Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(98)

“I’m going to be taking a three-week one, aren’t I?” she hissed as he only lifted his brows patiently. “Sorry, I’m being bitchy. I can’t get past this, Roarke. I’ve put it aside a half dozen times this past week, but I keep coming back.”

“Say it aloud. Sometimes it’s helpful.”

“Okay.” She shoved back from the desk, narrowly missed stepping on the cat. “She could have gone to the club. Some of the fancy people slum at that kind of place.”

“Pandora did.”

“Exactly. And they did run with the same basic crowd. So yeah, she could have gone to the club, she could have seen Boomer there. She might even have had a contact tell her he was in. This is all supposing that she knew him, which is not firmly established. And was working with him, or through him. She sees him there, realizing he’s mouthing off. He’s a loose end, someone who’s outlived his usefulness and is now a liability.”

“So far that’s logical.”

She nodded, but didn’t stop pacing. “Okay, he spots her after he comes out of the privacy room with Hetta Moppett. Jerry has to worry now what he’s said. He could have bragged, even puffed up his own connection to impress the woman. Boomer’s smart enough to know he’s in trouble, takes off, goes underground. Hetta’s the first victim. She’s got to go because she might know something. She’s taken out quick, brutally, so it looks like a random rage hit. Her ID’s taken. That means it’ll take longer to trace her, connect her with the club and Boomer. If anyone cared to connect her, which was unlikely.”

“Except they didn’t count on you.”

“There’s that. Boomer’s got a sample, he’s got the formula. He had quick hands when he wanted them, and a skill for larceny. Judgment wasn’t his strong suit. Maybe he pressed for more money, a larger cut of the whole. But he was good at his job. Nobody knew he was a weasel but a handful of people connected to NYPSD.”

“And those who did wouldn’t have known how seriously and personally you take a partnership.” He cocked his head. “Under most circumstances, I’d say his death would have been chalked off to a soured drug deal, a revenge hit by one of his associates, and left at that.”

“True enough, but Jerry didn’t move quick enough. We found the stuff at Boomer’s, started to work on that angle. At the same time, I get a first-hand look at Pandora at work. You know the story there, and you’ve heard the rundown on the circumstances on the night of her death. Pinning Mavis with the crime was a stroke of luck, good and bad. It gave Jerry time, presented her with a convenient scapegoat.”

“A scapegoat who just happened to be near and dear to the primary’s heart.”

“That’s the bad luck. How many times am I going to walk into a case and know the most likely suspect is absolutely innocent? Despite all the evidence, despite everything? It’s just not going to happen.”

“I don’t know. It did with me a few months ago.”

“I didn’t know, I felt. After awhile, I knew.” She jammed her hands in her pockets, ripped them out again. “With Mavis I knew, from the get go, I knew. So I approached the entire case from a different angle. Now I see three potential suspects, all, as it turns out, with motive, with opportunity, and with means. One of those suspects, I begin to believe, is addicted to the very drug that started the ball rolling. Just when you think it’s safe to start assuming, a dealer on the East End is taken out. Same MO. Why? That’s a sticking point, Roarke, one I can’t clean up. They didn’t need Cockroach. The odds of Boomer trusting him with any data on this are so long they reach through the stratosphere. But he’s taken out, and there are traces of the drug in his system.”

“A ploy.” Roarke took out a cigarette and lighted it. “A distraction.”

For the first time in hours, she grinned. “That’s what I like, about you. Your criminal mind. Toss in a red herring to confuse the issue. Leave the cops straining to find a logical connection with Cockroach. In the meantime, Redford’s manufacturing a variety of Immortality on his own, he’s given it to Jerry. Along with a hefty fee. But he got that back by bleeding her for every bottle of it from then on. A smart businessman, he’s gone to the trouble, taken the risk of procuring a specimen from the Eden Colony.”

“Two,” Roarke said and had the pleasure of seeing that intense face go blank.

“Two what?”

“He ordered two. I swung by Eden on my way back on planet, had a talk with Engrave’s daughter. I asked if she could find the time to do some cross-checking. Redford ordered his first specimen nine months ago, using another name and a forged license. But the ID numbers are the same. He had it shipped to a florist on Vegas II, one with a dubious reputation for dealing in contraband flora.” He paused to tap his ash into a marble bowl. “I’d say it was sent from there to a lab, where the nectar was distilled.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?”

“I’m telling you now. It was just confirmed five minutes ago. You can probably contact security on Vegas II and have the florist questioned.”

She was swearing as she pounded to her ‘link, gave orders for just that.

“Even if they crack him, it’ll take weeks to cut through the bureaucracy and have him transported on planet so I can have a go at him.” But she rubbed her hands together, anticipating it. “You might have mentioned you were doing this.”