Payback in Death, page 12
She sat, swiveling in her chair as she talked. Her streaky hair—white and gray—fell in wildly careless waves past the shoulders of a T-shirt that read: ALWAYS ONE MORE FUCK TO GIVE.
She’d dyed her lips a bold red, had sharp dark eyes, and wore hoop earrings Eve thought she could put a fist through.
Those bold lips spread in a smile. “I knew you’d come through, Nicko. I dedicate my next poop to you. Cha.”
She clicked off, set down the ’link on a pile of folders.
“So, Dallas and Peabody. Have a seat. It’s begging day, which means I leave my pride at home. But you’re here about Martin. I spoke with Beth right before she and the family left to see him. My wife and I are going by Carlie’s when I can break away from here.”
“You were with Ms. Greenleaf and others on the night Captain Greenleaf was killed.”
“Yeah, our monthly meetup. We started as a book club. Jesus, has to be twenty, twenty-five years back. Then we admitted that was just an excuse to sit around, talk, drink a lot of wine. So we cut out the book club portion. Beth and I, original members. We go back. We’ve known each other longer than she knew Martin.”
“And you and the captain were friends?”
“We had our differences.” She smiled as she said it, even when grief showed in her eyes. “I’m an old activist and he was a cop down to the marrow, so we sure as hell didn’t always see eye-to-eye.
“And still … still. He supported what we do here. This desk?” She knocked a fist on it. “Was his father’s. His old man gave it to him when Martin got out of the Academy, and Martin gave it to me when I started up here. He helped us set up. Since he retired, he’d come in now and then, do some little repairs.
“I loved the son of a bitch.”
“How did you meet Ms. Greenleaf?”
“Gun ban rally. Back then, there wasn’t a rally, protest, march I’d walk away from. But this was a particular mission of mine. And hers. She was a teacher. Young, Jesus, we were both so young. She’d survived a school shooting. One of her coworkers and two of her students—twelve years old—didn’t. So it was a particular mission of hers, too. She spoke—passionate, eloquent. And I admit I found her very attractive.”
“Did you have an intimate relationship?”
“Honey, I don’t hit on the straight, and she clearly was. But we hit it off, ended up going out for a drink after the rally. And that, as the line goes, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I stood up for her when she married Martin. She stood up for me when Flora and I got married.”
“You said you and Ms. Greenleaf were the original members of this group. How did the others come into it?”
“Oh, well, some have come and gone. Moved away, lost interest, got too busy. There’s Pru, for instance. Pru wasn’t there. She and her family spend the summer in Maine. I went to college with Pru. She married rich—nice guy, too. And it’s a benefit for me, as she and her guy helped us buy this building. She swings in, mostly when we get together in the spring and fall. They spend most of the winter in Belize. Anyway, I brought Pru in, and Beth brought Anja in. Anja’s a hoot and a holler. A pediatrician who ought to be a comic. Beth met her when Anja came in to give a presentation at Beth’s school. Then I brought Cass in. Cass is the daughter of the gallery owner where my wife shows her work. And of our current gang of girls, there’s Elva. Beth brought her in. She lives in Beth’s building.”
“You know all of them well then.”
“I’d say. Well, Anja, we’ve been friends for about thirty years. She makes me laugh, and our politics mesh. Not a requirement, but it doesn’t hurt. I know if there’s a protest or march I want to support, I can count on Anja. Cass? I’ve known her since she was a kid, and I love every inch of her. She’s here today, volunteering. She’s got two kids, and she’s doing the pro parent thing. This gives her a chance to work, and we have a small day care set up for kids. It’s good for everyone.”
“Is she available to speak with?”
“Sure. She’d be next floor up, working with some of the Chancers on interview skills. One of our purposes is to help people find work, and stick.”
“‘Chancers.’”
Darlie smiled. “It became a thing.”
“Peabody, why don’t you go talk to Ms. Bryer.”
Peabody rose. “I really like your shirt, Ms. Tanaka.”
“Thanks. Somebody’s got to give a fuck.”
When Peabody went out, Darlie’s ’link signaled. “I really need to take this. I’ll be quick. Pru! I was just thinking about you. Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t sure you’d heard.”
Tears swam into her eyes again. She snatched up some tissues to wipe at them.
“As bad as it gets. Flora and I are going over tonight. I will,” she said after a minute. “I’m talking to the police now.”
She let out a watery laugh, swiped at her damp eyes. “Yes, voluntarily. I will let you know, of course. It’ll mean a lot to her. No, babe, I really don’t, but— What?”
She sat back in her chair as if her limbs had gone weak. “I— Are you serious? Pru— Oh my God, oh my God. You’re my goddess. Jesus, I can’t tell you … Tell Sam … I don’t have the words right now. Yes. Jesus, yes. Can I tag you back when I’m done here and can be more coherent? I love you. I love you both. Give me an hour, okay? I’ll tag you back. I love you,” she said again.
When she clicked off, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” she said as they streamed. “I need a minute. I just … this strange, wonderful, smack-talking girl I met in college just told me she and her amazing husband, with the full support of their stupendous family, is giving us a quarter million dollars.”
“That’s very generous.”
“She saved us. They saved us. Shit, shit.” She opened a drawer, pulled out more tissues. “This place is everything to me. This old building, in the last year, it’s just … Get old, fall apart, you know. If you can’t offer a safe place, you can’t help. You must know, with Dochas, with An Didean, what it takes financially.”
“I don’t. Roarke does.”
“And I praise him for his combination of deep pockets, his glorious generosity, and his vision. I meant to tell you, you can check my bona fides with any of the staff at Dochas. We often work with them. I’m sorry for losing it. The combination of knowing she and Sam are going to come back for the memorial—whenever it happens—then this gift, it wiped me out.”
She dried her eyes, breathed out. “So, I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
“We hadn’t gotten to Elva Arnez. She’d be the most recent addition to your group, right?”
“Yeah, just a year, if that. Gotta bring in that young, fresh blood, keeps us on our toes. Certainly I don’t know Elva as well as the others, but we’ve gotten to know one another. I give her grief for being a fashion plate and selling ridiculously expensive clothes to women who don’t need more of them. She doesn’t mind it. And she’s donated clothes—damn good clothes the Chancers can use at interviews, at work. She even hired one of the women as a clerk about six months ago. Tawny’s still there, and doing very well.”
“I suppose it would be natural for Ms. Arnez and Ms. Greenleaf to be closer, living in the same building.”
“Beth jokes that Elva looks after her—or tries. Checks when she’s doing any marketing to see if Beth needs something. Always walks with her to and from our get-togethers, that sort of thing. It’s sweet, but Beth’s as self-sufficient as they come. Or was,” she said. “Martin’s death will shake that. She’ll be strong, but he was her true and abiding love. They were each other’s.”
“When’s the last time you were in Ms. Greenleaf’s bedroom?”
“Her bedroom?” Darlie looked blank. “That’s a strange one. I’m not sure about that, but— No, wait. Yes, I am, now that I think. Though I can’t think why it matters. It had to be April, because Beth goes on a spring cleaning war. I mean war. As if her place isn’t always spotless. But she goes to war, and part of the combat is cleaning out closets. She had clothes, shoes—hers and Martin’s. I went over to get them. Helped her box them up. It would’ve been April. Why?”
“Just details. Do you also work with Open Doors?”
“Yes, we do. It’s a wonderful and much-needed organization.”
“So you know Serene Brenner?”
“Ah … I don’t think I do, but I work most directly with Della. Della and I also go back a few decades. Old activists. She founded Open Doors.”
When she heard Peabody’s clomp, Eve rose. “I appreciate your time, your cooperation.”
“I’ve learned to cooperate with the cops when I have to. In this case, absolutely anything I can do. I loved Martin, truly loved him.”
“Do you know of anyone who’d want to harm him?”
“I imagine there were scores, and many of them once held badges. But you know that. I don’t know specifics. Martin didn’t talk about his work with me, not in detail. But I’m glad it’s you, and your partner,” she added as Peabody stepped into the doorway, “who’re looking for who did this. I’ve enjoyed Nadine Furst’s books, very much.”
“Right.” Eve turned to go, turned back. “Do you also work with Sebastian?”
As her lips curved, Darlie tapped a crooked finger on them. “I believe I’m about to take the Fifth.”
“Figured. Thanks again.”
Peabody waited until they’d walked outside. “She couldn’t really add anything, Dallas. She cried a little—tried not to. She went over the night in question and all that. It all jibes. I asked her when she was last in the bedroom, and she said the week before Christmas. The Greenleafs had a party, and everybody put their coats on the bed in there.”
“They’re not in this. See if you can reach the last one—Anja Abbott—by ’link. Run her through it. If you get any buzz, we’ll follow up in person.”
“You got it.”
“Shit,” she said when she checked the time. “Look, what I’m going to do is drop you home—we’re close enough. Then I’ll go home and finally update Whitney by holo, start digging more on the dead and disgraced cop list.”
“Okay, but … We’re really close to the house, too. Maybe you could drop me there instead, and just take a quick look? Like, fifteen minutes? I’ll tag McNab and we’ll put in more time on the list, get you more names.”
Since Eve considered it a pretty good deal, she pulled out her ’link. “Let me tell Roarke what I’m doing. We’re already past end of shift.”
Chapter Nine
When Roarke came on-screen, he smiled. “Great minds,” he said. “I was about to check and see where you were and what you were doing.”
“I’m in the city of New York, hunting bad guys.”
“So, the usual. And literal, as I see you’re on the street. Find any bad guys?”
“Not yet, but the day’s not over. Shift is, work’s not. I’m going to drop Peabody off at the Great House Project. Deal is, she and McNab will put in more time tonight on the Greenleaf investigation if I take a look at the progress. Do you want in on the deal?”
“As it happens, I’m already downtown and intended to make the same deal with you.”
“Then I’ll meet you there. Soon.”
“This is mag!” Peabody climbed in the car, then bounced in her seat.
“Joyful bouncing is forbidden on the job.”
“We’re off shift.”
“Off shift doesn’t mean off duty. It’s got to connect with somebody on that list.”
She asked herself if she’d stuck the investigation on that point, just bogged it down looking for that connection.
No. The connection was the point.
“Nothing else plays through,” she concluded. “And no one we’ve talked with so far connects there. Or we haven’t found that connection.”
“At the same time,” Peabody continued, “the killer had to be able, or work with someone who was able, to gain access to that window, from the inside most likely. And they had to know Greenleaf—or his wife—well enough to know their routine, to know the layout of the apartment.”
At the light, Eve watched some kid execute a tight backflip on his airboard.
Good form.
“Arnez and Robards’s apartment has the same footprint,” Eve pointed out. “It’s likely others in the building do, too. So we could have someone who lives there, or did. Or knows someone in the building.”
“Or who knows the security feed overwrites every couple of days. So find a way in outside that time frame. A week ago, say. Two weeks. I don’t see longer than that, Dallas. Too chancy that one of the Greenleafs would notice the window’s unlocked.”
“Agreed. It’s too well planned for leaving that to chance. Arnez was the last outsider in there, and roughly thirty minutes before the murder.”
“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for that pesky motive she’d look good.”
“She had a … look.”
“A look?”
“When Webster opened the door of the apartment. Just for a second, she had a look.”
Eve shook her head. “Sticking with facts. She had means and opportunity, so I want us to dig deeper there. She’s decades younger than all but one of this women’s group. Does she have friends her own age? Tanaka said Ms. Greenleaf joked about Arnez looking after her. Checking in, did she need something from the market, that sort of thing.”
“It’s considerate.”
“Maybe. It also adds to the information pile on the Greenleafs, gives Arnez more easy access. ‘Got your quart of soy milk and your egg substitute.’ Then you get the: ‘Come on in, have a cookie.’”
“Well, I don’t usually get a cookie, but I sometimes pick up a few things for Rhonda Grappler—do you remember her from when you lived there?”
“Yeah. Down the hall—from Mavis now. I hauled her trash to the building recycler if I was around. And she had to be cruising toward the century mark when I lived there.”
“A hundred and two now.”
“And Greenleaf’s thirty years younger, healthy and active,” Eve pointed out. “I get it may just land on considerate, friendly neighbor. Add she had a legit reason to be in the bedroom. But she’s the only one who stands out in this group right now. The rest have known each other for years—and most of them decades.”
“Okay, I’ll play. Arnez and Robards move into the same building, and two floors up—same footprint—from the Greenleafs.”
“Greenleaf and Tanaka met Arnez slightly before that when they went into the shop Arnez manages. I don’t see that as coincidence, as Greenleaf has a lot of clothes, it’s a neighborhood shop. High-end, but they have sales, and some people—it escapes me—just like to look around at stuff in shops.”
“They call looking around at stuff in shops shopping. Or browsing,” Peabody considered. “You browse around so you can see the stuff, then decide what to buy or not buy.”
“If you decide what you want to buy before you go in, you can just buy it and save time. If you’re not going to buy anything, you can just stay home.”
“Sometimes you don’t know what you want to buy until you see it. Hence, browsing provides the opportunity to see what’s available, and if you want it for your own.”
“So if you didn’t see it in the first place, you wouldn’t want it? And if you didn’t want it before you saw it, doesn’t it follow you didn’t need it?”
Peabody narrowed her eyes. “Those are snare-Peabody-in-a-trap questions. I take the Fifth and move on. Wait!” She shot up her index finger on both hands. “When people browse and shop and find what they want and buy it, it’s good for the economy. It increases the tax revenue, and allows the merchant to meet their overhead and make a profit so they can stay in business.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure all the people hauling shopping bags are thinking: I’ve done my civic duty, contributed to the economy, and now the merchant I bought all this stuff I didn’t actually need from can put food on the table tonight.”
Eve glanced over. “Is that what you were thinking when you bought that pink jacket?”
“No, I was thinking: Pretty. But it still works that way. Anyway … So they meet while browsing at Très Belle, and then Arnez and Robards move in.”
“Which automatically makes contact easier.” The easy contact, Eve thought, was going to matter. “To move there, Robards has to commute to Queens for his work, to see his family.”
“But she can walk to her work, and he’s a defender. What’s best for her.”
“Maybe what’s best for her is to kill the captain—but we’re not there yet.”
Eve told herself to run it through, but avoid getting stuck on it.
“They make friends,” she added. “Enough she’s invited into this group of longtime friends.”
“McNab and I are about to move into a beyond-mag house with your oldest friend and her family. Because Mavis and family and McNab and I are friends—through you—and because we moved into the same building—where they took over your old apartment when you moved in with Roarke.
“Relationships are complicated,” Peabody concluded, “and have a lot of intersections.”
“Tell me.” Eve said it fervently. “I’m keeping them on the list. They’re low on it, but they stay on. If we don’t find a connection, they’re clear.”
“You really think we will? Find that connection?”
“Can’t shake it,” Eve admitted. “Something about her, just something, from the minute she came in with Greenleaf.”
“I wasn’t there, so I don’t have that. But we’ll dig, and hard.”
“That’s the deal.” Eve pulled up at the gate. It opened.
“Your vehicle’s on the Open Sesame List. That’s what Mavis calls it.”
“Right. Sesame’s a seed, right? I know it’s from a story, but why pick a seed to open something?”
“It’s a frosty word. Sesame! Doesn’t it look abso-mag?”
It did. While she’d been in Europe, the grass had sprouted up into a blanketing green lawn, shaded here and there by young trees or flowering shrubs. Long gone were the dead and dying branches, the overgrown weeds and patches of dirt and scrub.
