Reunion in Death (In Death #14)(17)

"Are you looking at-what is her name? Muffy? Twinkie?"

"Bambi. Comes off like she's got the mental capacity of broccoli, but we'll run her. She seems sincerely a dink, but she's now a really rich, widowed dink. Maybe the ex-wife bided her time," Eve mused. "Played nice while she worked things out. You're married to a guy thirty years, you've got a serious investment. Gonna irritate you when he trades you in."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Me, I don't hire hits." She looked up at his mouthwatering face. "I'd give you the basic courtesy of killing you myself."

"Thank you, darling." He leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "It's comforting to know you'd take a personal interest in such a matter."

"I'll check out the first Mrs. Pettibone in the morning. If she did the hiring, she'd be my best link to this Julie Dockport."

"Interesting. A professional killer who selects the name of a prison as her surname."

She paused with the wineglass at her lips. "What?"

"Dockport Rehabilitation Center. I believe I had an acquaintance who spent some time in that particular facility," he replied as he toyed with the ends of her hair. "I think it's in Illinois, or perhaps Indiana. One of those Midwest places."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." She pushed to her feet. "Dockport. Poison. Wait, wait." She pressed her fingers to her temples, drilled them for the data.

"Julie. No, not Julie. Julianna. Julianna Dunne. Eight, nine years back. Right after I got my gold shield. Poisoned her husband. Big charity fundraiser at the Met. I worked the case. She was slippery, she was slick. She'd done it before. Twice before. Once in East Washington, again in Chicago. That's how we got her, the one in Chicago. I worked with the CPSD. She'd marry a rich guy, then she'd off him, take the money, and go reinvent herself for the next target."

"You sent her up?"

Distracted, she shook her head and continued to pace. "I was part of it. I couldn't break her in Interview, never got a confession out of her, but we got enough for an indictment, enough for a conviction. A lot of it weighed on the psych tests. She came up whacked. Seriously whacked. Hated men. And the jury didn't like her. She was too f**king smug, too cold. They added up three dead husbands and close to a half a billion dollars and gave her ten to twenty. It was the best we could do, and we got lucky at that."

"Three murders, and she gets ten to twenty?"

It was coming back, in a steady stream now. "East Washington couldn't pin her. What we had there went to pattern. Lawyers pleaded the other counts down and with mostly circumstantial, we had to swallow it. She got reduced for diminished capacity. Childhood trauma, blah blah. She used most of the first husband's money, the only scratch she could legally use, to wrangle that deal and pay for the trial and the appeals. Pissed her off. They held the trial in Chicago, and I was there for the verdict. I made sure I was there. Afterward, she asked to speak to me."

She leaned back on his desk, and though she looked at him Roarke knew she was ten years back, and looking at Julianna Dunne. "She said she knew I was the one responsible for her arrest, her conviction. The other cops... wait a minute," she muttered as she pushed back in time to hear Julianna's voice.

"The other cops were just men, and she'd never lost a battle to a man. She respected me, woman to woman, and understood I felt I was just doing my job. Then again, so was she. She was certain I'd come to see that eventually. We'd talk again, when I did."

"What did you respond?"

"That if it had been my call, she'd've gone down for all three murders and would never see the light of day again. That if I was responsible for putting her where she was going, good for me, but if I'd been the judge, she'd be serving three consecutive life terms. I hoped she'd come to see that eventually, because we had nothing to talk about."

"Clear, concise, and to the point, even with your shiny new gold badge."

"Yeah, I guess. She didn't like it, not one bit, but laughed and said she was sure the next time we got together I'd see things more clearly. And that was that. The caterer's going to transmit her employment records in the morning. I don't want to wait that long. Can you get into them, pull up her ID photo and data?"

"Who's the caterer?"

"Mr. Markie."

"Excellent choice." He rose and walked behind the desk.

"Can I use this other unit here?"

"Be my guest." He sat down and got to work.

While he did, Eve ordered up the data on Julianna Dunne. She skimmed the text that popped up on the wall screen, listened with half an ear to the background information as she studied the most recent ID photo.

At the time of the photo she'd still worn her hair long. Long and delicately blonde to go with her classic face and features. Wide blue eyes, thickly lashed, framed by slimly arched brown brows shades deeper than her hair. Her mouth was soft, a bit top heavy, her nose straight and perfect. Despite nearly a decade in prison, her skin looked smooth and creamy.

She looked, Eve realized, like one of those glamour girls in the old videos Roarke enjoyed so much.

released from dockport rehabilitation center, seventeen february, 2059. served eight years, seven months. sentence reduced for good behavior. subject met rehabilitation requirements. fulfilled mandatory sixty-day checks, signed off eighteen april by parole officer/rehabilitation counselor otto shultz, chicago, with no restrictions. current residence, 29 third avenue, apartment 605, new york city, new york.