Promises in Death (In Death #28)(58)

“Well . . . It could lean a couple of directions. Ricker might not want his son to go there, to see him in prison, powerless. He may have forbidden it after the first visit, and told his son to move on, not to contact him, but to focus on his own life.”

“Do little pink fairies sing and dance in your world, Peabody?”

“Sometimes, when it’s very quiet and no one else can see. But, I was going to say it’s more likely that the father-son relationship here isn’t a close one. May in fact be strained, even antagonistic.”

“Yeah, if what Baxter dug up from the supervisors at Omega is fact, I’d go with option two—with the addendum being Alex Ricker’s chosen to distance himself from his father. For his own reasons. Wonder what they are.”

“Bad for business.”

“Why? Your old man’s a renowned, successful, badass bad guy. Yeah, he got that badass handed to him, but he had one hell of a run first. Built his criminal empire, and so on. People in that business are going to respect and fear the Ricker name,” Eve concluded, “the Ricker connection. The blood tie.”

“Okay, maybe. Let’s back up a minute. You think maybe the data Baxter got is wrong?”

“I think it’s very odd that there are virtually no communications listed to or from Max Ricker since he took up residence at Omega.”

“None? As in zero? I know they’re strict up there, but inmates get a certain amount of communication allowance each month, right?”

“They do,” Eve confirmed. “But with Ricker? Nobody calls, nobody writes. Bullshit. No visitors other than the single one documented from Alex. No, even in a world with dancing fairies, I don’t buy it.”

Frowning, Peabody leaned on the doorjamb. “Then you’d have to ask why he—Max Ricker—would want to hide communications and visitors, keep them off the record. And how the hell he’d manage it at a place like Omega.”

“Tune out those fairies, Peabody. Bribes are universal. He could manage it, and we’ll be looking into that. As to why? To conceal communication and connections with the aforesaid criminal empire. Maybe the son’s covering for the father, or happy to take the top spot in a figurehead mode, while Dad continues to pull the strings.”

“The name stays strong,” Peabody calculated, “and the son gets the glory while Daddy still gets to play. It’s good.”

“It might be. Bringing it back to business at hand, maybe Coltraine knew more about that than made either father or son happy once the relationship ended. I vote for Dad if it moves that way. Alex didn’t know Coltraine was going to be hit. He’s too smart to put himself on the suspect list for a cop killing.”

“But see, you’re thinking he’s too smart, so it makes it a solid.”

“People come up with the lame when they think cops are idiots. He doesn’t. They come up with the lame when they’re smug and want to play games. He’s careful. Everything I’ve got on him says he’s careful.”

She swiveled around to face her murder board. “The only incautious step I see him making anywhere, anytime, is becoming personally involved with a cop. He padded layers on that, but it was still incautious. Coming to New York days before the hit, staying on through that hit? That’s just brainless.”

She glanced at the time, cursed Webster. “I have to go brief the commander. Keep going on these probabilities. And start files on each individual member of Coltraine’s squad, including her lieutenant.”

“Man.”

“It gets worse. I’m expecting a return from Webster, privacy mode. Beep me if it comes through while I’m out.”

Eve pulled out her communicator as she strode out of Homicide and to the glides. Feeney answered with a “Yo.”

“What’s the best way to find out if someone on Omega is blocking or altering visitation and communication records?”

“Go there, run it through on-site.” He gave her a long, hard stare. “Not doing it, kid, not even for you.”

“Okay, what’s the second best way?”

“Get somebody young enough to think it’s exciting, smart enough to do the dig, and shoot them off to that godforsaken rock.”

“Who can you spare that fits those requirements, and can go now?”

Feeney blew out a breath that vibrated his lips. “Since this is gonna be connected to Coltraine’s murder, you’d want young, smart, and already familiar with the investigation. I can pull Callendar off, send her.”

“What kind of authorization do you need to—”

“Hey. Captain’s bars here.”

“Right. Can you send her asap? I can see she gets fully briefed while en route. Don’t send her alone, Feeney. Send some muscle with her, just in case. Do you have any muscle up here?”

“Geeks have muscle, too.” He flexed his own biceps as if to prove it. “Get me the why we need to dig, and I’ll put it through.”

“Thanks.” She switched to Peabody. “Get Feeney the data from Baxter, and write up my take on why it’s bullshit. He’ll be sending Callendar and geek muscle to Omega to check this out.”

“Jeez, not McNab.”

“Would you characterize McNab as geek muscle?”

“He’s . . . okay, no.”