Delusion in Death (In Death #35)(56)

“Plus nothing rings on Snyder. Just like Curve. We’ll look deeper, but it fits they were dupes. He didn’t even know Snyder, the way this plays. Maybe he’d seen her before; she’d seen him before. The way you do when you frequent the same bar, when you work in the same area. She may have worked in his offices, or the same building.”

“Trueheart’s famous chart indicates,” Roarke said.

“Yeah. That was good, creative work. So with Curve, I’m going with a customer. She’s delivery. I’m betting she delivered to his residence. He lives close enough.”

She glanced back at the clutter of empty pizza boxes. “To his offices, maybe. Can’t get out for lunch, call in a delivery. Working through dinner, call delivery. He knew the routine. He hung around close enough to the café to watch. If not her, one of the waitresses, or a coworker going in. Luck of the draw, both times. It’s a good plan because it’s no one specific, no one in particular. No real link back to him.”

“And he may not have factored in you’d identify the sources. All those bodies, all those injuries, the chaos of it. It’s a detail easily missed.”

“I want to take this home. Can you do the board thing with the Trueheart graph?”

“I can do that.”

“Dallas.” Peabody poked in the door. “Sorry. Christopher Lester’s here, wants to see you.”

“Does he?” She looked back at the board, considered. “Put him in Interview, same box as before if it’s free.”

“Okay. I thought you’d all but eliminated him and Devon.”

“All but. If Strong’s right, this guy’s cooking up his own drugs, not just the mix. If Teasdale’s right, he’d need experience and equipment. Lester’s got both. And he’s here. I’ll see what he has to say.”

“Why don’t I gather up your files while you do?”

“Appreciate it.” She started out, pulling her ’link when it signaled. “Dallas.”

“Lieutenant, Nancy Weaver.”

“Ms. Weaver.”

“We heard about what happened at Café West.”

“You know the place?”

“Yes. A lot of us eat there, or get food from there. Lieutenant, we’ve lost more people. Three of my people who went out for lunch never came back. I can’t reach them. I’ve checked with other departments, and there are more people who never came back from lunch.”

“I can’t give you details.”

“Please. Lew and Steve are here with me. We’ve been helping plan a memorial for Joe. When we heard—”

Her voice wavered, went thick. “We’re at the offices. Is there any way you can come here or we’ll come to you. If you could just tell us what happened. We knew people who worked there, at Café West. We might be able to help.”

“I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll tell night security to expect you.”

Interesting, she thought as she walked toward the interview room. Wasn’t it interesting?

“Do you want me in there?” Peabody asked her.

“Yeah. When we’re done, find out whatever you can about the Lester brothers’ family. That includes their parents, and this one’s wife. Take a good look at Devon’s spouse’s family background. You can do it from home, but on the way, go by their residence, talk to neighbors until you get a picture of their relationships, their movements.”

“Got it.”

“Nancy Weaver just contacted me, wants to chat. She’s with Callaway and Vann.”

“Interesting.”

“That’s what I thought.” Eve entered Interview, started the record.

And she thought Christopher Lester looked a great deal wearier and less spiffy than he had the day before.

“You don’t have to read my rights again,” he said, “as you already have, and yes, I understand them.”

“Good. Saves time. What can I do for you?”

“We heard about Café West. My brother … it’s another very hard blow. We sometimes met there for lunch.”

“You two didn’t like the food at the bar?”

“He liked to get out. He knows the day manager, and hasn’t been able to reach her. Her name’s Kimberly Fruicki. I knew her, too. She came to parties at Devon’s. He and Quirk went to her wedding last year. Lieutenant, he’s frantic. He’s tried the hospital. They won’t tell him anything, even if she’s there, as he’s not family. If I could tell him she’s all right …”

“I can’t release the names of the victims until the next of kin’s been notified.”

“She’s …” He looked away, rubbed his hands over his face. “God.”

Eve gave Peabody a signal. “Detective Peabody exiting Interview. How often did you eat at the Café?”

“I’d say once or twice a month—with Devon, or Devon and Quirk. Lieutenant.” He leaned forward, eyes direct, earnest. “You brought me in before because I’m a scientist, a chemist. I realize you have resources, but I doubt they reach the level of my experience, my skill, or my facilities. I know the police department sometimes enlists civilian consultants. I want to help.”