this sort of violent pact forming. And it feels like a single killer. It just feels as if it’s one who enjoys putting on the mask. Being this lure for this target, this lure for the next. When she hits again, she’ll present herself as his particular fantasy.”

“Lady Justice,” Mira added. “Yet another persona. Singular as well. Add the poems. Poetry tends to be highly personal to the poet. Yet the sheer physicality, the logistics, make it difficult to say, with confidence, the killer acts alone.”

“Not alone. Someone’s driving. It may be a partner, a hireling. It’s certainly someone she trusts not to betray her, so I lean toward another female first. Men are the betrayers.”

“Yes. She’s been betrayed or abused by a male. It may be a father or father figure if that betrayal was sexual.” Mira paused a moment, sipped tea as she studied Eve. “Is that aspect giving you any difficulty?”

“I can handle it.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

And until Mira had the answer to the question, Eve knew, she’d persist. So, get it out and done.

“I know what it’s like to be raped, to be helpless, to have the rapist be my father. I know what it’s like to kill, and kill violently. If it brings that back, I can use it. I will use it. Finding who killed these men, whatever they did in life, is my job. I have to do the job, or even after all this time, Richard Troy wins.”