Purity in Death (In Death #15)(8)

"You know what, I've got enough to think about, so we're just not going to go there tonight. I want to call the commander," she said. "And I can't. I have to play this by every page in the book. Kid was dog sick after. Nothing I could do for him."

"He'll be all right, Mum."

Her eyes narrowed. "Careful. I'm the one who brought him in out of Homicide Lite. I put him in the hospital a few months ago."

"Eve."

"All right, all right. I put him in a situation where he ended up in the hospital. Now he's dealing with a suspicious termination. I've got a responsibility."

"You'd see it that way." He grazed his hand over the backs of her restless ringers. "That's what makes you what you are. And why he called it in to you first. He was scared, he was shaken. The taking of a life isn't a simple matter for most, and it shouldn't be. Doesn't it make him a better cop that he felt something?"

"Yeah, and I'll use that, too. It just doesn't hang, Roarke. Just doesn't hang," she said as she got to her feet to pace again. Annoyed, the cat shot his tail into the air and stalked out of the room.

"No burn marks on his throat. If Trueheart had zapped him that way, there should have been marks. Why weren't there?"

"Could he have used another weapon, one with lethal power?"

She shook her head. "I don't know anyone less likely to carry a drop piece. If I'm wrong about him, where is it? It wasn't on him. It wasn't in either apartment. I had the recyclers checked. His call to me came in minutes after the termination. No time to think clearly enough to ditch one safely. Besides, when you go back through it, the whole thing doesn't make sense."

She sat again, leaned in. "Take this Louie K. The beat cop, the neighbors, even the woman he attacked all describe him as your basic lowlife wimp. Preyed on schoolkids. He's got a sheet, but nothing on it with violence. No assaults, no batteries. No weapons of any kind in his flop."

"The bat?"

"He played ball. So he's sitting there in his underwear doing his books. Tidy books, filthy apartment. But not logically filthy. Cupboards are organized, windows are washed, but there's food and dirty dishes, ripe laundry tossed around. It's like he got sick or went on a bender for a week."

She scooped her hand through her hair as she brought the picture of his cramped little apartment into her head. Pictured him in it. Sitting in the heat at his desk unit, by the open window. Sweating through his Jockey shorts.

"He's got the music up to ear-blasting, nothing new according to neighbors. Ralph from across the hall goes over and bangs on the door. Again, nothing new. But this time, instead of turning the music down, Louie K. picks up his bat and beats his sometime drinking buddy to death with it."

"Cracks his skull," she continued."Turns his face to jelly, beats down hard enough to crack a good, solid baseball bat. Neighbor outweighs Louie K. by better than a hundred pounds, but he doesn't get a chance to put a mark on him."

He knew she was seeing it now, pulling images into her brain of what had happened. Though she hadn't been there, she would see it. "It's tough to fight back if your brains are leaking out of your ears."

"Yeah, that's a disadvantage. But then, screaming all the while, Louie K. kicks in the neighbor's door and goes after the woman. Cop responds, and Louie goes for him."

"The heat can turn people."

"Yeah, it can. It brings out the mean. But the sucker was sitting there, doing his books. Making entries. Just like he did every evening about that time. It doesn't feel right."

Frowning, she leaned back on Roarke's desk. "You know of any illegal that goes by Purity?"

"No."

"Neither does anyone else. When I went into his apartment, his screen was on. It said Absolute Purity Achieved. What the hell is absolute purity, and how was it achieved?"

"If it's something new, why would a small-time playground dealer be in on the ground floor?"

"I've been asking myself that. The computer wouldn't identify, even with my authorization code. So I've sent it into EDD. Can't bring Feeney in," she mused. "Looks wrong to tag the head of Electronics Detective Division for a standard data search."

"You could've tagged me."

"Talk about looking wrong. Besides, you were working."

"So I was, and eating, which I imagine you weren't. Hungry?"

"Now that you mention it. What did you have?"

"Hmm. Chilled plum soup, crab salad, and an excellent grilled turbot."

"Huh." Eve pushed to her feet. "I could go for a burger."

"Somehow I knew that."

***

Later, Eve lay awake, staring at the ceiling as she reconstructed data, evidence, theory. None of it feltright, she thought, but couldn't be sure how much of that was influenced by concern over a young, promising cop.

He had a good brain, and an idealism that was as bright and shiny as polished silver. Purity, she thought again. If she had to use one word to define it, it would be Trueheart.

He'd lost some of that purity today. Some, she knew, he'd never be able to get back. He would suffer for it, more than he should.

And she wasn't being a mommy, she thought, turning her head just enough to scowl at Roarke in the dark.