Memory in Death (11 page)

"I—you—one of the shuttles? Free?" Peabody's cheeks went pink as a summer rose.  "And—and—and—a vehicle when we get there? It's so... It's so seriously mag."

"Great. Can we go now?"

"Dallas!"

"No. No. No hugs. No hugs. No. Oh, shit," she muttered as Peabody threw her arms around her and squeezed. "We're on duty, we're in public. Let me go or I swear I'll kick your ass so hard that extra five pounds you're whining about will end up in Trenton."

Peabody's response was incoherent and muffled against Eve's shoulder. "Get snot on my coat, and I'll strangle you with that scarf after I kick your ass."

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it." Sniffling, Peabody drew back. "It's the ult. Thanks. Man. Oh boy, thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"I guess I've got to go now." Peabody stared down at the box. "I mean, the main part of the excuse—reason. I meant reason. The main part's flipped, so... Gosh."

"Whatever." She'd been feeling pretty good, Eve remembered. And now a frustration headache was circling just over the crown of her skull. "Do you think, maybe, we could go spend just a couple minutes on murder now? Will that fit into your schedule?"

"Yeah. I can shuffle it in. I'm good now. Thanks, Dallas. Really. Thanks. God, I have to go now. I actually have to go."

"Peabody," Eve said, darkly, as they entered the building. "Ice is thinning."

"I'm nearly finished obsessing. Just another minute."

The same droid manned the desk. Eve didn't bother to flash her badge, but started up the steps as Peabody muttered to herself. Something about packing, a red sweater, and five pounds.

Ignoring her, Eve checked the seal on the crime scene, found it undisturbed, then continued down the hall. "Once they're out of the room and gone, I want sweepers. Full sweep," she added. "Cover the bases."

She knocked, and seconds later Bobby opened the door. His face looked gaunt, as if grief had carved away some of the flesh. He smelled of soap, and indeed she could see the open bathroom doorway behind him, and the faint sheen of steam still on the mirror over the sink.

There was a murmur from the entertainment screen, as the on-air reporter recounted the morning's headlines.

"Come in. Ah, come in. I thought you were Zana. That maybe she'd forgotten her key."

"She's not here?"

"She went out to get some coffee, some bagels and stuff. I thought she'd be back by now. We packed last night," he said when Eve glanced at the two suitcases standing by the door. "We wanted to be ready to go. We just don't want to stay here."

"Why don't we sit down, Bobby. We can get some of this out of the way before Zana gets back."

"She should've been back by now. The message said she'd only be twenty minutes."

"Message?"

"Um..." He looked around the room, one hand raking distractedly through his hair. "She set a message alarm for me. She does things like that. Said she woke up early and wanted to go down to this deli she'd seen a few blocks from here, get some stuff so you'd have coffee when you got here. I don't like her being out there, alone. After what happened to Mama."

"Probably a line at the deli, that's all. She say which one?"

"I don't remember." But he went to the bed, picked up the little travel clock on the table, hit playback.

Morning, honey. Time to get up now. Your clothes for today are in the top drawer of the dresser, remember? I'm already up, don't want to wake you. I know you didn't sleep very well. I'm just running out to get some coffee and some bagels or danishes, something. Doesn't feel right to have your friend coming by and not have anything to offer. I should've stocked the AutoChef before. Sorry, honey. I'll be twenty minutes—just running to that deli a couple blocks down.

Or up. I can't figure this city out. Deli Delish. I'll have coffee for you when you get out of the shower. I love you, honey.

Noting the time on the stamp, Eve flicked Peabody a glance.

"Why don't I walk out and meet her?" Peabody said. "Give her a hand."

"Have a seat, Bobby," Eve told him. "I have a few questions."

"Okay." He stared at the door Peabody closed behind her. "I shouldn't worry. It's just that she's never been to New York. She probably turned the wrong way coming out, something like that. Got turned around, that's all."

"Peabody'll find her. Bobby, how long have you known your partner?"

"D.K.? Since college."

"So you're tight—on a personal level?"

"Yeah, sure. I was best man at his wedding, and he was at mine. Why?"

"He knew your mother then?"

"I had to tell him, had to call and tell him yesterday." When his mouth trembled, Bobby firmed it. "He's covering for me back home. Said he'd come out here if I needed him to. Don't want him to do that. Christmas coming, and he's got a family." Bobby put his head in his hands. "Nothing he can do anyway. Nothing to do."

"What kind of relationship did he have with your mother?"

"Careful." When he lifted his head, he nearly mustered a smile. "Oil and water, you know?"

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

"Well, D.K., he's what you'd call a risk-taker. I never would've gone out on my own if he hadn't nudged me. My mama, she could be a little critical of people. She didn't think we'd make it in the business, but we're doing okay."

"They didn't get along?"

"Mostly, D.K. and Marita stayed out of her way. Marita's his wife."

"Anyone else she didn't get along with?"

"Well, I guess Mama wasn't what you'd call a people person."

"How about people she did get along with, people she was close to?"

"Me and Zana. Always used to tell me she didn't need anybody but me, but she made room for Zana.

She raised me on her own, you know. That was hard. She had to give up a lot to make sure I had a good home. I came first. She always told me I came first."

"I know this is hard. How about her assets? She had the house, right?"

"It's a good place. Can't have a son in the business and not have a good property. She was pretty well set. Worked hard all her life, was careful with her money. Frugal."

"You inherit."

He looked blank. "I guess. We never talked about it."

"How'd she get along with Zana?"

"Good. Things were a little rough at first. Mama—I was all she had, and she wasn't real happy about Zana right off. You know how mothers are." He caught himself, colored. "Sorry, that was stupid."

"No problem. She had a problem with you marrying Zana?"

"Just me getting married, I'd say. But Zana won her over. They get—got along fine."

"Bobby, were you aware that your mother went to see my husband on Friday afternoon?"

"Your husband? What for?"

"She wanted money. A lot of money."

He simply stared, shook his head slowly side to side. "That can't be right."

He didn't look shocked, she noted. He simply looked baffled. "Do you know who I'm married to?"

"Yeah, sure. There were all those media reports after the cloning scandal. I couldn't believe it was you, right up on the screen. I didn't even remember you at first. It's been a long time. But Mama did. She—"

"Bobby, your mother came to New York for a reason. She wanted to contact me again because I happen to be married to a man who has a lot of money. She wanted some of it."

His face remained blank, his voice slow and careful. "That's just not true. That's just not."

"It is true, and it's very likely she had an associate, and that associate killed her when there was no money given. Bet you could use a couple million dollars, Bobby."

"A couple million... You think I did that to Mama?" He got shakily to his feet. "That I'd hurt my own mother? A couple million dollars." His hands went to the sides of his head, squeezed. "This is crazy talk.

I don't know why you'd say things like that. Somebody broke in, came in through the window, and killed my mother. He left her lying on the floor in there. You think I could do that to my own blood? To my own mother?"

She stayed where she was, kept her tone just as brisk, just as firm. "I don't think anyone broke in, Bobby. I think they came in. I think she knew them. She had other injuries, injuries she sustained hours before her death."

"What are you talking about?"

"The facial wounds, bruising elsewhere on her person, all were inflicted sometime Friday night. Injuries you claim you knew nothing about."

"I didn't. It can't be." The words hitched and jumped out of his mouth. "She'd have told me if she was hurt. She'd have told me if somebody hurt her. For God's sake, this is just crazy."

"Someone did hurt her. Several hours after she left my husband's office, where she attempted to shake him down for two million. She left empty-handed. That tells me she was working with someone, and that someone was seriously pissed off. She walked into Roarke's office and wanted two million to go back to Texas and leave me alone. It's on record, Bobby."

There was no color left in his face. "Maybe... maybe she asked for a loan. Maybe she wanted to help me out, with the business. Zana and I are talking about maybe starting a family. Maybe Mama... I don't understand any of this. You're making it sound like Mama was— was—

"I'm giving you the facts, Bobby." Cruelly, she thought, but the cruelty could take him off the suspect list. "I'm asking who she trusted enough, cared for enough to work with on this. The only ones you're coming up with are you and your wife."

"Me and Zana? You think one of us could've killed her? Could've left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room? Over money? Over money that wasn't even there? Over anything?" he said and sank back onto the side of the bed.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because someone left her bleeding on the floor of some hotel room, Bobby. And I think it was over money."

"Maybe your husband did it." His head shot up, and his eyes were fierce now. "Maybe he killed my mother."

"Do you think I'd be telling you any of this if there was a chance of that? If I wasn't absolutely sure, if the facts weren't rock solid on his side, what do you think I'd do? Open window, escape platform. Unknown intruder, botched break-in. Sorry for your loss, and that's that. Look at me."

She waited until he took a good long look at her face. "I could do that, Bobby. I'm a cop. I've got rank, I've got respect. I could close the door on this so nobody'd look back. But what I'm going to do is find out who killed your mother and left her lying on that floor. You can count on it."

"Why? Why do you care? You ran away from her. You took off when she was doing her best by you. You—"

"You know better, Bobby." She kept her voice low, kept it even. "You know better. You were there."

He lowered his gaze. "She had a hard time, that's all. It was hard raising a kid on her own, trying to make ends meet."

"Maybe. I'll tell you why I'm doing this, Bobby. I'm doing it for me, and maybe I'm doing it for you. For the kid who snuck me food. But I'll tell you, if I find out you're the one who killed her, I'll lock you in a cage."

He straightened; he cleared his throat. His face, his voice, were very set now. "I didn't kill my mother.

I never once in my life raised a hand to her. Never once in my life. If she came for money, it was wrong. It was wrong, but she was doing it for me. I wish she'd told me. Or—or somebody made her do it. Somebody threatened her, or me, or—"

"Who?"

"I don't know." His voice cracked and shattered. "I don't know."

"Who knew you were coming to New York?"

"D.K., Marita, the people who work for us, some of the clients. God, the neighbors. We didn't keep it a secret, for God's sake."

"Make a list of everyone you can think of. We'll work from there." She rose when the door opened.

Peabody came in all but carrying a pale and shaking Zana.

"Zana. Honey." Bobby sprang off the bed, leaped to his wife's side, caught her in his arms. "What happened?"

"I don't know. A man. I don't know." Sobbing now, she threw her arms around Bobby's neck. "Oh, Bobby."

"Found her a block east," Peabody told Eve. "Looked lost, shaken up. She said a man grabbed her, forced her into a building."

"My God, Zana, honey. Did he hurt you?"

"He had a knife. He said he'd cut me if I screamed or tried to run. I was so scared. I said he could have my purse. I told him to take it.

"I don't know. I don't think... Oh, Bobby, he said he killed your mama."

Eve waded through the next flood of tears, muscled Zana away from Bobby. "Sit down. Stop crying. You're not hurt."

"I think he—" With a trembling hand, she reached down the small of her back.

"Take off the coat." Eve noted the small hole in the red cloth, and the tear in the sweater Zana wore under it. There were a few spots of blood. "Superficial," Eve said, then pulled up the sweater, examined the shallow cut.

"He stabbed you?" Horrified, Bobby slapped at Eve's hands to get a look for himself.

"It's a scratch," Eve said.

"I don't feel very well."

When Zana's eyes started to roll back, Eve grabbed her and shook. "You're not going to faint. You're going to sit down, and you're going to tell me what happened." She pushed Zana into a chair, then shoved the woman's head between her knees. The thin silver dangles at her ears swung like bell clappers.

"Breathe. Peabody."

"On it." Already prepared, Peabody came out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth. "It really is a scratch," she said gently to Bobby. "A little antiseptic wouldn't hurt."

"In my travel kit. It's already packed." Zana's voice was weak and wavery. "In my little travel kit in the suitcase. God, can we go home? Can't we just go home?"

"You're going to make a statement. On record," Eve said and showed Zana the recorder. "You got up, went out to get coffee."

"I feel a little sick to my stomach."

"No, you don't," Eve said brutally. "You left the hotel."

"I... I wanted to be able to offer you something when you got here. And Bobby's hardly eaten a thing since... I thought I'd just run out, pick up a few things before he woke up. We didn't sleep much last night."