Strangers in Death (In Death #26)(81)

“Aw. Besides, you still dump grunt work on me.”

“It’s not the same. Wait a minute. Wait.” Eve bolted up in her chair. “Every-f*cking-body’s got aides and admins and personal assistants.”

“Except you.”

“And Ava. Where’s Ava’s? Study and review the reports and data on the Reginald Anders death, write up notes on the new theory we just discussed. Run the list of names of houseguests, start setting up interviews.”

“Not that I do any grunt work.”

“Out.” Eve reached for her ’link, contacted Leopold. “Who does Ava use as an aide or PA?” she asked. “I don’t have a name.”

“Because there isn’t one, officially. If she had a PA, his or her salary and benefits would come out of her pocket.”

Not the Ava Eve knew. “Are you telling me she did all the drone and grunt work personally, made all the contacts, read all the files and so on?”

“No, I’m going to tell you she tapped volunteers, other staff routinely. For just quick, little favors. She used several of the mothers over the life of the program, claiming it gave them pride and training for job opportunities. She never paid any of them. Gifts, now and then.” He offered a sour smile. “She likes giving gifts.”

“Do you have names, specific names for people she tapped?”

“There’s no list. It’s unofficial, as I said. But I can probably put something together for you. I’ll need to ask around, as I wasn’t privy to all of who did what for her.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Lieutenant, I know Ben came to see you. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything to him, even though you said—”

“It’s no problem.”

“It got in my craw, that’s all I can say. It got in, and it stuck, the way she’s slathering it on. Grunt and drone work? That would be his job now. She—” He cut himself off. “Obviously, it’s still in my craw. I’ll start putting a list together for you.”

“Thanks.”

She bet Petrelli was on the list. She just bet—“What!” she demanded when her in-office ’link signaled.

“Dallas, guess who’s here?”

“Guess how long it’s going to take me to tie your tongue into a square knot?”

“Jeez.” Peabody folded said tongue safely inside her mouth. “Bebe Petrelli. And she is pissed!”

“Excellent, book an interview room, put her there.”

Eve kicked back in her chair—the better to let the pissed Bebe stew a bit—and looked at the murder board. “It’s starting to break, Ava. Can you feel it? Do you feel it cracking under your stylish and tasteful shoes? I’m looking forward to watching you drop through the hole. I can’t quite figure out why I’m looking forward to it quite so much. But hey, I’ve got to get my kicks somewhere.”

Eve gave it another ten minutes, then strolled out to take on Bebe in Interview.

This is crap. This is harassment.”

Eve shrugged, dropped into the chair across the little table from the very pissed-off Bebe. “Call a lawyer, file a complaint. But you don’t want to do that, Bebe, so let’s not waste time pretending you do. You have the right to remain silent,” Eve began, and recited the Revised Miranda while Bebe gaped at her.

“You’re charging me?”

“I didn’t say anything about charges—yet. I asked if you understood your rights and obligations in this matter. Do you understand them?”

“Yes, I understand them, goddamn it. I don’t understand why I have any obligations. I didn’t do anything.”

“Did Ava Anders ask you to?”

“No.” Bebe folded her arms tight at her waist.

“Really? She never asked you to make ’link calls for her, or maybe whip up some cannolis for a party? Run errands, take care of a little office work?”

“I thought you meant about…” Her arms relaxed. “Sure I helped out some. Volunteered. Anders was giving my boys a lot, and giving me a lot. So I was happy to pay Mrs. Anders back. It made it feel less like charity.”

“Gave you some pride. So first, let’s say, she asks you to do some little thing, then next time it’s a little bit bigger thing, then bigger yet. Would you say that’s the way it was, Bebe?”

“I said I helped out. I was happy to.”

“Did you confide in her? Open up? You got to be tight, right? With you doing these little jobs for her. With her trusting you to do them. And you hanging out with her some at these retreats she took you on. Did you tell her how you missed your husband, how hard it was sometimes to raise your boys on your own? What your hopes and dreams for them were?”

Bebe’s lips quivered before she clamped them tight. “Why shouldn’t I? Part of the reason for the retreats was to share, to network and support. Why shouldn’t I? There’s no shame in it.”

“And she was sympathetic, even intimate.” To close off some of Bebe’s space, Eve leaned in. “Did she open up to you, Bebe? Did she share, so you’d know even a woman in her position, with her resources had it tough?”

“It’s personal. It’s none of your damn business.”