The In Death Collection 06-10 (124 page)

“He covered his tracks well.” It burned, oh, it burned to know he’d been paying the son of a bitch all along. “He had some autonomy, his requisitions would hardly be questioned. He just ordered a bit more than he required for the work, then obviously smuggled out the extras.”

“Which were handed over to Fixer, I’d guess. This is enough to nail him on theft of hazardous material, anyway. And that’s enough for me to haul his butt into interview and cook him.”

Roarke studied the glowing tip of his cigarette. “I don’t suppose you could hold off on that long enough for me to fire him. Personally?”

“I think I’ll save myself the trouble of getting you out of assault charges and dump him in a cage out of your reach. I appreciate the help.”

“Excuse me?” He turned back to her. “If you’d let me get my memo book, then repeat that for the record.”

“Ha ha. Don’t let it go to your head.” Absently, she rubbed at a headache brewing in her temple. “We have to find the next target. I’ll have Lamont brought in tonight, let him stew in a cage, but it’s not likely he knows the where and when.”

“He’s bound to know a few of the whos.” Roarke moved around the desk, stood behind her, and began to massage the tension from her shoulders. “You need to put this aside for a while, Lieutenant. Give your mind a chance to clear.”

“Yeah, I do.” She let her head fall forward as his hands worked magic. “How long can you keep that up?”

“A lot longer if we were naked.”

She laughed and amused him by starting to unbutton her blouse. “We’ll just see about that. Hell.” She did up the buttons quickly when her communicator sounded.

“Dallas?”

“Jesus, Dallas. God.”

“Peabody.” She got to her feet quickly.

“It’s my brother. It’s Zeke. It’s my brother.”

Eve clamped a hand over Roarke’s, squeezed hard, and forced her voice into a command. “Tell me. Say it fast and straight.”

“He says he killed B. Donald Branson. He’s at that address now. I’m on my way.”

“I’ll meet you there. Hold it together, Peabody. Don’t do anything. Do you copy this? Do nothing until I arrive.”

“Yes, sir. Dallas—”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” She broke the connection and bolted for the door.

“I’m going with you.”

She started to refuse, then remembered the terrified look in Peabody’s eyes. “We’ll take one of your cars. It’ll be faster.”

Eve wasn’t surprised to arrive on scene ahead of Peabody, but she was grateful. One look at the parlor, the blood smeared on the hearth, and the possessive and protective way Zeke kept his hand on Clarissa’s shoulder had her stomach sinking.

Oh shit, Peabody,
she thought.
What a hell of a fix
.

“Where’s the body?”

“I got rid of it.” Clarissa started to her feet on legs that were visibly shaking.

“Sit down, Clarissa.” Zeke said it softly while easing her back into the chair. “She’s in shock. She should have medical attention.”

Shoving sympathy aside, and for the moment doing no more than filing the bruises on Clarissa’s face away, she stepped forward. “Got rid of it?”

“Yes.” She drew a deep breath, locked her hands together. “After—after it . . . I sent Zeke out of the room, asked him to get me some water.”

She glanced toward the glass still sitting untouched on an inlaid table, the water that had sloshed out of it ruining the finish. “When he was gone, I got one of the
droids to carry—to carry it out, drive it away. I programmed the droid. I—I know how. I instructed it to throw the body in the river. Off the bridge and into the East River.”

“She was upset,” Zeke began. “She wasn’t thinking. It all happened so fast and I—”

“Zeke, I need you to sit down. Over there.” Eve indicated the sofa.

“She didn’t do anything. I did. I pushed him. I didn’t mean . . . he was hurting her.”

“Sit down, Zeke. Roarke, would you take Mrs. Branson in another room? She should lie down for a few minutes.”

“Of course. Come on, Clarissa.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” She began to weep again. “It was my fault. He was just trying to help me.”

“It’s all right,” Roarke murmured. “Eve will take care of it. Come with me now.” He sent his wife a long, silent look as he led Clarissa away.

“We’re not on record yet, Zeke. No,” she continued with a quick shake of her head. “Don’t say anything until you listen to me. I have to know everything, every detail, every step. I don’t want you to even think about leaving anything out.”

“I killed him, Dallas.”

“I said shut up.” Damn it, why didn’t people listen? “I’m going to read you your rights, then we’re going to talk. You can call for a lawyer, but I’m telling you now—as your sister’s friend—not to do that, not yet. You give it to me straight, then we go in and do a formal interview. That’s when you lawyer up. I’m going on record here in a minute, and when I do, you keep looking me dead in the eye. You got that? You don’t evade, you don’t hesitate. I’m seeing self-defense here, I’m seeing an accident, but when Clarissa ditched the body, she put both of you in jeopardy.”

“She only—”

“Quiet, goddamn it.” Frustrated, she dragged her
hands through her hair. “There are ways to get around that. That’s what the lawyer’s going to be for. And the psych tests I’m going to order. But right now, on record, you’re going to tell me everything, leaving nothing out. Don’t think by smoking any details you’re protecting Clarissa. You won’t. It’ll only make it worse.”

“I’ll tell you what happened. All of it. But do you have to take her in? She’s afraid of the police. She’s so fragile. He hurt her. If you could just take me.”

She moved forward, sat on the edge of the coffee table to face him. Jesus, she thought. Sweet Jesus, he was little more than a boy. “Do you trust your sister, Zeke?”

“Yes.”

“And she trusts me.” Eve heard the commotion in the foyer and rose. “That’ll be her now. Are you going to be able to hold it together?”

He nodded, got to his feet as Peabody burst in. “Zeke. God, Zeke, are you all right?” She nearly leaped into his arms, then yanked back to run her hands over him, face, shoulders, chest. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Dee.” He pressed his brow to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, it’s okay. We’ll take care of everything. We’ll take care of it all. We need to call a lawyer.”

“No. Not yet.”

Peabody whirled to Eve, eyes damp and terrified. “He needs representation. Jesus, Dallas, he’s not going in a cage, he’s not going into holding.”

“Suck it in, Peabody,” Eve snapped. “That’s an order.” The tears were already rolling, causing Eve to feel a slick sense of panic.
Oh God, oh God, don’t fall apart on me. Don’t do it
. “That’s an order, Officer. Sit down.”

She’d seen McNab out of the corner of her eye and didn’t stop to think why he was there. “McNab, take Peabody’s recorder. You’ll be acting as temporary aide in this matter.”

“Dallas—”

“This one isn’t for you,” Eve interrupted. “It can’t be. McNab?”

“Yes, sir.” He came over, leaned down to Peabody. “Hold on, okay? Just hang. It’ll be all right.” He took the recorder still pinned to her uniform collar, fixed it on the lapel of his wrinkled pink shirt. “When you’re ready, Lieutenant.”

“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, on scene at residence of B. Donald Branson, conducting interview with Zeke Peabody in regards to the suspected death of B. Donald Branson.” She sat on the coffee table again, kept her eyes directly on his, and read him his rights. Both of them ignored Peabody’s muffled moan.

“Zeke, tell me what happened.”

He drew a breath. “I better start at the beginning. Is that all right?”

“That’s fine.”

He did as Eve had told him, kept his eyes on hers, never wavered. He spoke of the first day he’d worked in the house, what he’d heard, his conversation with Clarissa afterward.

His voice trembled now and then, but Eve simply nodded and let him continue on. She wanted the emotion in his voice, the obvious distress in his eyes. She wanted it all on record while it was fresh.

“When I started back downstairs with her suitcase, I heard her scream. She was on the floor, crying, holding her face. He was yelling at her, drunk and yelling at her. He’d knocked her down. I had to stop him.”

Blindly, he reached out for his sister’s hand, gripped it tight. “I just wanted to get her out, away from him. No, that’s not true.”

He closed his eyes briefly. Leave nothing out, Eve had told him. “I wanted him to be punished. I wanted him to pay for what he was doing to her, but I knew I had to get her away where she’d be safe. He yanked her up, yanked her up by her hair. Hurting her, just to hurt her.
I grabbed for her, shoved him back. And that’s when . . . that’s when he fell.”

“You stepped up to stop him.” It was the first time Eve had spoken since he started. And she kept her voice quiet, even, expressionless. “To get Clarissa away when he hurt her again. You shoved him and he fell? Is that correct?”

“Yes, he fell, fell backwards. I watched. It was like I’d frozen, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His feet went out from under him and he stumbled back, went down hard. I heard—oh God—I heard his head hit the stone. And then there was blood. I checked his pulse, and there was nothing. His eyes were open, fixed and open and his aura was gone.”

“His what?”

“His aura. His life force. I couldn’t see it.”

“Okay.” That was an area they could just leave alone. “What did you do then?”

“I told Clarissa we needed to call an ambulance. I knew it was too late, but it seemed right. And the police. She was shaking and terrified. She kept blaming herself. I said, I told her she had to be strong and she seemed to snap back a little. She asked me to get her some water, just to give her a minute and get her some water. If I’d known what was in her head . . .”

He broke off then, closed his mouth tightly.

“Zeke, you have to finish. Finish it out. You won’t help Clarissa by covering up now.”

“She did it for me. She was afraid for me. It was the shock, you see?” Those young, soft gray eyes pleaded with Eve for understanding. “She just panicked, that’s all, and thought if there wasn’t a body, if she cleaned up the blood, it would be all right. He’d hurt her,” Zeke murmured, “and she was afraid.”

“Explain what happened. You went to get water.”

He sighed, nodded, and finished.

Eve sat back, considered. Calculated. “Okay, thank
you. You’re going to have to go downtown, make a full statement.”

“I know.”

“McNab, call Dispatch, report a homicide at this address.” She shot Peabody a look as her aide sprang off the couch. “Believed self-defense. We need a team in here. And we need a team out, dragging the river. Zeke, I’m calling in a couple of uniforms to take you downtown. You’re not under arrest, but you will be detained until this scene can be secured and swept and we get your statement.”

“Can I see Clarissa before I go?”

“It’s not a good idea. McNab.” She indicated by a jerk of her head for him to stay in the room with Zeke. “Peabody, with me.”

She strode out into the hall, saying nothing when Roarke slipped out of a door and shut it gently. “She’s asleep.”

“Not for long. Peabody, pull it together and listen to me. You ride with your brother. I’m going to order he be detained in an interview room, not a cage. And you’re going to talk to him and explain that he’s going to agree to truth testing and a psych and personality exam. Mira will do it. We’ll put a rush on it and get it done tomorrow. We’ll lawyer him up and get him out tonight. He may have to wear a bracelet until after testing results, but his end of the story is clean, and it’s going to hold.”

“Don’t take me off the case.”

“You were never on. Don’t push this,” she said in a fierce whisper when Peabody protested. “I’ll take care of your brother. If I let you on, it’s going to look shaky. It’s going to be tricky enough for me to hang as primary.”

She was struggling against the tears and losing fast. “You were good to him. You let him get it out on record clean, without the lawyer. You were right about that.”

Eve jammed her hands in her pockets. “For Christ’s sake, Peabody, a blind man could see the guy would trip
over his own feet before he’d step on an ant. Nobody’s going to argue with self-defense here.” If they found the body. The goddamn body. “He’ll be okay.”

“I should’ve looked after him.” Now she did begin to weep, in great gulping sobs. Helpless, Eve looked at Roarke, spread her hands.

Understanding, he turned Peabody into his arms. “It’s all right, darling.” He stroked her hair, rocked, watched his wife suffer more than a little. “You let Eve look after him now. Let her take care of him.”

“I need to talk to the woman.” Eve’s stomach rolled every time a fresh sob shuddered out. “McNab will secure the scene and wait for the uniforms. Can you . . . handle this?”

He nodded and continued to murmur to Peabody as Eve slipped into the room where Clarissa slept.

“I’m sorry.” Peabody’s voice was muffled against Roarke’s chest.

“Don’t be. You’re entitled to a good cry.”

But she shook her head, eased back, and scrubbed at her wet face. “She wouldn’t break down.”

“Peabody.” Gently, Roarke cupped her cheek. “She breaks.”

Eve yanked all the chains she could reach, gathered strings and pulled each one. She argued, justified, debated, and came close to threatening. In the end, she was primary in the matter of the death of B. Donald Branson.

She booked two interview rooms, positioning Zeke and Clarissa in separate areas, put the fear of God into the crime scene team and sweepers, harangued the body retrieval unit that was already dragging the East River, put McNab to work on the Branson droid, and arrived at Central with a viciously brilliant headache.

But she had everything she’d wanted.

Her last step before taking statements was to contact
Mira at home and arrange for both Zeke and Clarissa to be tested the following day.

She took Clarissa first. She imagined when the woman’s initial shock passed, she’d want a lawyer, and the lawyer would shut her up. Self-preservation was bound to overshadow any concern Clarissa might have for Zeke.

But when she walked into the interview room, Clarissa was sitting pale and quiet, her hands clutched around a cup of water. Eve gestured the uniform outside, closed the door.

“Is Zeke all right?”

“Yeah, he’s okay. Feeling any better?”

Clarissa turned the cup in her hands, but didn’t lift it. “It’s all like a dream. So unreal. B. D.’s dead. He is dead, isn’t he?”

Eve walked to the table, pulled back a chair. “Tough to say at this point. We don’t have a body.”

Clarissa shuddered, squeezed her eyes tight. “It’s my fault. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Now’s the time to start.” She left any sympathy out of her voice. Sympathy would only push the woman into tears again. She engaged the recorder, recited the necessary information, and leaned forward. “What happened tonight, Clarissa?”

“I called Zeke. He came. We were going to leave together. Go away.”

“You and Zeke were having an affair?”

“No.” She raised her eyes then, dark and bright and beautiful. “No, we’d never . . . we kissed once. We fell in love. I know it sounds ridiculous, we barely knew each other. It just happened. He was kind to me, gentle. I wanted to feel safe. I only wanted to feel safe. I called, and he came.”