Thankless in Death (In Death #37)(76)

“Great. I’ll send it to you, and I’ll owe you.”

“You certainly will.” But he smiled at her. “I’m on my way to you, via Feeney.”

Satisfied, she turned back to Juana. “Peabody, did you get all Juana’s information?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send it to Roarke.” The look she sent Peabody cut off any questions. “Juana, I need you to note something down.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

“Lieutenant,” Eve said as Juana pulled out an old, battered ’link.

“Yes, ma’am, Lieutenant.”

Close enough. “Kyle Pruett,” Eve said, giving Juana the information to key in. “Contact him. He’ll be expecting it. He’s going to help you find a job.”

Juana looked up from her ’link, blinked twice. “A job?”

“We’re going to shut your boss down for seventy-two hours, more if we find other stolen merchandise. He’s going to be fined, and he may face criminal charges. Unless he’s an absolute moron, he’s going to know you reported him. Don’t go back there. Use the contact I gave you. Be honest with him the way you were with me. If there’s anything off in your background, tell him up front. Have you ever been arrested, Juana?”

Those dark eyes went huge. “No, ma’am! Sir! Lieutenant! My mama would skin my butt.”

“Make the contact. And thank you for coming in.”

“Detective Peabody gave me this voucher. I didn’t know you got paid to report. I didn’t come in for the money, but we can use it. And I can sure use a chance for the work.” She got to her feet, held out a hand to shake. “Thank you for the chance. Mama says doing the right thing’s its own reward, but she’ll sure be happy I got this. We’ll be saying a special thank-you before Thanksgiving dinner. Thank you, both of you. I’m going straight home to tell her.”

“That was a nice thing to do,” Peabody commented when Juana hurried out.

“This could be a solid break, and she gave it to us.” She shifted to block Baxter before he could pass. “Where are you going?”

Wiggling his eyebrows, he smoothed the knot of his tie. “I’m off shift and onto a hot date.”

“You’re back on, and your hot date will have to cool down some.”

“Man.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “I was this close.”

“Peabody, split the list of potential targets up geographically.”

“Is this the Reinhold murders, Lieutenant?” Trueheart, looking eager, stepped beside Baxter.

“That’s right. We’ve got a list of people who’ve pissed Reinhold off in the past, and any one of them might be next. They’ve all been notified, offered protection.”

“You want us to babysit?” Baxter asked.

“No. His tally’s four, and all were killed in their own homes. I want face-to-face interviews, in those homes, and a full report on the locations, the accesses, the security, the basic rhythm of the households. Also take note of easily portable valuables, keen eye on electronics. If said potentials know of other potentials not currently on the list, I want to know. Show them all the morph. If they have cohabs or family members living with them, show them, talk to them. If he doesn’t already have his next kill picked, he’s picking one now.”

“How long’s the list?” Baxter wondered.

“Your date’s going to cool off some,” Eve repeated. “If you can’t heat her back up, it’s on you.”

He flashed a grin. “Heating up’s my specialty.”

“Give them above SoHo,” Eve decided. “You and I will take SoHo and down. You get a model, reputedly frosty, as a reward,” she told Baxter.

“Hot dog.”

“Got it, sending to your PPCs,” Peabody announced.

“Full reports,” Eve repeated before turning back to Peabody. “Split up ours. I want to talk to Morris before I work the list. You can take a uniform if you want any help.”

“I’ve got it. Sending your share.”

“Saddle up then. I’m checking in with EDD, then heading out. Anything pops, tag me.”

Eve detoured into her office, grabbed her coat, a file bag, and avoiding even the thought of the elevator took the glides to EDD.

Apparently half of Central had the same idea.

Even braced for the blast of color and movement that was EDD, it rocked her senses before she made it to Feeney’s sane office.

“I’m heading into the field, wanted to touch base first.”

“Juggled you in.”

Since it looked as if he had at least six programs going on his screens, she assumed he was doing considerable juggling.

“You said this ass**le flunked Comp Science?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he learned enough to keep her making the transfers without an easy trail. We’re bouncing, vanishing, popping, then sinking. I’m saying offshore and off-planet, at least for the bulk, but we’re not there yet. I’m saying, too, he’ll go numbered and/or sheltered. We’re going to find the money, sooner or later, but we may not get an ID out of it any time this decade.”

He sent her a look out of basset hound eyes. “Not shooting straight anyway.”