Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(115)

“An offer of a variety of perverted, possibly illegal sexual favors would score you any vehicle you might like from me.”

“Peabody doesn't need the incentive. She already wants to jump you.”

“Flattering. But I was actually thinking of you in regard to those favors. But I'm sure Peabody and I can work something out.”

“I'd hate to put her back in the hospital this soon. Catch you at four.”

With Peabody, Eve made a point of going back to every crime scene she attributed to Kirkendall. She stood on the sidewalk, studied the building where Judge Moss and his family had once lived. Another family lived in the pretty brownstone now.

Did they think about it? Talk about it? Entertain their friends with the horror story?

“Baxter and Trueheart recanvassed here,” Peabody commented. “Showed off the composite and the military ID photos. Nobody remembers seeing them around. Two years since,” she added. “It was a long shot.”

“He didn't go after the wife on this one. You could speculate that he was more focused in on the judge. Or that he opted to leave her alive, to suffer. But he knew the routine, so he'd watched them.” She turned a circle. “A lot of places around here a guy could rent or buy, settle in, stake out. Isenberry probably handled this end. Smarter. Original canvass probably interviewed her. We'll re-evaluate the reports, see if we see anything on that.”

She got back in the car, drove toward the Swisher's. “Property around here's a good investment. He likes good investments. Maybe he bought in somewhere near the Moss residence, held on to it, rents it out. He partners up with Master Lu for investment, for income. Why not do some real estate?”

“Vary your portfolio.”

“Let's tug that line. See if we can find a property bought after the trial, before the bomb. It may not lead us to him, but it builds evidence. When these bastards go to trial, I'm going to have them sewn in a titanium shroud. Goddamn it!” She punched the accelerator as the Swisher house came into view. “Look at those idiot kids.”

The trio--teenagers, at her guess--were huddled together at the police seal on the front entrance. Their lookout, a curvy little number in a black skin-suit and wrap shades, let out a shout and took off on a silver airboard.

Kids scattered, leaping solo or in tandem on other boards, plowing through shrubbery, onto the sidewalk, into the street between vehicles that squealed and honked.

Eve heard looney, loopy laughter as they whipped around the corner.

“You're not going after them?” Peabody asked when Eve zipped to the curb. “Squish them like bugs?”

“No. It's just as likely one of them will end up getting squished by a cab while I'm chasing them. Pricks.” She slammed out, jogged to the entrance to check the seal. “Tinkered with it, didn't get through far enough to set off the alarm. Slap on a fresh one anyway, Peabody. Asshole kids. What did they plan to do, break in and have a party in the death house? Why aren't they in school, or better yet in juvie?”

“Saturday.”

“What day?”

“Today's Saturday, Dallas. No school on the weekends.”

“There ought to be,” she said darkly. “There ought to be school twenty-four/seven for little disrespectful creeps like that. Give them a day out, all they do is cause trouble.”

“You'd have felt better if you'd gone after and squished them.”

“Yeah.” She let out a breath. “Next time.” She forced herself to set it aside. “Recanvass was zip here, too. But we know Isenberry used the paralegal to get inside, get close to the family. We know the killers walked away, headed down the block, not into a neighboring building. Still, we'll try the same investment angle here, too. They might have bought one, rented one, used it for stakeout previously.”

Her last stop was the hospital parking lot. “Not just a quick slice here. Multiple stab wounds, defensive wounds. She put up a fight, or tried to. Played with her some. Jab here, jab there. I think this was girl on girl. They let Isenberry do this one. Her file says she likes to mix it up. Clinton, he likes a silent kill--manual strangulation a specialty. Kirkendall let his brother take point there. But the other kills were his. Cold and clean. But everybody got bloody. You trust your comrades more when they get bloody along with you.”

“Easiest one to take here.” Peabody frowned at the lot, the health center. “You either hack in, get her schedule, or you hang around-- who notices?--get a feel. Both, probably. You do it end of shift, late. And yeah, if it's another woman walking your way, you don't get the alarm bells. Little friendly nod, or Isenberry stops her, asks for directions. How do I get to the surgery wing? Vic turns, knife comes out. Sticks here, vie tries to block or run, gives her another jab. Works her back, away from the building. Some of the wounds were shallow, just nasty little sticks. Finishes her off. Rendezvous, and you're gone.”

Yeah, Eve thought, that was the way. “They'd have watched. Kirkendall and Clinton. Close enough for visual, or Isenberry wore a recorder. You're not part of the kill unless you see the kill. We find their base, we're going to find vids of every murder. They'd study them like Arena Ball players study the vid of a game. Looking for flaws, for moves, ways to improve.”

“Sick. Dallas, it's going on fifteen hundred.”