Creation in Death (In Death #25)(98)

“She could have had property in her name,” Eve continued as they started out. “Maybe he uses that. Lawyers are dragging their feet, as the breed’s prone to do. Between Whitney and Tibble they’ll cut through that bullshit quickly enough.”

“If he continues to be smart,” Roarke commented, “the lawyers would only lead you to a numbered account and message service. He covers himself well.”

“Then we’ll tackle the account and the service. Fucker’s in New York. He has a bolt-hole here, a work space, transportation. And one of these lines we’re yanking is going to bring us down on him.”

Eve had no more than reached the main level when her communicator beeped. “Dallas.”

“Found her!” Callendar all but sang it. “Edwina Spring. Found her in the music and entertainment section of an old Times. Opera sensation, if you believe the hype. Prodigy. Barely eighteen when she bowled over New York at the Met. I’ve got more coming up now that I’ve got her name.”

“Run a multitask. See if you can find any property in the city listed under her name.”

“On it.”

“Get it all together, Callendar. I’ve got a stop to make, then I’m heading in.”

“What stop?” Roarke wanted to know.

“Pella. He knows something. His medicals confirm he’s clocking out, and is barely able to walk across the room. But he knows something, and I’m not dicking around with him.”

“You weren’t tailed here.”

“That’s right.”

“Then it’s unlikely you’ll be tailed from here. As Peabody’s busy, I’ll go with you to see this Pella.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You certainly can. But do you want to pull any part of the team here off to run your wire? Simpler, quicker, if I go with you, then the rest of them meet us back at Central.”

“Maybe.” And for the sake of expediency, she shrugged. “Fine.”

W hen they arrived at Pella’s, there was a great deal of objecting and hand-fluttering from both the housekeeping and medical droids. Eve just pushed through it.

“If you’ve got a complaint, report it to the chief of police. Or the mayor. Yeah, the mayor loves to get complaints from droids.”

“We’re obliged to look after Mr. Pella, to see to his health and comfort.”

Obviously, some joker had programmed the housekeeping droid to whine. “None of you are going to feel very healthy or comfortable if I haul you into Central. So move aside or I’ll cite you for obstructing justice.”

Eve elbowed the medical away, shoved open the bedroom door. “Stay back, out of eyeline,” she said quietly to Roarke. “He might not talk if he sees I’ve brought company.”

It was dim, as it had been before, and she could hear the steady rasps of Pella sucking air through the breather.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed until I called for you.” His voice was testy, and sounded years older than it had the day before. “I’ll have you broken down into circuits and limbs if you don’t give me some damn peace.”

“That would be tough to manage from where you are,” Eve commented.

He stirred, his eyes opened to latch on to hers. “What do you want? I don’t have to talk to you. I spoke with my lawyer.”

“Fine, speak with him again and tell him to meet you at Central. He’ll explain that I can hold you there for twenty-four hours as a material witness to homicide.”

“What kind of bullshit is this! I haven’t witnessed anything but those damn droids hovering like vultures for the past six months.”

“You’re going to tell me what you know, Pella, or a good chunk of the time you’ve got left is going to be spent with me. Robert Lowell. Edwina Spring. Tell me.”

He shifted restlessly in the bed, plucked at the sheet. “If you know so much, why do you need me?”

“Look, you son of a bitch.” She leaned over him. “Twenty-five women are dead, and another is in dire straits. She may be dying.”

“I am dying! I fought for this city. I bled for it. I lost the only thing in the world that mattered, and nothing has mattered since. What do I care about some women?”

“Her name’s Ariel. She bakes for a living. She has a neighbor across the hall from her pretty little apartment. Seems like a nice guy. She doesn’t know he’s in love with her, doesn’t know he came to me today desperate and scared, pleading with me to find her. Her name is Ariel, and you’re going to tell me what you know.”

Pella turned his head away, stared toward the draped windows. “I don’t know anything.”

“You lying f**ker.” She grabbed hold of his breather, saw his eyes go wide. She wouldn’t actually rip it off—probably wouldn’t—but he didn’t know that. “You want to take another breath?”

“The droids know you’re in here. If anything happens to me—”

“What? Like you just—oops—fall over dead when I happen to be talking to you? An officer of the law, sworn to protect and serve. And with a witness to back me up?”

“What witness?”

Eve glanced over, jerked her head so that Roarke stepped into Pella’s view. “If this f**ker just happened to kick it when I was duly questioning him about his knowledge of a suspect, it would be an accident, right?”