Delusion in Death (In Death #35)(40)

He flushed a little, shifted a little. “I took a look. Out of my reach, what with the capital, and the taxes and all that. I thought how it would be something to have my own place. Now, I guess I’m glad I didn’t try it. Something like this? I don’t know how you come back from it.”

“It’s rough. Thinking about that, maybe somebody who wanted their own place, found it out of reach, might find a way to bring the price down to a bargain. It wouldn’t be hard for somebody who knew the place, how it works, how it’s set up. Somebody with access to everything, anytime. And somebody, say, whose brother’s a chemist. Like yours, Devon.”

8

He stared at her with his shadowed, bloodshot eyes. Said nothing at all.

“Your brother’s a big-shot chemist, right, Devon? Dr. Christopher Lester, with a bunch of letters after his name. A really smart guy,” she added, opening a file, nodding as she scanned it. “A scientist.”

“What?”

“Is your brother a chemist who specializes in the development and testing of medicines and drugs?”

“He—yeah. What’s that got to do with any of this?”

“Put it together. You couldn’t afford the place, so you have to work for somebody else. Somebody with more money, more connections. Somebody, like you said yourself, everybody knows. That’s a pisser, I bet.”

“No—it’s—”

“Your brother’s got access to all kinds of drugs, chemicals, and the knowledge to put them together.” Eyes on Devon, she slapped the file closed. “A substance is released in the bar you run, Devon, and when it’s your day off. Boy, that’s handy. People die, it’s a massacre. And a scandal. Property value plummets. Like you said, maybe Roarke’s not going to open again. Maybe he’ll sell it. Maybe, again like you said yourself, somebody did this to take a hit at Roarke, and to bring the cost of the property down.”

“You—you think I did this? To my own people? My own place?”

“Roarke’s place.”

Fury rose up until his face matched his dreads. “He owns it; I run it.” Devon slammed a fist on his chest. “I run it! I know every single one of the people who work there, and all the regulars, too. I know a lot of the people who died yesterday. They mattered to me. I come in here to try to help, because I want to find out what happened, who did this. And you accuse me?”

“No one’s accusing you, Devon. It’s a scenario.”

“It’s bullshit. You’re saying I could’ve made this happen. And worse, God, you’re trying to pull my brother into it? Chris is a hero. You get that? A hero. He works to save lives, to make lives better, to help people. You’ve got no right to say anything bad about my brother.”

“We have to ask questions.” Peabody put on the calm as Devon’s outrage spun through the room, sharp as whirling blades. “We have to consider different possibilities before we can eliminate them and move on in the investigation.”

“You want to look at me, you look. Inside, outside, back and forward. Give me a truth test, stick a f**king probe up my ass. I’ve got nothing to hide. But you lay off my brother, right? You lay off Chris.”

“Let me ask you this, Devon.” Eve leaned back a little. “If Roarke sells, and the price is in your reach, would you buy the place?”

“In a heartbeat.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Make something of it.”

“If you wanted the place, still want it, why didn’t you ask your brother for a loan, or to make an investment? He could afford it.”

“If I can’t make it myself, it’s not mine, is it? I don’t tap Chris when I want money. He’s my brother, not a frigging bank. I’ve got nothing more to say about it. Unless you’re charging me with something, I’m leaving.”

“We’re not charging you with anything. You’re certainly free to go.”

He shoved back, scraping the chair on the floor. At the door, he turned. “I’d hate to be somebody who’s always looking for the worst in people.”

When the door shut, Peabody lifted her shoulders in a hunch. “He kinda made me feel guilty.”

“You’re a cop. You’re paid to look for the worst in people.”

“I like to think of it more as hunting down the worst people.”

This time she rubbed the back of her neck because it did trouble her. “Do you want to count the number of times we’ve had somebody in that chair who looked like a nice guy who turned out to be a stone killer?”

“I don’t have enough fingers.”

“Exactly. Let’s talk to the brother.”

Christopher Lester shared his brother’s coloring and build. Rather than dreads, he wore his red hair short, straight, styled like a Roman centurion. He wore a well-tailored suit and perfectly knotted tie, both in deep, bronzy brown.

His wrist unit winked gold in the overhead light.

“Dr. Lester,” Eve began. “Thanks for coming in.”

“I’m happy to cooperate. I assume this has to do with the murders at On the Rocks yesterday. My brother’s devastated.”

“You’ve spoken to him.”

“Of course. I contacted him as soon as I heard there’d been trouble. If he’d been there …”