Festive in Death (In Death #39)(66)

“All too common, isn’t it?”

“Says she just danced—no sex—and you have to believe her. Not just that open face, the way she just babbles out reams of information because she’s lonely, but her background data finishes the picture. Copley’s set her up there with the usual bullshit. His wife doesn’t understand him, treats him bad, he’s working on a divorce, then they’ll get married.”

“You’re saying they grow them green in Shipshewana.”

“If Felicity’s an example, they don’t grow them greener. And, meanwhile, Copley will invest in her future by paying for dance and voice and acting classes. And she sleeps with him whenever he’s available, fawns over him, makes him feel desirable and important. She thinks he’s out of town right now, on important business.”

“Did you tell her otherwise?”

“Not directly. She wouldn’t have bought it from me anyway. I sort of put a couple thoughts out there, and steered her toward talking to her stripper friend who seems to know the score. She took me for a pal of his, was pitifully grateful to meet what she took as a pal of his, to spend time, to talk about him because—she says—she’s not really supposed to talk about him or them. Fucker. She’s going to have a few scars from this. Still, maybe they’ll be good for her in the long run.”

“And Ziegler?”

“She didn’t recognize the name. She doesn’t know anything on that. Copley tells her what works for him, and that’s it. But what it told me? She’s young, sexy, and built like every straight man’s wet dream.”

“Is that so. Have you a photo?”

“Pervert,” she said mildly.

“Perhaps, but as a straight man I could verify your findings.”

“My findings tell me he wants to keep his sexy toy as long as he can. He gets sex, adoration, and devotion, and since he’s paying for it out of money he’s skimmed from his wife, it’s a full win for him. One he might have killed for if Ziegler found out, threatened to clue in the wife.”

“So you managed to cross a name off your suspect list with the young Broadway hopeful, and gain another area of motive for one of the top on your list. Not a bad bit of work in a short time.”

“I had Peabody do the run on her, so that saved me time. Data indicates the kid came from a solid, two-parent household, has two older sisters, played well in school. Why do they call it ‘homecoming’?” she wondered.

“Who calls what ‘homecoming’?”

“People—the thing in high school.”

“Ah.” He paused by a side door of the house. “That’s an American thing, isn’t it?”

“You live here,” she reminded him.

“I do, yes. I think it’s something to do with football. American football, and a particular game that gets specifically celebrated with a dance, perhaps a parade as well. And they choose students to be king and queen.”

“That’s just weird. But she was one of those, and head cheerleader, leads in plays, part-time work at some fast-food joint until she came here. A few months working in a strip club should’ve scraped some of the green off. It didn’t. I think it goes down to the bone.”

“You liked her quite a lot,” he said as they went inside.

“I don’t know if it was like, but I hope somebody can cushion the fall when she finds out the truth about Copley.”

“A solid family, older sisters. That could provide the cushion.”

“I guess it could. Either way, my job is to drill Copley. She’s going to tell him I was there.” Considering it, Eve stepped into the elevator with Roarke. “The next time he tags her up, she’ll tell him. That’s going to chap his ass. How did I find out about her—was it something Ziegler had documented, which reminds me to check Ziegler’s spreadsheet on his side businesses. He’s going to want to know exactly what Felicity told me, and if he’s not smart and careful how he does that, he’s going to have even ridiculously gullible her wondering what the hell. Unless her stripper pal does that first.”

She stepped out with him into her home office. “What are we doing in here?”

“You won’t need your coat, nor I mine.” He took hers, then his own to a small closet she never thought about much less used. “And you’ll want a bit more time to update your board, check that spreadsheet.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Again, you don’t answer to me on this.”

Her shoulders hunched. “I’m not talking to Summerset again. I’m back. I’ll be up there, on the battlefield in like fifteen minutes.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you at some point during the fray.” He took her shoulders, yanked her in for a hard, quick kiss. “Secure your weapon, would you, Lieutenant, before you join in? Otherwise you may be tempted to use it before we’re done.”

“I’d keep it on low stun.”

“Regardless.” He kissed her again. “If you run much over the fifteen,” he said as he started out, “Summerset will have something to hold over your head for years.”

“Crap.” That was so true.

She went straight to her board. She added Felicity’s photo, some basic data, crossed it with Copley’s. Then after a moment’s thought, with Natasha Quigley’s, with a question mark.