Memory in Death (In Death #22)(64)

As was patricide, she thought. She'd all but swam in the blood when she'd killed her father.

As that was one memory she didn't need or want, she focused on the now. "Then the motive's murky there. If it's the money, why not wait until she scooped it up? Then you arrange for an accident back home, and you inherit. Could've been impulse, just of the moment, but..."

"You've got a spot for him," Roarke said. "A soft one."

"It's not that." Or maybe part of that, she admitted. "If he was putting on a show outside that hotel room, he's wasting his talents with real estate. And I was with him when Zana had her adventure, so that means he'd have to have a partner. Or he and Zana are in this together. None of that's impossible, so we'll go down those layers. But it's not what rings for me."

He studied her face. "And something does. I can see it."

"Back to the vic. She likes to be in charge, keep people under her thumb. Like you pointed out, she didn't just take kids in for the fees. She took them in so she had sway over them, so they'd do her bidding, fear her. According to her, she kept files on them. So why would I be the first she's hit on?"

"Not a partner then. A minion."

"That's a good word, isn't it?" Eve sat back in her chair, swiveled back and forth. "Minion. Right up her alley. From the look back I already took, she always fostered females. Which plays into her being in her nightgown. Why bother with a robe when it's another woman? No need to be concerned or afraid when it's someone you bossed around when she was a kid and who, for whatever reason, is still under your control."

"Zana was abducted by a man, if we take her at her word."

"And if we do, going by this theory, there are two. Or Trudy had herself a man. I'm going to take a closer look at who she fostered."

"And I'll play with my numbers."

"Getting anywhere?"

"It's a matter of time. Feeney got a start and a warrant. Which makes it possible for me to use my office equipment without dodging around CompuGuard."

"Only half the fun for you."

"Sometimes you settle." He got to his feet. "I'll get back to it."

"Roarke. Before, what I said about bringing work home, and cops into the house. I should've added pulling you into this mix."

"I put myself into the mix quite a few times, going around you to do so." His lips curved, just a bit.

"I've tried to learn to wait to be asked first."

"I ask a lot. And I haven't forgotten you were hurt, took a couple of pretty serious hits on my last two major cases because I asked you first."

"As did you," he reminded her.

"I signed up for it."

He smiled fully now—it was enough to make a woman's heart do a header—and walked around the desk to lift her hand, rub his finger over her wedding ring. "As did I. Go to work, Lieutenant."

"Okay. Okay," she repeated quietly as he walked to his own office. She turned to her computer. "Let's start earning our pay."

She brought up the list of the children Trudy had fostered, then began to pick at their lives.

One was doing her third stretch for aggravated assault. Good candidate, Eve thought, if she wasn't currently in a cage in Mobile, Alabama. She put a call through to the warden, just in case, and confirmed.

One down.

Another had been blown to bits while dancing at an underground club in Miami when a couple of lunatics stormed it. Suicide bombers, Eve recalled, protesting—with their lives, and more than a hundred others—what they considered the exploitation of women.

The next had a residence listed as Des Moines, Iowa, one current marriage on record, with employment as an elementary educator. One offspring, male. The spouse was a data cruncher. Still, they pulled in a decent living between them, Eve mused. Trudy might have dipped into the well.

Eve contacted Iowa. The woman who came on-screen looked exhausted. Banging and crashing sounded in the background. "Happy holidays. God help me. Wayne, please, will you keep it down for five minutes? Sorry."

"No problem. Carly Tween?"

"That's right."

"I'm Lieutenant Dallas, with New York City Police and Security."

"New York. I've got to sit down." There was a huge sigh, and the screen tipped just enough for Eve to get a glimpse of an enormously pregnant belly. Another down, she decided, but followed through.

"What's this about?"

"Trudy Lombard. Ring a bell?"

Her face changed, tightened. "Yes. She was my foster mother for several months when I was a child."

"Could you tell me the last time you had contact with her?"

"Why? Wayne. I mean it. Why?" she repeated.

"Ms. Lombard was murdered. I'm investigating."

"Murdered? Wait, just wait, I have to move to somewhere else. I can't hear with all this noise." There was a lot of huffing before the woman gained her feet, and the screen swayed as she waddled across what Eve saw was a family living area into a small office space. She shut the door.

"She was murdered? How?"

"Mrs. Tween, I'd like to know the last time you spoke with or had contact with Ms. Lombard."