Imitation in Death Page 14

  “I’ll think about it.” Eve got to her feet. And saw, under the mess he’d made of his desk, a box of cream-colored stationery.

  “Fancy writing paper,” she commented, stepping over to pick up the box.

  “Hmm? Oh yeah. I use it when I want to impress somebody.”

  “Is that so?” Her eyes flashed to his like lasers. “Who did you want to impress lately?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. I think I used it a couple weeks ago when I sent what my dad always called a bread-and-butter note to my publisher. A thanks for a dinner party thing. Why?”

  “Where’d you get it? The paper?”

  “Jule must’ve bought it. No, wait.” He rose himself, looking baffled as he took the box from Eve. “That’s not right. It was a gift. Sure, I remember now. Came through my publisher with a fan letter. Readers send stuff all the time.”

  “A token from a reader, to the tune of about five hundred dollars?”

  “You’re kidding! Five hundred. Wow.” He was watching Eve more carefully now as he set the box back on his desk. “I should be more careful with it.”

  “I’ll want a sample of that paper, Mr. Breen. It matches the type left at both homicides I’m investigating.”

  “This is just too fucking weird.” He sat, heavily. “Take it.” Several emotions seemed to run across his face as he scooped a hand through his luxurious hair. “He knows about me. He’s read my stuff. What the hell did the note say? I can’t remember, just something about how he appreciated my work, my attention to detail or something like that, and my—what—enthusiasm for the subject.”

  “Do you have the note?”

  “No, I wouldn’t keep it. I answer some of the mail personally, have a droid do the bulk. If it’s snail mail, we recycle the paper after it’s answered. He’s using my work as research, don’t you think? That’s horrible, and really flattering at the same time.”

  Eve passed one of the sheets and envelopes to Peabody to seal into evidence. “Give him a receipt for it,” she ordered. “I wouldn’t be flattered if I were you, Mr. Breen. This isn’t research, or words in a discbook.”

  “I’m part of it now. Not just an observer this time, but part of something I’ll write about.”

  She could see he was more pleased than appalled.

  “I plan to stop him, and soon, Mr. Breen. Things go my way, you’re not going to have much of a book.”

  “I don’t know what to think about him,” Peabody said when they were outside. She turned back, studied the house and imagined the good-looking Breen swinging his handsome son onto his shoulders and taking him to the park to play. And dreaming of fame and fortune written in blood. “The stationery was right out of the blue. He didn’t try to hide it.”

  “Where’s the excitement if we don’t find it?”

  “I get that—and he likes the rush, no question. But his story sounds solid, especially if the killer has read his stuff.”

  “He can’t prove where it came from, and we have to waste time trying to trace it. And Breen’s juiced by it.”

  “I guess it’s the sort of thing that’d juice him. His job’s on the sick side.”

  “So’s ours.”

  Surprised, Peabody hiked with Eve to the car. “You liked him?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind. If he’s no more than he claims to be, I’ve got no problem with him. People like murder, Peabody. They jive on it when it’s got at least one of those degrees of separation. Reading about it, watching vids about it, turning on the evening news to hear about it. As long as it isn’t too close. We don’t pay to watch a couple of guys hack each other to death in an arena anymore, but we’ve still got the blood lust. We still get off on it. In the abstract. Because it’s reassuring. Somebody’s dead, but we’re not.”

  She remembered, as she climbed into the car out of the vicious heat, how that thought raced through her head, again and again, when she’d huddled in the corner of that frigid room in Dallas and looked at the bloody waste of the thing that had been her father.

  “You can’t feel that way when you see it all the time. When you do what we do.”

  “You can’t,” Eve said as she started the car. “Some can. Not all cops are heroes just because they’re supposed to be. And not all fathers are good guys just because they give their little boys a ride on their shoulders. Whether I like him or not, his lack of alibi, his line of work, and his possession of the notepaper put him on the list. We’re going to do a very careful check on Thomas A. Breen. Let’s run the wife, too. What didn’t we hear from him in today’s conversation, Peabody?”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “He told us she came home from a late meeting. She went to bed. He worked. He slept in. She took the kid to the park. But I never heard anything about we. My wife and I, Jule and I. Me and my wife and Jed. That’s what I didn’t hear. And what impression do you suppose I get from that?”

  “You’re thinking the marriage isn’t good, that there’s friction or disinterest between Breen and his wife. Yeah, I can see that, but I can see how with two careers and a kid a couple could get into a routine that revolves around work and pass the toddler.”

  “Maybe. Doesn’t seem much point in being together if you never are though, does there? Good-looking guy like that might start getting resentful and frustrated with that sort of routine. Especially if he sees it as a repeat of his own childhood. A guy doesn’t want to look in the mirror at thirty-something and see his father looking back at him. We’ll take a good close look at Thomas A. Breen,” she repeated. “And see what we see.”

  Eve decided her next stop would be Fortney. But it was time to play it, and him, a different way. “I want to nudge Fortney on the second murder, revisit the first. His alibi’s bullshit. And since I tend to get cranky when people lie to me, I’m not going to be particularly friendly.”

  “As you are the epitome of cheer and goodwill by nature, sir, this will be somewhat of a stretch.”

  “I smell the distinct aroma of lame-ass sarcasm in this vehicle.”

  “We’ll have it fumigated.”

  “But fortunately I’m the epitome of cheer and goodwill and will not rub your nose in it at this time. A few minutes into my unfriendly conversation with Fortney, I’m going to get a tag on my pocket ’link.”

  “As I’m in awe of you in all ways, I’m unsurprised by this sudden psychic ability.”

  “I’ll be annoyed, but will have to take the communication, thereby passing the interview to you.”

  “Do you also know who’ll be tagging . . . What? To me?”

  That, Eve thought, had wiped the sassy little smirk off her aide’s face. “You’ll pick it up as good cop. The long-suffering, somewhat inexperienced, and apologetic underling. Play that up, fumble around.”

  “Sir. Dallas. I am the long-suffering, somewhat inexperienced, and apologetic underling. I don’t have to play it up or pretend to fumble around.”

  “Use it,” Eve said simply. “Make it work for you. Let him think he’s leading you. He’ll see a girl cop in uniform, who takes orders from me. Second-string. He won’t see past that to what you’re made of.”

  I don’t know what I’m made of, Peabody thought, but drew a deep breath. “I can see how it could work.”

  “Make it work,” Eve said again, and parked outside the office building to set the timer on her ’link.

  Eve bullied her way into Leo Fortney’s office and set the mood. Enjoyed setting it, she admitted. She put a little swagger in her step as she broke in on his holo-conference with a video producer.

  “You’re going to want to reschedule your little confab, Leo,” she told him. “Or let Hollywood here in on our conversation.”

  “You have no right pushing your way in here, throwing your weight around.”

  She flipped out her badge so the images in the room had a clear view. “Bet?”

  Fortney’s color was edging toward magenta. “I’m sorry, Thad. I need to take care of this . . . distur
bance. I’ll have my assistant reschedule, at your convenience.”

  He shut the hologram down before Thad could do more than raise two thin eyebrows into sharp, questioning points.

  “I don’t have to tolerate this kind of ambush!” His magenta hair was pulled severely back from his face today, and the sleek tail of it whipped wildly as he flung out his arms. “I’m calling my lawyer, and I’ll see you’re reprimanded by your superior.”

  “You do that. And we’ll take this to Central where you can explain to me, your lawyer, and my superior why you handed me a pile of bullshit as an alibi.”

  Eve toed in, and punched a finger toward his chest. “Lying to a primary during a homicide investigation doesn’t earn you any points, Leo.”

  “If you think you can insinuate that I’m covering up some crime—”

  “I’m not insinuating anything.” She got right up in his face as she spoke, and enjoyed that as well. “I’m saying it. Flat out. Your meal ticket didn’t back you up, pal. You did not, as you claimed, retire with her on the night in question. She went to bed alone, and assumes you joined her at some point. Assume ain’t dick. So let’s start this over. Your place or mine, it doesn’t mean a damn to me.”

  “How dare you!” He lost all color now, insult and temper robbing his cheeks. “If you think I’m going to stand here and be insulted, have the woman I love insulted by some two-bit dyke bitch cop—”

  “What’re you going to do about it? Take me out, like you took out Jacie Wooton and Lois Gregg? You’re going to find it tougher. I’m not a used up LC or a sixty-year-old woman.”

  His voice piped out now, like an adolescent boy’s threatening to crack. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Couldn’t get it up, could you, Leo?” She was careful to keep her hands off him, though she’d have liked to have given him a couple of mild shots. “Even when you had her tied up, and helpless, you couldn’t get the wood on.”

  “Get away from me. You’re crazy.” Little darts of fear shone in his eyes now as he danced behind his desk. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “You’re going to see just how crazy if you don’t tell me where you were on the night of September second, and the morning of September fifth. Shuffle me again, Leo,” she said and slapped her hands on the desk. “And you’ll see how crazy.”

  On cue, her ’link beeped. With a snarl, she ripped it out of her pocket. “Text only,” she snapped. Waited a few beats as if reading. “Goddamn it.” She muttered it, then rounded on Peabody. “Get the goddamn information from this asshole. I’ve got to take this, and I don’t have time to waste. Five minutes, Leo,” she said over her shoulder as she marched to the door. “Then I’m coming back for the next round.”

  He sat heavily when the door slammed behind Eve. “That woman is a menace. She was going to strike me.”

  “Sir. I’m sure you’re mistaken.” But Peabody cast an uncertain eye toward the door still shuddering on its hinges. “My lieutenant is . . . it’s been a difficult few days, Mr. Fortney, and Lieutenant Dallas is under a great deal of stress. I’m sorry she lost her temper. Can I get you some water?”

  “No. No, thank you.” He pressed a hand to his brow. “I just need to settle down. I’m not used to being treated that way.”

  “She’s very colorful.” Peabody tried a half smile when he looked up. “I’m sure we can straighten this all out before she gets back. There were some discrepancies in your earlier statement, sir. It’s easy to get confused or mix up times and dates when you’re not expecting to have to remember your movements.”

  “Well, of course it is,” he said with obvious relief. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to be questioned about a murder. For God’s sake.”

  “I understand that. And it seems to me if you’d killed Ms. Wooton or Ms. Gregg, you’d have arranged a solid alibi. You’re obviously an intelligent man.”

  “Thank you, Officer . . .”

  “It’s Peabody, sir. If I could take out my notebook, we could try to put things together for the times in question.” She smiled at him with whiffs of sympathy and nerves. “May I sit down?”

  “Yes, yes. That woman’s shaken my manners loose. I don’t see how you stand to work with her.”

  “It’s really for her, sir. I’m in training.”

  “I see.” He was relaxing, Peabody could see. Just as she could see his amusement at thinking he’d escaped the lion and gotten himself a pussycat. “Have you been with the police long?”

  “Not very. I do mostly administrative work. The lieutenant hates paperwork.” She started to roll her eyes, seemed to catch herself and worked up a blush.

  Fortney laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me. Still, I wonder what an attractive woman like you is doing in such a difficult field?”

  “Men still outnumber women on the job,” she heard herself saying, and felt the quick, flirtatious smile curve her lips. “That can be a pretty strong incentive. I’d just like to say how much I admire your work. I’m such a fan of musical theater, and you’ve been involved in wonderful projects. It seems so glamorous and exciting to someone like me.”

  “It has its moments. Maybe you’d like me to give you a tour of the theater, backstage, where the action really is.”

  “That would be . . .” She trailed off breathlessly. “I’d just love it.” She glanced back at the door again. “I’m not supposed to do something like that. You won’t say anything?”

  He mimed zipping his lip and made her giggle.

  “If I can just clear up some of these discrepancies before she gets back. Otherwise, she’ll skin me.”

  “Sweetheart, you can’t really believe I’d kill anyone.”

  “Oh no, Mr. Fortney, but the lieutenant . . .”

  He got up from the desk, came around, and sat on the corner of it. “I’m not interested in the lieutenant. The fact is, Pepper and I . . . well, our relationship has devolved, you could say. We’re really just business partners at this point, keeping up appearances for the public. I don’t want anything to damage her while she’s working so hard in this play. I have a great deal of affection and respect for her even though . . . even though things aren’t what they were between us.”

  He gave Peabody a puppy dog look, and she did her best to respond with one of sympathy. Even as she thought: Putz. Do I look that green? “It must be awfully hard for you.”

  “Show business is a demanding mistress, on both sides of the curtain. I did tell nearly the truth about that night. I didn’t mention that Pepper and I didn’t really speak or have contact with each other when she came back from the theater. I spent that night as I’ve spent far too many of them. Alone.”

  “So you have no one to corroborate your whereabouts?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t, not directly, though Pepper and I were in the same house together all night. It was just another lonely night, and to be frank, they blur together now. I wonder, maybe you and I could have dinner?”

  “Ummm . . .”

  “Privately,” he added. “I can’t be seen having dinner with a beautiful woman while Pepper and I still have to keep up this pretense. Gossip would hurt her, and she’s so temperamental. She needs to focus on the play. I have to honor that.”

  “That’s so . . .” The words that ran through her head were anything but flattering, but she choked out an alternative. “. . . so brave. I’d love to, if I can get the time off. These murders have the lieutenant working practically 24/7. And when she works, I work.”

  “Murders.” For a moment he looked genuinely puzzled. “Is that what all this business about this Gregg person is? Another prostitute’s been killed?”

  “There was another attack,” Peabody evaded. “It would help me out a lot if you could tell me where you were Sunday morning, between eight and noon. That would cover you, and I could probably smooth things out with Lieutenant Dallas so she won’t bother you again.”

  She tried a simper, but didn’t think it was her best lo
ok.

  “Sunday morning? Sleeping the sleep of the just until tenish. I indulge myself on Sundays. Pepper would have been up and out early. Dance class, she never misses. I would have had a light brunch, lingered over the Sunday paper. I doubt I was even dressed until noon.”

  “And alone again?”

  He gave a sad, crooked smile. “Afraid so. Pepper would have gone directly to the theater after class. Sunday matinee. I did go to the club, but not until at least one. For a swim, a steam, a massage.” He lifted his hands, let them fall. “I’m afraid I did nothing of any interest all day. Now, if I’d had a companion. Someone . . . simpatico . . . we’d have taken a leisurely drive in the country, stopped at some charming little inn for a champagne lunch, and whiled away our Sunday in a much more entertaining fashion. As it is, I have nothing but work, illusion, and solitude.”

  “Could you tell me the name of your club? Then I can give Lieutenant Dallas something solid.”

  “I use the Gold Key, on Madison.”

  “Thanks.” She rose. “I’ll see if I can head her off.”

  He took Peabody’s hand, looking into her eyes as he brought it to his lips. “Dinner?”

  “It sounds mag. I’ll contact you as soon as I know when I’m clear.” She hoped she had one more blush in her. “Leo,” she said shyly.

  She hurried out and straight to where Eve stood with her ’link. “I can’t break character yet,” Peabody reported. “He might ask one of his bimbos what went on out here, so you should look annoyed and doubtful, and like you could ream my ass at any moment.”

  “Fine. Then I don’t have to break character either as that’s the one I walk around in on a daily basis.”

  “He’s a total sleaze, and he doesn’t have a solid for either murder. Hard for me to see somebody that slimy being our guy, but he’s not covered.”