Concealed in Death (In Death #38)(87)

“We haven’t officially identified the twelfth.”

“Poor thing. She had a lot of friends, my Shashona. I don’t know if I knew them all, or if she brought them all around, but I don’t know these girls.”

“Do you know if she ever went around The Sanctuary? The building where she was found?”

“Seems she may have. She knew about it. Once when we were arguing about how she wasn’t doing right, she said she could just go live there. She said it to hurt my feelings, or rile me up. I guess it did both. But she wouldn’t have gone there asking to be taken in. If not for me, and under it she loved me, but she wouldn’t have left Leila. Her baby sister. Leila, she worshipped Shashona. Every year, on the day she went missing, I say a prayer for Shashona, and I say one thanking God Leila hadn’t gone with her. I kept her home from school that day, took a sick day off work.”

“Was Leila sick?” Peabody asked.

“She started her cycle. The night before she had her first period. I always let my girls stay home that first day of the first cycle, pampered them a little, so Leila wasn’t with her sister. Now she’s a doctor. She’s going to be a fine surgeon. She’s a beautiful young woman. She’s safe, and she’s happy. And our Shashona, she’s found now. I’ll have to tell Leila.”

For the first time, her eyes sheened with tears. “I’ll have to tell her. I’ll have to tell their mama when she gets in touch again. She does, every now and again.”

“Ms. Maddox, did Shashona go to church?”

She smiled a little at Eve. “Every Sunday, whether she wanted to or not. As long as they lived under my roof, they’d respect the Sabbath. She didn’t mind church too much. Lots of singing. She liked singing. Had a fine, clear voice, too. When can I have her?”

“It’ll be a little while longer,” Eve told her. “We’ll notify you. Did you ever see any of these people around Shashona, around the neighborhood?” At Eve’s signal, Peabody drew more photos out of the file bag.

Teesha studied them in turn. Nashville Jones, Montclair Jones, Philadelphia Jones, Sebastian, Clipperton.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall these people. Are they suspects? I do like watching the police shows on the screen.”

“We’re looking into anyone with a possible connection.”

“I don’t know why people do the things they do to each other. We’re all here to live our lives, to do our work, to raise our families, to love who we love. We’re all here for the same things, but some, they can’t let that be. They can’t be happy or content with that. I don’t know what that is.”

She handed the photos back to Peabody. “Do you?”

At a loss, Eve shifted. “No.”

“If you don’t, I don’t suppose anybody really does.”

• • •

She must be really good at her job,” Peabody commented. “The way she has. It’s soothing. She was brokenhearted, even though she’d resigned herself her granddaughter was gone a long time ago, it hurt her to hear it. But she still had that soothing way.”

“The kid probably would’ve turned out all right. Like Linh. She just never got the chance to grow out of the snotty phase. Another church connection.”

“Kind of loose, but yeah.”

“And the singing. If Sebastian comes through with DeLonna, maybe we’ll connect that.”

“A lot of connection, but no strong links.”

Eve glanced at her communicator when it signaled. “Philadelphia’s in the house. Let’s go see if we can make a link.”

• • •

She sent Peabody along to transfer Philadelphia to the Interview room. More official setting, Eve mused, a little more pressure. Later, they’d repeat the routine with Jones.

She took her time, gathered props and tools, then started over to where Peabody stood outside the door.

“I got her a lemon fizzy,” Peabody began. “She’s a little nervous, and a little unhappy with the wait, but wants to help however she can. And so on.”

“Nervous and unhappy works just fine.” Eve walked in. “Record on. We need to record the interview, Ms. Jones, for the record.”

“Of course, but—”

“Just one minute. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Philadelphia Jones, in the matter of case file H-5657823. We appreciate you coming in,” Eve said as she sat. “We’re just going to read you your rights, for the record.”

“I don’t understand. My rights?” Philadelphia wore her hair swept up today, and smoothed a hand over it in a nervous gesture. “Am I a suspect?”

“It’s procedure,” Eve said briskly, and rattled off the Revised Miranda. “You understand your rights and obligations?”

“Yes, of course. I’m here to help however I can.”

“We appreciate that. We’ve identified all but one of the victims whose remains were found in the building you owned at the established time of their deaths.”

Eve laid out eleven photos. “Do you recognize any of these girls?”

“Shelby, of course, as we discussed before. And Mikki. Lupa, who was only with us briefly. I . . . This girl looks familiar, but I’m not sure.” Her finger hovered over Merry Wolcovich’s photo. “If you gave me her name, we could check our records.”