Thankless in Death (In Death #37)(56)

“Trading up,” Peabody suggested.

“Exactly. Three generations in business, estate sales a specialty—and the sob story about his dead parents. It dawned on his stupid ass his parents had better stuff than he’d thought. It was all crap to him, just something to sell. He went to a higher-class place because he wanted to make sure he got all he could get.”

She took a moment to get herself coffee. “I bet he was pissed he hadn’t taken more—the old stuff, the wedding canopy, the music box. Everything he considered junk. The second small satisfaction of the day,” she murmured.

“What else have you got?”

“I’m still working on finding the electronics,” Peabody told her. “He’d have to stick to the same area. What’s the point in running all over hauling comps and ’links? I just finished generating a map and time line of what I’ve got so far.”

“Send it to me. I’ll merge it with what I got from his second hotel. Let’s get it up on the board.”

“Wait.” Peabody stooped over Eve’s computer, fiddled. “You’ve got it.”

“Keep on the electronics, and the stores we nailed down. Give me a sense if we need to go by those stores for a face-to-face. We’ll work on finding a pattern. If Feeney can spare McNab, he might have a better sense of where Reinhold would try to turn the e-stuff, using the map. I’m going to head up to EDD anyway, so I’ll check.”

She glanced at the board. “I hit the morgue, the lab. Morris’s findings confirm ours, and Mira was right about the hair. According to Harpo, he took a good hank of it with him. And with her hair magic, she’s working on IDing the knife he used to whack it off. She’s got some blade guy on tap to assist.”

“Birdman?”

Eve frowned. “Yeah. Who the hell is Birdman?”

“He transferred from Chicago about six months ago. Callendar went out with him a couple times. Didn’t gel, but he’s okay. And he really knows his sharps.”

“Why isn’t he called Sharpman or Bladeguy?”

“He has a parrot.”

“That explains it. Did you read my morning report?”

“Yeah, and added Mal Golde’s name to the hotel alert. He’s probably sold everything by now, Dallas. Maybe he’ll try to run.”

“He’s not done yet. Let me talk to Feeney, then we’re going to generate a list of everyone he might go for. Relatives, friends, exes, crushes, bosses, coworkers, people who bugged him in school, teachers, doctors, neighbors.”

“It’s going to be a long list.”

“Which is why he’s not done.”

She took the glide up, entered the three-ring circus of EDD. Sanchez’s retribution tie wouldn’t cause a single flicked eyelash among the explosive colors, dizzying patterns, and unrelenting motion.

She turned toward the blissful peace and what she thought of as the blandure of Feeney’s office, stopped when she saw him talking to one of his geeks.

He made a contrast in his dog-shit brown sport coat and industrial beige shirt. His wiry ginger-and-silver hair made its own mini-explosion around his comfortably saggy face.

He swiped something onto a two-sided screen, and the geek responded with a rapid, incomprehensible spate of e-speak.

After a few grunts, Feeney nodded. “Get it done.”

“All over it and back, Captain.”

The geek bounced out on platform airboots.

Eve angled toward the open door. “Hey.”

Feeney sat back, sipped from a mug with a starburst pattern Eve assumed had been made by his wife.

“Hey.”

“I got a couple things. Can I talk to you?”

“You already are.”

“Right.” She went in, and did something she never did. She shut the door.

Feeney’s eyebrows lifted. “Problem, kid?”

“Other than the f**khole I’m after? Not really. I’d like to borrow McNab if you can spare him. I’m trying to track electronics the f**khole took from his vics. He’s been scattering his loot over lower Manhattan, heavy on the West Side. We’re generating a route map. If we pin the electronics, it may give us more.”

“The boy’s good at juggling. If he can keep his balls in the air, you can have him.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Did his parents, huh?”

“Slaughtered them, then tortured and strangled his ex. He’s a f**king moron, Feeney.” She slid her hands in her pockets, jingling loose credits. “But he’s cannier than I gave him credit for initially. Right now, he’s having the best time of his life. He’s not going to want to give that up, to give up his good time.”

“Who’s next?”

“That’s the question.”

“You wanna walk me through?”

It was generous of him. He had his own work, but he’d listen, he’d bounce things off her, let her bounce them off him. And it might come to that.

“Actually, I had something else. Unrelated. Or maybe, in a way, it’s not altogether unrelated. This is what you want, right? What you worked for. This department, this desk, the bars.”

Watching her, Feeney dipped his hand into a bowl and popped a candied almond.

“I wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise.”