Obsession in Death (In Death #40)(74)

“To be determined. Move your hot buns, Carmichael.” When Eve’s eyes narrowed, Santiago held up a hand. “It’s okay, she asked me to say that.”

“Affirmative.” Carmichael hustled up. “Haven’t put on an ounce since Thanksgiving. He’s giving me motivation to hold that through the end of the year.”

“Don’t give any motivation in public,” Eve ordered, turned to Peabody. “Your hot buns are with me.”

“Aw, that’s so nice! I’ve gained two pounds, four ounces since Thanksgiving, but that’s actually a personal record – on the good side. Last year —”

“You’ll never get motivation again if you say another word about your ass.”

Peabody grabbed her coat, jogged to catch up. “Can I say something about Carmichael’s?”

“No.”

“It was going to be complimentary.” Peabody pulled her mile-long scarf out of her pocket – bright pink and green stripes today – and began wrapping it around her neck like a boa constrictor. “Where are we going?”

“Arsenial Investigators. Low-end PI, West Twenty-fourth off Eleventh. We’re looking for former detective Gina Tortelli – one of the dirty cops brushed out during the Roth sweep. She’s one of their two listed operatives.”

“She wrote you?”

“Can’t say for certain, but her mother did.”

“Her mom?”

“Her mother isn’t pleased with the part I played in cleaning Roth’s house.”

“It damn well needed cleaning,” Peabody said with some force as with some flicks of the wrist she twisted the scarf, folded bits of it, and had the boa constrictor loosely knotted and fluffed.

“In her mind I’m a brownnosing, traitorous cunt and godless daughter of a whore with the loyalty of a jackal.”

“A mom called you the C word?”

“What’s giving birth have to do with it?”

“Well, it’s just… a mom.”

“This mom wrote a second time after Nadine’s book hit the best-seller lists, and in that one I’m a glory-seeking whore-bitch with seeping pus in my heart, and my judgment day won’t be far off. Oh, and she prays every night that the day comes when I get true justice and burn screaming in everlasting hellfire.”

“Well, wow. She’s got a way with words.”

“It made for interesting reading. So maybe the daughter’s devised a way to answer her mother’s prayers.”

“But the UNSUB’s been obsessed with being your friend and partner, not sending you and your pus-seeping heart into everlasting hellfire.”

“Maybe that’s bullshit – the friend and partner. Maybe a smart cop could figure out how to send us chasing the wild turkey.”

“It’s goose, the wild goose. I’m pretty sure wild turkey is some kind of whiskey.”

“Kentucky bourbon,” said a helpful uniform sardined in the elevator with them. “Good stuff if you can get it. Got family in Lexington. My uncle’s been known to chase the wild goose after a few rounds of Wild Turkey.”

That got him a laugh from some of the cops before he squeezed off.

“Goose, turkey, they’re both weird-looking birds. The messages link me to two murders in the media,” Eve continued as they rode the elevator to the garage. “We can look at it as a kind of payback. Long shot,” Eve added before Peabody could. “But the mother’s letters are full of crazy rage. The daughter’s a wrong cop. Maybe she’s full of crazy rage, too.”

In the garage she headed for the big All-Terrain. “Then we’ll take the other tack with ex-officer Farmer. I don’t know how this one got through the screening for a badge in the first place.”

Eve strapped in, thought it was a little like sitting at the controls of a fancy tank, reversed out of the slot.

“She’s loony. Smart though, which may be how she got through screening. She did the six-week fast track, aced pretty much across the board. But she fell apart once she was on the job. Unless it’s true pretty much everyone she has contact with – male, female, cop, suspect, bystander – sexually harasses her. She filed charges about every five minutes, then whined nobody understood her or would work with her.”

“Gee, that’s really unfair.” Peabody rolled her eyes.

“She knows I get it, though, and has contacted me a few times with requests to work as my aide. Failing that, given her experience – for the last eight months as a skip tracer – she could be my main CI.”

“She sounds like a real winner. But the sex part doesn’t fit.”

“No, it doesn’t. But the rest does. And still, both the mother and this perennially sexually harassed skip tracer both contacted me through active e-mail accounts.”

“Still have to follow them up.”

“So we are. Mavis is in rehearsal. Mantal and Grommet are on her and Leonardo and Bella.”

“Good hands. We had Delivery Roulette with them a few weeks ago.”

“Delivery Roulette?”

“Yeah.” Though the temperature had risen enough to turn the ice to slush, Peabody kept a choke hold on the chicken stick. “Mavis tagged us, and we were just hanging, so we went down. We play it every couple months I guess – their place or ours. Easy since we’re in the same building. Security was there because she asked them to stay after the gig. What she does is spread out all the delivery menus, then you have to close your eyes, pick one – then pick a number. You have to order from that menu, and that item. It goes down the line. Hilarious when you end up with this mix of Thai, Chinese, Italian, vegan, and whatever. Ben and Steve were good sports about it.”