Forgotten in Death(70)

“The sandwich or the data?”

“Both.” She took another bite, then copied the report to Reo.

Get the search warrants. We’re picking him up.

She hit interoffice for Officer Carmichael. “I want two of your biggest, baddest uniforms to pick up a suspect. I’m sending you the information.”

“Copy that, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll send it,” Peabody told her. “I’ve got it right here.”

“Accountant says it could take a couple days to cover everything.” Eve smiled. “And that’s before we get to Tovinski’s electronics, and his second set of books. We’re going to grill him, Peabody. Just like this chicken.”

Then she frowned at the visitor’s chair again. “I like that chair.”

“You like what the chair represents,” Peabody corrected as she sent the data.

“Same thing.”

Eve ate another fry, then picked up her plate and sat on the floor across from Peabody.

“Aw.”

“It’s not sentiment. It’s weird looking down at you when we’re working out how to go at Tovinski.”

“I’m good cop.” Peabody made an O with her mouth, slapped a hand on her heart. “Surprise!”

“Not exactly. Women are his bad heel.”

“Achilles’ heel?”

“Isn’t that what it means? He’s got that weakness. You could get a little flirt on—not overdone, just a little.”

“Flirt?”

“You’ve got the tits. Plus, you’re his type. I ran his wife, his other women. He goes for brunettes with the tits. Reo’s got the girly looks and knows how to use them so dumb-asses underestimate her. But you have the tits.”

Peabody looked down. “Why is it always about the tits?”

“I figure men don’t have them, so they want them. Add the last one he knocked up is young. You’re younger, but she’s still in her twenties. He’s going younger and sticking with tits, so a little flirt on’s a good angle.”

“I can do a little flirt. Can I giggle?”

“Don’t overdo it. And shut it down when you feel it’s time. Shut it down hard.”

“I like that part.”

“We start with Delgato—nothing about Alva unless it opens. Delgato—the fabric, the finances, that connection. And the other women. I want to know if his uncle knows about them. If he knows about the skimming.”

“You don’t think he does?”

“I don’t, but I could be wrong. I’m right, we play it that way. I’m wrong, we play it the other.”

She looked back at the next signal. “That’s the search warrants. Let’s get this party started.”



* * *



It took time to bring Tovinski in, for him to contact a lawyer, for the lawyer to arrive and consult with his client. Eve gave them plenty of time and used it to prepare for the interview, to drag more updates from the accountant.

She had her file ready to go when Reo walked into her office.

“Tovinski and his lawyer are about finished. He’s got Dima Ilyin, Yuri Bardov’s personal attorney. I assume you already know that.”

“Pays to know.”

“So we go with Plan A.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“I’ll be in Observation until. Interview A, correct?”

“Yeah, Santiago and Carmichael are working one in B.”

“Okay then, God bless us, every one.”

Eve finished loading her files, gathered them up. When she walked into the bullpen, Peabody rose from her desk. “Good timing. They’re ready for us.”

“They think they are.” Revved and more than ready, Eve walked to Interview A.

She opened the door. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Peabody, Detective Delia entering Interview with Tovinski, Alexei and counsel. State your name please, sir, for the record.”

“Dima Ilyin.”

“Ilyin, Dima, representing Mr. Tovinski in this interview regarding case number F-26451 and case number H-45180, and related matters.”

Eve sat, set the files on the table as Peabody took the seat beside her. “Mr. Tovinski, were you read your rights and, if so, do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

“My client stipulates that he was read his rights and understands them.”

“Great.” Eve opened the first file, and saw out of the corner of her eye Peabody execute a not altogether subtle hair flip.

“While my client is prepared to fully cooperate with your investigation into this unfortunate death, he further stipulates that he had only the most peripheral and occasional working relationship with Mr. Delgato.

“Lieutenant.” Ilyin folded his well-manicured hands.

As he paused with what Eve took to be a sober smile on his face, Eve folded her own hands, looked directly at him.

A hawkish face, she thought, with the beaked nose, the jutting jaw, the prominent black eyebrows over eyes nearly as dark. He wore his hair in a snow-white mane.

He had no trace of an accent in his deep, almost throaty baritone.

“It wasn’t a secret that Mr. Delgato had a serious, one could say debilitating gambling addiction. This addiction had cost Mr. Delgato his marriage, the respect of his adult children, and caused him to live alone in a small apartment in a building patronized by street LCs and indigents.”