Delusion in Death (In Death #35)(86)

“It’s looking good. I heard you were bringing the suspect in.”

“You heard right. With any luck we can close this up, get back to what passes for normal.”

He’d only been assigned to her for a few months, but he’d slipped right into the rhythm. She considered, angled her head.

“I bet you know who’s stealing my candy.”

He gave her a blank cop’s stare. “What candy?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”

She went to her office, ditched her coat, sat to write up her report. While she had time, she walked out, into the conference room.

She turned the boards around, gathered the copies she wanted, began to arrange them. Connected some, wrote in time frames. Kept it all loose, a little scattered, a little vague.

Except for the board of vics. That one she covered with the images of the dead.

She studied the table, noted no one had tossed the box Feeney’d brought in that morning—though she didn’t see even a single crumb inside.

That was fine. She left it there, tossed some files on the table, programmed shitty coffee, poured half of it out, set the mug on the table.

She hunted up more debris.

“Lieutenant, I heard you were back in the house.”

“Yeah.” She glanced over as Teasdale came in, noted the agent’s slight frown at the conference table.

“It’s like a play. It should look a little disorganized, and like we’re spending lots of time here.”

“It does. You changed the board.”

“I’m bringing Callaway in here, make him feel like he’s a kind of consultant. This is what I want him to see.”

“Hmmm.” Lips pursed now, Teasdale walked forward. “All of the victims. Yes, that will please him. And only a handful of those we’ve connected to them—including himself. He’ll enjoy that as well. The time line isn’t quite right.”

“No, it’s not. And there’s no mention of Red Horse or Menzini. I’m saving those for a nice surprise. You want in?”

“On the ‘consult.’ Yes, I do, thank you. The Callaways are en route. They’re slightly behind schedule, but should be here by thirteen-fifteen.”

“Let’s go to my office, get some decent coffee, and I’ll bring you up to date.”

In her office, Eve programmed two cups, offered one. “Peabody’s in the field, talking to Fisher’s roommate and whoever else she can dig up. We—”

“Oh.” After a sip, Teasdale blinked, breathed out. Sipped again. “This isn’t what I’m used to.”

Eve remembered her own reaction the first time she’d tasted Roarke’s blend. “Nice, huh?”

“It’s … very. May I sit? I feel this should be savored rather than gulped.”

“Take the desk chair; the other one’s crap.” Eve settled for a corner of the desk. “Peabody and I talked to Elaine Cattery,” Eve began, and ran it through.

“So, he remains in pattern,” Teasdale observed. “If he knew Vann had sent food, he’d be compelled to do the same. And more. Something bigger, or more expensive.”

“You’re right. Competition, standing out. Which makes me think Vann didn’t tell him, and that makes me think more of Vann. He just did the good deed, and wasn’t looking for acknowledgment.”

“Callaway must have acknowledgment. The lack, or perceived lack of it, burns in him. I believe, after a time, he’ll contact you or the media. It won’t be enough as it is.”

“Probably. But I don’t want to give him that chance. I want to shut him down today.”

“You believe you’ll get him to confess.”

“That’s the plan.”

Maybe it was the coffee, but Teasdale leaned back in the chair, crossed her legs. Seemed to relax. “I believe his sense of self-preservation will be stronger than his need for acknowledgment.”

“We’ll find out.”

“There’s no break, as yet, on a supplier for the illegals or the medicals elements. Knowing his source, pulling the source in, that would add weight and pressure.”

“How about using your power of persuasion to get us a search warrant on his place?”

Teasdale smiled into her coffee. “I suspected you’d ask. I have it. I was told I could liaise with APA Cher Reo. Between us we managed it. When would you like to move on it?”

“Before he leaves here. I want to bring Roarke in on that, if he’s able. He’s got a good nose for hidey-holes, and for dealing with encrypted data.”

“It must be satisfying to be married to someone who not only understands your work, but is willing and able to share in it.”

“Plus, coffee. Want another hit?”

“I would, but I’d better not. I’m not used to it. I like your office,” Teasdale said as she rose.

Mildly surprised, Eve glanced around. “I think you’re the first one who’s ever said that.”

“It’s small and efficient with few distractions. And it has this coffee in the AutoChef.” She set the empty cup aside. “I’d like to say something to you.”

“Okay.”

“Your files with HSO have been redacted or removed. Some destroyed or … rather inexplicably deleted.”