Divided in Death (In Death #18)(114)

"Yeah. I don't see how that could've been faked. He's worked for years, studied, pursued. He'd sweat days over a piece, hardly sleep or eat when he was in full mode. I might not have liked the shit he turned out, but he put heart and soul into it-his black, withered and rotting heart and soul. I'm going to be bitter for a while," she continued, "and take as many cheap shots at him as humanly possible." She grinned again. "Just FYI."

"I think it's healthy," Tokimoto said. "And human."

"So his art, such as it is, is the real deal to him. They can take away his fantasy job, but he's still an artist." Eve nodded. "He can still create. He has to create. McNab, do a tenant search, look for any connection to Bissel. Target the Flatiron."

"Of course," Roarke murmured. "I can help you with that, Ian," he said to McNab, but he continued to look at Eve. "He'd want to be close to his work, to where he'd felt powerful, and in charge. If he had another place in the building, it's possible Chloe McCoy knew of it."

"Guy like that, he'd want to take her there, to ball her, sure, but also to show her how important he was. Look, I've got this secret place. Nobody knows about it but you."

"And then things went wrong and he needed the place," Peabody finished. "She had to die, just because she knew it was there."

"Lieutenant." Roarke tapped the screen where he worked with McNab. "LeBiss Consultants. LeBiss is an anagram for Bissel."

"Yeah, he'd want his own name. Another ego thing." She leaned over Roarke's shoulder. "Where is it?"

He gave a command and a diagram of the Flatiron came on screen, revolved, then magnified a highlighted sector. "One floor below his gallery. He'd have enough skill to be able to go between floors with minimal risk should he want to access his studio."

"Fully soundproofed, right?"

"Of course."

"And privacy shades on the windows. Monitors. Add another level of security and he'd be able to know if anyone tried to get on the elevator or through the door. He could muck that up, the way Sparrow did on the night of the first murders. Then clear out before anybody got in.

"Probably work at night," she said half to herself. "Probably work mostly at night when the building's shut down, offices closed, nobody's going to bother him. Cops've already been through, and there's nothing in there that applies to the investigation. Lease is paid up. So until the estate's settled, he can use it without much risk of detection."

"He loved that studio." Reva stepped forward, studying the diagram herself. "I'd bring up the possibility of him building one at home, and he wouldn't consider it. I know it could've been because he wanted the freedom of being away, having accessibility to the women he was sleeping with, but I know, at the core, he just loved that place. Damn it, I'm slipping. I didn't think to put it on the list you wanted of his habits and hangouts."

"Why would you? It was already on my list."

"Yeah, but this was his place, and if I'd had my head on straight, I'd have put it together. He always said he needed the stimulation, the energy of the city, of that spot, just as he needed the serenity and privacy of our house. One to charge him up, the other to relax him."

"We need to go in," Eve said.

"Dallas," Reva added. "He wouldn't just work at night, not if some piece had him. He wouldn't be able to step away from it. I think, unless I've misjudged everything about him, that the risk wouldn't factor into it. Or maybe it would, in some way, fuel the creative drive."

"Good. Good point. We need to assume he's in there, just as we need to assume he's armed and dangerous. The building's full of civilians. We need to move them out."

Feeney, who'd continued to work on McCoy's data unit throughout the briefing, finally glanced up. "You want to clear out a twenty-two-story building?"

"Yeah. Without Bissel knowing it. Which means first we should verify he's in there. Don't want to clear it out while he's around the corner picking up a sandwich at the deli. So let's figure out how to verify, then how to clear out the civilians."

Feeney puffed out a breath. "She don't ask for much. Side note: I've got some data out of this. Reads like a diary. Enough sex stuff with who she calls BB to make a seasoned LC blush." He colored a bit himself when he glanced toward Reva. "Sorry."

"It's not a problem. Not a problem," she repeated in three viciously bitten off words. "He lied to me, screwed around on me, he tried to frame me for murder. Why should knowing some poor little twit romped around naked-"

She paused, breathed deep when the room remained silent but for the machine. "Okay, I'm making it a problem by trying to prove it's not. Let me put it this way." She looked at Tokimoto now. Directly. "Love can die. It can be killed, no matter how alive it was, it's not invulnerable. Mine's dead. It's dead and it's buried. I just want one thing more, and that's the chance to look him in the face and tell him he's nothing. If I can do that one thing, it'll be enough."

"I'll make sure you have the chance," Eve promised. "Now, how do we get him?"

"A bomb scare would clear it, but there'd be injuries," Peabody decided. "People panic, especially when you tell them not to. And even soundproofed, he'd get wind of it."