Concealed in Death (In Death #38)(46)

“Haven’t seen her since she blew town. Been easy ten years back. I sublet this dump, fair and square. Got rent control on it.”

“Did you know her daughter?”

“The brat, yeah. Took off long before Tracy did. Had a mouth on her, the kid did, used to steal, too. Lift stuff in the dressing room at the club. Tracy tried to beat the wild outta her, but it didn’t take. Some kids’re born bad, and that’s that. Got so Tracy had to hide any booze or brew she might have around or the kid would drink it. Told me how she came home one night, found the kid pissed-face drunk, probably no more than ten, eleven years old, and she’s all over Tracy’s boyfriend. Tried to say he gave her the brew and got all over her. Kid lied every time she opened her mouth.”

“Tracy sounds like mother of the year,” Eve said coolly.

“She did the best with what she had. Kid was no good. One day Tracy comes into work with a busted lip and a shiner. Kid did it. And what happens? You people come and say Tracy abused the brat just because the kid had some bruises on her. A woman’s got to defend herself, and got a right to discipline her own.”

“Did Shelby ever come back, after she was taken out of the home?”

“Who—oh, right, that’s her name. Not that I know of, and Tracy would’ve told me. The kid was a freaking thorn in her side. They took her off, put her in some sort of group home, and that was the end of that. A few years later, Tracy took off with this guy. He played the ponies, hit pretty good on a trifecta or whatever the f**k. They took off, said they were going to live in Miami or somewhere. Never heard from her again. But I got rent control.”

“Lucky you. Did you know any of Shelby’s friends?”

“Why would I? Don’t know as she had any. Piece of work, that girl. If she comes around here like you, looking for her ma, I’ll tell her just what I think.”

Eve tried a few more questions, and realizing the well ran dry, passed the woman a twenty through the gap.

She tried a few more doors, but stepped back out with little more than she’d gone in with.

“What a horrible excuse for a human being.” Peabody dropped into the car, snapped her safety belt. “Not just the bitch on three, but the vic’s mother by all accounts. I just don’t get how a woman can treat her own kid that way. Knocking her around, neglecting her, and just walking away when . . .”

It struck her, obviously and visibly, so she cringed.

“Sorry. Sorry, Dallas.”

Eve shrugged. “At least I didn’t have about a dozen years with mine.”

“Sorry anyway.”

“The question is, if Shelby didn’t go back to her mother—the bitch of a wit could be wrong about that, so see if you can dig up any record of her being placed back here—why didn’t Jones and Jones file a Missing Persons on her?”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“That’s why you’re not the lieutenant. Dig, and while you’re digging we’ll go get all up DeWinter’s ass.”

“She’s got a really good one.”

“Jesus, Peabody.” Amazed, Eve slid out into traffic. “You checked out her ass?”

“I check out everyone’s ass. It’s a hobby.”

“Get a new one. Like . . . bird-watching or something.”

“Bird-watching? In New York?”

“You could count pigeons. It would take the rest of your life.”

“I like ass-watching.” Peabody settled herself in comfortably. “When I see one bigger than mine, it makes me feel good. When I see one smaller, it helps me resist eating a whole bunch of cookies. It’s a productive hobby, my ass-watching. And there’s no record on file rescinding the court order to remove Shelby Ann Stubacker from the home. No record of any petition filed by the mother to get her back.”

“Which means, despite the notation in her records that she was placed back in the parental home, she went missing from either The Sanctuary or the new digs. Interesting.”

“I guess Jones and Jones go back on the list.”

“They were never off. But now they bump up to the lead.”

She pushed and threaded her way through traffic, considering new angles. “Tag HPCCY, tell them we need the documentation on Shelby’s court order. We need the CPS docs, the recommendation to send her back home.”

“On that.”

While she was, Eve parked again.

“Ms. Jones says she’ll pull the files up out of storage,” Peabody said as they went inside, worked through the maze to DeWinter’s sector. “She asks if we’ve ID’d anyone else.”

“Tell her that information will be forthcoming.”

She found DeWinter—an emerald green lab coat today, open over another body-conscious dress, this one hot pink and white checkerboard.

She stood with Morris, who was just as snappily dressed in deep, dark plum. Together they studied a screen displaying indecipherable shapes—to her—in colors as bold as their wardrobes.

“It’s cause of death,” DeWinter said. “Do you agree?”

“I do.”

“What’s cause of death?” Eve demanded.

Both turned toward her so they stood with a trio of slabs, a trio of remains, between them.