Indulgence In Death Part 40

EVE HIT THE BULLPEN AT HOMICIDE LIKE A blaster.

"Trueheart."

He jolted in his seat, then knocked a short stack of file discs to the floor as he sprang to attention. "Sir!"

"Whatever you're doing, stop doing it. I 'm going to send you a list of weapons-images, makes, models, ID numbers where applicable. Run them. I want a complete list of vendors, outlets, collectors, and licenses. Cross-reference same with Dudley and Moriarity, personally, through their companies-Dudley and Son and Intelicore, respectively, all arms and locations-and family members, living and dead. Include ex-wives and their family members, living and dead.

"Questions?"

While his eyes were wide enough to swallow Pluto, he shook his head. "Ah ... no, sir."

"Good. Baxter."

He sat as he was, smiled a little. "Yo."

"Same weapons list. I want names and locations of hunting clubs, hunting and/or fis.h.i.+ng venues that allow the use of crossbows and/or harpoon guns. Stick with first-cla.s.s venues, extreme first-cla.s.s. On and off planet."

He straightened now. "You want every one of them in the universe?"

"And when you've got them, get the member list or client list. Find Dudley and/or Moriarity. They've practiced. More, they're show-offs. They've used those weapons somewhere, sometime."

"Reineke, Jenkinson, I want your report on the Jonas homicide on my desk ASAP. You're going to work this case like Adrianne Jonas was your beloved mother. I f d.i.c.khead hasn't tagged the whip yet, chew on his a.s.s until he does. When he does, pa.s.s it to Trueheart and Baxter. Meanwhile find bullwhip experts."

"Experts?" Jenkinson echoed.

"I f I hand you a freaking bullwhip are you going to know how to wrap it around somebody's throat? And do it strong enough to hang her by it? He had to learn somewhere, from someone. Experts, venues, trainers. Find them, contact them, dig until somebody remembers Dudley or Moriarity. Or both. Dig. Got it?"

"Got it," Jenkinson answered as Reineke gave a thumbs-up.

"Carmichael." As Eve turned, two voices answered.

"Detective Carmichael," she specified, and the uniform Carmichael looked faintly disappointed. "I 'm going to give you a list of names, invites to Dudley's alibi party last night."

"Lieutenant, I 'm not caught up with the details and particulars of this investigation."

"Catch her up," Eve ordered Peabody. "When you are," she continued, "contact the names. Both suspects left the premises at some point: Moriarity most likely shortly before twenty-two hundred and likely returned before twenty-three hundred; Dudley between two and two-thirty, returning sometime after three hundred hours. Dudley may have been in the company of the last vic. Find somebody who noticed, somebody who missed them. When you're done with the guest list, start on the staff, permanent and any hired for the event.

"New guy." Eve pointed at a young, broad-shouldered man who'd transferred in the days before she'd left for vacation.

"Detective Santiago, Lieutenant."

"Right. Work with Carmichael." She tried to think what went into it when Roarke threw a fancy party. "Dudley probably had some valets for parking. Some of the guests likely came and went with private car services. He'd have had catering, servers, people who don't have any particular reason to be overly loyal. Service providers are invisible to these people, and that's a vulnerability because they don't consider those service providers to have the wit to notice, or the b.a.l.l.s to talk. Find somebody with wit and b.a.l.l.s."

With one glance she targeted uniforms.

"Newkirk, Ping, the other Carmichael, do whatever the detectives need you to do. Anything pops, anything even breaks the most discreet of wind, I hear about it. Full briefing and all reports in two hours. Conference room ... Peabody?"

"C."

"Conference room C, two hours. Sweat," she ordered. "These c.o.c.ksuckers are killing people the same way a kid steps on ants. Because they want to see them squish. More, they think we're stupid, too stupid to bring them down. We're going to prove them wrong. Peabody, with me."

Eve headed straight to the AutoChef in her office for coffee, then jerked a thumb at the machine.

"I better not." Peabody's voice signaled sincere regret. "I was fading so I took a boost. Now I feel like my eyes are glued open and my nerves are all twitchy. I haven't found the connection to the last vic and Moriarity."

"Pa.s.s it to Carmichael. Uniform Carmichael. And why do they have to have the same name? One of them needs to change it. Anyway, he's a vicious b.a.s.t.a.r.d on details. And, yeah, you'd find it," Eve added before Peabody could protest. "But he'll come with a fresh eye, and without the twitches. Plus I need you on other angles. Hold on a minute."

She sat, copied the relevant files, and transferred them to the relevant cops.

"French guy's wine and supplies."

"Bought in gay Paree." With so many details crowded in her head, Peabody took out her notebook to keep them straight. "He got the booking five weeks ago."

"Five weeks. That's good, that's a confirmation of long-term planning. Dudley would know Simpson and her family would be in Georgia. She'd have to clear the vacation time in advance, and this is an annual family summer thing. They'd want to lock Delaflote in, had to suss out and plan the alibi, the timing. Probably practiced that, too."

"Booking was done by e-mail, through what I 've already checked was a temp account, a.s.signed to Simpson for billing. The vic's a.s.sistant has it listed as a surprise for the husband, for Frost. Intimate, romantic dinner for two, alfresco."

"The garden. All set up for the garden," Eve added, nodding.

"Late supper," Peabody continued. "Delaflote's travel fee-and he came in on his own shuttle-paid early this week, through Simpson's account.

Delaflote personally shopped for the food supplies and the wine on the day of departure. He has a major interest in a vineyard, and selected three bottles of Pouilly-Fuisse, a bottle of Sauternes, three bottles of champagne. All from the Chateau Delaflote label. I have the vintages for all of them, as the vic kept a kind of spreadsheet for jobs."

She paused, and pleasure moved onto her face. "And Dallas, as the client hyped this as such a special deal, expense no object, thechampagne's from a limited edition label and vintage. They're freaking numbered. He took numbers forty-eight, forty-nine, and fifty from the private reserve he kept back for special clients."

Eve's smile spread slowly, a reflection of Peabody's pleasure. "Maybe I do love you."

"Aww."

"We find one of those bottles, we'll nail them with it. Clean that report up. You'll be presenting that to the ADA and the commander in a couple hours."

"Oh, jeez."

"T ag Feeney, and tell him when and where. I want a solid report from him for same. I want everybody ready and in the conference room on time.

No excuses. I 'll set the commander and Reo for ten minutes after. Brief Carmichael-both of them. I 'll send you a report on Jonas as soon as I put it in order. Now go away. Shut the door."

Before it shut, she was contacting Whitney's office. She locked him in, then Reo, then moved onto Mira. I f she'd had time, she'd have cheered when the temp came on-screen.

"Oh, hi, Lieutenant. Gee, the doctor's in a session right now."

"I 'm going to send her a number of files, starting now and over the next hour. I need her to give them her immediate attention, and report to conference room C, Homicide Division, with her conclusions, at fourteen hundred and fifteen."

"Oh, well, golly, I think she has an appointment at-"

"This is priority one. Commander Whitney and an ADA will also be attending. Doctor Mira's presence is mandatory."

"Oh, gosh. I 'll cancel her appointment, and-"

"Good. I f she has any questions, she can contact me."

Cutting the temp off, Eve shot Mira the report Peabody had written on Delaflote, the reports her other detectives had written on Jonas. She pushed through the ME's reports, the labs, the prelim from the sweepers.

Then she cleared her head and began to write her own on each.

Twice she rose for more coffee, to check her time lines, to consult the computer on the time required to travel the distances from Dudley's home to each crime scene-on foot, and by transpo. She brought up her map, studied it, then confirmed with the computer the most direct routes to and from each.

With nearly an hour left, she loaded up everything she could carry to take it to the conference room. She turned out of the office just as Jenkinson turned toward it.

"I f you've got something, walk and talk."

"Let me give you a hand."

"I got it. I t's balanced."

"Okay." He fell into step with her. "We checked with the vic-our vic's-usual car service. They took her to Dudley's, and she told the driver she'd contact them for a time of return, which was booked to include travel home, then to the park location and back, or-depending on the time-straight to the park. She left it open."

"Figuring if the party was a dud, she could take off, go home awhile before her appointment. Okay."

"Yeah, but what she did was cancel pickup altogether, about two A.M."

Eve felt that slow smile cross her face again. "Because she copped another ride."

"We checked with every freaking legit cab company in Manhattan. n.o.body picked up a fare at that location between two and three A.M. And n.o.body dropped off a fare between those times at the logical entrance to the park for the Great Hill. We gotta figure-"

"She got a lift," Eve finished, and jerked her head at the conference room door, "with Dudley."

"That's our take." He opened the door, followed her in. "So far Carmichael and the new guy haven't hit on anybody, but they're asking if anybody saw the vic and Dudley hanging together between the two A.M. and the two-thirty mark."

"Okay." She dumped her things on the conference table. "She sure as h.e.l.l didn't walk from the party to that point in the park in those shoes. No reason to cancel her pickup unless she had alternate transpo, and we've covered she didn't book alternate transpo."

A lot of other guests at the party, she thought, a lot of other alternatives for a lift. That would be the argument, but she would d.a.m.n well knock it down.

"We're going to push for a warrant to search all Dudley's vehicles for her DNA. We find her prints, a stray hair, it adds more weight."

"I think the other Carmichael hit something, because he started making those noises in his throat like he does."

"Yeah, the grunting. Good."

"Reineke gave d.i.c.khead a shove, and d.i.c.khead came through. I t's an Australian deal-the whip-made out of freaking kangaroo."

"The hopping things, with the pouches?"

"Yeah. Freaking kangaroo. I t's seven feet long, eleven with the handle or grip, and that's lead-loaded steel. d.i.c.khead said it had a coating of some sort of leather cream, and he's working on IDing the brand, and he's still working on dating it, but says it ain't no antique or anything. He's saying the sucker's handmade. So we've got Trueheart checking out Aussie whip makers. d.i.c.khead comes through with the rest, that'll narrow it.

"You know that f.u.c.khead's in love?" he added.

"Yeah, yeah."

"I t's creepy."

"So say we all. Get back to it, Jenkinson."

Alone, she began with the murder board.

She'd worked her way halfway through the time lines when the other Carmichael came in, making grunting noises in his throat. "Boss, I got something."

"Give it to me," Eve said and continued to work.

"Jonas used to work as a concierge at the Kennedy Hotel on Park. Started as an a.s.sistant right out of college. Moriarity's grandfather owned the hotel along with a couple partners. They had a lot of events there like business stuff and private stuff, and put up important accounts and whatnot."

Eve glanced up long enough to acknowledge the pop.

"When he croaked he left his share to Moriarity-the grandson-and he sold it off about ten years ago. The vic was still working there. She didn't go out on her own until about a year after the sell. She got a write-up in The New Yorker back before she left, about how the girl from the Midwest became one of the top concierges in New York."

"And used that capital to parlay into her own business. Smart. Good work, Carmichael. Write it up tight, attach the article and any other media."

Coming together, she thought, crumb by crumb.When her boards were complete, she sat at the computer to check the images and data she'd want on-screen.

"Lieutenant? Sorry to interrupt."

"I f you've got something, Trueheart, you're not interrupting. I f you don't, go away."

"I t's about the harpoon gun."

"Spill it."

"They've been running tests on it in the lab. On the mechanism and the spear, and checking on regulations. I t turns out the projectile ..."

"You're trickling, not spilling."

"Um. Both the spear and the gun required to shoot it exceed the limits accepted by sport fis.h.i.+ng regulations here in the U.S. and in Europe, as well as several other countries. Baxter's research corroborates when it comes to tours and clubs and organizations. Mr. Berenski-"

"Jesus." She shoved back in her chair to goggle at him. "You don't actually call him that?"

Trueheart pinked up. "Well, not always. He concludes the weapon was manufactured prior to regulations, as it's American-made. Or that it was made in violation of the regulations, and he leans there because he believes it's between five and ten years old. Some of the internal parts carry a manufacturer's mark, and I traced that to a company in Florida. I t's one of Moriarity's subsidiaries, one of its companies under its SportTec arm."

Her legs stretched out, she smiled, and her eyes stayed flat and cold. "Is that so?"

"I have the data, sir, if you'd like to verify."

"That was a rhetorical is that so. Keep digging. I want to put that weapon in Moriarity's hands." She frowned when Baxter strolled in. "I haven't finished with your boy yet."

"I have something to pump up what he just brought you. Both suspects did belong to both a sport fis.h.i.+ng and a scuba club, though they've let their members.h.i.+ps lapse. But they've twice-five years ago, and just last winter-hosted a private island party for fifty-odd of their closest friends. A party that included scuba, sport fis.h.i.+ng off your choice of yacht, and spear fis.h.i.+ng. Among other a.s.sorted water sports. Several celebrities dropped in-vid stars and the like. I t got a lot of play in the media."

"f.u.c.king A."