Calculated in Death (In Death #36)(13)

He nodded, turned back to her. “The wife of a prominent judge’s brother, the media will stir that. We’ll have the liaison issue a statement, save you time.”

Sing “Hallelujah.” “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m acquainted with Yung, as most of us are. You should know she and her husband and Chief Tibble and his wife are friendly.”

“Understood.”

“Keep me informed.”

“Yes, sir.” The minute he left, she opened the murder book, then set up her board, centering Marta Dickenson’s photo. She ran through the time line again, scanned the interview with the wits, then the spouse. For a moment, she studied the printouts she made from her crime scene record.

Blood drops on the tarp, she mused. Sloppy cleanup. Quick grab—timed well. Killing method, quick and brutal. Trained, she thought again, but not professional.

So who’d hired, or had on their payroll, a couple of thugs with training—spine-crackers, security, bouncers—who weren’t above breaking the neck of a defenseless woman?

Start with why, she mused, and gathered her things.

Her ’link signaled again. “Dallas?”

“Lieutenant.” Harpo with her spiky red hair popped on screen. “Figured to give you a quick heads-up on those fibers.”

“You ID’d them.”

“Give me a challenge next time. Interior carpet on the Maxima Cargo, Mini Zip, and 4X Land Cruiser. Color’s Blue Steel, and comes standard with Indigo exterior, but you can order it custom. GM intro’d the color last year, so the model is either a ’59 or ’60. But the fibers were coated with the factory sealant so it hasn’t seen much wear or use.”

“That’s good, quick work, Harpo.”

“Like I said, no challenge. The ones from the morgue match, blood trace on them. I checked with the blood boys, so I can tell you the blood on the tarp and the blood on the fiber both came from your vic.”

“Really good, quick work.”

“A lot of us have testified before Judge Yung. So . . . I’ll send along the reports.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Harpo.”

“We do what we do,” she said. “I do it best.”

At the moment, Eve couldn’t argue.

“Peabody,” she said as she swung through the bullpen.

Peabody snagged her coat and jogged to catch up. “McNab’s finished with the ’link. Everything corroborates Dickenson’s statement. Vic called, said she’d be working late—chatting about food, kids, domestic stuff. She contacted him again at just after ten to tell him she was heading home. He pushed her to call their car service, but she brushed that off, just as he said. She also said she was bringing some work home, but she was going to deal with it in the morning—that she’d arranged to work at home until noon.”

“He forgot to tell us that.”

“McNab’s sending up a copy of all transmissions. He says you can clearly see the vic pulling on her coat, a scarf, even a hat and gloves while she talked with the husband. She had him on her desk ’link. McNab says she had the briefcase Yung described, and a red handbag also with shoulder strap. Wedding ring, wrist unit, and the heart stud earrings.”

“Good.” McNab might have been Peabody’s main man, but that didn’t affect his work.

“They talked for just over three minutes, and she told him to pour her a big glass of wine, how maybe he’d get lucky. He joked back, no, maybe she’d get lucky. It makes it sadder. It just does.”

“Sad isn’t part of the equation right now,” Eve said as they walked out of the elevator and into the garage. “The transmission backs up the husband’s story, and also gives a picture of their relationship. Add that, the initial interview, his demeanor, their financials, and he’s looking clear. Unless we find he had a sidepiece, he’s got no clear motive for having her done.”

She got behind the wheel. “Harpo came through. We’re going to need to run Maxima Cargos, Mini Zips and 4X Land Cruisers, with Blue Steel interior carpet. Either ’59 or ’60.”

“That’s a good break.”

“It’s a break anyway. The blood on the tarp and some trace on the fibers are the vic’s. So we’ve confirmed she was grabbed, tossed in a vehicle, transported, taken inside, killed. Coat, hat, gloves, scarf, jewelry taken, dumped outside.”

“I’ll start a run, see if any of the names we’ve got has a vehicle that matches.”

“Let’s find out what work she was bringing home, and see if we can figure out why.”

Knowing her job, Peabody pulled out her PPC as Eve zipped out of the garage. First things, first.

“I’ve got Sylvester Gibbons as her immediate supervisor. If I’m figuring this right, she works in a division that does independent audits. Businesses, corporations, trust funds.”

“Audits. That’s when they’re looking for something hinky.”

“I guess. Or just making sure everything’s right.”

“Something hinky,” Eve repeated. “One way to screw up an audit or at least delay it—kill the auditor.”

“That’s pretty harsh and extreme. And if numbers are hinky, it’s going to come out anyway, right?”