Calculated in Death (In Death #36)(47)

“We want to take our time with that,” Angie added. “It feels like a good fit, but so did those fabulous shoes I bought last week, and ended up giving to Clare after they put blisters on my blisters. You know what I’m saying?”

Peabody had to grin. “Oh boy, do I.”

“In any case,” Latisha continued, “Kassy talked to Jake about it. The upshot is, we’ve been smart and clean, so if the data gets out, it’s all good. And we’ve already changed all our passcodes, alerted our credit companies, and so on. It sounds like someone’s screwing with Brewer more than with us.”

• • •

Not ass**les,” Peabody concluded as she climbed back into the car.

“No, but not ass**les also cheat, steal, and kill.”

“I don’t see any motive.”

“Maybe there’s something off with this merger. Maybe one of them’s skimming and the others don’t know about it.” Eve shrugged. “I don’t get a buzz either, but the connections are there.”

“I liked them. I wonder how much they charge. McNab and I could use some organizing at our place.”

At the moment, Eve was more interested in organizing her notes and her brain. “I’ve got a consult with Mira coming up, and I want to put some of this together before we hit the WIN partners again. You start checking alibis, top to bottom. I’m going to reach out to Vegas PD, see what there is to see on this accident that started this ball rolling.”

10

SHE HAD CONSIDERABLE TO DEAL WITH BACK on her own turf. Detectives needed to run investigations by her, or update her on the status. She had to read and decipher McNab’s report on the Brewer building security and on his progress on the vic’s desk unit.

Her own board and book required updating. Then she needed coffee and a few quiet minutes to process.

As she added the last photos to her board, Trueheart tapped on her doorjamb.

“Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant. Have you got a minute . . . Hey, I know her.”

“Who?”

He stepped in, tapped Holly Novak’s picture.

Intrigued, Eve gave the photo of the Your Space partner another study. Attractive, mixed race, leaning Asian. A dark wedge of hair around a lively face with light green eyes.

“How and where?”

“I’m looking for it,” he said. “Oh yeah, they hired her—her company—to organize and streamline my mother’s office. I mean, the office where my mother works. I was over there one day, and met her. Is she a suspect?”

“I don’t think so, but give me a take.”

“Friendly, energetic. Ruthless my mom said, but in a good way. Mom liked her, I know that. She said how she wished my aunt would hire her. She’s kind of a pack rat, my aunt. And when she found out I was a cop, out of Central, she said how she bet we could use a good organizer, made kind of a joke about fighting crime through spacial efficiency. I thought it was pretty funny.”

He scanned the board as he spoke. “She and her company are connected to the Dickenson murder.”

“There are a lot of connections to the Dickenson murder.”

“Big business, big money.” At Eve’s questioning look, he flushed just a little. “That’s Young-Sachs and Biden. They get a lot of media, business, and gossip. The new breed of movers and shakers, and that kind of thing.”

“Take?”

“Well, for me spoiled, entitled, and showy. That’s probably not fair since it’s media stuff, and that gets overblown.”

“No, I’d say it’s fair and accurate in this case. And add ass**les.”

“I guess that one was my take, too.”

“I’d say that sums it up. What do you need, Trueheart?”

“Oh, sorry, Lieutenant. Nothing really. I . . . just wanted to thank you for giving me a chance at the detective’s exam.”

“You earned the chance, and Baxter made a solid case for you. The rest is up to you.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down. You took me off sidewalk sleeper detail,” he continued quickly. “You brought me into Central and assigned me to Baxter so he could train me. He’s taught me a lot, Lieutenant. A lot about a lot. I’m not going to let either of you down.”

“You do good work, Trueheart. As long as you do, you can’t let anybody down.”

“Yes, sir. All I want is to do good work. And a detective’s shield,” he added with a quick and easy grin.

“Don’t screw up the work, study, you’ll have the shield. Now beat it.”

Alone, she closed her office door, got her coffee. She sat at her desk, propped her feet up. Drinking, she studied the board.

Spoiled, entitled, and showy for one group. She’d define another as pompous, angry, and envious—with a side of timid thrown in.

And the third? Ambitious, tightly woven, and efficient.

But did any of those attributes equal murder?

Your Space. It just didn’t click. Maybe there was something she wasn’t seeing—yet—but she’d set them aside for now.

Young-Biden. They had more than the previous generation, and did less to earn it. Young-Sachs, not only sleeping with his admin, but depending on her for everything. From what Eve could see, he knew dick-all about his own company’s workings, and cared less if he got high during working hours. Maybe Biden knew more, she’d have a look-see on that, but from what she’d taken away from the brief meeting, he enjoyed his expensive suits, expensive lifestyle, and had no problem flinging insults around.