Innocent in Death (In Death #24)(40)

“Misdemeanors, anyway. We’re not going up to your office? Your AutoChef?”

“No.” Eve yanked on her coat as Summerset stood silently by. “Everybody’s getting a goddamn early start today. My vehicle better be where I left it,” she snapped at him. “Or I’m getting it myself, dragging you out, and running you over with it.”

“What you call a vehicle is outside, currently embarrassing the house.”

“Peabody.” Eve gestured for the door. Eve waited until Peabody went outside. “I want to know if she comes here. I want to know if she comes into this house. You got that?”

“Yes.”

She marched out into the cold, hatless, gloveless, then slid behind the wheel. “First address.”

Peabody gave it to her, then cleared her throat. “Rough night?”

“Life’s full of rough nights.”

“Look, if you want to talk about it or just spew, that’s what partners are for.”

“There’s a woman.”

“No possible way.”

It was said so quickly, and with such easy confidence, Eve would have been comforted under any other circumstances. “There’s a woman,” she repeated. “One he used to be involved with a long time ago. Seriously involved. She’s back, and she’s making moves. He doesn’t see them as moves. He doesn’t see what she is under the gloss. We’ve got a problem.”

“You’re sure—” It only took one look from Eve for Peabody to blow out a breath. “Okay, you’re sure. First I’m going to say he wouldn’t twist on you, not with anyone. But having some bitch put moves on him is a steamer. You want to go have a talk with her, put a little muscle into it. We can tune her up, put her ass on a shuttle for Siberia.”

“Sounds good.” She stopped at a light, scrubbed her hands over her face. “Can’t do it, can’t touch her, can’t beat her to death with a hammer and bury her in White Plains.”

“Bloomfield would be better than White Plains anyway.”

It got a weak laugh. “I don’t know how to do this, how hard to push him, how far to stand back. I don’t know the steps and strategy. I think I’ve already screwed up.”

“Dallas? I think you should tell him this hurts you.”

“I’ve never had to tell him something like that before. He sees stuff in me before I have to.” She shook her head. “It’s f**king me up. It’s f**king us up. And I’ve got to put it away and do my job.”

She ran down her conversation with Lissette Foster, and the deletion of the key ingredient in the contents of the go-cup.

“So it indicates that the poison was added to the drink prior to coming into the school, and most likely in a dupe vessel.”

“Well…” Peabody juggled it in her head. “Poison’s a method females opt for more often than males.”

“Statistically, yeah.”

“According to Lissette, Mirri Hallywell knew about the key ingredient. What if, knowing we’d cop to the recipe, she deliberately left it out. Lissette would end up being her alibi.”

“Convoluted,” Eve mused. “But not impossible.”

“Or Lissette could have left it out deliberately, same reason. And yeah,” Peabody said before Eve could comment, “it doesn’t bounce very well.”

“If you don’t toss the ball, it never bounces. We’ll keep the possibilities in the mix.”

Eve angled toward the curb, and when she got out it did her spirits good to see the disdain in the doorman’s eagle eyes.

“Can’t leave that heap there, lady.”

“Hey, you know how many sexual favors my partner here had to promise to score that ride?”

“You were supposed to perform them,” Peabody reminded her.

“Maybe I’ll get around to that. Meanwhile…” She pulled out her badge. “You’re going to watch over that heap like it was an XR-5000, fresh off the showroom floor. And you’re going to buzz up and tell—Who are we seeing here, Peabody?”

“The Fergusons.”

“You’re going to tell the Fergusons that we’ve come to chat.”

“Mr. Ferguson’s already left the building this morning. Breakfast meeting. Mrs. Ferguson’s still inside.”

“Then get hopping.”

He looked none too pleased, but rang the apartment and cleared them inside.

Into chaos.

Eileen Ferguson had a child of indeterminate age on her hip. He had some sort of pink goo circling his mouth and was wearing footed pajamas decorated with grinning dinosaurs.

Eve figured if dinosaurs grinned it was because dinner was about to be served. So why did adults decorate their offspring with carnivores? She’d never get it.

In the background came screams and barks and whoops that may have been glee or terror. Eileen herself wore a rust-colored sweater, loose black pants, and fuzzy slippers the color of cotton candy. Her brown hair was slicked back in a long tail and her eyes, a quiet hazel, seemed eerily calm given the noise level.

Eve wondered if she’d toked before answering the door.

“This must be about Craig Foster. Come in at your own risk.” She stepped back. “Martin Edward Ferguson, Dillon Wyatt Hadley.” She didn’t shout, but her voice, perfectly pleasant, carried. “Settle down right now, or I’ll dismantle that dog and shove the parts into the recycler. Sorry, coffee?” she said to Eve and Peabody.